Chapter 11: The Beast-Infested Wildlands
Greg sat with his arms crossed, an annoyed scowl on his face as he listened to the armored adventurers plead their case.
"Look, we're not asking you to fight our battles," the leader, a hardened warrior named Captain Roderic, said with forced patience. "But the Wildlands are overflowing with untamed monsters, and your ability to control them could be the key to stopping the chaos."
Greg sighed, leaning back against a tree trunk. His griffin hatchling was curled up in his lap, dozing peacefully, while the fox sat at his side, eyeing the newcomers warily. Behind him, the massive bear-like beast he had accidentally tamed snorted, its deep breaths rustling the nearby bushes.
"Yeah, see, that sounds like a you problem," Greg said, picking a leaf out of his messy hair. "I'm not a hero. I'm just a guy who keeps tripping into problems I don't want."
"These 'problems' will reach you sooner or later," Roderic warned. "The beasts are becoming more aggressive, more organized. Someone—or something—is pushing them out of the Wildlands and toward our cities. You're already in the middle of it whether you like it or not."
Greg groaned. He really, really hated when people made sense.
His dragon—a young but still terrifyingly large creature—huffed behind him, sending a warm gust of air through Greg's already unkempt hair. He glanced at it, wondering how the hell he had ended up with such powerful creatures attached to him in the first place.
Finally, he sighed. "Fine. I'll take a look. A look, got it? No promises, no contracts, and definitely no hero speeches."
Roderic exchanged glances with his team, then nodded. "That's all we ask."
Greg had a sinking feeling this was going to suck.
---
The Wildlands were exactly the kind of place Greg wanted to avoid.
Dense forests stretched endlessly, the trees gnarled and twisted like they had grown from nightmares. Thick mist hovered above the ground, making every shadow seem alive. Strange sounds echoed through the landscape—low growls, distant roars, and the unsettling chittering of creatures he didn't want to identify.
"Yep. Nope. This is awful," Greg muttered, stepping over a massive tree root. His fox padded silently beside him, its glowing eyes scanning the area. His griffin hatchling rode on his shoulder, its tiny talons digging into his jacket as it chirped nervously.
The adventurers moved with practiced caution, weapons ready, eyes scanning the darkness. They didn't seem nearly as terrified as Greg, which irritated him on principle.
They had been walking for hours when the first attack came.
A deafening howl split the air, followed by a blur of fur and fangs lunging from the darkness. A pack of monstrous wolves—bigger than horses, their eyes glowing an unnatural red—rushed them.
Greg barely had time to react before his dragon roared and leaped into the fray. The ground trembled as the beast's massive wings unfurled, sending a shockwave through the battlefield. The wolves hesitated, but only for a second.
Then they attacked in full force.
Swords clashed against claws. Magic flared. Roderic's warriors fought like seasoned veterans, but the wolves were relentless. Greg, meanwhile, did what he did best—panicked.
"Guys, I don't know how to fight!" he yelled as he stumbled backward, narrowly dodging a set of snapping jaws.
"Then tame them!" Roderic shouted back.
"Oh, sure, just tame the giant murder-dogs—why didn't I think of that?!"
One of the wolves lunged straight at him. Greg flinched, throwing his hands up—
And then it happened.
A pulse of energy radiated from him, invisible yet powerful. The wolf skidded to a stop mid-leap, its glowing red eyes flickering. It tilted its head, growled lowly, then slowly backed away.
Greg's eyes widened. "Did I just—"
Another wolf turned, locking eyes with him. Greg felt it again—that weird connection—and suddenly, the beast wasn't attacking anymore. It was listening.
The realization sent a chill down his spine.
"Uh, guys?" Greg called out. "I think I just tamed them."
Roderic and the others stopped mid-battle, turning to see the once-raging wolf pack now calmly sitting around Greg, tails wagging.
"…What the hell?" one of the adventurers muttered.
Greg groaned, rubbing his temples. "I don't know! I just did my usual freak-out, and suddenly they're acting like well-trained puppies!"
His griffin chirped smugly, as if saying, Yeah, welcome to my life.
---
They had barely recovered from the wolf incident when the real nightmare appeared.
A thunderous BOOM shook the ground. Trees splintered. The air became thick with magic.
Greg turned—and immediately regretted it.
A monstrous boar-like creature, the size of a carriage, crashed through the trees. Its tusks crackled with dark energy, and its beady black eyes locked onto him.
"Yeah, no. I'm out," Greg said immediately, turning on his heel.
But before he could take a single step, the boar charged.
Everything happened too fast.
Greg stumbled backward as the beast lunged. The griffin screeched, launching itself at the monster, but the boar swatted it aside like a ragdoll. The fox followed, unleashing a burst of mystical energy that slowed the beast but didn't stop it.
Greg barely had time to process what was happening before his griffin collapsed to the ground, injured.
His chest tightened.
For the first time since arriving in this world, Greg felt something new—fear for someone else. Not just fear of dying, or fear of being inconvenienced, but genuine panic that something he cared about was hurt.
"No."
The word left his lips before he even realized it.
The air around him shifted. The bond he had with his creatures surged—not accidental this time, but intentional.
And then his dragon roared.
The sound shook the Wildlands. Trees bent under the force of it. The boar-like creature froze mid-charge.
Greg didn't hesitate. He reached out—mentally—grabbing hold of the monster's presence like he had with the wolves. The connection snapped into place.
The boar's eyes flickered.
And then, just like that, it stopped fighting.
Silence fell over the battlefield.
Greg stood there, heart pounding, the weight of what he had just done sinking in.
He wasn't just taming creatures by accident anymore.
He was controlling them.
And that… was terrifying.
Roderic approached cautiously. "Greg… do you realize what you just did?"
Greg exhaled slowly, glancing at his wounded griffin before looking back at the now-docile boar.
"Yeah," he muttered. "And I really, really don't like it."
The forest was eerily silent in the aftermath of the battle. The once-feral wolves now lay obediently around Greg, and the monstrous boar stood motionless, staring at him with dull, tamed eyes.
Greg's hands were shaking.
His griffin hatchling let out a weak chirp from where it lay, battered but alive. Greg rushed over, kneeling beside it. He hesitated before carefully scooping the small creature into his arms. It nuzzled against his chest, its breathing uneven.
Greg swallowed hard.
He wasn't good at this. He wasn't a fighter. He wasn't a leader. He wasn't anything that these people or creatures thought he was.
But right now? His griffin needed him.
The fox at his side placed a paw on the griffin's wound, and a faint glow emanated from it. Slowly, the bleeding stopped. Greg let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"Thanks, buddy," he muttered, scratching the fox's head. It gave a smug flick of its tail in response.
Roderic, the captain of the adventurers, approached cautiously, still gripping his sword. His men were tense, eyes flicking between Greg and the now-tamed beasts.
"What did you just do?" Roderic asked, his voice low.
Greg, still cradling the griffin, shot him a glare. "Oh, I don't know. Just accidentally took control of another giant murder monster. Again." He exhaled. "This is getting ridiculous."
"You tamed that thing mid-battle," Roderic continued, looking at the massive boar-like creature. "That shouldn't be possible."
Greg gave him a deadpan stare. "Great. Add that to the ever-growing list of things I don't understand about my life."
Roderic glanced at his men, then back at Greg. "You really don't get how powerful you are, do you?"
Greg groaned. "Do we have to do the whole 'you're special' speech right now? Because I'm kinda busy having an existential crisis."
One of the adventurers chuckled under his breath, but Roderic remained serious.
"This isn't normal, Greg. No tamer can subdue beasts this quickly, especially not wild ones in the middle of combat. Whatever your ability is, it's something new."
Greg flinched. He hated that word.
New meant attention. New meant responsibility. New meant people wanting things from him.
And that was the last thing he wanted.
He turned away, gently setting the griffin on his shoulder despite its injuries. "Look, I came here because you guys begged me to. I didn't sign up for whatever 'chosen one' nonsense you're about to dump on me."
Roderic studied him for a long moment, then sighed. "Fine. But you have to realize what this means. If you can control creatures on this level, then—"
A distant roar cut him off.
Everyone froze.
The ground trembled beneath them. The mist in the Wildlands thickened, as if something massive was approaching.
Greg's gut twisted.
"What now?" he muttered.
From the shadows of the twisted trees, a new beast emerged.
It was unlike anything Greg had seen before—a towering, serpentine creature with glowing purple eyes and obsidian-black scales. The air around it crackled with dark energy, and its gaze locked onto Greg immediately.
Roderic cursed. "That's… not normal."
The creature's presence felt wrong, like it didn't belong in this world. Greg's beasts all tensed, their instincts screaming at them to run. Even the massive boar he had just tamed took a step back.
Greg exhaled sharply. "Awesome. Another thing that wants me dead."
But deep down, he had a sinking suspicion.
This wasn't just a random monster.
This thing had come for him.
And that terrified him more than anything else.