The Venator ranking system began with Pigeon, followed by Sparrow, Falcon, Hawk, and Eagle. But the truly exceptional—the strongest warriors on earth—were ranked as Phoenix and honored as Epics.
Each rank was divided into ten subdivisions called Constellations: those numbered one to five were termed Moons, while six to ten were Suns. Garth, despite being a Pigeon, had clawed his way to Two Moons—the bare minimum to avoid being deemed a civilian. How he'd even graduated training was a mystery known only to Calista.
The robed man tilted his hooded head, his voice weathered and sharp. "Why does a Pigeon stand before me at this hour?" He flicked a hand, and Garth felt an invisible lock dissolve from his lips.
"An ambush," Garth blurted, urgency stripping his words of preamble.
The Elcana—a high-ranking magic wielder—believed him instantly. Garth stood within the man's protective circle, a spell that granted its caster dominion over truth and lies within its bounds.
"From where?" the Elcana demanded.
"Everywhere. We're surrounded."
"Dammit." The man touched the glowing markings on his wrist bracelet. "All Elcanas, alert the Raid Leaders—"
"No time," Garth interrupted. "Order them into the Onion Formation."
The Elcana bristled at being commanded by a lowly Pigeon, but the gravity in Garth's voice stayed his reproach. "Elcanas," he barked into the bracelet, "rally the troops. Formation Onion."
Garth watched as the man paused, listening to unheard replies. "No—no debates," the Elcana snapped. "Do it. Now."
With a wave, the Elcana freed Garth from the circle's paralysis. He then summoned a staff and slammed it into the earth. A pulse rippled outward, rousing every Venator within three hundred meters.
"Will the formation hold in four minutes?" the Elcana asked.
"If we act fast, Elcana Harold," Garth replied, using the man's title with pointed familiarity.
Harold's hood shifted—a flicker of surprise. Elcanas, as masters of primal magic, outranked elemental wielders of earth, fire, water, wind, and lightning. Their authority was second only to Raid Leaders, though their ranks were eternally fixed at Hawk, a fact many resented.
"Where first?" Harold pressed.
"Northeast. Replace earth wielders with fire at the front."
"What?" Earth wielders were always the vanguard.
"Please," Garth insisted.
Harold hesitated, then relayed the order.
---
The Onion Formation layered Venators in concentric rings: earth wielders at the front, fire behind them, followed by lightning, water, wind, and finally Elcanas. But in the northeast, fire wielders now stood ahead of earth.
Yellow-scaled snake demons surged from the trees. Fire Venators unleashed torrents of flame, reducing the creatures to ash. Next came bull-like demons charging blindly. Earth wielders raised walls to halt their stampede, then dropped the barriers for fire wielders to finish the job.
"Elcana Harold," a voice crackled through Harold's bracelet, "the northeast holds. Your formation saved us. How did you know?"
Harold glanced at Garth, who stared intently at the fray. "I… had counsel."
"From whom?"
"The formation's complete," Garth cut in. "Now order earth wielders to elevate the lightning Venators. The next wave's coming."
Harold opened his mouth—how could a Pigeon know this?—but obeyed.
Garth clenched his fists, struggling to dredge up half-remembered details. Then—
"No!" he gasped.
The ground quaked. Giant rock creatures erupted from the earth, piloted by shrieking monkey demons perched on their shoulders.
"Too late," Garth whispered as the stone behemoths encircled the camp.
Harold turned to him, uncharacteristically seeking guidance—until pride reasserted itself. He was a battle-hardened Elcana, subordinate only to the Raid Leader. With Garth's foresight spent, Harold activated his bracelet to consult the raid leader.
Chapter 2: Watching the Attacks
The Venator ranking system began with Pigeon, followed by Sparrow, Falcon, Hawk, and Eagle. But the truly exceptional—the strongest warriors on Earth—were ranked as Phoenixes and honored as Epics.
Each rank was divided into ten subdivisions called Constellations: those numbered one to five were termed Moons, while six to ten were Suns. Garth, despite being a Pigeon, had clawed his way to Two Moons—the bare minimum to avoid being deemed a civilian. How he'd even made it through training was a mystery known only to Calista.
The robed man tilted his hooded head, speaking in a voice both weathered and sharp. "Why does a Pigeon stand before me at this hour?" He flicked a hand, and Garth felt an invisible lock dissolve from his lips.
"An ambush," Garth blurted, urgency stripping his words of preamble.
The Elcana—a high-ranking magic wielder—believed him instantly. Garth stood within the man's protective circle, a spell that granted its caster dominion over truth and lies within its bounds.
"From where?" the Elcana demanded.
"Everywhere. We're surrounded."
"Dammit." The man touched the glowing markings on his wrist bracelet. "All Elcanas, alert the Raid Leaders—"
"No time," Garth interrupted. "Order them into the Onion Formation."
The Elcana bristled at being commanded by a lowly Pigeon, but the gravity in Garth's voice stayed his reproach. "Elcanas," he barked into the bracelet, "rally the troops. Formation Onion."
Garth watched as the man paused, listening to unheard replies. "No—no debates," the Elcana snapped. "Do it. Now."
With a wave, the Elcana freed Garth from the circle's binding spell. He then summoned a staff and slammed it into the earth. A pulse rippled outward, rousing every Venator within three hundred meters.
"Will the formation hold in four minutes?" the Elcana asked.
"If we act fast, Elcana Harold," Garth replied, using the man's title with pointed familiarity.
Harold's hood shifted—a flicker of surprise. Elcanas, as masters of primal magic, outranked elemental wielders of earth, fire, water, wind, and lightning. Their authority was second only to Raid Leaders, though their ranks were eternally fixed at Hawk, a fact many resented.
"Where first?" Harold pressed.
"Northeast. Replace earth wielders with fire at the front."
"What?" Earth wielders were always the vanguard.
"Please," Garth insisted.
Harold hesitated, then relayed the order.
The Onion Formation layered Venators in concentric rings: earth wielders at the front, fire behind them, followed by lightning, water, wind, and finally Elcanas. But in the northeast, fire wielders now stood ahead of earth.
Yellow-scaled snake demons surged from the trees. Fire wielding Venators unleashed torrents of flame, reducing the creatures to ash. Next came bull-like demons charging blindly. Earth wielders raised walls to halt the stampede, then dropped them, allowing Fire wielders to finish the job.
"Elcana Harold," a voice crackled through Harold's bracelet, "the northeast holds. Your formation saved us. How did you know?"
Harold glanced at Garth, who stared intently at the fray. "I… had counsel."
"From whom?"
"The formation's complete," Garth cut in. "Now order earth wielders to elevate the lightning Venators. The next wave's coming."
Harold thought to himself 'How could a Pigeon know this?' But he didn't speak, rather he obeyed.
Garth clenched his fists, struggling to dredge up half-remembered details. Then—
"No!" he shouted.
The ground quaked. Giant rock creatures erupted from the earth, piloted by shrieking monkey demons perched on their shoulders.
"Too late," Garth whispered as the stone behemoths encircled the camp.
Harold turned to him, momentarily seeking guidance—until pride reasserted itself. He was a battle-hardened Elcana, subordinate only to the Raid Leader. With Garth's foresight spent, Harold activated his bracelet to consult the raid leader.