Bond Master

Phantom in the Fen (2)

Exactly four minutes into the simulation, a light rustle in the canopy signaled a return. A swift, dark shadow dropped silently through the woven blanket of vines, landing precisely on the wet leather of Ren's gauntlet before dissolving instantly into a smooth ripple of crimson light. Within the dark sanctuary of his Containment Vault, Grim settled back down onto the central stone dais, his telepathic link bursting with a sudden wave of profound, heavy satisfaction.

"I am completely full," the young hound announced along the thought link, his mental voice radiating a heavy, sluggish warmth. The hunting grounds are exceptional. I am going to take a long, deep nap inside the vault now.]

Ren’s eyebrow twitched slightly in the darkness beneath the vines, his mental connection tracking a sudden influx of fresh, heavy nutrients stabilizing within Grim's system. [Did you actually spend your very first tactical scouting mission hunting down and devouring native marsh bullfrogs instead of executing my direct orders, you lazy mutt?] Ren demanded sharply along the link.

[I executed the work flawlessly, ] Grim retorted with an indignant, defensive pulse of his mind as he curled his tail around his bone-plated paws. [Nobody is currently coming toward our coordinate. Two of the other black-cloak flag leaders materialized very close together on the northern ridge, and every single one of the offensive teams is currently marching in that direction to join the fight. The sector is clear here.]

Ren cut the link slightly to digest the intelligence, looking over at Vesper and Roger through the gaps in the moss. "Grim reports that the other two defensive teams materialized exceptionally close to one another on the northern edge of the sector," Ren whispered to his squad. "The offensive groups have already locked onto their positions.

Right now, it's a chaotic three-on-two brawl unfolding on the opposite side of the grid. The attackers likely won't waste their stamina coming to look for our flag until that primary engagement is completely resolved. Vesper, is there anything our frontline can do right now to help you maintain your energy reserves and expand the perimeter of this fog?"

The dark-haired mage shook her head firmly, her eyes locked on the steady blue glow of her catalyst. "There's absolutely nothing you can do to assist the channel, Ren. It's not overly draining on my stamina right now, though; the technique simply requires my absolute, uninterrupted focus to keep the boundaries from dissolving in the wind.

By the time the offensive survivors finish their fight and come hunting for our flag, this cloud will cover the entire southern quadrant. But keep in mind—if the attackers don't suffer heavy casualties during the northern brawl, they will eventually be able to just form a continuous horizontal line and systematically walk through the fog until they physically trip over our shields."

The seven giant warriors simply shrugged their broad shoulders in the water, their grips loosening slightly on their iron war-hammers. That specific tactical scenario was actually completely fine by them. As heavy close-combat defenders, they had zero options for long-range warfare anyway; the offensive casters wouldn't be able to see the details of the fight through Vesper's thick fog from more than two meters away, forcing them into a blind, close-quarters melee. Being discovered at the absolute last possible second in a tight, enclosed choke-point was exactly what the shield-bearers wanted.

Ren focused his mind back down into the vault, looking at the sleeping form of his hound. [Grim, get back out of the vault and rest up in the high branches of that cypress tree, ] Ren instructed firmly. [Keep your shared senses locked in the northern sector and track the ongoing battle while you rest, since you clearly cannot keep your appetite under control between formal meals.]

[Fine, I will maintain the high watch, ] the hound pouted telepathically, though he complied instantly, his shadow materializing back into the mossy canopy above their heads.

Ren realized that he would need to implement a strict regimen of discipline and behavioral training for his hound. The second, this practical exercise concluded. He had absolutely zero institutional guidelines on how to properly train a highly intelligent magical beast, or what specific methods would even work to keep a food-motivated predator focused on operational security instead of gorging itself on local wildlife at the very first opportunity.

However, the sheer fact that a newborn juvenile, Volden Shackle-Hound, had managed to silently hunt, kill, and completely devour a Common-grade magical creature in its own native environment without sustaining a single scratch was a terrifyingly good sign that Grim’s raw combat power was growing at an exponential rate. It was progressing much faster than was naturally normal for the species, and Ren was completely certain that the transformation was a direct result of their unique system bond.

There was still far too much that Ren didn't know about his class properties, but as Grim settled into the high canopy, utilizing his superior nocturnal vision to pierce the mist and relaying a vivid, play-by-play impression of the distant battle straight back into Ren's mind, the mechanics of the bond became clearer. The young hound would naturally try to do whatever he wanted, whining continuously for raw meat and exploiting loopholes like any newborn creature, but when Ren issued a direct, explicit command with specific parameters, the bond forced absolute obedience.

The true issue was that Ren wasn't providing enough details in his orders, allowing Grim to exploit open-ended instructions like "scout and return" to snatch a quick meal along the way. When they were training with the mages in the subterranean bunker, Ren was issuing sharp commands every few seconds to keep the hound locked in a defensive matrix, which was why the behavioral problem didn't exist during formal drills.

"The engagement on the northern ridge is almost entirely over, " Grim’s telepathic pulse suddenly slammed into Ren’s mind, his shared senses shifting with an intense alert. [The old robe-man had officially materialized to remove the majority of the defeated participants from the matrix. But there are four offensive practitioners currently heading straight south along the boundary line. They aren't marching toward our exact coordinates yet, but they are aggressively searching the perimeter for something.]

"Grim reports that the northern battle has concluded," Ren whispered immediately, his voice cutting through the croaking of the marsh frogs as the shield-warriors straightened their guards. "Only four attackers are left active on the offensive line, and they are currently following the outer southern boundary of the designated simulation zone."

"Only four of them left?" Roger whispered back from behind his massive tower shield, his knuckles tightening around the shaft of his heavy iron spear. "That means the defensive teams took down over half their line before they collapsed. Who exactly is heading our way?"

"I'm not entirely certain which specific four characters survived the brawl yet," Ren replied, his silver-crimson-ringed eyes flashing with a sharp, calculating focus in the dim light of the canopy. "I will have Grim gather their specific class profiles as they approach, but for right now, I have an unconventional idea."

The seven giant shield-warriors and Vesper eagerly locked their eyes onto Ren, waiting with absolute intensity for any tactical directive that didn't involve continuing to crouch neck-deep in a stagnant, fetid swamp.

"We are going to have Vesper maintain the continuous fog expansion from this exact structural point," Ren instructed thoroughly, a low, clever grin breaking across his face. "But our physical phalanx is moving immediately. The attackers know exactly where the maximum extent of the combat zone lies, and they are going to systematically search the center of this fog cloud expecting to find a turtle shell. We are going to slip out of the camouflage blanket in absolute silence, wade along the deep roots to the western flank, and hide in the clear reeds. We will let them waste their Mana and stamina aggressively attacking an empty phantom fog bank, and we will simply frustrate them until the clock elapses. Defending a flag doesn't have to mean engaging in a brutal slug fest; we can win this game by letting their own paranoia run them entirely out of energy."