The caravan driver was understandably quite shocked when he stepped out of the main wagon. “What the fuck happened here?”

  “Well… do you see the hoof prints around here?” Rodrick asked.

  “Yeah, I do. They seem pretty big, and I’m assuming you know what kind of creature did this.”

  “There was a stampede here,” Ciel said flatly. “A gold rank behemoth ursa scared other beasts enough to flood the whole area with beasts. We are only, and I repeat only, alive because only a single beast passed through here. That silver rank earth affinity goat luckily only broke a single cabin.”

  She pointed at the strewn around furniture and the hole in the second wagon’s side. “That was the male cabin for our team, so no passengers have been endangered. Still, our team’s assessment is that we should get to Lyndale as fast as we can.”

  The iron rank man in his 50s with salt and pepper hair looked around the campsite. “I think I agree, lassy,” He didn’t notice Ciel’s affronted expression and soldiered on. “Grab some quick breakfast. We’ll head out in fifteen minutes. I want to get to my family, preferably alive…”

  Just as Ciel was about to say something venomous, Carla placed a comforting hand on the other woman’s shoulder. “We’ll do just that, driver. Get the horses ready, and we’ll prepare ourselves for the journey as fast as we can.”

  As the driver went inside to gather the horses, Ciel wheeled on Carla. “He called me a lassy! I won’t just stand by and say nothing back!”

  “And I’m sure he meant nothing bad with it,” Carla responded calmly. “He’s an iron rank man in his 50s. You can just be the adult in the room and ignore him.”

  Ciel let out a frustrated growl, but eventually nodded her head. “You’re right, you’re right. But if he even dares…”

  “Yes, yes, I’ll do the talking for the rest of the trip,” Carla squeezed the dark haired woman’s shoulders and released her from her grasp. “Now let’s get ready for a day of travel, even if everyone slept like shit.”

  “Language!”

  “Oh, shut up!”

  As soon as the team had eaten their breakfast and the driver had brought out the horses, getting Rodrick’s help with putting the harnesses on, the caravan set out at a relatively high pace. Valar once again sat on the roof of the now partially broken second wagon and looked around as they got back on the road.

  Visually, the wasteland hadn’t changed a lot. The land had already been flat and barren, so the passage of the herd of goats hadn’t affected it overly much. The only noticeable differences were the paw prints the behemoth ursa had left behind, but those were a sight on their own.

  Valar was halfway sure that the bear’s paws were each the size of the basin they had camped in. If it had stepped a little bit to the side… No, those are negative thoughts. It didn’t do that, and I’m still alive. We're still alive.

  When he thought about it, this had been the first time he had been faced with a beast that he absolutely could not defeat. Even if he blasted the bear with his fire, Valar knew that he would have angered it at most, and that thought scared him. His trump card, his secret weapon… It did not matter in the face of a beast like that. Valar would have to get stronger, to rank up and reach those ranks himself, before he could ever take on such a beast. He didn’t want to be afraid. He didn’t want to be helpless.

  There would be no stopping on his path to the higher ranks. Slowing down would only come and bite him back in the ass. No, he would adventure and progress through the ranks so that he would never have to feel helpless again. No stopping.

  The other members of the team were thinking similar thoughts to Valar although each person’s perspective was wildly different. In fact, each other member had reached that realization way before today, so seeing the behemoth ursa only strengthened that perspective. They had different motivations, but the same goal. Most adventurers shared that goal, as in the end it was the only thing that could push them forward. Everyone wanted to become strong. To some, that was gold rank, to others, it was diamond. To some, only godhood could ever satisfy their need for power. Only time could tell…

  The rest of the way through the wasteland was both fast and boring. All the native beasts had been driven out by the passing stampede, and the whole wasteland was filled with dust kicked up by the goats. That meant that the visibility was terrible, but they could fortunately still see the road and progress.

  The first surprising thing that the group saw was towards the end of the wasteland region. It was the military outpost, or at least what was left of it. Evidently, the passing stampede hadn’t been kind to the small fortress, as silver rank goats had run through the fortifications like they were wet paper. That meant that the whole place was crumbled, but there was a decent chance of survivors in the basement of the fortress.

  At Rodrick’s suggestion, the caravan stopped next to the fortress ruins. They had no real reason to not check the place out, as they would easily reach Lyndale before nightfall due to their early departure. If they found any surviving soldiers, they would be saving extra lives and getting possible additional protectors for the rest of the trip. Essentially, there were no real downsides to just checking the place out, other than maybe losing fifteen minutes of time that didn’t matter anyway.

  Despite the low risk of checking out the basement, Rodrick insisted that he and Ciel should go in first. He because of his physique and Ciel due to her dark magic. If there were enemies there, the two close combat specialists, especially Ciel, would be the optimal fighters for the small space.

  “Follow me,” Rodrick grunted as he drew out his axe. “I know where the basement entrance is in this type of fortification.”

  “How?” Valar asked from the back.

  “My father is a guardsman, remember? I got taught about these things before I ever awakened, and I’ve visited these fortifications many times. Now stay silent and let me handle the talking.”

  The group walked up to the trapdoor leading to the basement, and Rodrick knocked on it. “Anyone there? We’re adventurers!”

  They got no response, so Rodrick knocked harder. “Anyone there?”

  When they got no further response, he growled and smashed his gloved fist against the trapdoor. “STATUS REPORT!”

  “3 ALIVE, 1 HAS SIGNIFICANT INJURIES! REQUESTING IMMEDIATE EVACUATION!” a rough female voice echoed from the basement.

  “Finally,” Rodrick grumbled as he opened the trapdoor and jumped in.

  “What was that about?” Valar asked. “Why didn’t they answer earlier?”

  “Military stuff,” Ciel spat to the side and jumped in.

  Valar, Arthur and Carla looked at each other and shrugged. What’s the worst that could happen?

  The trio jumped into the darkness.

  It turned out that the guardsman yelling up from the basement had not been lying. Indeed, there were 3 guardsmen, one clutching his leg with a pained grimace on his face.

  “-has passed by now, but your fortress is completely ruined,” Rodrick was explaining to a female soldier. “We are with a caravan, so we can transport you to Lyndale within the day.”

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “We’ll gladly take you up on that offer, adventurer,” the female soldier with short dark hair said. “My name is Greta, and I’m a sergeant of the Leorian militia. Nice to meet you.”

  The adventurer and sergeant shook hands and got to talking.

  “As you can clearly see, one of my soldiers has been injured. We have healing potions in stock, but healing him with those will take ages.”

  “No need to worry about that,” Rodrick said. “You see, we actually have an interning healer…”

  He isn’t talking about me, right?

  “He can take a look at your soldier’s leg…”

  Please no! My head hurts already!

  “Then we can leave in 15 minutes or so!”

  Fuck. Valar threw a beseeching look towards Carla, but his fresh teammate callously betrayed him and just shrugged. “It’s your job. Tough shit.”

  “LANGUAGE!” Rodrick’s and Greta’s voices combined together, creating a resonant cascade of noise in the small basement and forcing everyone to cover their ears.

  After the brief shock in the room passed, Valar sighed and stepped forward. “Let’s see if I pass out from the umpteenth Lesser Restoration in the past day…”

  He kneeled next to the injured man and focused his attention on the soldier’s leg. His knee was quite obviously fractured, as the leg was pointing to the side at an unnatural angle.

  “Somebody will have to straighten that first,” Valar commented. “My healing could probably do that, but it would take mana and mental energy that I’m not sure I even have left. Better to straighten it, then heal.”

  “I’ll do it,” Ciel’s excited voice echoed in the torchlit room. “Bite down on something, would you?”

  The man looked around in seeming panic, and Greta shoved the hilt of her spear in his mouth. “Try not to focus on it. In three-”

  The man screamed as Ciel ripped his leg back to a normal angle and his sergeant visibly cringed.

  “Ouch.”

  Valar was right there, Lesser Restoration already prepared and ready to go. In all honesty, he didn’t even pay attention to the fact that he had prepared the spell beforehand. He had just cast it and channeled it so many times recently that preparing and holding the spellframe felt natural.

  “Lesser Restoration.”

  As he expected, the headache returned with a vengeance. Valar soldiered on as he damn sure wouldn’t let the man at his feet suffer for any longer than necessary. What’s a little pain for me anyway? This headache is nothing… it’s nothing… nothing.

  ...

  When Valar woke up, the basement’s torchlit ceiling had turned into the cloudy sky, and he felt his robes billowing in the wind. His head hurt.

  “Finally awake, huh?” Carla asked. She was sitting right next to him on the wagon roof, a rueful smile stuck on her face. “First time experiencing mana overload?”

  “What’s that?” Valar asked as he grabbed his head with both hands. It didn’t help, but at least he tried.

  “You overextended your mind by casting spells until you passed out,” Carla explained. “It isn’t that rare at our ranks as our minds haven’t been enhanced enough to bear the brunt of spellcasting. It can apparently happen in the higher ranks too, but I’ve never seen a gold ranker passed out on the ground like you.”

  “Did I heal the soldier?” Valar grunted.

  “Partially,” Carla mused. “Mostly, I think. The healing potion fed to him afterwards did the job in only five minutes or so, and usually they take 30 minutes or more. Good job on that, I guess.”

  “Why are you here? The caravan is moving, so shouldn’t you be patrolling the area?”

  “I’m not needed for that stuff right now. Greta and the other soldier were ready to chip in, so I’m pretty much on break,” the ice mage chuckled. “That break will probably last until Lyndale, as the forested area past the wasteland isn’t known for its strong beasts. You kind of killed one of the area’s kings…”

  Valar managed to grin weakly, but he didn’t see Carla’s as he covered the sunlight with his hands. Sunlight hurt…

  “I still remember my first mana overload with absolute clarity…” Carla’s voice rang between Valar’s ear painfully. “I was interning as an iron ranker, just like you…”

  “Can you please stop?”

  “Oh, right. I’ll stop.”

  The pair fell into silence, and Valar was soon back asleep. His rest of the trip would be a relaxing one, but for the others… Their experience wouldn’t be quite the same.

  Carla suspected that something was wrong when Arthur rushed back from the forest like his feet were on fire. She knew that they were absolutely fucked when Ciel did the same.

  “Get ready for a big ambush!” Arthur yelled. “The forest entrance is practically swimming with bandits!”

  “What do you mean?” Greta shouted back. “The forest surrounding Lyndale is bandit free!”

  “Apparently not!” Ciel said as she stopped in front of the caravan. “Everyone needs to be ready to fight! Carla, prepare something big!”

  “How big?” Carla asked from the wagontop.

  “Was Winter’s Bloom your biggest spell?”

  “No, but my biggest one takes almost 5 minutes to prepare!”

  “We’ll give you that time!” Ciel drew her daggers from their sheaths. “It better be big…”

  Carla lowered herself to a lying position on the wagontop in order to evade notice, and started casting…

  The young woman’s method of drawing runes was quite different to Valar’s. Where the boy imagined a string snaking around the spellframe, Carla’s approach was quite specific to her affinity and chosen specialty.

  The Thorn house of Thornton was a house of fire mages and great warriors of legend. Her father, Fineas Thorn, was a gold rank fire mage of great renown, and the current image of the house relied on him.

  Every member of her house was either a fire mage or a martial combatant, except Carla and one other.

  The Thorn family was an influential house in the kingdom of Leoria. Her father held command over an entire city, and it wasn’t a small city either, but Fineas Thorn hadn't been the one who built that city. He was an accomplished mage, but a gold ranker wouldn’t have gained control of an entire city on his own.

  No… There was one other member of their house that mattered more than Fineas ever could. Carla’s great-great-grandmother, Diana Thorn, had been the singular force that lifted the Thorn house to notoriety.

  And she had been an ice mage, just like Carla.

  The near silent crackle of expanding ice took over the wagontop. Runes manifested upon Carla’s skin like ice spreading over a still lake on a wintery morning. That made the runes of ice magic look even more angular and erratic than normal. A total novice of magic would’ve panicked and aborted the spellcast, but Carla knew better.

  Visualization and belief were key in all magic. Mana flowed from the very soul of the mage, and was given shape and purpose with their mind. The runes were designed to handle the brunt of the purpose, but visualization and creativity mattered greatly. What did it matter if her runes were slightly more angular than normal? To Carla, those sharp angles and points of irregularity were depictions of her magic and its beauty, only amplifying the result, not taking away from it.

  She was smart, especially for her age, but Carla had to admit that she wouldn’t have figured that complexity of spellforms out by herself. Her ancestor had. The onyx ranker who disappeared to the deep north a century ago left most of her belongings with her progeny, and that included her diaries.

  A young Carla, just twelve years old, had found one of these books in the family library. She had grabbed the book and read until her eyes hurt, feeling a strange kinship with the ancestor she had never had the chance to meet in person. She hadn’t been an ice mage then, but she had still understood the essence of Diana’s writings.

  The beauty of ice was unquestionable. It could freeze the most beautiful moment and shatter the vilest enemy. The power of ice was not only with simple lances or hailstorms. It could do more but the caster needed to let the ice be ice. Not earth, not wind, not fire, and definitely not water. There was nothing that ice couldn’t do, the only limitation was with the mage wielding it.

  A fierce battle for survival had started below, but Carla didn’t care. She cast her spell and relived through memories, extracting what was important from them and baking those things into her spell.

  The twelve-year-old girl had managed to read a few chapters of the diary when her father had stormed into the library and snatched the book away. He had been furious. “The Thorn house is a house of fire! Read every book on fire you can, but not this drivel!”

  The man, in his blind rage, had lit the small worn down diary on fire, turning it into ash. Carla had cried, begged and fought to stop the crime against beauty itself, but Fineas hadn’t listened. One of the diaries of Diana Thorn had been burned away without a trace.

  Carla felt small crystals of ice dropping away from her face and shattering against the wagon roof. She was crying, but she didn’t mind. It was a memory worth shedding tears over, and it provided her spell with something nothing else could provide.

  Carla felt the icy rage coming and welcomed it. Today, the bandits blocking their path would learn what her father didn’t understand.

  The house Thorn had never been one of fire, but of ice.