Taming Destiny - a Tamer Class isekai/portal survival fantasy.

“Begin,” calls a Warrior, sounding like he’s chewing on rocks. Normally that would be Shrieks’ role as the lead Warrior – or mine, considering I was the only one to beat him. This is not a normal situation, and he was deemed too biased to referee the match. So the second best Warrior has taken on that role instead.

With the starting permission given, the three participants of the fight leap into action. I’m not particularly worried about this fight: with my control of fire, I’ve got a pretty hard counter to Wood-shaper’s Skill set.

A sneaky Inspect revealed both her name – Plays-with-sticks, which seems particularly prescient – and the fact that she neither has a big mana pool in comparison with her sisters, nor more than the single ability to control plants. Though, perhaps, if my Flesh-Shaping is anything to go by, to a creative enough mind, maybe that one ability is as much as she needs.

Apparently she doesn’t have a creative mind. Her first move is the same as Shrieks predicted – the same as she’s used in practically every ranking fight ever. She throws a bunch of roots at me, intending on entrapping me with them.

The thing is, according to Shrieks, it worked in the first ranking fight she did. The other Pathwalkers of the time weren’t expecting it and so she actually got halfway up the ranking order with that initial attack since, like with the Warriors, all the Pathwalkers are fighting right now. All but River. Runs-with-the-river. She’ll be fighting Wood-shaper next – with seven combatants, it’s inevitable that one will sit out in each round.

So Wood-shaper figured that the attack was a good one, and then never stopped using it. Of course, her second ranking fight went a bit differently as everyone was expecting the move, dropping her to the bottom of the pecking order.

Seeing the balls of roots coming towards us, I reach out with my fire and incinerate them midair. Before the ash has even cleared the air, both Bastet and I are moving.

The raptorcat is faster than me, so she’s running straight at the Pathwalker, though is prepared to dodge aside at the last moment in case Wood-shaper has another ball of roots on her. I, on the other hand, am preparing to use ranged warfare against this magic-user.

As it turns out, Wood-shaper does have more balls of roots at her disposal and she throws a couple of them at Bastet’s feet. The agile raptorcat just dodges them and keeps going.

Nocking an arrow to my bowstring, I pull it back and then release. The Pathwalker fails to dodge the first one and it sinks into her shoulder, the impact making the slight samuran grunt in pain.

The second arrow unexpectedly sinks into a chunk of wood which seems to appear out of nowhere. Eyeing it, I see that it’s actually something I’d taken as a bracelet which has been expanded at speeds I wouldn’t be able to match with Flesh-Shaping. Despite myself, I’m slightly impressed. It seems like Wood-shaper is being more creative than in her previous two ranking tournaments.

The shield, and the bracelet it used to be, crumble to dust a moment later, but it did its job. Raking my eyes over the samuran, I see several more bracelets around her upper arms and ankles which are no doubt able to achieve the same effect. Perhaps I’ll be able to find out how she did it after the fight.

Still, my first arrow got through which, ultimately, is all I need.

Keep her distracted, I tell Bastet, then focus on the poison I’ve sent into Wood-shaper’s system, pushing at it and feeding it with more magic to help it overcome the body’s natural defences.

Running out of stamina isn’t such a problem for magic-users – mana exhaustion is far more detrimental. Unfortunately, I don’t yet have a poison which can attack that directly. Instead, I’m going with something that’s already worked against a Pathwalker: the danaris’ venom.

It takes time – more time than with the Warriors. There’s more resistance to my intrusion in Wood-shaper’s body than even in Shrieks’. Perhaps it’s her magic taking exception to my presence. Fortunately, Bastet is very good at distracting the Pathwalker – especially since she doesn’t appear to be a good enough fighter to realise that’s what Bastet is: a distraction to allow me to defeat her.

Finally, when she starts stumbling, her eyes beginning to close, Wood-shaper seems to realise that she’s been tricked. That the raptorcat who she was ‘barely holding at bay’ with her shaping skills was in fact doing nothing more than keeping her busy.

But by that point, it’s too late. My venom has taken over her system, and within a few more moments, she slumps to the ground, sleep forcibly overcoming her.

“Honoured Markus is the winner,” the Warrior intones in a voice which neither expresses joy nor disappointment in the result. It’s the guy I fought in my eighth round who used a bola. Bites-a-leaf, according to Shrieks. Since the herbalist is currently fighting, no one comes over to paint my back, but I have something else to do first.

Kneeling down next to her, I carefully lever open her eyelids. Her pupils are dilated, unfocussed. I hope that this will work.

What? Where am I? Plays-with-sticks asks, panic running through her aura as we both appear in the familiar greyed-out space. Interestingly enough, she’s the first to react like that – usually creatures react with anger or resentment, not fear.

“You’re in my soul-space,” I tell her levelly as I walk towards her, focussing on sending her a sense of calm authority. “And you will not be leaving it until you make a decision.”

What-what decision is that? she asks, fear still shivering through her. There is practically no resistance to my forward movement. An instinctive pressure, perhaps, as she’s certainly not focussing on keeping me away.

“To join me as one of my Bound, to accept the chain which you can no doubt feel.” I’m past the middle point between our starting spots.

O-or? comes her quavering question.

“Or die,” I say matter-of-factly. It turns my stomach a little to give such a black and white choice. Particularly when the reasons for giving it are so selfish – I can’t trust that even a banished Pathwalker would be harmless to me.

Not only would it mean potential split loyalties of the rest of the samuran under my command, but I’ve got hints that there are other lizard-folk villages out there. What if a Pathwalker went to one of them for support? From how easily River was accepted once she became a magic-user, it’s clear that Pathwalkers have power over other samuran just from being female, let alone their own magical power.

So no, whether objectively moral or not, I refuse to prepare a knife for my own back. The samuran of this village will fall in line under my leadership or else – the Unevolved could be offered banishment as an option, but not the Warriors or the Pathwalkers.

I…I don’t want to die! cried Wood-shaper, anger now appearing around me, twined with misery.

“Then accept my Bond and join me,” I tell her firmly, then soften my voice and emotions a little as I continue. “Think about Joy. Does she look miserable? Or oppressed? I know the way I’m asking forces you to make a difficult choice, but if you had the opportunity to judge objectively, is my Bond such a bad thing?”

I feel Wood-shaper waver, her Will and desire to resist, already weak, now almost gone.

Al-alright. I’ll join you, she finally agrees, sounding resigned. You’ve proved yourself strong enough, I suppose, she sighs.

Touching her forehead, the world around us fractures and fills with colour once more.

Immediately, I get to work clearing Plays-with-sticks’ system of the venom. With the Bond in place, it’s a lot easier than infusing it had been. Still, I heave a sigh of relief when I get it all out and finish healing the damage it did.

Sitting back on my heels next to the samuran, I watch carefully. With the venom out of her system and the damage repaired, it’s moments before I see her eyes slit open, her eyelids blinking away to reveal sleepy eyes which quickly widen as she realises what’s just happened.

Don’t let your sisters know for now, I order her silently. I see her take in a breath as she feels the pressure of the Bond against her.

As you wish, she agrees reluctantly. It’s not that I want to keep it quiet for long – it’s just that I don’t want my future opponents getting wind of what’s going to happen to them when they meet me in turn.

Plays-with-sticks, Wood-shaper, has joined us, I broadcast to my other Bound present. Don’t let anyone else know for now.

Acknowledgement rings across the Bonds and I head to where I can see the Pathwalkers who are still fighting. Wind-whisperer and Herbalist are almost obscured by a cloud of quickly moving powder of some sort. Shrieks mentioned that the herbalist, for obvious reason, had a tendency to use potions and poisons in her attacks.

Grower and Weaver are just finishing up. Interestingly, it seems like Joy actually has the upper hand in that confrontation: Grower has clearly been trying to entangle Joy in plants that she’s grown from seeds thrown around Joy, but my Bound has apparently turned the tables against her – the plants are weaving tighter and tighter around Grower’s form.

Even as I watch, the plants around Grower wither a little, letting her move just a bit more. A moment later, Joy brings an end to the fight with her quarterstaff, something she’s been practising with recently. Breaking through the remaining tangles around her feet, she slams the butt of the quarterstaff into her sister’s jaw.

Unable to move, Grower takes the full hit, and I wince as I hear the sound of cracking bone.

“Winner: Honoured Weaver,” the Warrior overseeing this fight announces. I notice a couple of the other Warriors look a bit disappointed, handing over something wooden to one of their fellows who looks rather smug. Were they betting on the outcome?

Joy walks over towards me, also looking rather smug.

I won, she says.

“I saw,” I answer with a hint of amusement. “Well done. Looks like that staff is coming in useful.”

Yes. I wish I had started using it sooner, she sighs. Using physical weapons does not make us any less as magic-users – you taught me that.

I raise my eyebrows at her a little in surprise. Is that why neither she nor my previous opponent tried to use physical weapons?

“I figure that we should use all the weapons we can to survive in this brutal forest. Didn't you use weapons before you were a Pathwalker, anyway?”

Yes, she answers, looking a little embarrassed, but after I Evolved, it felt like…using the same weapons as I used to made me look like my new magical abilities weren’t good enough. And besides, I stopped needing to fight as much, anyway – I barely went out in the forest before being sent with the hunting party to find you.

I can’t help shaking my head a little. I wonder where that belief came from – the shaman? Consciously or unconsciously? Or was it just Joy’s own insecurities causing her to unintentionally sabotage herself?

“Well, you’re using it now,” I say diplomatically, “and your chances of survival have increased because of it.”

Our discussion is interrupted a moment later by a Warrior approaching. This was the fifth one that I beat – I would guess that they’re being careful not to let any of my Bound Warriors officiate any of my fights for the same reason that Shrieks wasn’t allowed to, much to his annoyance.

“Honoured Weaver, Honoured Markus, you are the next pair to fight. Do you wish to begin now?”

“I am not going to fight him,” Joy answers quickly with a hint of exasperation in her spikes.

“Honoured Weaver,” the Warrior says with a hint of reproof, “what you do in the ring is your choice. However, you must be in the ring to make it.”

Joy looks at me with the same exasperation diffusing through the Bond to me. I just shrug. They did the same with my Warrior bound so why not with my known Pathwalker one too?

“Well, shall we?” she asks verbally with a greyish ‘sigh’ making its way through her spikes.

“Sure,” I answer in the same vein, turning and making my way to the closest empty ring.