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

I haven’t been idle during the banter time, though. I automatically jab my hand at the samuran Warrior, imagining my index finger as the nozzle of a flame-thrower. The mana I transformed into fire magic provides the spark, and then the flame draws greedily on my mana as it billows outwards. With no other fuel, my mana is its only source of life.

Fortunately, I’m full right now; I drop into Light Meditation to increase my regeneration and improve my thinking ability. Moving too fast will break it, but it doesn’t stop me from reacting quickly, if I need to.

The samuran halts his forwards advance immediately. In fact, he starts backpedalling, making sure he’s out of the range of my fire. His eyes are wide, alarm in his spikes, but he doesn’t seem about to turn and run.

To conserve mana as much as possible, I let the flame die back: with a Master-rank in Energy Manipulation controlling the amount of mana I feed to the flame to produce exactly the amount of flame I want is just a matter of focus and intention.

The samuran hesitates, eyeing me.

“You can control the Devourer?” He sounds a mixture between wary and impressed. I’m a little impressed myself: he doesn’t actually sound scared so much as wary. Given River’s reaction, I would have thought that fear would be a common factor among the lizard-folk when exposed to fire. Apparently Warriors are a cut above the others in more ways than one. And Pathwalkers too – Joy hadn’t been as impressed as I would have liked earlier.

“I can,” I tell him. It’s probably a bit of an…extension of the truth. I’m still very much learning the limits of my new Skill. But I can control fire a lot more than I could a few days ago, and infinitely better than the lizard-folk who haven’t even discovered it yet.

Leaps-from-fright is silent for a few more moments longer before he asks his next question. Well, questioning statement.

“It was my impression that you were a physical fighter,” he says cautiously.

“Where did you get that idea?” I ask, slightly surprised. How do they have enough data on my fighting style to make any assumptions about me at all? Then the answer hits me, just as he responds.

“The way you caved in Honoured Mover’s head!” the lizard-man answers with anger tinting his voice, his spikes flashing red.

I shrug, though since I didn’t put any real intention into the movement, doubt that its meaning is conveyed.

“I am capable of defending myself physically, but I am primarily a magical fighter.”

Leaps-from-fright looks me up and down with a hint of a glint in his eyes that I take an immediate dislike to.

“You are female?” he asks with more than a little interest. A sense of horror goes through me.

“No I’m not!” I say more than a little forcefully. I try to ignore the amusement that comes through the Bond from River and Bastet at the lizard-man’s misunderstanding. “I’m not the same kind of creature as you; I am male and I am also capable of magic!” I emphasise. Then, wanting to move quickly off that topic, and deciding that a bit of grandstanding probably wouldn’t go amiss, I continue. “I am a Flesh-Shaper, a Fire-Shaper, and a Binder. Offer me your surrender now and I will not force you to submit.”

Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to have the reaction I was hoping it might, vague ideas about perhaps offering a Tame Bond flying out the window as the samuran speaks.

“One of us or not, if you seek my surrender, you will have to force it,” the lizard-man clicks and grunts at me, the sounds clipped more than usual, emphasising the sharpness of his teeth.

“So be it,” I say grimly.

With that, the battle is once more joined. As the lizard-man charges towards me, his spear in hand, his maw slightly open, I once more open up with the fire. Again, it makes him shy away, but he doesn’t backpedal this time. Instead, he dodges sideways.

I follow him with my jet of fire, but he keeps staying just ahead of my blast, getting closer with each step.

Briefly strangling the amount of mana I’m feeding to the fire, the jet dies away almost completely. I twist just a bit faster than I had been, and blast straight at where Leaps-from-fright is about to be.

The samuran takes the jet right to his face and he lets out a stomach-curdling shriek of pain and, well, fright. I feel guilt well up in me, but remind myself that, first, he demanded this, and second, I can heal it after.

Letting my fire die away almost completely, I look on slightly anxiously to see what effect I’ve had. Bad idea – I almost take a spear to the gut as the samuran strikes forwards.

His aim is off: his eyes are streaming and his jaws are burnt. Because of that, the spear misses me by an inch. Letting my flame die away completely, I grab my own spear in both hands, knocking his off-course and striking back at him. I don’t pull my blow any: even if I pierce his gut, I can heal it.

I don’t know what my chances are against him like this: meeting him with his own weapon. I do well enough against River, beating him more than I lose, but he’s not a Warrior. This guy looks significantly stronger than he is, and is probably far more skilled. Nonetheless, I can’t help but want to just try it out.

Besides, being close might offer me an opening with my other Shaping Skill.

Even already injured, the samuran is fast, dodging away from my blow and pulling his spear back into position, striking at me with an efficiency of movement that leaves me briefly jealous.

It’s my turn to backpedal, and my first back-step turns into several more as the blows just keep coming. Leaps-from-fright is significantly faster than River, and his level of Skill is leagues better. It’s all my improved physical stats can do to keep up with dodging his blows. No thought of winning.

But that’s OK – Spear Mastery isn’t anywhere near my highest Skill for a reason.

The spear flies towards me, its sharply shaped point almost gleaming maliciously at me. I try to twist away, but am just not quite fast enough. The blow hits, the first one to actually do so. Fortunately for me, my nere hide armour seems up to the job and the point is deflected away.

Leaps-from-fright wasn’t expecting that – he clearly committed enough to the blow that he’s now over-extended. I take the opportunity to strike at him with my own spear. Unfortunately for me, he’s faster than I am and he manages to dodge my blow completely. It does put him a little on the back-foot, though, which I take advantage of.

We exchange more blows. The Warrior quickly regains the upper hand, quenching the sudden fire of hope which had been lit in my breast by my brief moment of dominance.

As if he had been holding back, the blows come faster and stronger than before. My armour proves itself time and time again, the blows bruising with their force, but not coming close to piercing my flesh. In his increasing frustration, the Warrior aims for the areas not covered, but they are easier to keep away from his blows than the solid trunk of my torso and he doesn’t succeed.

It’s a stalemate with neither of us managing to strike any significant blows, but one that teeters on a knife’s edge.

I’m tempted to activate Dominate now, but one thing stops me: proof of strength. The whole point of doing this is to prove to the Warriors that they should accept me as a form of authority. If I want to do that, more than half the battle taking place in another realm isn’t likely to help.

At the same time, it’s a bit of a risk extending the battle here when I know that Dominate is going to be the finale – the more defeated my opponent feels before the Battle of Wills, the easier it is. Conversely, the more confident my opponent is, the harder defeating them with Dominate is. I could make a bad error at any moment and give Leaps-from-fright the opening he needs to bring me low. Frankly, that’s only a matter of time.

I’m not going to win solely with my spear, and letting him feel like he is on the cusp of winning isn’t helpful. However, if I can take that away from him…

My distraction is costly, the almost-fatal error happening sooner than I could have predicted it.

Leaps-from-fright’s spear flies at my head. I jerk sideways, only to realise with a swoop of horror in my belly that it was a feint – and that I’ve dodged right into the place he wants me. In the split-second before it hits my chest, I see the spear glowing yellow.

This time, when it hits my armour, it isn’t deflected; instead, it goes straight through. Not without effort, but it pierces nonetheless. It slides into my chest, only a last-moment flinch stopping it from stabbing my heart. It punctures a lung, though, and I have the horrible sensation of feeling something deflating forcibly within me.

I wheeze in shock, then forcibly dull the agony down – I know I’m badly injured; pain will only distract me further. I can still breathe with one lung – that’s enough for now.

Leaps-from-fright opens his jaw, his spikes flashing a bright blue of satisfaction as he realises he’s struck a significant blow. He doesn’t expect the next move, though.

When he tries to pull the spear from me, I grab onto it with all my strength. He tugs harder, his clawed hands grabbing closer to my body. Releasing the spear suddenly, I clutch instead onto his forearms, shoving in my magic.

He breaks my grip soon enough, swinging his arms, spear held tight in his clawed hands. I’m sent staggering away as the blood on my hands from the spear-shaft makes my grip more slippery than I’d like.

But that’s OK. I stand there grinning at him. The blood staining my teeth combined with my lack of apparent fear seems to make Leaps-from-fright even warier than before. He eyes me carefully, flicking his eyes this way and that, perhaps fearing that I’ve sent some trap for him.

I have, but he’s playing right into it. Perhaps he hasn’t got enough sensitivity to feel it, but my mana is running rampant through his body at this very moment.

It’s hard work, and takes more effort than I’d like – one reason I’m standing still and grinning is because I can’t do much else. I’ve only done a very stop-gap healing to limit the blood pouring out of my body and any movement will dislodge it. My lung is filling with blood and any movement is likely to worsen the damage to that too.

The other reason is because I’m manipulating mana from a distance – and in a foreign body that I haven’t scanned. I don’t think I could spare the concentration to dodge right now, so it’s fortunate that Leaps-from-fright is being extra cautious.

It gives me the time I need to force myself through his body’s natural resistance and start actually causing damage. One point in my favour is that his body is substantially less resistant than even Lathani’s had been, despite being a Tier higher. No, two points – causing damage requires significantly less attention to detail than healing does.

“Why are you so confident?” Leaps-from-fright growls. “If you call on your assistants, I will never submit to you. You must defeat me with your weapons alone.”

“Well,” I reply, splitting a small part of my precious conscious thought off to speak – the longer I can draw this out, the better. My voice is more breathless than usual, the words taking more effort to force out. I try to keep that hidden, though. “I’m a Tamer. Arguably, my Bound are my weapons.” The samuran growls in outrage. ”But that is not my intention.”

“Then what is your intention?” the lizard-man demands. My grin grows wider.

“To stall.” The samuran’s eyes widen in shock, and he leaps forwards, spear outstretched.

At least, that’s what he tries to do.

I’d been paying particular focus to his joints, to his leg and arm joints especially. Leaps-from-fright found to his abrupt dismay that they weren’t responding to him when he tried to move. In fact, all he succeeded in doing was sending himself falling to the ground with a faint huff of air knocked out of him.

Light Meditation had broken earlier, but I’d engaged it as soon as I’d stopped moving, so while I’m low on mana, it’s rapidly being replenished. I direct as much as I can to my chest wound, focussing on creating unblemished skin where his spear pierced me as well as dealing with as many of the most serious aspects of the wound as possible. I verify that the injury is in no way life-threatening, not if dealt with properly soon enough.

Then, Sensation Management still dulling the pain of the wound, I walk forward. Crouching down, I grab Leaps-from-fright’s head by his crest and lift it, meeting his eyes.

“You were never going to win,” I bluff. Dropping my own spear, I lift my hand to my chest and wipe away the blood, holding open the rent made in my armour. His eyes go wide as he sees the apparently healed wound below. I see the disbelief turn to defeat in his eyes. Perfect.

“Dominate,” I growl. The world greys out around me, the misty space which has become so familiar to me spreading in its place.