Trapped in Another World With No Magicc

Field Marshal Klur rides in the shuttle assigned by Ucahote to Grendel Six. They had to retrofit it for a combat role not yet attempted in the Fievegal. The goblins of Klur’s elite unit are bloodthirsty and ready for death. They have been granted a privilege as a vanguard and special forces unit of the Fievegal, and with their relatively successful mission to exterminate dumgob raiders and rescue captives with only a few members of Grendel Six lost to ‘Kernuules’, which is the name given to the forest archfiend that attacked them by Daniel.

Like all things, Daniel honors both ally and enemy with names befitting their status. Goblins have been given the team name of ‘Grendel’, a powerful monster from Earth. Likewise, Kernuules, pronounced kaer-noo-less, is a reference to two different forest gods of Earth.

The shuttle is being piloted by a sentient golem named Feno’xion, a former Chi’rinnis man. Klur often hopes that Grendel Six missions can remain entirely manned by goblins in order to prove the worth of the diminutive and often-devalued members of the demon kin. Unfortunately, there are no goblins that volunteered to become soul-bound to the Citadel, since most equate it to Alkus Gristak. And, on the flip side, goblins as a race have unfortunately earned their poor reputation.

Even Grendel Six is manned primarily by goblins consumed by a craving for violence, but have chosen to steer that craving towards honorable causes and missions to serve the Fievegal.

“We are arriving over the hot-zone,” reports Feno’xion, informing the goblins that they’re approaching the forest where Kernuules reigns.

“Grendel Six! Tie in and take stations!”

The goblins move quickly, standing up from their rear-facing seats just behind the cockpit, and they divide out the static lines tied into the ceiling of the rear bay of the shuttle by two rails running from front to back. The goblins aren’t tall enough to reach the rails themselves, but the static lines will keep them from falling out of the shuttle if Feno’xion needs to make sudden maneuvers.

Staged in the troop bay near the rear ramp are crates of explosives, including incendiary and anti-magic bombs to try to eliminate Kernuules if it survived Neith’s final double-edged attack.

Klur instructs, “Olk, Locke: side guns. Bantar, Urm, reloading. The rest of you, passing and arming bombs. Let’s move!”

“Yes sir!” reply the loyal goblins proudly, moving according to their assignments, which their order of tying into the static lines allows. A third rail contains two static lines that Klur and Floria are tied to, with Floria remaining as close to the cockpit as possible, and Klur jogging to the ramp to supervise drop operations. He calls out, “Ramp!”

Hap is the young goblin closest to the ramp’s controls, and he presses the button to open it. Immediately, the hold is filled with wind, though it quickly stabilizes, since the shuttle is moving more slowly now. The goblin field marshal walks out onto the ramp as it passes a slight angle up, riding it to its lowest position at a downwards angle out of the hold.

The shuttle is cruising roughly four hundred yards off of the tree tops of the forest, which doesn’t feel so high, given the endless treetops in every direction. They’re deep in the forest, which is roughly near where the attack began, according to the team’s recollection of events.

As he scans the area, Klur has to take a moment of pause as his bird’s eye view shows the true nature of their battle.

The path is difficult to see, thanks to the treetops… with the exception of a large, deadened scar in the forest where divine judgment came from the sky to deliver Grendel Six and their rescued captives from the aggressive woodland devil.

The first main mission Grendel Six was assigned to was a success in whole, but the goal of being solely manned by goblins was countered by the arrival of the Dragon General Neith.

We’ll have to keep working to prove our strength. And, today is one more step closer.

The Field Marshal looks at the leading soldiers standing ready to toss the bombs out of the ramp.

Klur reminds them, “Remember, clear the ramp! Once armed, they’ll detonate on impact! Ordinance! To the line! Arming, stage one! Launch, ready for target!”

All of the goblins staged to pass and drop bombs confirm. “Yes sir!”

“Team one! Stage!”

“Staging!” The team on the right side of the shuttle passes a bomb forward. The arming station receives a bomb canister, which is about 3 gallons in size, and he passes it to the launcher, who is standing on the slope of the ramp. The former holds a handle attached to the final safety, which activates the primer once yanked out of the canister. The goblin now in possession of the bomb walks it out to the end of the ramp, holding it over his head.

Klur shouts, “Team One, Arm!”

The arming goblin yanks the cable, pulling the safety pin, shouting, “BOMB ONE ARMED!”

“Launch!” shouts the field marshal.

“Launching!” replies the launcher as he throws the armed canister off of the ramp, his static line going taut to keep him from falling.

The bomb plummets to the ground, and the two launch goblins and Klur lean out over the ramp to observe.

It’s definitely disorienting looking down from so high. Goblins aren’t meant to fly, but Grendel Six has trained for missions like this. Daniel implemented what he calls a ‘paratrooper’ program, where soldiers jump out of a shuttle with a parachute to rapidly enter a combat zone and utilize speed to disrupt operations. Since goblins are small, more of them can fit in a troop bay than most of the other races. Paratroopers haven’t been used in combat yet, but they’ll be well-trained when they are called upon.

Today, though, they are luring out a terror lurking in the territory of the Fievegal that, unless they want to waste days or weeks going around, will be a part of their trade routes as the Fievegal grows.

“Stand by for impact!” shouts Klur as he watches the explosive rapidly approach the treetops below, and after another couple of seconds, it explodes. The sound reaches the shuttle with ease. Birds scatter from the forest ‘surface’ in response, causing visual chaos as the goblins look for the forest devil that attacked them.

Hap calls out, “Field Marshal! There!”

The goblin commandant glances at his subordinate, following his point.

Were the archfiend not moving, it would be almost impossible to see, since it possesses wing-like appendages made of tree-tops, which it only folds back when it goes into attack posture. Because it is angered by the unnatural disruption to its territory, it has lifted itself high to look towards the rising smoke of the blast, and it roars in the same eerie, tornado-like wail that fills the sky with sound.

Klur looks up the troop bay, and Olk gives him a fist up gesture, confirming that he has eyes on the target. The field marshal signals with his four-fingered hand by pointing sideways ‘[1… 1…]’. This is actually the message ‘[5 by 5]’, meaning he wants Olk to fire five bursts of five rounds each, and Olk signals a confirmation. Klur then uses his full hand to point at Floria, signalling a chop on his right forearm using his left. This signals ‘enemy right’, which she relays to the cockpit.

Boom boom boom boom boom!

The thunderous mercato of the fifty caliber machine gun rumbles through the whole shuttle, and Olk bounces with the powerful recoil of the weapon. The incendiary rounds streak down range, helping mark Kernuules for the pilot so he can maneuver. Additionally, the flaming bullets have some chance to ignite the forest devil, though given that it was able to withstand dragon fire, they’ll need to use anti-magic materials to stand a chance of doing meaningful damage.

The bullets would require too much lead to prevent them from negating the magic of the crystals powering the shuttle, so the attack they’ll be launching are bombs that are roughly three liters in size, as opposed to the raw explosives and firebombs being roughly three gallons. The heavy anti-magic bombs are mostly lead, but otherwise armed and detonated the same way as the larger ones. They have to lure Kernuules underneath them so they can try to hit it with one of the anti-magic bombs and negate its magic. What the consequences of a successful drop are will remain to be seen.

“BRACE!” shouts Klur when he looks and sees the titan launching some kind of ranged attack. The goblins at the sides grip the railings welded to the walls, while Klur ducks, gripping a pad-eye for anchoring chains. The shuttle banks hard to the left away from the woodland archfiend, accelerating. The sudden maneuver causes Klur’s body to feel weightless, and it’s a bit nauseating. As the shuttle banks and drops, projectile-like tree trunks that have been mutated into gigantic morning stars sail over top of them. Klur’s body is pulled against his arm and static line towards the ramp as the shuttle accelerates forward as hard as it can, and the wind rushing through the troop bay roars.

Metal clanging draws Klur’s wavering eyes forward, and he can see Floria signalling to him. He lifts his head, holding his free left hand up.

She signals the ‘prepare for attack run’ bumping her own fists together. He holds his fist up to confirm, struggling to stand up. He signals to the attack teams, who are also struggling. Hap noticeably vomits as he clings to the wall, and Mosko, a senior warrior goblin shuffles up the rail to take his role.

The other goblins stumble as the shuttle banks to line back up, though the turn is much wider and easier to withstand in spite of the speed.

However, the goblin Field Marshal makes the mistake of looking out over the ramp. The ground is absolutely racing by, and it makes his head spin.

Guh… We were NOT meant to fly…

Olk and Locke manage to shut the side doors with the help of their reloaders, and it massively cuts down the noise passing through the troop bay.

“Stage Three!” shouts Klur, trying to stay on task in spite of his nausea. He holds his hands out with three fingers extended; the signal to arm both sides with anti-magic bombs.

“Staging!” shouts the goblins grouped around the bombs. They pass the lead canisters rearward to the armsmen, who take hold of the arming cable handles, then passing the bombs to the launchmen. The goblins at the ramp ease out onto the precarious position, relying on their static lines to keep them attached to the shuttle if anything happens. It’s undoubtedly scary, and they can’t afford to look over the edge. So, they stare at the ramp itself, waiting for the order.

“Arm!” calls out Klur, and the armsmen yank their cables to free the safety.

He watches Floria, backing out. She holds her hand up, waiting for the order from Feno’xion.

Floria slices her hand down, and Klur immediately yells, “Launch! Launch! Launch!” He also whirls as he’s calling out, slinging both hands out the ramp to further signal. Thankfully, the two bombardiers were also watching Floria, and they throw the bombs as far out from the ramp as they can, watching as they plummet. The shuttle suddenly banks, but somehow, the goblins are held against the floor even as the ground turns sideways. Klur has to brace against another bout of dizziness, but he looks for the blasts, hearing the distinctive ‘Whump! Whump!’ of the two explosives detonating in close timing.

He spots Kernuules as it is in the middle of swinging its massive claws, having tried to pounce into the air to attack the shuttle. One of the bombs seems to have flashed in the forest, having completely missed the monster, and the other one Klur can’t see.

The shuttle levels, but it then just as quickly tilts upwards, racing higher into the sky. The goblins have to brace themselves once more, with Klur diving to the deck to try to keep his position so he doesn’t end up swinging out over the ramp.

Finally, the aircraft stabilizes, and the goblin field marshal turns towards the outside. He is unable to stop himself from expelling the contents of his stomach over the ramp, and he can hear a couple of the other goblins retching.

Feno’xion banks the shuttle in an easier turn, and Floria signals for side guns. Klur confirms, climbing to his feet and stumbling forward. He orders, “H-Hold positions.”

“Hold positions, aye!” reply the goblins on either side of him as he wearily limps forward.

The field marshall looks out over Locke’s shoulder, and the goblin gunner is leaning on his gun. Klur leans on his shoulder gently, calling over the noise, “Weapons free. Acquire and fire at will.”

“Aye, Field Marshal…” groans the goblin. He and his reloader open the side door once more, and Klur works his way to the front. Floria states as he gets close, “Feno’xion says it’s safe enough, Field Marshal.” He nods, and the goblin commandant opens the door to the cockpit, closing it most of the way behind him.

Before he can even speak, Feno’xion speaks, “Apologies, Six Leader. I underestimated its anti-air capabilities. Bombing run had one miss, one partial hit.”

Boom boom boom boom boom!

The left side .50 caliber machine gun fires in bursts, and Feno’xion fills in, “Target seems to be affected. There are eight more anti-magic bombs loaded. I intend to hold altitude high above target’s attack range. However, it will likely be able to avoid subsequent attacks. We’ll need to drop one at a time and watch, or drop them all as quickly as possible and hope for a more square hit.”

Klur thinks. It’s his mission, and he has permission to use every weapon at his disposal to try to defeat Kernuules. The woodland devil is extremely resilient and powerful in magic, so the reality is that they’re gauging its defenses and trying to come up with a strategy.

Dragon fire, Ancient Dragon Death Magic, and now the Harbinger’s Anti-magic bombs don’t seem to be enough to kill this beast.

Floria peeks inside the cockpit. “Field Marshal! Locke reports that Kernuules is retreating.”

“Retreating?” asks the goblin in surprise. He jogs back out into the bay, looking over Locke’s shoulder as the goblin commando keeps firing in bursts. Blazing hot streaks of flame bullets race towards the titan, even as far away as it is.

Locke calls over his shoulder, “It started sinking into the treetops, Field Marshal. Given what we’ve seen, it is moving its spirit.”

“Reload!” shouts the commandant.

“Reload!” confirms Locke without hesitation. He begins cycling his weapon’s breech mechanism, and he yanks the chain-fed rounds still remaining from the machine gun. “Bombers! Stage!”

“Staging!” shout the bombers in reply.

“Floria! Tell Feno’xion to rush the target again! We have to disable its magic fully!”

The combat medic relays the message as the goblin gunners work together to swap canisters and feed a new belt of incendiary rounds into the machine gun. Each ammo can is held down by magnets, and a lever allows the old one to be ejected and a new one to be slid in place. Goblins are strong for their size, but the roughly 50 pounds of ammunition can be a bit much, so Daniel made the staging area a series of rollers and magnets that the goblins could use, which allow the canisters to be slid into place, and for old ones to be discarded quickly if needed, or conserved by hooking to other nearby magnets for spent ammo tins.

Once loaded, Locke cycles the slide bolt, arming the first round. “Ready!” shouts the goblin gunner as his reloader stores the partial canister.

Floria shouts, “All hands! Brace yourselves!”

Suddenly, the shuttle feels weightless again, and Klur can feel his stomach threatening to empty itself once more. His only respite is the fact that he has nothing left to heave.

The shuttle is now plummetting after having power dropped from its lift-giving magic crystals. The troop bay angles once more, pointing downwards.

Locke laughs nervously as he hangs from his machine gun, and Klur deftly slides down the troop bay to the explosives.

“Armed!” shout the two armsmen, and the bombers all but dangle from their static rails at the troop bay opening while they hang their respective bombs at the ready.

“Launch! Launch! Launch!” shouts Klur, realizing how rapidly the ground is growing closer. The shuttle defies logic by flying without flapping wings, but it also falls far faster than a wyvern would as a result.

The two goblins do their best to shove the bombs away from the shuttle out of the opening, but the shuttle’s speed towards the ground is only slightly less than the destructive weapons armed with anti-magic dust. If the shuttle is caught in the radius of the mana nullification, they won’t be able to recover and will slam into the ground.

Just as Klur ponders this, the shuttle rumbles and roars, shaking vigorously like a dog trying to expel water from its coat.

The goblins are dislodged from their grips, crying out as one as they fall forward, caught only by the deck as the shuttle angles and dives, racing away from the tree monster as the anti-magic bombs continue their descent. It’s too loud and chaotic for Klur to hear whether or not the weapons have exploded yet, but he sees two cables dangling over the ramp, and he pushes through his own nausea and dizziness to scramble up to a kneel.

“Man out! Man out! Recover them! Go! Go!”

Klur’s desperation to save his men kicks in, and he doesn’t hesitate to detach his own static line, running to the side rail on the left to the ramp’s opening, passing his anchored compatriots as they struggle to get their footing.

“Get them back in the bay! Now!” shouts Klur, and he works his way out to check, with his hand gripping the taut static line dangling over the side of the ramp. Thankfully, it’s not very far that the goblins can actually dangle, since the static lines are meant to not allow the goblins to fall past the end of the ramp itself. Machken, the goblin launcher who manned the left side, is still present, dangling from his static line with his chest down. He’s not moving much, but it’s very likely he’s dazed or fainted from the violent maneuvers.

Klur can feel someone grip his harness, and he glances over his shoulder. Hap is right behind him, keeping him anchored that much more, since the Field Marshal doesn’t have a static line. “Let’s go! Pull!”

“Pull!” The other goblins behind Hap squeeze in to pull Machken’s static line, bringing him up to the ramp, where Klur lays down to reach over the side. He grips the goblin bomber’s harness, using his other hand to pull Machken’s arm up. The latter begins to move, showing signs of life as he looks up. “Hang on! We got you!” shouts Klur.

He has to put it out of his mind that the ground is still racing by beneath them.

Goblins weren’t meant to fly.

Machken weakly manages to grip the edge of the ramp, and a couple more goblins step close to help pull him up. Once he’s recovered, Klur looks at the other side, where the other launchman Poknud is already being dragged up onto the ramp by his comrades. A wave of relief briefly sweeps over Klur, but they’re still in a combat zone.

Boom boom boom boom boom!

Olk’s machine gun fires as the shuttle circles wide around the area, and Klur follows the blazing streaks of the tracer rounds to find the monster’s wooden frame in the forest. It looks like it’s paralyzed, reaching out of the treetops in futility as it froze in place. Smoke is rising where several of the incendiary rounds are making contact. The goblin gunner keeps firing in bursts to ensure solid hits of the large woodland devil.

Klur finds Hap holding the field marshal’s static line for him, waiting to hand it to the goblin commandant. He’ll have to move back towards the center for it to reach, so he stands up and lets the junior goblin soldier hook his static line back onto his harness. “Thanks!”

“Should we make another run?” asks Hap, glancing at the two goblin launch men who are seated against the shuttle walls towards the back of their groups, now that they’ve had a brush with a harrowing fall leading to a grisly death.

“Hang tight, and let me figure out what our situation is.”

The young goblin nods, and Klur works his way forward to look over Olk’s shoulder. Each shot rattles the goblins to their bones. When doing ground operations, any of the ‘rifle’-chambered rounds are too powerful in recoil for the goblins to handle, and the .50 cal is around half-way between the demon staves with anti-soldier rounds, and Daniel’s Dragonslayer, a rifle that can kill dragons in a single shot. Though, lesser known to most is that it requires a weak-point hit. Klur himself has seen Neith’s scar where the Dragonslayer wounded the dragon, but deflected off of his skull.

The massive shell casings of the fifty caliber machine gun are being dumped into a crate after ejecting into a chute on the side of the gun, smoking as the barrel starts to glow faintly red. Olk and Locke are among the few who have the strength and training to make use of heavier weapons among the goblins, and Olk has hit Kernuules several times, which is evidenced by the burning timber making up the archfiend’s body.

Klur taps Olk’s shoulder after a 5-round burst, and the gunner pauses, looking over his shoulder. “Status!”

“Target’s not moving! Ignition achieved, but it’s hard to tell the extent so far, Field Marshal!”

“Good work! Keep your head on a swivel! We know it can transport amongst the forest!”

“Yes, sir!”

Klur then signals a swirling motion with his pointer finger, aimed upwards. Floria repeats the gesture in confirmation, and she reports it to Feno’xion. The shuttle angles upwards, but at a far more gentle incline than the emergency maneuvers.

The Field Marshal then gives a ‘T’ gesture to the bombing teams, prompting them to back off of the ramp and close it to half-way, which will reduce the chances of a repeat of the last few minutes. Next, the mission leader heads forward again, ordering, “Guns, hold fire for now. Fire on motion or target reappearance.”

“Aye, sir!” confirms the four goblins manning the machine guns.

Floria reports as he gets close, “Feno’xion is searching the area, but he believes the impacts were true for both anti-magic bombs. We narrowly avoided the field, though.”

“We cut it too close. We were racing against time.”

“Are there any injuries, sir?” asks the combat medic, searching the crowd of goblins.

“Check on Machken and Poknud. I’m going to speak to Feno’xion for a moment.”

“Yes, sir.” Floria unbuckles from her static line to switch to the right side, clipping into the remaining static line and working her way towards the weary goblin seated in his jump seat and doubled over.

Klur enters the cockpit, and Feno’xion immediately reports, “No signs of movement. The flames are spreading some, but the greatest damage is centered on Kernuules.”

“It’s not moving at all?”

“Negative. After the last bomb impacts, it ceased all movement. It’s possible that the creature is much smaller and relies on magic to power its body, similar to a golem and our cores.”

Klur nods. He’s not a genius, but if the golems are hit with anti-magic attacks, it shuts them down and drops their bodies like they’ve died. In contrast, if goblins or other living beings are exposed to anti-magic, they feel weak or sick at worst, but are otherwise unharmed.

“How do we verify if it’s dead or not, then?”

“I’m not sure. I think it might be prudent of us to retreat to the staging camp and rest before scouting once more.”

Klur thinks. The shuttle could return to the Citadel in just a couple of hours, so it would be possible to make each excursion a day scouting.

However, if they remain close, they might be able to detect other signs, and they can even perform quick flights every hour or so to verify the status of the forest.

“I agree. If it’s not moving now, we’ll need to be careful.”

“We’ve learned a lot. It’s enough to make a report to the Citadel worth it, since its anti-air capabilities were unexpected.”

“Yes. Then, please take us to the staging zone. I’ll inform the others and close up the shuttle.”

“Understood.”

Feno’xion banks the shuttle gently away from Kernuules, and Klur returns to the troop bay. He calls out, signalling an ‘X’ with his hands, “Seal up! We’re calling it a day for now!”

“Aye, sir!” confirm the goblins. Hap closes the ramp, while the gunner teams work together to retract the machine guns and close their side doors. Afterwards, everyone is able to finally relax and remove their static lines to return to their seats. Floria continues to check on everyone, making sure there were no serious injuries. Thankfully, other than some bruises from being rag-dolled around the shuttle bay and over the ramp edge, none of the goblins are seriously wounded.

He’ll pick some scouts to monitor the forest quietly to see what comes of their strike. They can’t get too close with the shuttle, or the anti-magic field created by the bombs will shut down the shuttle, so it’s safest to wait and see if the woodland devil returns on its own.

Klur collapses into his own seat, exhausted by the harrowing mission.

Goblins are REALLY not meant to fly…

***

We’re getting closer, thinks Commander Nesparu to himself.

The Empire’s Fourth Battalion of the Grand Imperial Army primarily serves the Grand Prince, though his own territory is one of the few permitted to maintain a large battalion of their own. Naturally, his Core Defensive Guard remains in his territory, while he makes use of the Fourth Battalion for any excursions.

And, presently, the Commander inspects another metaphorical footprint on the trail they’re following.

This particular clue is a pair of literal footprints dug into the ground by a massive force, deeply imprinting the unique tread pattern of otherworldly boots not fitting of a lady.

Of course, the lady they are in pursuit of is no ordinary courtly damsel. She is a Divine Summon who betrayed her summoners and fled the capital of Mornistae.

One of Nesparu’s soldiers approaches. “Commander, please take a look at this.”

The mission leader stands up, receiving the object from his subordinate’s hand. It appears to be a shard of bone-like material splintered like wood snapping into pieces.

Contrary to bone, though, the fairly unique material has a rugged, weather-worn surface not consistent with bone sitting out in the elements for a long period of time.

Rather, it is continuously grown like a tree from the head of a large, aggressive herbivore native to the region.

“Rakehorn antler,” remarks the Commander.

“I’d heard rakehorn antlers can’t be broken other than separating the base from the skull, Commander.”

Nesparu chuckles as he hands the piece back. Even as small as it is, it’s a fairly valuable find. The finger-sized shard of ivory-like material could easily fetch one hundred valden or more.

“After everything you’ve seen, you still think that?” The Commander can’t help but sport an amused smirk.

If I’m being honest, I’m terrified of finding this woman. If she did find a way to break a rakehorn’s antler, I can’t imagine we’ll be able to capture her with all of us working together.

He reaches into his pocket and retrieves a vial of liquid. According to Grand Prince Yaulander’s alchemist, it’s a potent tranquilizing drug capable of putting down a drake. If the brunette otherworlder dies because of it, it is beyond his control. The Grand Prince was adamant that she be dragged before him and pay for his humiliation and scarring.

The Commander takes a breath and sighs. “We’re catching up. She’s not travelling as quickly anymore.”

“Are you certain, Commander?”

Nesparu nods, pointing at the damage to the clearing from the battle that took place with a rather large rakehorn. Other soldiers are inspecting the area and searching for further clues. “There are still a great deal of green leaves on the disrupted branches the rakehorn likely fed on. Plus, the footprints haven’t faded much.” He kneels and picks up a partially-rotten fruit, tossing it to the soldier. The latter fumbles with it a moment, mildly grossed out by the state of the fruit.

“That one’s too far away from its tree, so it didn’t fall naturally. That’s about two days worth of decay.”

The soldier inspects the fruit with his brow crinkled. He never gave it any thought.

Nesparu has been in the military for a long time. As far as he can tell, he and his group are ahead of the other search parties, including those from Mornistae. The woman has left a subtle, but easy to follow path if one knows what to look for. And, once the path is found, the big clues such as these skirmishes confirm the path is correct.

“We’ll continue by lantern tonight. We need to close as much distance as possible.”

“As you wish, Commander,” confirms the soldiers, and they return to the road nearest the clearing. The otherworlder woman seems to be fixedly heading northwest, but she appears to have joined a merchant caravan again. It’s the smart move, but it also means she’s moving slower than when she was on her own.

As long as she doesn’t yet know we’re coming, we have the advantage.

Nesparu mounts his buckrokh to continue leading the search.

The Grand Prince may be frighteningly furious, but Nesparu just has to stay on the right side of that fury.

He’ll just need to figure out the best way to deal with the otherworlder as they get closer.

***