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Magnum Opus

Chapter 3: Shadows of the Fallen Tree

Blurb

Verik Stormleaf was a simple woodsman living on the outskirts of the small township of Grimvalle. He lived a happy life with his wife Ceria and daughter Faelea. Every day, he would chop wood that he would carry to town to sell. Summers were hot, winters were unforgiving and all this quietly spoken man ever knew was the peace and repetition of his life as another cog in the wheel of his home.

Peace, however, is fleeting and fate is cruel. A great conspiracy threatens to upend Verik's simple life and drag him into a world in turmoil. When a foreign power allies with the northern barbarian tribes to rampage through the kingdom in a quest for conquest, the isolated bubble that Verik finds quiet solitude bursts. Can he keep his family safe and preserve his way of life while being unchanged by the world that would tear force him to change?

Cliff Gale lived a peaceful, simple life as a courier for his father, Grimvalle's blacksmith. Blessed by mysterious powers and wielding an arcane sword known as the Archetype, he is steadily growing stronger and stronger, becoming a beacon of light for the small township. Destiny demands much of the young man as he is set to meet kings and win great battles.

But what nation is worth fighting for if there is no one to come home to? As Cliff's eyes are set to the greater kingdom, darkness sneaks through the shadows and pierces his defenses, striking where he is most vulnerable.

Will tragedy blacken the light of the Archetype's light? Can Cliff stand strong even when his foundations are taken from right underneath him? Where can he find love in a cruel world that would demand so much from him and still take more?

In Between the Pages

Realism sat quietly on the bench overlooking the shimmering, silvery lake in a land that he affectionately called 'In Between the Pages'. The serene, clear skies provided a calming backdrop in an otherwise critical crisis. In his long existence, it had been a while since he had felt so helpless. But that was the safeguards placed around the Magnum Opus.

His powers over reality couldn't reach into the worlds within the books. They had been written without him in consideration so inserting himself would break the Narrative, be a stale deus ex machina and likely shatter the Story, plunging it into the Ink at Oaks' whim. Worse yet, he couldn't risk giving Oaks any inspiration of using an entity like him in his Stories. It was a bit embarrassing how often he was left facing a clone or copy of himself just to save a world. Of course, since he only ever showed a fraction of his capabilities, no one ever got the full picture of R3 the Writer of Reality.

Except for the true mastermind of the Magnum Opus.

These limitations frustrated him especially since he could not fully lend his aid to Cliff Bolt. This was a practice of his patience and restraint but it would not be the first time he was similarly chained. Conversing with Cliff Bolt was one such trial. More than anything, he wanted to tell the young man everything but doing so would only endanger him. Especially when the young man was incredibly analytical and curious.

Thankfully, Cliff was focused on the task at hand that he had yet to question Realism too much or where this little island in between realms came from.

In Between the Pages.

He chuckled at the title but that mirth quickly faded.

The most he could do was observe events that transpired not from inside the Magnum Opus but from the reactions of Desmond Eli Oaks when the man left world of the Opus. While he could not peer into Oaks' throne room of the Synopsis, the instant the man left that pocket dimension - which he needed to so that he could eat and drink - Realism could see everything about him. With his eyes, he could see all possibilities and from that, he could infer events. This wouldn't be the first time he had been limited in such a way so he had grown accustomed to working with his hands metaphorically tied.

From what he could see, Cliff had been dancing to Oaks' recent revisions. He had to give the man credit. For someone whose writing had become soulless and who was entirely dependent on others to fill in the gaps while being overly sensitive to deviations to his overall Plot, Oaks knew how to work around obstacles. In may ways, the 'creativity vampire' as he had come to brand the author, was the ultimate collaborator; a writer and an improv-actor rolled into one.

Oaks could 'Yes-And' his way around whatever curve ball Cliff threw his way while continuing to steer Cliff and the other characters back on track. That outburst with using the Unwritten to corrupt that band of barbarians may have seemed chaotic, spontaneous and an overreaction but when taken into the scope of the entire Story, it fit.

Too bad Cliff derailed that plan again by using cool logic against Verik's raging vengeance boner.

“Proud of you, Cliff," Realism whispered softly. His eyes narrowed behind his silver wrap-around glasses. He leaned forward, cupping his chin thoughtfully as he peered further.

Things would start turning south quickly. Oaks had observed the events and was raging. The Story was meant to take both Cliff and Verik into the Grimwalker Woods in hunt for the bear that murdered Verik's family.

From there, Oaks had prepared two contingencies.

The first was if they failed to find the bear. Verik's desire for revenge would remain unfulfilled and it would be a cancer eating away at his soul for the majority of the Story; changing him, defining him. It would be the emotional hurdle that Cliff would overcome which would bring them together.

The second was that they did find the bear and they would slaughter her - yes it was a mother bear. They would find the bear's cubs, coming to the crushing realization that they had attacked and killed a mother who was just trying to feed herself and her children. This guilt would wrack Cliff and Verik especially as the two had to kill the cubs as they had no means of providing for them. Oaks even readied for the possibility that Cliff would convince the lumberjack to take care of the bears, again forming a strong bond between the two.

It would all play very little to the overall Plot which revolved around the two traveling to the capital with the Baron and subsequently leaving Grimvalle open to attack from the corrupted northeners that were skulking in the shadows of the Forest.

All that was thrown to the wind by Cliff deducing that something had driven the mother bear to scavenge for food somewhere she never would have gone out of pure desperation.

But now, Oaks was ready to 'correct' that.

The crystal quill was in his hands.

“I may not be able to change the world in the Opus," Realism said ominous. “But I can still change the world where the Opus lives."

He lifted a hand… and flicked the air.

The Synopsis

Beep!

Desmond Eli Oaks flinched.

Here he was, seething at Cliff Bolt's tenacious insolence. His intricate plans involving causing tragedy by striking at Grimvalle while the main cast was out riding to the capital had been completely derailed. Suddenly, the possibility that there was another force out there driving the wildlife to human territory raised questions that he didn't need answered at the moment.

That was not what he needed.

Fury burned through his mind as he imagined Cliff leading Verik to Skurrald and his bears. No matter how he could have written it, there would be no hiding the two-hundred or so sex-crazed bear-men that had camped in the Grimwalker Forest. Yes, he could move them, but the evidence would still be there and that would be enough to alert Baron Grim. Enough, even, to keep him from making the trip to the king's city, the capital. Of course, he could always rewrite events to cause a siege. Grimvalle was fortified, yes, but it wouldn't be able to last very long against two hundred supernaturally-charged bear-men. Especially when each fallen man would eventually transform and join Skurrald horde.

The writer fretted and fumed. Possibilities flashed through his mind. Different scenarios and endings. With each passing second, they were drifting further and further away from the story he wanted.

So he had to correct it.

He had grabbed the crystal quill, jabbed the air and drew some Ink from the Magnum Opus. He licked his lips, bringing the writing implement to the golden pages when…

Beep!

The sound came from beyond the Opus.

It could be important.

Shaking his head, he pushed the quill an inch closer to the pages.

Beep!

There it was again.

What could it be?

Recalling his mentor's words, he pulled back from the shimmering pages with a frustrated snarl and dismissed the crystal quill. A moment later, he emerged from the Magnum Opus and was once again surrounded by the various volumes of bestselling smut that had formed the foundation of his career.

Beep!

Lifting his gaze towards the ceiling, he angrily got out of his chair and began stomping throughout his two-floor home. Every now and then, that loud, shrill beep would cut through his concentration. After the better part of fifteen minutes passed, he finally came to the source of the noise.

A smoke alarm in the middle of one of his hallways.

“Of all the…" he growled angrily. Realizing that even with his 6-foot height, he couldn't reach the device let alone disable it, he turned and charged towards his garage here he found a ladder. Every few steps, the alarm would remind him that its battery needed to be changed, a nagging bird demanding to be fed.

When he made his way back to the hallway and set up the ladder, he stomped up the steps, dislodged the white, puck-like device from the ceiling and ripped out the nine-volt battery within.

Then he realized, much to his chagrin, he did not have a replacement at hand.

“For the love of…" he snarled. Setting the device back into the ceiling, he stormed down the ladder rungs, charged into his office and pulled open the nearby closet door where he kept office supplies. Luckily he kept a large pack of batteries for such an occasion. He shook it in front of his face in triumph as he charged back into the hallway and once again made the trek up the steps. Now, he could finally replace the battery which he slapped into the smoke alarm a little too enthusiastically than he had intended. Satisfied, he slammed it back into the ceiling.

“There," he sneered. “Now be silent, you smoky siren."

Beep!

D. E. Oaks flailed his arms in frustration and stared angrily at the device in front of him.

Beep!

It did not come from this alarm but somewhere else. Part of him considered just letting the damn thing wear itself out then…

Beep! Beep!

Now there were two beeps.

It occurred to him that he likely replaced the batteries in all of them at the same time so each of the alarms in his home had the same battery life or at least close to one another. Again, he entertained the thought of letting them all chirp and chime at him until he was done with Cliff's annoying defiance. However, when the third beep joined in, he reasoned that if something were to happen and a fire started, he would be in dire straights. Living alone in a remote area meant that few people would come to rescue him.

Defeated and resigning himself to some maintenance work, he meticulously went all over the house, replacing each of the devices one by one. There were about six in total - excluding the one he had already replace. Even though a few of them were not beeping, he just changed them to ensure they would not chime at him while he was in the middle of something important.

Once he was satisfied, he stood in the middle of his house, ears perked for any other signs of interruption. When none came, he nodded to himself in satisfaction and entered his study. He took a few minutes to center himself, to ease the frustration away from his mind and to blank out all thoughts of incessant beeping and the risk of fire. Once his thoughts were clear and he was ready to plunge back into the Magnum Opus, forty minutes had passed since he had first left it.

“How much damage could he have done in that time?" he asked himself.

Then he surged into the Opus, striding back to his seat in the Synopsis. His eyes fell on the golden book and his jaw dropped.

“What. The. Fuck!?"

Grimwalker Forest

Verik was the strong, silent type. The trek back to his family home was filled with silence. Halfway there, the man seemed to regain some of his strength and was able to walk on his own two feet without Cliff needing to help him. His wife and daughter's bodies remained where they had last left them. Cliff found a shovel in the back of the house amongst some other tools and was directed to dig a grave next to the cabin itself. He did so silently. Verik joined him half an hour later, his family's bodies wrapped in linen. Together, they laid the two in the same, large grave. Verik was the one to bury them, tears streaming freely down his face. A wreath of flowers was placed over the disturbed soil and they stood there in silence for an eternity that seemed too short.

When Verik turned to leave, Cliff followed quietly.

Dawn arrived just as they left the forest itself. Nycolas and Gyrard were still fast sleep by the time they passed them. The sun was already well into the sky as they passed Duggin's farm and when they reached the town gates, it was just a little before noon. Cliff's flashing health meter and his own grumbling stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten since lunch the previous day. The smell of freshly cooked bread and some meat wafted through the air and stirred his stomach.

The moment they came into view, a shout came from guards at the gates.

“Foulk!" bellowed Brienus, barreling towards the two. “It's them! They're back! Tell the Baron!"

The Baron? Straight away? Did we cause that much of a stir?

The dark skinned watchman approached and regarded them both with a great look of concern in his dark eyes. “You're both safe! We feared the worst when Duggin reported you were both missing this morning!"

Oh… right. Makes me wish I had materials to leave a note…

… or, you know, the ability to send a text.

“Sorry to worry you," said Verik stoically. His voice broke as he spoke. His throat was dry and he likely had spent a lot of his water crying for his deceased family. “Am I right in hearing that the Baron is interested in seeing us?"

Brienus, wearing a relieved smile, shouldered his halberd and then clapped Verik's shoulder. “Of course!" He nodded towards Cliff with a smile and a twinkle in his dark eyes. “When this one didn't return overnight, we feared the worst. But then Duggin came to us this morning and told us that he had rescued you." Those words and his eyes were directed at Verik. “But he did so in a panic as you were both gone. He had no idea where you both were."

“I needed to bury Ceria and Fealea," mumbled Verik.

This was clearly hurting the towering man so Cliff chimed in. “He wasn't in an condition to do it himself. I tried to stop him but it would've been like trying to stop a rampaging bull." Offering a relaxed smile, he said, “I went with him just to make sure he was alright."

Brienus clapped his shoulder. “Our very own saint. Your father and brother would be very proud. Worried and likely to have harsh words for you but proud nonetheless." He finally released their shoulders from his iron grip and turned towards the fort. “Duggin was just organizing a search party for you two. He reported you both missing straight to the Baron. Our lord was going to join the party as well. Perhaps you best meet him at the fort before they set off."

Wiping away the last fragments of tears from his eyes, Verik only nodded and headed into town. Cliff knew he had to follow but held back to turn to Brienus.

“I don't suppose you have anything to drink?" he asked. “I haven't eaten since yesterday and barely had anything to drink."

“Of course," laughed the dark-skinned guard. He handed Cliff a waterskin and a pack that had some bread and cheese. “Take it. Just return the waterskin to me."

Cliff was already stuffing his mouth full of bread. In his entire life, he had never been so happy for bland-tasting bread in his life. How videogames and shows barely showed their characters eating and expected audiences to believe they were fine was beyond him. Now that he was experiencing the harshness of being a hero firsthand, he couldn't imagine how those protagonists could charge into battle, sustain grievous injuries and still manage to walk it off without ever eating. Though it made him wonder about certain anime/manga protagonists who would could eat a whole country's worth of food.

Maybe they stuff themselves with all that food and stockpile it for those marathon battles.

“I will," he said through stuffed cheeks. “Thank you!"

Then he was bolting after Verik. He offered the lumbering redhead some of the food. At first, Verik declined but then even the titan's stomach rumbled at him. With a light blush across his freckled cheeks, Verik took a chunk of the bread and some cheese and ate it as they walked.

Their presence attracted a few stares from the locals. Being completely made out of men, however, there were no shrieks of surprise and dainty women rushing over to either of them demanding to know how they were or fawning over Verik's enormous muscles that only seemed all the more defined and rugged with the fresh wounds that were just barely starting to scab over.

Cliff did note Ansell skulking in the shadows, however.

That's going to be a problem.

“Cliff!"

Percy's cry brought his gaze to his family home. His brother bounded over, arms outstretched. The taller Gale sibling flung his arms around Cliff, holding him tight, knocking the air from his lungs. Just beyond Percy, Reeve Gale came rushing down towards them.

“Where have you been, boy!?" barked Reeve.

“Saving my life," Verik said, lifting a hand and offering a weak smile. “Your son is tenacious. Some say I am as stubborn as a bull your son is the idiot that stands in front of a maddened bull and laughs."

Reeve groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What has gotten into you lately, Cliff? Sparring with Baron? Going off on your own all of the sudden? Now I hear you're rescuing people and disappearing into the night?" The dark-haired Gale turned towards Verik. “Not to say that I am unhappy to see you mostly well, Verik."

They clasped forearms, giving one another a firm shake.

Percy peeled away from Cliff and regarded Verik sympathetically. “We heard what happened. You have my condolences." The lumberjack just managed a smile and a faint nod.

I don't think it does his heart good to be constantly reminded of his tragedy.

“I think the Baron is expecting us," Cliff said, gently pressing a hand against Verik's back. “We should go before he launches a search party only to learn we've been in town this entire time."

“Go," Reeve grunted. “Be sure to eat. You look starved, boy. Then we will discuss your punishment." Despite the threat, Reeve was smiling in relief.

Ever the father, I guess.

The two headed up the small hill towards the fort. There was already a group of soldiers and horses arranged in the courtyard. Amongst them was the towering Baron. One of the guards shouted, catching the Baron's attention. The light that entered Arthur Grim's eyes was more than just relief. Genuine tears actually welled up in the corners.

Ding!

Cliff's perception skill was upgraded and he had another ability point to spend.

My perception skill is killing recently.

Baron Grim collided with them both, wrapping his arms around them both and pulling them close. It was a tight, albeit brief hug. As quickly as it happened, Grim held them out at arm's length and regarded openly appraised them both.

“I am so glad you are both safe," he sighed. “You worried us both! What happened!?"

“If it is all the same to you, Arthur," rumbled Verik, “could we discuss this inside? Over some food and drink? It has been… a long night."

“Of course, of course. Come, come."

The Baron squeezed between them so that he was positioned behind them both. His big, meaty hands pushed the two men towards the fort while the soldiers were dismissed and told to return the horses to their stables. A few of the soldiers patted Verik on the back, welcoming him back. They were led into the stone walls of the fort. Videogames made forts look so much bigger where huge battles could take place but the hallways were quite cramped. The close walls and lack of lighting save for a few wall-mounted torches gave Cliff a sense of claustrophobia.

Even when they were brought to the mess hall by the Baron's huge presence, he still felt like the oppressive darkness of corners and sections that remained illuminated were dark walls that hid horrors. Recalling what the Unwritten looked like, he felt he was justified.

The Baron walked them past the two, long, wooden tables that sat length-wise in the mess hall and up to the smaller table at the far end of the hall which sat width-wise to the hall. They were both sat down in the large seats while the Baron sat between them in his high-backed seat. Food came streaming in a moment later.

The smell of fire-roasted chicken, bread, cheese and even a pie of some sort stirred his stomach. He resisted the urge to immediately dig in as he was painfully aware that there were some forms of etiquette when dining with a noble. Verik, however, just ripped a drumstick off a chicken and ravaged it. The Baron caught Cliff's startled look and rolled his eyes at the lumberjack before gesturing that Cliff should help himself.

That was all the permission he needed and began to feast. After the first few bites, he noticed that he received a food buff. Health regeneration. Not an instant burst of health. Regeneration. He had to keep that in mind. Different games handled health recovery through food differently and it was clear in this world, devouring food would enable him to regain his health gradually. He had to wonder if there was something that would enable him to heal quickly.

As he munched on some chicken, he opened his menu and browsed his abilities and skills. Much to his surprise, he had a new set of abilities available to him. Primarily amongst them was the 'Heal' ability. From the description, it was a spell to close wounds and recover stamina.

Perfect.

With two points to spend, he invested it in the first Heal ability. The other, he decided to put into the Water spell. Just in case he set fire to anything with the Fire spell, he would be able to undo the damage relatively quickly with Water.

“So I was told that you rescued Verik from a grizzly fate yesterday afternoon," Baron Grim said. Whether that was meant to be a pun or literal, Cliff wasn't sure. Still, he thought it was a poor choice of words.

“I did, m'lord," Cliff responded.

Once again, he reiterated how he had felt something was wrong when Verik didn't come to pick up the axe at noon and ran off to his rescue, recruiting the Charcoal Brothers as he did so. Verik, through a mouthful of potatoes, provided some back story and context on how he had ended up bloodied and dying on his cabin floor while his wife and daughter were dead just a few yards away. Cliff picked up the story when Verik's voice broke and the red-haired lumberjack paused to take a sip of wine. He explained to the Baron how he and the Charoal Brothers loaded Verik onto a cart and carried him to Duggin's farm where they sought help from the old farmer. Luckily, Duggin had some healing herbs and poultices handy.

“Duggin doesn't get enough credit," sighed Arthur Grim. “Then what happened?"

Here, Cliff was unsure exactly what to divulge. He was unsure if he should explain Verik's near-suicidal mission to hunt down the bear by himself. In the end, he decided that was the woodman's story to tell so he glossed over it and explained that he talked Verik away from doing something stupid and convinced him that there was something else afoot there.

“Something else?" repeated Grim.

“The boy thinks that the bear that attacked my family was driven to my property by something else," grumbled Verik. “Something bigger." He set down his cup and snarled. “I'm inclined to agree."

Really? Was I really that convincing last night?

“I've lived in those woods since we moved here with you," he continued, blue eyes now cold and calculating, searching for answers in the distance. “Ceria and I were unmolested by the wildlife for that entire time. We've seen bears, yes, but they were deep into the woods. Never so close to us. Something drove it to our cabin."

“A bigger bear?" the Baron prompted.

Verik shook his head. “It was a grizzly."

At that point, Arthur Grim must have noticed the faux pas that he had just made moments ago and coughed into his cup. Cliff, however, was extremely attentive. This was a new piece of information he hadn't had before. In his world, grizzlies were apex predators. Few it any natural predators. For something so menacing to be driven to scavenge for food near humans…

What could scare a grizzly that bad?

And what are you trying to tell with this story, Oaks?

What does the grizzly represent? If it represents anything at all?

Could you just be horny for peasant-noble sex mixed with a rags-to-riches plot against the backdrop of a medieval world?

“That's… concerning," rumbled Arthur. “And knowing you, you won't let this go. Stubborn bull, after all." He offered a small smile to Verik and slapped the man's shoulder. Verik just grunted in response and continued eating.

Sighing softly, the Baron said, “You are a precious member of Grimvalle. We cannot afford to lose anyone. The loss of Ceria and Fealea is a crushing tragedy and one that will not go unanswered." The Baron slammed a fist into the table, shaking the plates of food. “I will send scouts into the Forest. See if we can find what it is that led to the death of your family."

“I will go," Verik grunted. “Just give me a horse. I know the woods better than anyone."

“I thought you would volunteer," answered Grim with a wry smile. “So I am proposing that you and I go. Just like old times. Few could ever make it past my spear and your axe."

The woodsman huffed but offered a crooked smile. “Thank you. I know you loved Ceria and Fealea too."

“Like they were my own sister and niece."

Cliff suddenly felt like he was a third wheel especially with the strong history between these two that he was clearly missing. Was he truly meant to form a relationship with Verik or was he just meant to be the catalyst that would bridge the gap between the noble Baron and Verik? Then again, if this world was designed to trap him into continuing the Story by tempting him with happiness, leaving him to be a cuck was the last thing Oaks should do.

Though wouldn't surprise me. He has written a few cuckolding stories.

Short stories.

Suddenly, he felt a heavy hand fall on his shoulder.

“And I think we should have my newest squire accompany me?" Arthur Grim announced.

Both Cliff and Verik choked on what they were eating.

“Excuse me?" Cliff blurted.

“You heard me," replied the Baron, beaming. “I officially making you my squire. You impressed me the other day with your natural swordsmanship and you just saved a member of the village. You have shown courage, intuition and initiative. All at the risk of your own life. I can think of no other reason for you join my household as a squire." He winked, offering a broad smile. “I am sure your father and brother would be equally pleased."

“Swordsmanship?" blurted Verik. “What is this about swordsmanship?"

Grim recounted how he was bested quickly in the ring while wielding the ceremonial sword that Reeve had crafted for him. The Baron saved some face by claiming that he was far more accustomed to the spear but he could not help but be impressed by Cliff's mobility and accuracy. Verik shot Cliff a suspicious stare which he responded to with a shrug.

“It's settled then," announced the Baron. “At dawn tomorrow, we make for the forest."

“We do it tonight," demanded Verik, stunning the others on the table. “While the trail is fresh. By tomorrow, the trail would have been two days old. We will have lost it. Do it tonight under the cover of darkness. We are less likely to be found."

“Are you sure you can make the trip?" Cliff asked. “Your injuries…"

“Are healed. I can ride and wield my axe."

Typical Protagonist, I guess.

“Tonight it is," sighed the Baron. “Rest well, both of you. I will see you here at sunset." He regarded Verik. “My staff will show you a guest room that you may stay in. You look like death." Then he turned to Cliff. “I'm sure your family has many questions. Follow me and I will pen an official missive pertaining to our mission. So they will not worry."

Cliff nodded, wiped his mouth with his tunic and stood. He followed the Baron away from the mess hall into one of the adjacent hallways. The red flashing aura around his health bar had gone away and the food buff was steadily filling the missing part of the meter. Within a few more minutes, he would be back up to full health. Just out of curiosity, he closed his eyes and thought, 'Heal'.

A soft, green light encased him. The aura was brief and dissipated into a shower of sparkling green sprites but it was enough to catch the Baron's attention. The towering, dark-haired man turned, eyebrow raised.

“Something wrong, m'lord?" Cliff asked innocently.

The Baron's eyes searched their surroundings. “No… Just thought…" He shook his head. “Never mind. Just seeing things."

A few points into deception for that.

He followed the Baron up a flight of stone steps to the second floor of the fort. From there, they entered what appeared to be the Baron's study which had a view of the village and the gates that separated them from the rest of the world. Arthur sat down behind his large, plain, gray, wooden desk, fished out some parchment and began writing something on it with some ink.

Cliff's burning curiosity got the better of him. “Pardon me if this is out of line, m'lord," he began. “But you seem to have a history with Verik."

A small smile touched the Baron's lips. “Yes. He was one of the very first to join my little settlement when these lands were granted to me. His skills in chopping wood and supplying it on time were the foundation of our village."

“But it's more than that, isn't it?" Cliff probed. “Did you serve the king together or something?"

Arthur paused in his scribbling for a moment. Then he dipped the tip of the quill in the inkwell and returned to writing. “Under Duke Schandev whose lands we reside. We were both commoners, born on the streets of the Black Towers." Grim's eyes lifted and regarded Cliff. “Have you heard of the War for the Red Flag?"

Cliff hadn't and merely shook his head.

“Over a decade ago, when Verik and I were still young men, the Duke of the Black Towers faced a terrible coup from his military generals. They were dissatisfied with his treatment of his troops as he was constantly sending them north to curry favor with the king. The Duke was deposed and our Duke Schandev took the throne. He executed the prior Duke's family. Verik and I sided with Schandev. My spear and his axe. We were renowned on the battlefield. My spear could take down any foe within reach and those that made it through would be cut down by Verik and his axe.

“For our valor, I was given land and title. Verik was offered the same but he declined as he admitted he was no good at ruling or leading." Grim chuckled softly as he signed the parchment. “He decided to follow me instead and together, we formed Grimvalle. He is like a brother to me."

The Baron rolled up the parchment and melted some wax to hold it in place, planting his seal upon the wax a moment later. He then handed the parchment to Cliff.

“Take this to your father. He will understand it." Then with a little smile, the Baron said, “We will eventually have to teach you how to read and write. A squire should be able to do that much at least."

Before Cliff could make a comment that he already knew how to read and write, he stopped himself. There was no guarantee that this world used the same script as American English. Sure, D. E. Oaks lived in Nebraska but there was no guarantee the eccentric and evil writer didn't create an entirely different language just for this world or the Magnum Opus somehow scrambled words to make sure his immersion was complete.

Instead, he said something else.

“Do you like Verik?"

The Baron laughed, placing a hand on his chest. “Of course. I would not call him my brother if I did not."

“No… I mean like-like." Arthur Grim gave him a puzzled look. Such slang clearly didn't translate into this world. “I mean, do you love him?"

“Like a brother -"

“No, m'lord," Cliff interrupted. “I mean do you love him in the way that you want to bed him every night. That you wish to hold him tightly, kiss him, suck his cock and fuck him or be fucked by him."

The Baron's features darkened. “This is hardly the time to talk of such things after the man's wife and daughter just perished."

Cliff nodded. “Agreed. But only if he were in the same room. Just between you and me, m'lord. Do you love him in that way?"

Arthur Grim's cheeks began to burn. “I do not see how it is any business of yours, squire."

“I just risked my life for him," Cliff responded sharply. “I'd do the same for you as well. I just want to know that the lives that I am saving aren't wasting my effort by declining to express their feelings for one another."

And to learn more about this love-triangle that I think I'm being shoehorned into.

Grim lifted his nose, glaring down at Cliff. “You do not speak to your Baron is such a manner."

He would not relent. “He was broken over their deaths," Cliff said firmly. “Right now, there's nothing keeping him holding on but the flimsy purpose of finding out what really drove the bear to kill his wife. But once he finds out?" Closing his eyes, Cliff shook his head helplessly. “I don't know. I'm afraid of what we'll find out in those woods, m'lord. Not because I'm scared of what it is but because I'm scared of what it'll do to Verik."

The Baron lowered his head slightly, no longer glaring down his nose at Cliff. “How does this line of questioning help to allay your fears?"

Yeah… How? I'm grasping at straws here!

New Objective: Persuade the Baron to express his feelings about Verik.

“I'm not sure if I can give him the purpose he needs to keep going on," Cliff admitted, gripping the parchment in his hand and twisting it lightly. “I barely know him. But you know him better than anyone else. If there was anyone who could persuade him to keep fighting, to keep holding on even after this immediate mission is done, to… to.." He pursed his lips and shook his head slightly searching for the right words. “… to keep looking for another reason for living even after the last one is completed…" He locked gazes with the Barton. “… then I think it would be you."

The Baron stared at him, eyes softening.

“M'lord," Cliff added.

Arthur Grim's dour features broke into a brief but genuine grin as he turned around and sat back down on his chair. “You are… intuitive, Cliff Gale. Very intuitive. Frightfully so." The large man leaned back in his chair, causing the wood to creak and groan beneath his immense weight. “Yes… I have… affection for Verik. More so than is proper."

Objective Completed: Persuade the Baron to express his feelings about Verik.

That was a lot of points into persuasion and some into insight.

“Is it because you love another man?" Cliff asked.

The Baron regarded him curiously. “What? No. Our kingdom cares not whom you bed so long as it is not a child or animal."

Thank God I can't lose points in any of my skills.

“No," sighed Grim. “I realized my feelings for Verik far too late. We were childhood friends and fought together in the War for the Red Flag. We grew close. But the day he married Ceria is the day I realized that I wanted to be the one saying those vows." The Baron ran a hand down his face, lingering over his well-trimmed beard. “But I lost my chance years ago."

A dark chuckle rose from his lips, his perfect teeth flashing beneath his beard. “Some part of me jumped in joy upon learning of Ceria's death. A brief instant when I genuinely thought that this was my chance." He locked gazes with Cliff. “But I quashed that feeling. Now is not the time for such thoughts."

Understanding the meaning, Cliff pursed his lips tight and made a gesture like he was locking it away and throwing away the key.

Relief and gratitude flashed before the Baron's black eyes. “I will do anything to ensure Verik is safe and happy. You have my word. He will have purpose. I guarantee it."

Cliff sighed in relief and bowed towards the Baron. “Thank you, m'lord. That sets my heart at ease."

“Needless to say, this does not leave the room."

“Of course. My lips are sealed."

Grimvalle

Reeve was worried the moment Cliff returned and handed him the parchment. Proud but at the same time concerned for his son who was still dressed in what was effectively rags, Reeve hurried to the forge to craft some armor. No matter how much Cliff insisted that they were just going to scout out the forest, Reeve was nonetheless incredibly worried.

Percy, instead of being a jealous mess, hugged and kept telling his brother how proud he was. The news that he would officially be a squire upon returning cemented his future plans of being a noble. The elder Gale son even began pitching ideas for their heraldry.

The Gales shared one more meal before Cliff headed back up to the fort just before sunset wearing a simple leather vest and some iron bracers. Upon arrival, three horses were prepared and ready for them. It stunned him how two huge men like Verik and the Baron could be supported by anything less than a Clydesdale and yet these horses looked like they were built for speed. Perfect for scouting or a hasty escape. The Baron was once again wielding his spear and Verik had his axe. No one asked if Cliff would have a weapon as he jumped onto the back of his horse.

“Do you know how to ride?" Verik asked.

Cliff regarded the reigns in his grip.

Oh shit… I've never ridden on horseback before.

“Uhm… No?"

Baron Grim rode up beside him. “Then here is your first lesson! Keep up!"

Without warning, the Baron shot forward, his horse breaking out into a full-on-sprint out the fort gates and into town.

Verik groaned loudly. “The horse responds to the pressure you apply with your legs," said the red-haired lumberjack. “Squeeze along one side or the other to direct her. Your reigns won't do much except spur her forward. Hold on tight and try not the bounce in your seat or your ass will be sore before we reach the the forest."

Glad for the advice, Cliff repeated the instructions to himself. Verik began walking his steed forward and Cliff mirrored the gestures he made. They rode side-by-side out the fort gates and as they hit the base of the hill, Verik started his mount into a trot. Cliff did the same and managed to keep up.

Having never ridden a horse before, Cliff quickly realized it was a lot harder than what movies made it out to be. Bouncing in the saddle was inevitable and his core got a surprising workout as he tried to brace himself with every jostle. Halfway through town, Verik let out a loud 'Hi-ya!' and his steed bolted down the street.

“Hi-ya…?" Cliff asked.

The horse didn't respond, remaining its trot.

Didn't think that'd work.

Bracing himself, Cliff snapped the reigns and held on tightly with his legs. His horse immediately shot down the street. The night wind blew against his cheeks and into his eyes but he managed to spy the Baron up ahead waiting for them by the town gates. As he and Verik approached, the Baron turned his steed towards the forest and started down the road at a steady trot. When they were almost side to side, Arthur Grim accelerated and suddenly, there were three riders barreling the dirt road towards the Grimwalker Forest.

New Skill unlocked: Riding.

Yay, Cliff thought miserably. Please tell me there's some ability in this tree to keep my ass from hurting.

They rode in silence, speeding past the farmlands. By the time the sun had fully set, they were approaching the Charcoal Brothers' homes. Both brothers were still up, burning and chopping wood. Nycolas was chopping while Gyrard was burning.

“M'lord?" asked Gyrard. “You're out late. And Verik…?"

The horses would have limited mobility in the thick forest. The Baron dismounted and handed the reigns to Gyrard. “Take care of our mounts until we return. If by dawn, you do not hear from us, take them and warn the fort."

“Yes, m'lord," answered Nycolas, taking Cliff's mount by the reigns. “Good luck to the three of you."

What would have taken hours had only taken about fifty minutes. Part of Cliff wished he had a horse when making his deliveries but then his athletics skill would not have gained any experience.

Verik took the lead while Baron Arthur Grim brought up the rear. Cliff, the only person unarmed amongst them, remained in the middle. They crossed the bridge into the forest and it immediately became so much darker. No lanterns or flashlights were present so they only had their nightvision to rely on. Cliff remained low to avoid any low-hanging branches but only found himself getting a face-full of underbrush. The temptation to summon a ball of flame to light the way was there but he ignored it. Neither Verik nor the Baron knew of his powers and he was still unsure about the existence of magic in this world.

On the plus side, my perception skill is steadily being increased because it's so goddamn hard to see!

They proceeded at a steady pace, making it past Verik's cabin in just twenty minutes. Verik didn't even glance at his former home and they crossed the small clearing to the rear of the house.

The gloom only seemed to deepen as the trees grew thicker and less starlight made it through the branches. Still, Verik pressed on, a man driven. A few times he stopped and knelt down. His fingers brushed against something on the ground or he would examine something on some bushes or on the tree trunks. Then he would redirect them, following some trail that was completely invisible to Cliff.

They all kept silent as they proceeded for about another hour.

Then Verik abruptly held up a fist, indicating a halt. He crouched low, his eyes filled with as much fire as his hair was crimson. The Baron shuffled past Cliff to peer through the darkness at what Verik had seen. Cliff had to squint and even then, he could barely make out a shape in the darkness.

Beneath a few toppled tree trunks that formed a little lean-to was a big, brown, furry figure.

The bear!

His heart jumped to his throat. Had Verik led them all this way to get vengeance on the bear? Did he just offer lip service about seeking the force that drove the bear to his territory just to convince them to accompany him?

“Verik…" warned Grim in a low, whisper.

The lumberjack lifted a finger to his lips, indicating silence. It was too late, however. The bear had heard or sensed something. It lifted its head and sniffed the air. They were downwind so their scent was not likely to be caught by the animal. Still, the beast began to stir and it quietly pulled itself out from underneath the makeshift shelter. It's lumbering form was immense. Even from the distance, Cliff could tell that it towered over them all and those claws were each as sharp and thick as daggers. One swipe with all of that weight behind it and they would be ripped to shreds.

Amazing that Verik survived.

“Wait…" Verik gasped softly. “What is that?"

The bear hesitated, its ears swiveling. Then it turned its head behind it. About three, smaller, furry figures emerged from under the trees. They let out a few yaps at being awoken during their slumber. Their mother growled at them to silence. She led them away, padding through the forest and into the darkness.

She was a mother!

The bear was a mother that was probably foraging and looking for food for her cubs…

… and whatever was driving her to Verik's home left her with no choice.

The three men rested in the underbrush in silence, barely breathing. After an eternity, Verik finally let out a soft sob that broke the quiet.

“Verik…?" Arthur Grim asked.

“A mother," sighed lumberjack. “She was a mother with cubs. Searching for food. I surprised her. Must have thought I was a threat. She was desperate." Then that fire filled his eyes again. “Let's go."

“Where to?" Cliff asked.

“To whatever drove that poor creature onto my land."

Partially relieved and partially frightened, Cliff exchanged glances with Baron Arthur Grim for a brief moment before following the woodsman deeper and deeper into the forest. The weight of the realization fell heavily on their shoulders but, strangely enough, it was not nearly as heavy as he would have thought. Shared between three of them, perhaps the revelation that Cliff was right and the mother bear had just been desperate for food for her cubs wasn't so crushing.

I can't help but wonder what would have happened if Verik held onto the unknown and that resentment.

He was left with that thought, however, when Verik held up a fist again, indicating a stop and silence. This time, Cliff didn't have to squint to see what caught the lumberjack's attention. Between the towering spires of the trees, he could barely make out the flicker of firelight.

Lots of them.

Someone else was here.

“What is this…?" the Baron murmured softly, his eyes wide.

As they drew closer at a slower pace, the number of flames grew. There was an entire encampment. Even at over a hundred yards, the number of campfires was incredibly intimidating. This was coupled with the loud, feral roars that pierced the night air periodically. Whoever these people were, they were unafraid of being noticed. Still, they were too far from civilization to be detected by the locals even with their loud celebrations.

The hell is going on?

Baron Grim strode forward, taking the lead with his spear ahead of him. Verik was next, actively pushing Cliff back. They crept through the underbrush, growing closer and closer to the noise. The roars became more and more distinct and with them, the under undertones of merriment. Laughter, cries of ecstasy and cheers formed a ruckus.

Are they celebrating something…?

Then, through the mysterious chorus, he caught the grunts. The loud, wet slaps. The sounds of flesh against flesh.

Oh shit… Is this an orgy…?

The Baron stopped his approach. They were about thirty yards from the edge of the encampment. Whoever these people were, they had either cleared the trees to make an artificial clearing or had found a convenient clearing for their party. The firelight was nearly blinding against the gloom of the forest.

“It is safe to say we found the source of the disturbance," Grim rumbled softly. “Let us retreat. We'll return tomorrow with the rest of the soldiers. No matter what these men are doing, we cannot do much more now."

Then, a huge, black paw reached out and grasped the Baron's spear, yanking it clear out of his hands. The darkness right beside the Baron bubbled and oozed, little purple tinges appearing at the edge of the blackness. Streaks of the ooze peeled away from the greater mass, pearly white eyes indicating the 'face' of the long, serpentine creatures. As the ooze broke into its individual pieces, they revealed the towering beast looming over them.

Unwritten!

“Gods…?" breathed the Baron.

A huge, ursine face split into a big, toothy grin.

“Your gods cannot save you now, human."

The immense humanoid bear reached out with his other paw, seizing the Baron by the chain necklace that hung around his neck and threw him easily towards the fires.

“Arthur!" roared Verik. His eyes flaring with anger, he lifted his axe and charged at the bear. “You bastard!"

The bear didn't even try to block the attack. He - for the creature was clearly a he with that monster of a cock hanging between his legs - just stood there and let the sharpened edge of Verik's axe to sink into his left pectoral. Except there was no blood. There was no explosion of black-purple Ink. It didn't even pierce the skin!

The monster let out a hearty laugh and bounced his pectoral. The force alone with that vain movement was enough to cause Verik to stagger back. Not far enough to be outside of the titan's reach. The bear to reached out, grabbed Verik by the collar and hurled him right after Arthur with frightening accuracy.

“No!" Cliff shouted.

The bear turned towards him, licking his lips. “Oh, you're a little snack, aren't you?"

Cliff held his hand up at the bear's face, causing a flash of curiosity in the beast's amber eyes. “I'm a spicy snack! Fire!"

A ball of flame exploded from his palm and slammed right into his antagonist's face, immediately causing the man to scream, recoil and back away. Cliff charged through the swarm of Unwritten around him, vaulting over bushes and ducking under branches to reach the Baron and Verik. As he did so, multiple notifications popped into his HUD.

New Skill Unlocked: Magic Efficiency.

New Skill Unlocked: Magic Damage.

He dismissed those notifications for the moment as he skidded to a kneel beside the two fallen men. “Are you two alright?"

The Baron had propped himself up on his elbows, his eyes wide in horror. Verick was just getting up and mumbling that he was fine but then his gaze settled on the same thing that terrified the Baron.

In front of them was simply the biggest orgy they had ever seen. Over a hundred enormous, muscular, bear-men were curled around each other in various positions. All were naked and each of them had huge, throbbing dicks that were being pleasured in one way or another. Muzzles were meshed with one another, stuffed with cocks or shoved into firm, furry asses. Each bear - while having different masculine builds - were all at least eight feet tall and brimming with muscles. The wet slapping sounds came from dicks being shoved over and over into a willing ass. The grunts came from bears thrusting their hips in the throes of sex. And the roars…

… it was from when a bear would orgasm, shooting odd, blackish-purple cum into the air to join the pool of sticky, dark ichor that had gathered around them.

The smell of men and sex was thick in the air. A fog descended upon his mind, making it difficult to think. Invasive thoughts wormed their way into his thoughts.

They look… happy. This looks really fun.

Would it hurt to… join them?

He grit his teeth together, fighting off the horny words creeping around in his skull. Where in other case, Cliff would have found the scene right out of his fantasies, he quickly pieced together what was happening and mentally kicked himself for missing Oaks' retaliation for his defiance.

This must be Oaks using the Unwritten to manipulate the world!

I don't know why they are huge, sexy, bear men but I can't let myself get distracted!

He glanced over to Verik and then to the Baron. Both of them were staring agape at the scene before them. Their eyes were unfocused. Drawn into the scene by some unknown force.

Got to snap them out of this!

Cliff swung his right hand through the air. Light burst from his fingertips and the Archetype appeared with a soft, musical chime. The fog in his head immediately began to clear and those invasive thoughts were banished. A glance at the two men by his side showed that they were similarly freed from the grasp of the invisible miasma in the air.

Unfortunately, the appearance of the magical blade was like a dinner bell to the starving masses. Whatever act the bears were in, even while they were in mid-orgasm, abruptly came to a screeching halt. All their eyes turned towards the party of three. Squiggly shapes of the Unwritten wormed their way out of the pools of inky cum that the monsters had created.

“We need to get out of here," Cliff warned, pulling the two men up to their feet. “We need to warn Grimvalle!"

“Grimvalle?" The loud rumbling noise came from behind them and the bear that he had seared emerged from the trees, dusting off the soot on his face. Black ichor oozed over the burns, healing them after a few moments. Once he was fully healed, the monster grinned at them. “What a coincidence. We were heading there next."

The Baron stepped in front of Cliff while Verik faced off against the larger encampment. “Who… or… what are you?"

The bear let out a hearty, full-chest chuckle. “We used to be men. Just like you. But then we were blessed by the Unwritten!" He held out his paw towards them. One of the slimy Unwritten slithered up his leg, curled around his muscular body and then down his arm, propping itself on his fingertips like a cobra ready to strike. “We became more! We became one with the Story! It is a power unlike anything you will have ever felt! And with such a benevolent author…" The beast chuckled again. “Our days are filled with pleasure, sex and the company of our brothers. We barely have to eat! Rarely have to rest! We are more than human! We only live to enjoy ourselves and heed the call of the Holder!"

Cliff tightened his grip around the Archetype.

I was right! They are under Oaks' control!

Doesn't seem like they're really brainwashed… or maybe they are but they've convinced themselves this is what they want!

“Now," boomed the bear. “Why don't you join us, brother?"

The Unwritten on his paw suddenly jumped from his arm, lunging straight for Arthur's mouth. The Baron barely had time to open his mouth in shock… but Cliff was anticipating it. Anyone could see what the serpentine Unwritten was planning to do. He slipped around the Baron and immediately swatted the creature out of the air. The minute the edge of the Archetype touched the Unwritten's slithery frame, the creature let out a soft, dying squeal as its body dissolved into a flurry of oily liquid that was immediately sucked into the blade.

Cliff's Ink meter filled up a little.

“What…?" rumbled the bear, surprise and a flicker of fear in his eyes.

Thinking fast, Cliff recalled Realism's advice.

Every character is this world is made out of the same Ink as the Unwritten.

The Unwritten can hurt them and corrupt them but they can't hurt the Unwritten, I guess because they're considered a 'higher state' than the characters.

But.. I've purified some Ink with the Archetype and if I give that Ink to the characters, they could hurt the Unwritten!

“Verik!" he exclaimed and pointed his sword at the lumberjack. There was a moment of shock in Verik's face before the tip of the arcane blade suddenly burst with light. A shimmering beam of shifting colors erupted from the tip of the blade and slammed right into Verik's chest.

The burly red-head gasped for a moment… then confusion crossed his face.

“Oh… warm," he commented.

The Ink Cliff had stockpiled was rapidly depleting so when it hit about half, he pulled the blade away from Verik and pointed it at the Baron. Like before, the prismatic beam collided with the Baron who was engulfed in a warm, shimmering aura.

“What… What was that?" asked Arthur.

“These men have been corrupted by a force known as the Unwritten," Cliff explained, turning his blade towards the lone bear that had attacked them. The other barbarians behind them were extracting themselves from one another and slowly but cautiously making their way over. The bear in front of them didn't raise his paws in surrender but didn't attack either. He just glared at Cliff and the Archetype with those blazing, yellow eyes.

“I've never heard of the Unwritten," the Baron rumbled. Cliff began to sidestep, moving away from the horde of bears but keeping a wide berth from the lone barbarian that had attacked them. Slowly, he was making his way towards the tree line.

If we can get into the trees, we can make a break for it.

“They're an otherworldly, malicious entity under the command of a lustful, chaotic and selfish master," Cliff replied. He tried to describe Oaks' relationship with the Unwritten as much as possible without going too meta. How Verik or Arthur would react to being told they were characters in what was essentially meant to be a steamy, salacious romance novel was not something he wanted to find out in the heat of being mauled by over a hundred, eight-foot-tall, muscle-bound bearmen. “They corrupt anything they touch, twisting them into the image of their master."

“And it just had to be bears…" rumbled Verik, twisting his lips in disgust.

Shit! I hadn't thought about that!

Oaks must have chosen bears as a species because that is the source of Verik's trauma!

Clever…

“But what did you do to us?" the Baron asked. They were just a few feet away from the trees now but the horde of lustful, amber-eyed bears were almost upon them.

“The Unwritten are made of a substance called the Ink. My weapon, the Archetype, can take that Ink and purify it. Free it from O -" He stopped himself before mentioning D. E. Oaks' name. “From Oblivion's control. I can then use that same Ink to give you guys protection against the Unwritten and the power to fight them."

Verik's eyes flashed.

“So what you mean to say is…"

The lumberjack roared, lifted his axe and charged at the bear that had accosted them.

“Wait! No!" shouted Cliff, completely unsure of what the results would be.

The bear, perhaps not believing what he had heard or confident in his invulnerability, simply lifted an arm to block the blow. There was a spark of confidence in his eyes. It didn't fade when Verik's axe came crashing down. Or when the blade of the weapon slammed into his skin. It did drop, however, when the blade continued to bite into his flesh and buried itself into his bone.

Oh… Oh no.

I mean… Oh yes_… but oh no._

The titanic bear's eyes boggled, staring at the weapon lodged into his arm. As black and purple Ink dripped out of the wound, his gaze darted from the axe, to Verik, back to his arm and then to Cliff. Verik was similarly stunned that the blow worked but recovered faster. He yanked his axe out of the bear's arm, taking a chunk out of the ursine's flesh. There was no blood, just chunks of muscle oozing with Ink. The purple-black ooze shifted into the pearlescent swirl that was drawn into Verik's axe, empowering him further. Verik, bearing a grin that split his red beard in two, took a few confident steps back.

“See that!?" he bellowed. “You can be killed! Who wants their head on my mantle!?"

The Baron grabbed his shoulder and pulled the lumberjack towards the woods. “Easy, Verik! We're outnumbered. We need to run."

“You run," snarled the furious red-head. “I found what drove the bear to attack my family. I found the source! I know who to blame! I will have my revenge!"

Something about Verik's words rang about something… deeper. Not of this character but… of Oaks. Cliff made a mental note to delve deeper into once he had time. For the moment, he stepped in front of Verik, lifting the Archetype towards the approaching hoard.

“You two head back to the horses," he commanded. “Make for the fort and order everyone to hunker down prepare for battle. I'll hold them off and buy you time."

“You!?" snarled Verik. “You can't be serious!"

“I'm the only one with a weapon that can defeat these bastards," Cliff said sternly, entering his MOM stance. Only this time, he had a slight variation. A tongue of flame erupted between his fingertips, hovering over his palm. “And I've got a few more tricks up my sleeve."

Though I don't know if it's 'one-man-army' level of tricks…

Am I being stupid or brave?

Confidence was one thing but at this early stage in his development, he wasn't sure if he could fight a hundred or more enormous bear men on his own. That said, from what he could tell, these monsters were completely infused with the Ink. His enchanted clothes offered him protection. The only thing that they didn't protect him from were fully manifested things in the Story. The elements. Swords. Fire. All of the bears had discarded any semblance of weaponry. They were just fighting with their bare paws… and cocks.

Maybe? I dunno. I'm guessing here.

Internally, he grimaced.

Yeah, I'm being colossally stupid.

For a moment, he glanced upwards at the starry sky.

But you haven't outright killed me or unleashed an unstoppable god upon me yet, Oaks.

So either you like what you're seeing or even you are limited on how much you can use the Unwritten… Maybe if he uses it too much, he'll cause the whole place to collapse.

“Go," he insisted. “I'll catch up."

The titanic bear in front of him huffed. “You really think that we'd all just sit by and let you escape? There are two hundred of us! You can't stall us all!"

Cliff offered a dark grin, one that was filled with a false confidence. “You of all people don't know what I can do." He watched the massive male's eyes and saw the faintest flicker of uncertainty in the way his thick brows lifted ever so slightly. “How's it feel?"

The bear's lips peeled back in a scowl. “What?"

“To taste mortality?"

God, that's so cheesy but that's the best I can think of right now!

The barbarian's lips peeled back, showing of his sharp fangs. “You die now!"

With a roar, the beast charged forward, arms raised over his head in an almost comical pose. Slow but powerful, clumsy but enraged, the Unwritten-infected character crossed the distance to Cliff in three huge strides.

Cliff was already moving before the man had made that second step. He swung the Archetype, sweeping it upwards in a mighty uppercut. The blade sliced right through the bear's chest, drawing more of the Ink and sucking it into the weapon. His opponent was unprepared for the sudden onset of pain and recoiled, opening himself up for an attack. Cliff brought the sword crashing back down, once again slicing deep into the male's torso. Before the bear could even roar, Cliff was spinning around, bringing his full might in a wide swing that sent the bear flying back and crashing into the nearby barbarians, streaks of colorful Ink swirling around him and being absorbed into his body.

His Ink meter surged up once more.

The naked bears that had caught their fallen comrade tried to prop their fellow ursine to his feet only to watch in horror as the purple-black ink began creeping out of his wounds and consuming his form. What made this creature a defined character began to collapse and he was being reduced into the raw Ink that he was made from. The dark ooze rapidly evaporated, a dark haze emanating from his body as the fiery, yellow glow began to fade from his eyes. His huge arms dissolved into the air while still in the grip of his barbarian horde-mates. They gasped, gawked and stepped back, releasing him. The male vanished into twisting strokes of fading black and purple Ink to the sky, two-dimensional ribbons that faded into the night.

They all stared for the longest moment…

Then a bellowing roar erupted from somewhere amongst the crowd.

“Get them!"

The bears all snapped to attention, torn from their fear and began barreling towards Cliff.

“Run!" Cliff shouted to Arthur and Verik. He flung fireballs into the bears, sowing confusion into their ranks while he danced from one ursine to the other. They were all slow and lumbering but with two hundred pairs of arms lunging towards him, even he knew that he would get caught eventually.

I'll be overrun quickly but…

… this Ink has to be good for something else than freeing others from the Unwritten's influence!

He danced backwards, swinging at the arms lunging for him. One bear grabbed his shoulder and he quickly stabbed the tip of his blade into the man's forearm.

Counterattack!

Cliff pulled the blade out quickly and swung it upwards. A burst of colorful Ink exploded from the ground, unleashing a bursting shockwave that sent an entire group of the bears back.

“Come on, Verik!" shouted Arthur, pulling his long-time friend away and into the trees. “We can serve him more by warning Grimvalle!"

The two vanished into the darkness of the trees but not before Cliff and the lumberjack exchanged momentary glances. Cliff gave the Protagonist of this story a firm nod before turning back to the battle.

Alright… Come on, Archetype_. You can purify Ink, right?_

Let's see you use it!

Across the battlefield, the bear that had once been Cadfael was filled with rage and frustration over having his glorious and blindingly pleasurable sex interrupted. For the past few iterations of orgasm, it felt like he was edging towards something bigger. Yes, he ejaculated and each one was more powerful as the last but as the horde drew closer and closer to the township known as Grimvalle, that feeling that he would be rewarded made his dick throb and shoot more and more of the black, corrupted cum as he could. He was driven only to find release from the near-constant need to cum and seek pleasure while being driven mad by the incessant nagging that the load he shot was not quite enough.

Like so many of his brothers in the bear horde, he needed to get to Grimvalle.

When the command came to 'get them', he wasn't really clear on who 'them' was but he followed the rest of his brothers, overwhelmed by this sensation that if he got 'them', he might just get that release he wanted.

He muscled his way through thick, furry, muscled ursines, salivating and with yellow eyes wide with desire. His cock was so hard with anticipation and unmet needs. The former border guard never noticed the bursts of light exploding from the direction he was heading. All of his body was just driven towards one need. No part of him registered the odd haze of black Ink or how many of his brothers were falling and dissolving into that miasma. As he burst into the front, he let out a tremendous roar, anticipating beautiful release.

Cadfael never gave any thought to the young human standing in front of him in a peculiar stance. He grinned madly, jaws wide and cock spewing gray precum while he charged, arms above his head, ready to bring them down on this puny human.

Cliff jumped back one step, the Cadfael's claws crashing down into the ground mere inches away from him. The Archetype came shooting out, jabbing right through Cadfael's skull as easily as a needle would puncture a balloon only this balloon did not burst the instant the blade jutted out of the back of his head, sending a burst of bright Ink backwards that pierced the bodies of a few other bears.

A haze lifted from Cadfael's mind. The shroud of desire, the uncontrollable compulsion to constantly have sex with another man faded, eased away by this brilliant blade that pierced his skull. His whole body suddenly felt at relaxed. A sensation like he was being released from full-body restraints overwhelmed him. That constant edging sensation was gone and… he just felt relief.

For a second, Cadfael smiled… or at least he thought he did. At that point, the Ink had already spread across his face and his body was collapsing into the Ink. If he could have thanked this strange warrior, he would have.

Cliff yanked the Archetype from the bear that had just charged him, wondering how these creatures could be so mindless. How many had he already killed? Thirty? Forty? Even though they were two-dimensional mob characters that were designed to fill space, he couldn't help but feel sorry for them. They were real in this space but were treated as fodder.

It made him sick that Oaks would throw these mindless troops at him just for them to die.

Does he even have that level of control or am I giving him too much credit?

Even as a bear of the horny brotherhood, Howel was still lazy. His enormous, muscled form was maintained by the Ink into a perfect form of masculinity which meant he never had to exercise. That only fed into his slothfulness as he let any of his lovers pleasure him. The trek to Grimvalle was only possible because of the overwhelming compulsion to do so. Now that Skurrald commanded that he march, there was a brief moment when he genuinely wondered if he should but then his cock basically led him forward.

Like his brothers before him, he raised his paws above his head, roared and charged. All he could think of was to get this over and done with so that he could go back to getting his cock sucked. He burst through the wall of darkness that was the remnants of his brothers fading back into the Ink. There was a primitive level of cunning that still stood unique in the blackness of the Ink and the influence of the Unwritten. He waited until the swordsman was distracted with another of his brothers before he lunged.

But Howel was always lazy. His movements were slow, lumbering and gave the minimum effort. That gave Cliff all the time he needed to finish off the bear in front of him before spinning around and lifting the Archetype above his head, catching Howel's claws as they cam crashing down upon him.

Counterattack!

An immense burst of strength shot through his body, consuming some of his Ink as white swirls of purified Ink exploded around him in a circle, pushing back all the bears around him including Howel. He was given some breathing room, allowing him to charge forward, his free arm raised.

“Courage!" Cliff shouted.

Light exploded from the Archetype, thin strings of light curling around his free forearm to form his shield. As he charged, he slammed his newly acquired shield right into Howel's chest, swinging the weapon away from him. The blow caused an explosion of shimmering light that blinded the bears around him, causing them to stagger.

Howel, once again, was forced back, growling more in confusion than pain. Then there was a brief flash of light… followed by an explosion of pain. His eyes were drawn to his chest where a clean, deep slash cut down from his right shoulder down to his left hip. Cliff was already turning away to face other bears as Howel fell, his Ink dissolving from his form.

The inky blackness seeped over his body, consuming his form. A few lingering thoughts remained in his mind as he dissolved into the nothingness.

'Damn… should've gotten off my lazy ass…'

Now armed in the Archetype's Courage Form, Cliff had a little extra defense. What the bears didn't notice was that as they threw themselves at him, he was still gaining points into his skills particularly his Melee Sword Combat skill. Every slash he made garnered him an incredibly large amount of points and each kill was even more. After he put down the first few bears, he had already garnered enough points to gain an Ability Point. His blows were similarly getting stronger and stronger with his skill gradually increasing. When before, it would take a few slashes to defeat these bears, now one slash was enough to defeat them.

Oaks is going to make this harder for me, I can feel it.

The former Kingdom Knight known as Elias Vaughan was much like the others around him. Driven by the need for satisfaction and carnal desire, he approached Cliff, arms raised. But he had been twisted by the Ink and he retained some of his cunning as he charged. Some primal part of him recognized that Cliff was growing stronger and stronger with each blow even though he should have logically been getting weaker with exhaustion. The addition of that shield and the lengthening of his blade made him deadlier as well.

So he approached this differently.

He waited until Cliff's back was turned to him then he grabbed one of his brothers and pushed the bear ahead of him. As expected, the swordsman countered the attack, slamming his shield into the bear's face and then plunging his oddly shaped sword through the bear's chest, immediately causing him to dissolve.

In that moment, Elias struck.

He swerved around his fallen brother, making sure to position himself on the same side as Cliff's sword arm. Then he brought both his arms crashing down upon Cliff. The young man had his sword stuck in the bear in front of him and all he could do was lift his shield awkwardly.

CLANG!

For the first time in the entire battle, Cliff was forced to his knees. Though he was not injured, he no longer had the advantage or mobility he enjoyed.

Elias stood over him triumphantly. “Your ass is mine, boy."

He lifted one paw, grinning hungrily.

“And your head is mine!"

Before he could turn, he felt the bite of cold steel against the left side of his neck. Black ink burst from between his lips and he stared in wide-eyed shock to his left where a glowing axe was buried into his thick, corded muscles.

He managed to choke out a brief, “What…?"

Verik yanked his axe out of Elias' neck then brought it crashing back down, severing the huge bear's head from his shoulders. The lumberjack heaved and huffed, watching as the titanic beast's body fell to his knees and dissolved into the gaseous Ink.

“Verik!?" Cliff exclaimed. “What the hell!? I told you to go back to Grimvalle!"

“Arthur can warn his precious town," growled the lumberjack, stalking forward with both his hands on his axe. Cliff scrambled to his feet and stood next to the red-haired man. “There was no way you were going to hold off all these barbarians yourself. You're lucky I decided to turn back."

Cliff offered the man a faint smile and decided to go against the usual trope of denying his aid.

“Thank you," was all he said before gently brushing his shield against Verik's shoulder. Ink was drained from him and seeped into the lumberjack, fortifying his ally and empowering him further to challenge the bears.

“Now let's finish this," growled Verik. He nodded towards the bears and the tallest monster standing amongst them; a titan that stood with a musclegut, scars all over his arms and chest and a bright, blond Mohawk. “That's their leader."

Cliff gripped the Archetype firmly.

“Then that is our target." He glanced towards Verik. “On three?"

“No," snarled the lumberjack. “Now!"

With a roar that made all the bears around them flinch, Verik charged.

Cliff watched his ally rush headlong into the army, completely stunning him.

This man is… insane. Sexy. But insane.

Shit. I think he's hot.

The Synopsis

Oaks slammed his fist into the sides of the lectern, his eyes boggling in unconstrained fury. While he had been fixing those damned smoke alarms, Cliff had gone and led both Arthur Grim and Verik Stormleaf off into a tangent that revealed what should have been the primary antagonist for this book far too early.

They were supposed to ride out to the capital with a large contingent of Grimvalle's troops. The barbarians were meant to attack and reduce the whole town to rubble, killing Cliff's father and brother in a tragedy that would tie all three men together. Then they were supposed to find comfort in each other's arms as they shared the mutual goal of avenging the town against Skurrald.

That was how the first book was meant to end. Skurrald would die whispering of the Circle of Kings and the oncoming invasion. Oaks could infuse the Circle and its horde with more of the Unwritten, transforming them into hot, sexy, bear-men that would eventually rampage across the kingdom.

Hell, he even planned some great betrayal from the neighboring kingdom of Uveldald when the treacherous monarchy noticed the power of the barbarians. The Circle would turn to them, pivoting on their invasion plans and transforming proceeding to transform the entire opposing kingdom. The second book would revolve entirely around this conflict with Arthur, Verik and Cliff trying to convince their allies to attack the barbarians even in their weakened state. A rescue would eventually be planned, some Kings of the Circle would fall and the two kingdoms would ally together to bring the war back north as they pushed back the barbarians.

The third and final book would revolve around defeating the barbarians up north once and for all.

But this… this was not what he had planned at all.

His mind was racing. The twists and turns of a newly created plot hurt his head and wrenched at his heart. Suddenly, this story that he had admittedly poured little effort into was slipping out of his control, corrupted by someone as basic as Cliff Bolt.

“Who is this child!?" he snarled. “Where did he get these powers? What makes him so observant!? So tenacious!?"

The sound of scratching and scribbling on the walls of the Synopsis was his only answer.

This Story was mutating in front of him. Cliff had co-opted his initial design and transformed it into something else that disgusted him. Gone was the intricate, weaving narrative that involved personal issues, deep parallels between characters, emotional growth and depth while interlaced with hot but emotionally charged man-on-man sex. Now… it became a cheap, action-adventure romp cheapened by magic of all things and over-the-top combat scenes that was lifted right out of a Japanese serialized manga or a Hollywood film adaptation. It had become an amateurish fan fiction of his work.

Oaks practically frothed in the mouth as he tried to make sense of the evolving Story, tried to see where his characters would go from here and if he could still pad out the Plot as he had intended for three books.

“The Circle is still out there," he rumbled. “And maybe I can make an antagonist of the King of Marvellian." He tapped the crystal quill against his chin. “Yes… He will not come to Grimvalle's aid after it is attacked by barbarians. So even if…" A venomous grin crossed his features. “… even if they defeat Skurrald, then Arthur would need to seek help from the King. He'd still need to make the trip to the capital with his two witnesses. We take the issue with the King who will not believe them of corrupted bear men who transform their victims into more of themselves…"

Then he shook his head. “Wait…No. They don't know they have that power. To them, these are just barbarians."

That grin returned as he jabbed the quill into the air, drawing more Ink.

“So let's give them an example, shall we?" He pressed the quill's point into the pages and began to write, his focus now laser-like. “I will draw from your own words, Cliff. What was it you called me, 'Oblivion'? 'A lustful, chaotic and selfish master'? Well… I can be that. And I know just how to prove it…"

His grin grew broader.

“Unbeknownst to Arthur, as he fled back towards his beloved city…"

Grimvalle

Unbeknownst to Arthur, as he fled back towards his beloved city, the starlight flickered off a globule of black Ink that had stuck to his cloak. In the scuffle against the Barbearians as he had decided to classify them, it had fallen into the fabric. His attention was far too occupied with the heady, grassy musk that was in the air and the wanton scenes of carnal depravity in the Barbearian encampment to notice. However, with the blessing that Cliff had granted him, the corrupted Ink was subdued, dormant. It did not actively corrupt him.

Even if it tried to, his thoughts were preoccupied by Verik's wanton disregard for logic. The man had always been passionate and it was one of the reasons he held him so dear to his heart. Also one of the reasons why it made sense that Arthur Grim be the Baron of these lands instead of Verik. Even as he ran through the woods, his huge form crashing through underbrush and branches like a bull through a crowded street, he couldn't help but smile at how his friend and love interest was so driven. When Verik announced that he would turn back and fight the Barbearians, it wasn't because he wanted vengeance on it. That issue was lain to rest.

It was because he wanted to protect Cliff.

“That man…" Arthur Grim rumbled to himself, shaking his head with a sad smile. He burst out of the tree line, approaching the bank of the small river that marked the border between the Grimwalker Forest and the plains that were his lands. Looking to the south, he saw the rickety bridge and the twin huts that marched the Charcoal Brothers' abode. Glancing back into the trees, he quietly whispered, more a prayer than an order, “You two better return safely."

Though his legs ached from crouching low and sneaking through the forest and now running full tilt through the same woods, the Baron of Grimvalle still ran towards the huts. Loyalty prevailed this day. Nycolas and Gyrard were still very much awake. It seemed that they resorted to their usual work of chopping wood and burning it for charcoal while they waited. The fires from their burners offered guidance in the gloom of the night.

Both of these thickset men straightened when he approached.

“M'lord!" exclaimed Gyrard, his brown eyes filled with worry.

For a brief instant, Grim flinched when he saw the crimson light from his furnace glance off his irises giving them a brief yellowish glow. His logical reasoning and senses took over and convinced him to take a second look. These were not the same otherworldly, amber eyes of the Barbearians.

Sighing inwardly in relief, Grim rushed over to his horse. He stripped off his cloak, leaving the iron chains plate necklace that hung around his shoulders. The less weight he had, the faster he would get to the city.

“A malign force has invaded our forest," he declared, leaping onto the stallion's back and seizing the reigns. “Verik and Cliff are fighting them off."

“Just the two of them!?" Nycolas exclaimed.

Arthur pivoted his horse so he could peer into the Grimwalker Forest, hoping to find his two friends emerging. A minute passed before he finally allowed himself to return to his duties.

“Those two are stronger than you think," he said, turning back towards the road to town. Even then, he hoped either of these charcoal burners would shout at him that something was emerging from the trees. “I need to inform the town. Warn them of the threat and rally my troops. We will return. Stay here and watch for Verik and Cliff. If you do not see them come back in the next hour, take their horses and make for the fort."

Gyrard gave him a sharp salute. “Yes, m'lord!"

“If you see any of the beasts emerging from the forest, do not engage them." Arthur grit his teeth together, recalling the dark sensations and invasive thoughts that wormed their way into his mind before Cliff rescued him with the light of clarity. The images of those immense, muscular men coiled one another in the throes of passion… The question of how it would feel to do the same to Verik and even Cliff… The want to become like those immense bears, so big, strong and virile…

Baron Arthur Grim pushed the memories out of his mind with a crack of the reigns. His stallion whinnied and bolted down the road, carrying him back to Grimvalle.

The Charcoal brothers exchanged glances. Though they often competed with one another, being brothers, the urgency in their liege's voice spurred them to action.

“I'll go pack our things," announced Nycolas.

“I'll douse the fires and keep an eye out for Verik and Cliff," agreed Gyrard.

Nycolas turned and bolted into his hut. The simple life of a woodcutter and charcoal burner was abruptly shattered sending his heart was racing. His dark, soot-covered hair was suddenly drenched in sweat, his portly belly jostling as he scrambled around his hut, grabbing the hemp blanket he used for warmth during the windows, setting it on the floor and using it as a makeshift bag for his belongings.

There was very little light in his hut which barely was enough to fit his cot, a trunk and a single table. What little illumination came from his furnace which was positioned next to his window. He never really needed more light than that and rarely worked at night anyway. Still, with so little, he knew where everything was from his knife, spare clothes, some rope to tie the bag together and a few other tools that would come in handy.

It was thanks to this gloom and his utter focus on survival, that he never noticed the gooey blob of semi-sentient Ink that wormed its way underneath his hut, it's pearly eyes peering upon him in anticipation. It had emerged from the Baron's discarded cloak, no longer under the purifying influence of Cliff's blessing. The Unwritten knew its purpose, driven by the will of the Holder. Stealthily slithering along the floor like a dark snake ready to strike, it approached the completely unaware charcoal burner.

Nycolas bent over, kneeling beside his gathered belongings and starting to tie the edges of his blanket into a rucksack. As he did so, his trousers slipped a little down his robust butt crack, the faintest fluff of brown hair jutting over the rim. The Unwritten reared up, angling itself right at the opening… and then struck. It wiggled down the lip of his trousers, sending a shock of cold right up the rotund man's spine. Then, it shot right between his hairy ass cheeks, surging into the vulnerable hole and entering Nycolas' system.

The bolt of cold coursed through his body like freezing lightning traveling through every vein and artery. He immediately sat up and let out a little yelp, his big, wide hands immediately going to his ass. The tail of the Unwritten slapped against his fingers before it fully entered him leaving him with a curiosity more than anything. He lifted his hand to his face and saw the brackish, purple-black goo dripping off his fingertips. The chill of the infection spread throughout his body but his muscles didn't shiver to keep him warm nor did his immune system raise his body temperature to fight off the foreign entity. His body just bent to a superior power and his simple mind from a simple life as a charcoal burner bent like a reed in a storm.

His eyes glazed over, eyelids fluttering as he lifted the goo to his nose, giving it a long whiff. The musk of men flooded his mind. Sex. Desire. Arousal. He licked his lips in anticipation as he brought his sticky fingers closer to his mouth.

Change. Corrupt. Cum.

The taste of the raw, Unwritten essence infused by the Holder's will was so salty with malice that it burned his throat but quickly ended in a tantalizing sweet note filled with promises of unbridled satisfaction and pleasure. It was too much for him to bear and his eyes closed, the flicker of his dark irises vanishing against a sea of pearly white.

His other hand drifted back towards his ass crack as he fell to his haunches. Fat fingers probed where the Unwritten had vanished through, stimulating the hairs around his ass until he found what he was looking for; the sensitive flesh of his virgin hole. A spark like the one he used to light his furnace for coal burning ignited and immediately set his whole body ablaze with a voracious desire. This insatiable and unknowable force compelled him to push a finger into his ass up to his first knuckle. Heat radiated from the gratification that came from that simple act.

A moment of discomfort came from an itching sensation around his finger as jet black fur sprang from the nexus of his ecstasy. That was quickly ended as he pushed his finger deeper into his ass. The forest of inky fur spread all over his cheeks, bringing with it a loud stretching noise. His glutes rapidly inflated, pumping full of muscle hidden by a layer of fat giving it a perfect, perky, bubble shape. The seat of trousers tore, revealing the large, black mass beneath.

The growth pushed his finger away from his pucker, adding to his frustration. That was quickly changed when his digit surged forward, unwilling to be pulled from its prize now that it has secured purchase. Bones broadened, flesh expanded and his fingernails disappeared against a rush of black fur. A claw burst from his fingertip, spearheading the path into his ass and shooting another burning flare through his whole body that had him throwing his head back, grinning broadly. Another of his fingers was pushed into his ass, doubling his pleasure and pushing the change further throughout his body.

Black fur crept across the front of his crotch, consuming his pubic hair and tainting them until they was as dark as midnight. Mass was pumped straight into his thighs, muscles expanding and thickening. For the first time in his life, the mass of his quads pushed past the fat that had layered across his legs and pulsed out clear definitions like his flesh was carved from solid obsidian. The legs of his trousers gave up against the increasing mass, leaving him with what could only be considered a loincloth. Even then, that did not last long as the change spread towards his cock.

Intense throbbing emanated from his dick, rattling his whole body and seeping into his ass, causing his pucker to pulse with intense need. His mutating fingers were drawn further and further into his ass and with each bit filling him, his cock grew more and more erect. Thin rope snapped and the remnants of his pants hung uselessly on his throbbing dick. The limit of his natural, human member was quickly reached and yet he still had more of his fingers to enter his ass.

A new sensation sent shockwaves throughout his body. A blissful mix of excited relief, volcanic arousal and mounting anticipation. His cock surged an inch longer and just a little bit fatter. His loincloth was the final curtain to the grand reveal. His member grew longer and longer, following the curve of his growing belly until the remnants of fabric fell away to the ground and silvery, clear precum oozed from the tip.

Nycolas grasped his member excitedly, running his free, human hand up and down its length with an energy that only continued to grow. Hems of his tunic crept up his belly. Black fur seeped over the crest of his stomach, hard obliques and abs barely visible against the rounded mass. As it grew, raw power, strength and an addictive ecstasy flooded his mind. The desire to grow and change more and more people multiplied with his increasing mass.

Fabric tore across his chest. Titanic pectorals ripped his tunic in half, scalloped striations showing clearly against the plates of muscle coated in silky, black fur. Though his pectorals were dwarfed by his immense belly, they were still easily larger than a man's head. The remnants of his tunic barely hung around his arms but not because of textile tenacity but because they were stuck on his ballooning upper arms. Each bicep were like obsidian boulders; firm and defined with every stroke of his cock or push of his fingers into his ass but when relaxed, they were smooth as the night. Eventually, the last fragments of clothing snapped off his body, falling to the ground and soaking up the corrupted gray precum that had pooled around him.

Nycolas' lips split open into a wide, toothy grin. Canines lengthened into sharpened points. Teeth shifted position with his changing skull. His nose led the way, shifting into a blackened point that sprang from a white fur. The alabaster hair formed a stark contrast against the midnight black fur that stopped at his cheeks, just at the edges of his black, rubbery lips. His soot-covered brown hair darkened into the same color as his fur, the soot never being discernible. Human ears crawled up his broadening skull, moving to the top of his head where they rounded off into black, fur-covered discs.

The huge, black bear huffed and heaved, the pressure building in his enormous, jostling balls. His muzzle split open, a silent cry rising form his throat. Black, tar-like cum tinged with edges of purple where they caught the light erupted from his monstrous dick. The geyser struck the ceiling of his hut as his whole body shuddered, shaking the last chills of the initial infection from his body as well as the vestiges of what had made Nycolas one half of the old Charcoal Brothers.

His eyelids fluttered open, the pearly film that covered his eyes seeping into the corners of his eyes with each subsequent shot of pitch black seed that erupted from his dick. Burning, amber irises glowed through the darkness, filled with a new purpose.

“Change," he rumbled, rising to his enormous, clawed feet, dark precum oozing from his knees. “Corrupt." He turned towards the door of his hut, a hungry grin across his features. “Cum."

Nycolas had to duck under the doorframe due to his immense size. Somehow, he still managed to navigate around the hut and cross the dirt road to where his brother was desperately trying to douse the flames of his furnace. The flames they used were incredibly hot and dousing them was no easy feat. One of the reasons they stayed so close to a constant source of water. The lumbering black bear blended with the darkness around him with only his glowing yellow eyes marking his passage. The horses they had been keeping were the first to catch sight of him and they snorted, stamped their hooves and visibly shied away from him.

Gyrard was too busy throwing water into his furnace and using a pole to shuffle the burning embers around to ensure they would not reignite the moment he went to get more water. There was a faint dripping noise that he chalked up to some water from his bucket being disturbed. The smoke and ash masked the heady scent of sex, fresh cum and the smell of wet grass but that didn't mean the corrupted pheromones radiating out of his brother didn't make it through the air and funnel into the younger Charcoal Brother's nostrils.

He wondered what was taking his brother so long to pack their meager belongings. That thought was pierced by exasperation when he theorized Nycolas was likely masturbating. Intrusive thoughts quickly followed. What did his brother's cock taste like? What would it be like to suck that dick? What was stopping him from fucking his brother?

The younger of the Charcoal brothers was about to push those intrusive thoughts from his mind when a pair of big, clawed paws seized his trousers and ripped them clear off his body. Momentum pulled him and his pants backwards, sending him tumbling face first into the dirt in front of him. Stars danced in front of his eyes but before he could regain his bearings, he was being spun around, facing the night sky. Dust burned his eyes and yet, through the dizziness and the dust, he could still make out the large, black bear with the rotund belly framed by firm muscles looming over him with a lusty grin on his face.

“N - N - Nycolas!?" he exclaimed, somehow able to recognize his brother even through the transformation and burning eyes.

“That's right, brother," rumbled Nycolas. “You win a prize; the chance to finally fuck me!"

What protests Gyrard could muster quickly died in his throat when Nycolas' immense form squatted down over his exposed crotch, enormous leg muscles bulging and with each curve highlighted in the firelight. A pang of jealousy struck Gyrard at the sight of those bugling muscles. The corruption quickly latched onto that thought, twisting it into punishing his brother for having such immense, sexy legs; that he should stick his cock in between Nycolas' cheeks and show him that even though Gyrard was younger, he as not to be treated as weaker.

Much like his brother, Gyrard lived a simple life. Competing with his brother, burning and chopping wood and selling them to the people of Grimvalle filled his life. He had no other purpose. Never meant to be. In the greater Narrative, he was doomed to be a passing mention that would be relegated to a casualty when the Barbearians attacked and swept through Grimvalle. His corpse alongside his brother's would be the portent that something was wrong with the town to the protagonists of the story as they returned for the capital.

But now… his destiny had been revised.

His hands moved of their own accord just as his cock rose up to full mast even before his hands settled on his brother's thick calves. The scent his brother was emitting from his taint reached his nostrils, finally overwhelming the aroma of burning wood and charcoal. A strong confirmation of his intrusive thoughts compelled him forward. Precum oozed from the tip of his uncut cock, increasing his anticipation. The instant the first of Nycolas' fur brushed against his dick, he thrust upwards, pushing his dick into the tight gap between those furry ass cheeks and kissing the edges of Nycolas' sensitive pucker.

“Brooooother…" growled Gyrard. “You're… you're so tiiiiight!"

Nycolas grinned down at him, his amber eyes flashing with encouragement. “I've saved myself for you, brother." Then he squatted down a little lower, his leg muscles bunching as he purposefully impaled himself on Gyrard's cock.

A brief touch of cold seeped throughout Gyrard's body, consuming him with this strange sense of emptiness that needed to be filled. An inferno immediately filled the void. Starting from the tip of his cock, it traveled down his length like a lit fuse to his balls where it exploded and filled his testicles with the will of the Unwritten and the Holder, Oblivion. His balls immediately surged outwards, inflating to the size of large fists, jostling with infected cum. Deep, brown fur that was almost black in the right light wrapped all over his sack, consuming them and completing their transformation. From here, the Unwritten within him had a staging ground and it quickly spread its influence throughout his entire body even though his mind was already broken and twisted into the lustful desires of Oblivion.

Gyrard growled, baring his teeth, his hands gripping his brother's meaty calves and enjoying how firm and hard they felt under his hands. Power coursed through his legs and hips. Brown fur spread over his crotch and quads. Using this new might, he thrust into his brother, pushing inch after inch with each thrust. A deep thrumming rumbled out of his balls and radiated into his cock, pushing it deeper and deeper into Nycolas' ass even when he wasn't thrusting. There was a brief realization that his dick was growing longer and thicker but that was were conscious, willing thought ended. He was filled with a new purpose to make use of his organ in every way possible.

Starting with his very own brother.

His thrusts grew more and more forceful, driving their momentum. The power of his hips pushed Nycolas into the air and then he would pull back, letting his bare ass to kiss the soot-covered ground beneath him. Gravity would pull his brother back onto him and then the cycle would continue. The gaps between each thrust grew shorter as more of his human frame was consumed by the Unwritten. Dark brown fur crawled up his own stomach which had been flatter than his brother's. A loud gurgling erupted from his belly. Mass was added to his midsection, ballooning out while being supported by strong muscles that framed the softer gut.

Inches were added to his height. His legs slipped further out from beneath him. Huge calves that rivaled his brother's blossomed with a rush of his bark-colored fur covering every inch. His toes burst from his cloth boots, uncurling to greet the night air. Black claws jutted from the tips of his toes as his feet widened and stripped off the rest of his human clothing.

Gyrard's hands moved up from his brother's calves and gripped his sibling's knees as more and more mass was added to them. His biceps erupted from his tunic with a celebratory ripping noise. Two juicy pectorals shed the last of his clothing, tipped by two bright, pink nipples. The brown fur swept up from his belly and over his pectorals just in time for Nycolas to reach down and catch both of his sensitive, fleshy nubs between his thumbs and forefingers. With a twist, he spurred the transformation further.

The younger Charcoal Brother howled in pleasure, thrusting his hips against his brother's ass, arching his back and with his the back of his head pressed against the ground. In his position, he was gazing at the furnace upside down. The pressure in his balls were growing to unbearable levels. All that was bouncing around in his mind was the compulsion to Change, the purpose to Corrupt and the need to Cum. His roar deepened while it still rattled out of his throat as his neck thickened and was consumed by his inflating traps. Ursine features erupted from the human face. Brilliant, amber irises burst through the pearly film that covered his eyes, awakening Gyrard to the world as another of the Revised.

His cry heralded his orgasm. Hot, black and purple cum erupted from his jostling balls, shooting up his monstrous member before entering his brother's ass. No reservations remained about mating his with his flesh and blood. No concerns about the oncoming threat from Barbearians. He didn't even hold only any loyalty for Arthur Grim.

All he wanted was to Change, Corrupt and Cum.

The completion of his transformation brought on Nycolas' second orgasm of the night though he was sure there would be many more. His dark seed erupted from his cock, sailed over his brother's head and shot straight into the furnace. Instead of dousing the flames within, it only seemed to feed the fire. The crimson fire surged and a fireball erupted from the chimney at the top of the furnace. This fiery meteor sailed through the air and crashed nearby. The horses finally broke from their restraints and bolted, scrambling away into the plains.

Both bears stared at the mass through grimaces of ecstasy. While they came over and over again, shooting more of their dark seed into the furnace and causing it to spew more meteorites, the one that first had been produced began to shift and change. Dark Ink fused with the fire, forming a vague shell that seemed to contain the raging flames within. A pair of vicious five-fingered claws seething with fiery talons appeared from a broad, vaguely muscled body. An obsidian mask vaguely shaped like the outline of an ursine head sat atop fiery shoulders. Legs adorned with plate-like obsidian shaped in a plantigrade stance made it appear that this new Unwritten could stride on all fours as is it could on its hindlegs.

One by one, each fireball that was spewed from the furnace formed into a new Unwritten. Seconds after they were formed, the creatures bolted towards the forest, igniting the underbrush and bark that they passed.

A blaze was starting.

Gyrard grinned at this scene and extracted his cock from his brother's ass, stunning the enraptured Nycolas. He pushed his brother off him with one, enormous arm and then turned towards his furnace. Falling on all fours, he lifted his ass towards his brother while his cock was angled straight at the furnace mouth.

“Come, my brother," he rumbled, a lewd smirk on his muzzle.

Nycolas moved behind him, enormous paws gripping his ass cheeks.

“Yes, brother."