Aleth08 So, I've arranged the chapters now, the newly written 1.1 is on top, then 1.2. I'm still leaving a note here just in case any regular reader missed it [if you did, you can find the chapter at the top of the list, before 1.2.]
Anyway, here's the chapter, enjoy.
Contracting Toast didn’t need any of his blood, so he could contract one of the other two Astylinds without any delay. And after much deliberation that considered their sizes, he chose the egg. He repeated the same process on the kitchen slab and poured the useless blood down the sink. The head-sized egg now radiated a blue halo.
Contract.
The clean slit on his wrist spurted blood as he traced the spell circuit in his soul space. His face paled from the drain, a chill rose from his core, shivers took over him, and his lips purpled. Hypovolemia—his status reverted to it.
After he shed the needed blood, his wound closed, and the puddle of red floated up to form the spell circuit in the air. It flashed with a blood tint and changed into mist threads that cocooned the egg. Next part was the wait game.
Orange stood on Ewan’s shoulders and comforted him and Toast by raising the temperature. Ewan leaned on the kitchen countertop, short on breath, and waited for the cocoon to shrink. And soon enough, it thinned.
The same process repeated, and the spell succeeded once again. The egg shook, its shell fractured, and a muffled howl escaped its cracks. Ewan didn’t help though; breaking out of the egg was a ceremony of sorts for many Astylinds and Starons—a rite of birth, some called it. He wouldn’t interfere in that unless necessary.
Hit after another, the creature inside banged against the eggshell and broke through. It tore it with its blue claws that looked like human hands and finally crawled out. It was the size of Ewan’s head, with navy blue skin, clawed hands and feet, a long pointy tail, and two tiny bumps on the sides of its forehead. Even without using , Ewan recognized this creature, and braced for another impact.
Imp…
They were one of the subspecies of the Demons. Like Humans, they were also Starons and not Astylinds. A fine line of intelligence and wisdom divided the Astylinds and the Starons. Though the Demons stood among the lowest rung of the ladder as a Staron, far from humans and much closer to the Astylinds, the upper rung still categorized them in the same class.
“The spell really doesn’t discriminate…,” Ewan murmured.
Even though it was possible in theory, his Pa proved it in reality—he contracted another Staron. And now Ewan too followed in his footsteps. He traced the spell circuit and cast while the little Imp scarfed the eggshells.
[Astylind Name: Imp (Ice-Variant)]
[Astylind Level: Level-0]
[Astylind Grade: Grade-D]
[Anima Affinity: Ice]
[Skills: Ice-Favored]
[Gender: Male]
[Description: Natives of Alvodor. Their talents and affinity vary based on their bloodline. But most are capable of decent spellcasting and melee combat.]
[Grade-Exalt Requirements: Astylind Core (Ice), Frozen Web, Ice Honey.]
[Remark 1: Low wisdom, barely crossing the line. Possibility of taming and rearing is high.]
[Remark 2: Basic contract doesn’t work. Success rate might increase with a modified spell circuit.]
[Remark 3: Hah, I’m a master of a Demon now. But too much torture broke his mind. Tch!]
[Remark 4: Modified spell circuit succeeded; the contract was a success. No oppression needed. Changing their format in the database, the contracted ones will be noted ‘Astylind’ from now on.]
Ewan read the details and the remarks as the abundant Ice-Anima in the surroundings surged towards him and the Imp. There was a new rune in his soul space now, a metallic white ‘V’ shaped rune. It glowed with a gentle but frigid bluish-white halo. It proved his ability to cast ice spells.
The little Imp cried at Ewan once he finished the eggshells.
“Still hungry?” He carried him on his other shoulder and prepared the utensils to cook food and heat up some milk.
The Imp clutched his hair and stuck close to him as his legs wobbled. Orange screeched at him and climbed on Ewan’s head, puffing his chest out once he reached the top. The Imp looked at him then glanced down at the floor; his knees buckled, and his legs trembled harder. He buried his face in Ewan’s hair and stuck even closer while Ewan cooked.
Unlike his other two Astylinds, the little Imp could digest solid food right from the start. If he was on Alvodor, he would’ve hunted for food soon after his birth.
The scalding pan thawed the semi-frozen meat and seared it. The sizzling fat made Ewan salivate and its smell invited him. Once the slab of meat came to the normal body temperature though, he experienced a craving he never did before. The meat was still raw and red, it would’ve repulsed him before. Yet, he thirsted for it right now.
He sighed and closed his eyes. One of the changes had already arrived, and it was one of the undesirable ones. Cats liked fresh kill, they liked meat that was still warm, fresh, and bloody. Now Ewan craved it too. But he didn’t give in. It was only an instinctual want; he could still suppress it. And so, he continued cooking the meat and warmed up the milk on the side stove.
When the meat went past a certain point, still raw but beyond the normal body temperature, his instincts also simmered down. He prepared a tiny milk bottle for Toast after checking its temperature on his inside wrist and sliced the meat in half for Orange and the little Imp. Orange could also eat solid food now, much to his delight. He didn’t have to stare at Ewan’s food while drinking his milk anymore.
When Ewan put them both on the countertop, the Imp calmed down and attended to the food. As they both ravaged the meat, Orange pointed at the Imp and complained with all his vigor. A piece of meat hung from his mouth as he hooted with a muffled voice. Their bond conveyed his whines and gripes about why the Imp didn’t have to drink milk. Ewan shook his head in defeat as he had no solution for it. Any explanation would only waste his energy, he could only let things be.
The cliched fight between ice and fire—the reality of his house was proving why society deemed it a cliché. The future didn’t look too peaceful.
Aleth08
Please rate, comment, and leave a review if you are liking the story and haven't done so already. It will really help me out if you can take some time out for this [shamelessly hoping for a 5 star].
Also, if you would like to read ahead, I have a patreon account, a total of 30 chs for early access right now [will increase in the future when I have more chapters stocked]. And if u would like to join, this is my discord server The Magicians.
Anyway, thanks for reading my story as always. Appreciate it.
Aleth08 So, I've arranged the chapters now, the newly written 1.1 is on top, then 1.2. I'm still leaving a note here just in case any regular reader missed it [if you did, you can find the chapter at the top of the list, before 1.2.]
Anyway, here's the chapter, enjoy.
Contracting Toast didn’t need any of his blood, so he could contract one of the other two Astylinds without any delay. And after much deliberation that considered their sizes, he chose the egg. He repeated the same process on the kitchen slab and poured the useless blood down the sink. The head-sized egg now radiated a blue halo.
Contract.
The clean slit on his wrist spurted blood as he traced the spell circuit in his soul space. His face paled from the drain, a chill rose from his core, shivers took over him, and his lips purpled. Hypovolemia—his status reverted to it.
After he shed the needed blood, his wound closed, and the puddle of red floated up to form the spell circuit in the air. It flashed with a blood tint and changed into mist threads that cocooned the egg. Next part was the wait game.
Orange stood on Ewan’s shoulders and comforted him and Toast by raising the temperature. Ewan leaned on the kitchen countertop, short on breath, and waited for the cocoon to shrink. And soon enough, it thinned.
The same process repeated, and the spell succeeded once again. The egg shook, its shell fractured, and a muffled howl escaped its cracks. Ewan didn’t help though; breaking out of the egg was a ceremony of sorts for many Astylinds and Starons—a rite of birth, some called it. He wouldn’t interfere in that unless necessary.
Hit after another, the creature inside banged against the eggshell and broke through. It tore it with its blue claws that looked like human hands and finally crawled out. It was the size of Ewan’s head, with navy blue skin, clawed hands and feet, a long pointy tail, and two tiny bumps on the sides of its forehead. Even without using , Ewan recognized this creature, and braced for another impact.
Imp…
They were one of the subspecies of the Demons. Like Humans, they were also Starons and not Astylinds. A fine line of intelligence and wisdom divided the Astylinds and the Starons. Though the Demons stood among the lowest rung of the ladder as a Staron, far from humans and much closer to the Astylinds, the upper rung still categorized them in the same class.
“The spell really doesn’t discriminate…,” Ewan murmured.
Even though it was possible in theory, his Pa proved it in reality—he contracted another Staron. And now Ewan too followed in his footsteps. He traced the spell circuit and cast while the little Imp scarfed the eggshells.
[Astylind Name: Imp (Ice-Variant)]
[Astylind Level: Level-0]
[Astylind Grade: Grade-D]
[Anima Affinity: Ice]
[Skills: Ice-Favored]
[Gender: Male]
[Description: Natives of Alvodor. Their talents and affinity vary based on their bloodline. But most are capable of decent spellcasting and melee combat.]
[Grade-Exalt Requirements: Astylind Core (Ice), Frozen Web, Ice Honey.]
[Remark 1: Low wisdom, barely crossing the line. Possibility of taming and rearing is high.]
[Remark 2: Basic contract doesn’t work. Success rate might increase with a modified spell circuit.]
[Remark 3: Hah, I’m a master of a Demon now. But too much torture broke his mind. Tch!]
[Remark 4: Modified spell circuit succeeded; the contract was a success. No oppression needed. Changing their format in the database, the contracted ones will be noted ‘Astylind’ from now on.]
Ewan read the details and the remarks as the abundant Ice-Anima in the surroundings surged towards him and the Imp. There was a new rune in his soul space now, a metallic white ‘V’ shaped rune. It glowed with a gentle but frigid bluish-white halo. It proved his ability to cast ice spells.
The little Imp cried at Ewan once he finished the eggshells.
“Still hungry?” He carried him on his other shoulder and prepared the utensils to cook food and heat up some milk.
The Imp clutched his hair and stuck close to him as his legs wobbled. Orange screeched at him and climbed on Ewan’s head, puffing his chest out once he reached the top. The Imp looked at him then glanced down at the floor; his knees buckled, and his legs trembled harder. He buried his face in Ewan’s hair and stuck even closer while Ewan cooked.
Unlike his other two Astylinds, the little Imp could digest solid food right from the start. If he was on Alvodor, he would’ve hunted for food soon after his birth.
The scalding pan thawed the semi-frozen meat and seared it. The sizzling fat made Ewan salivate and its smell invited him. Once the slab of meat came to the normal body temperature though, he experienced a craving he never did before. The meat was still raw and red, it would’ve repulsed him before. Yet, he thirsted for it right now.
He sighed and closed his eyes. One of the changes had already arrived, and it was one of the undesirable ones. Cats liked fresh kill, they liked meat that was still warm, fresh, and bloody. Now Ewan craved it too. But he didn’t give in. It was only an instinctual want; he could still suppress it. And so, he continued cooking the meat and warmed up the milk on the side stove.
When the meat went past a certain point, still raw but beyond the normal body temperature, his instincts also simmered down. He prepared a tiny milk bottle for Toast after checking its temperature on his inside wrist and sliced the meat in half for Orange and the little Imp. Orange could also eat solid food now, much to his delight. He didn’t have to stare at Ewan’s food while drinking his milk anymore.
When Ewan put them both on the countertop, the Imp calmed down and attended to the food. As they both ravaged the meat, Orange pointed at the Imp and complained with all his vigor. A piece of meat hung from his mouth as he hooted with a muffled voice. Their bond conveyed his whines and gripes about why the Imp didn’t have to drink milk. Ewan shook his head in defeat as he had no solution for it. Any explanation would only waste his energy, he could only let things be.
The cliched fight between ice and fire—the reality of his house was proving why society deemed it a cliché. The future didn’t look too peaceful.
Aleth08
Please rate, comment, and leave a review if you are liking the story and haven't done so already. It will really help me out if you can take some time out for this [shamelessly hoping for a 5 star].
Also, if you would like to read ahead, I have a patreon account, a total of 30 chs for early access right now [will increase in the future when I have more chapters stocked]. And if u would like to join, this is my discord server The Magicians.
Anyway, thanks for reading my story as always. Appreciate it.
