The command hung in the air for less than a heartbeat. Fang didn't roar; he exploded into motion. One second he was sitting alertly beside Lloyd, the next he was a blur of storm-grey fur streaking across the packed earth towards the massive ox spirit. The speed was breathtaking, far exceeding what any normal wolf, or even most Manifestation-level spirits, should be capable of.
As Fang closed the distance, Lloyd felt the familiar tingling surge through their bond. He watched, holding his breath, as Fang lowered his head slightly, pouring energy into his leading foreleg.
The air ripped apart with sound. Not thunder, not a roar, but a piercing, impossibly high-frequency shriek that drilled directly into Lloyd’s ears – the sound of a thousand frantic birds trapped in a lightning storm. Simultaneously, Fang’s right foreleg erupted in a blinding nimbus of crackling, blue-white energy. The fur seemed to recede, replaced by pure, solidified lightning, sparks dancing wildly, illuminating the wolf’s focused, golden eyes.
Chid@ri! The name screamed in Lloyd’s mind, an echo from another world, another lifetime of stories. Thousand Chirp Strike!
The sheer novelty, the intensity of the energy signature, the bizarre, ear-splitting sound – it finally, finally cracked Ken Park’s legendary stoicism. Lloyd saw it clearly: Ken’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly, his usually impassive face registering a flicker of pure, undiluted surprise. He hadn't expected this. Not this speed, not this energy concentration, not this sound.
"Redborn! Defend!" Ken's command was instantaneous, sharp, reacting purely on instinct honed over countless battles.
The massive ox spirit reacted with surprising speed for its bulk. It let out a bellowing snort, lowering its head, horns angling defensively. It stomped a massive hoof, perhaps preparing a fire shield or an earth barrier.
But Fang was too fast. The Thousand Chirp Strike connected before Redborn’s defense could fully solidify.
There wasn’t a massive explosion. Just a sharp crack-hiss as concentrated lightning met dense, magically resistant hide. Fang’s energized claws raked across Redborn’s thick shoulder, leaving behind three shallow but distinct gouges. Smoke curled from the wounds, carrying the sharp, acrid smell of ozone and burned hair. The edges of the scratches glowed faintly for a second before fading.
Fang recoiled instantly, landing lightly on his paws several yards back, the crackling energy around his leg dissipating, the piercing bird-song fading, leaving only the low hum of his own power. Redborn let out an enraged bellow, shaking its massive head, the ember-glow in its eyes intensifying. It glared at the smoking scratches on its shoulder, then fixed its furious gaze on the lightning wolf.
Lloyd released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. It worked. It actually worked. It wasn't a devastating blow against a powerhouse like Redborn, but it landed. It drew blood, or at least, smoking furrows. It proved the skill’s potency.
Ken Park’s gaze flickered from the wound on Redborn back to Fang, then briefly to Lloyd. The surprise was gone, replaced by his usual professional assessment, though perhaps with a new layer of calculation behind his eyes.
"Impressive," Ken stated calmly, his voice betraying none of his earlier shock. He analyzed the damage, the energy signature. "The technique concentrates significant electrical energy into a focused point. Speed and penetration potential are noteworthy." He paused, considering. "Designation… initial-rank skill, perhaps? Yet the output, the sheer firepower for its rank, is considerable."
Initial-rank? Lloyd mentally scoffed. Maybe the base skill is, but the System likely allows upgrades. This felt stronger than any baseline Initial-rank attack I remember. Still, Ken acknowledging its 'considerable firepower' was high praise from the stoic bodyguard.
Redborn, now fully alert and enraged, pawed the ground, snorting plumes of smoke. Its horns began to glow with dull red heat.
"Again, Fang!" Lloyd commanded, wanting to see more. "Probe the defenses!"
Fang launched forward again, a grey-blue streak against the reddish-brown bulk of the ox. He feinted left, then darted right, lightning gathering around his claws again, the thousand-bird shriek tearing through the air.
But Redborn was ready this time. It sidestepped heavily, horns sweeping down in a fiery arc, forcing Fang to abort the strike and leap back, landing gracefully. A small ball of fire erupted from Redborn’s mouth, hurtling towards Fang. The wolf dodged with contemptuous ease, the fireball exploding harmlessly against the packed earth behind him, leaving a blackened scorch mark.
The next few minutes were a dazzling, dangerous dance. Fang, embodying speed and lightning, darted in and out, launching feints, testing Redborn's reactions. Crackling blue energy flickered around his claws intermittently as he prepared strikes, the high-pitched chirping sound becoming a herald of near-instantaneous attack. Redborn, embodying earth and fire, held its ground, countering with surprising agility for its size, intercepting lunges with sweeps of its burning horns, launching fireballs that Fang evaded with fluid grace, stamping hooves that sent shockwaves through the ground.
No more direct hits landed. Redborn, wary of the piercing lightning claws and guided by Ken’s silent commands, defended flawlessly. But Fang's performance was undeniably spectacular. The sheer velocity, the arcs of azure lightning, the constant, unnerving chirp accompanying his attacks – it was a "lightning wolfshow," as Lloyd thought of it, a whirlwind of electric energy against immovable fiery force. It showcased potential, agility, and the raw power of the Thousand Chirp Strike, even if it couldn't consistently breach Redborn’s expert defense after the initial surprise.
After another near-miss where Fang dodged a searing laser beam from Redborn's horns by a hair's breadth, Lloyd decided he’d seen enough. The point was made. The skill worked. Fang was capable.
"Enough, Fang!" Lloyd called out. "Stand down."
Instantly, Fang disengaged, the crackling energy fading completely. He trotted back to Lloyd’s side, panting slightly but showing no sign of serious fatigue, his golden eyes burning with exhilaration. Redborn ceased its attacks, snorting impatiently, the glow fading from its horns, but its furious gaze remained locked on the wolf.
"Dismissed, Redborn," Ken said calmly. With a final, grudging snort towards Fang, the massive ox spirit dissolved into shimmering heat waves, leaving only the faint smell of sulfur and scorched earth behind.
Lloyd reached down, running a hand over Fang's head, feeling the powerful thrum beneath his palm. "Good work, buddy. Very impressive." He looked up at Ken, who was approaching slowly, his face back to its usual impassive mask.
"Assessment complete, Young Lord," Ken stated. "Your Spirit possesses remarkable speed and agility. The lightning-based attack demonstrates significant offensive potential, exceeding expectations for a standard Manifestation-level ability of its apparent rank."
"Indeed," Lloyd agreed, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. He still had only 3 System Coins, but the demonstration had been worth far more. He had a weapon. He had a partner whose potential seemed boundless. And he had definitely given the unflappable Ken Park something new to report to his father.
"Thank you for your assistance, Ken," Lloyd said sincerely.
Ken merely nodded. "At your service, Young Lord."
As they turned to leave the training ground, Lloyd glanced back at the scorched earth, the faint scent of ozone still sharp in the air. The journey ahead was long, expensive, and fraught with danger. But for the first time since waking up in this past life, he felt like he truly had claws.
Lightning claws. That chirped. Weird, but effective. Now, about making some money…
The scent of beeswax, old parchment, and faint, lingering ozone from the training ground clung subtly to Lloyd as he approached the heavy oak door of his father's study later that afternoon. The confrontation with Rubel felt like a lifetime ago, replaced by the exhilarating confirmation of Fang’s new power and the simmering excitement of his burgeoning soap enterprise idea. He’d spent the intervening hours sketching rudimentary designs for boiling vats, calculating potential lye concentrations, and mentally inventorying the estate’s herb garden for suitable natural scents. Lavender and citrus were definitely out. Maybe rosemary? Pine? Something… cleaner.
He needed capital. Serious capital. Not just the one Gold Coin per day for the System conversion, but funds for materials, equipment (however basic), maybe even discreetly hiring a skilled craftsman or two if needed. His fifteen-gold-a-month allowance wouldn't cut it. He needed investment. Which led him here, to the dragon's den itself.
Taking a deep breath, marshalling the confidence he’d practiced, he knocked firmly.
"Enter." The command from within was curt, immediate.
Lloyd pushed the door open and stepped inside. Arch Duke Roy Ferrum sat behind his massive desk, quill momentarily still, dark eyes fixed on Lloyd with unnerving intensity. The study felt different today. The tension from the morning's confrontation had dissipated, replaced by a heavy, contemplative silence. Roy’s face, usually an impassive mask of authority, held a complex expression Lloyd couldn’t quite decipher – sternness mixed with… curiosity? Assessment? Perhaps even a hint of something approaching pride?
"Father," Lloyd greeted, closing the door behind him and approaching the desk. He stopped a respectful distance away, standing straight, meeting his father’s gaze directly. No fidgeting, no avoiding eye contact like his nineteen-year-old self would have done.