Chapter 1: Signature Creature

  To his supreme embarrassment, Ambrose Adams was the last person in his class to bind a creature card.

  It wasn’t as though his deck had no creatures at all. As a wizard with a Level 3 Shadow Affinity, he had creatures that could turn both heads and battles, but they were still just static cards. They would never change, no matter who used them. When a wizard bound their first creature, it became a part of them and grew in power as they did.

  Finally, just a few days before the end of his third year, it was his turn.

  “Alright Adams, we’ve got your creature ready,” said Professor Dietrich, as they stood inside Rentan Academy’s dueling stadium. The ancient teacher leaned heavily on her salamander-head cane as she considered him through thick spectacles. A large metal box with air holes sat at the edge of the arena. The monster inside it howled with rage and slammed against the sides. “Do you have your binding card and understand how to use it?”

  “I do,” he said. He was a tall, lanky young man of twenty, with dark hair he kept slicked back, and a neatly trimmed mustache and goatee. “Don’t you think I’ve waited long enough? Let’s get this over with.”

  As always, his words came out with a haughty confidence he used as a shield. Yes, he was excited, but no one wanted to be the last in the class at anything, even when it wasn’t entirely their fault. Competition was fierce at Rentan, and Ambrose fought tooth and nail to stay at the top.

  In the stands sat about half the school’s eighty students. His fellow third years had the best seats as they watched him finally get his creature. Most of the others were first or second years, watching with excitement and envy, with only a couple of fourth years who cared enough to attend.

  “Very well,” Dietrich rasped imperiously. “Do keep in mind that the delay is your own doing. If you hadn’t specifically demanded a demon to bind…”

  It was true. As a Shadow wizard, it would have been appropriate for him to bind an undead creature, a living nightmare, an outsider, or even some varieties of dragon. Demons were the creatures most aligned with Shadow, and the most versatile. Ambrose could have had his choice of any of the others, but he demanded the best.

  “I understand,” said Ambrose, bowing his head almost respectfully. “I’m appreciative of this opportunity, Professor. And for a chance to show the rest of these jokers the way it’s done. Unleash the demon. I’m ready.” He smiled at the boos and jeers sent his way. They may not have liked him much, but most respected him, whether they showed it or not.

  Professor Dietrich’s lips twitched, and she shuffled out of the arena, stopping beside the metal box. A slight, barely visible pink haze appeared around the edges of the stone platform, extending upwards about twenty feet, boxing him in.

  Ambrose took a deep breath and bounced from foot to foot, hands in loose fists. The anticipation made his heart pound, eagerness tap dancing on top of the barest hint of anxiety. Just to be sure, he went over the Ritual card he’d been given for the occasion.

  [Bind Creature: Common Ritual. Touch a defeated creature to bind it to your service as a new card. The first card bound this way will become a Signature Creature.]

  For those with combat decks, it was a simple card, usable by anyone of the third level of any affinity. There were other, better versions that would create more powerful cards, but it was enough for a student.

  “Just remember, Adams,” Dietrich said, “you asked for this.”

  Before he could ponder at the amusement in her voice, she pulled the box open, and his opponent came out screeching. Ambrose had enough time to take a deep breath before the world Paused.

  Round 1

  Cantrip: [Vampiric Kiss], Spell: [Shred Mind], Creature: [Festering Wretch], Spell: [Assassin’s Strike]

  There was still much to be discovered and learned about card magic, but some things were consistent. When in danger, combat started. The cards in his combat deck shuffled and dealt him a hand of potential spells for the next twenty to thirty seconds. The cantrip would always be available, but the rest were randomized by the volatile, unstable power that governed the cards.

  The Pause did more than give him time to look at his hand. It gave him ten seconds to observe, plot, and think over his options. In this case, it gave him a better look at the creature that had taken the school months to procure for him.

  Demon, they’d called it. And technically, Ambrose supposed, it was. The slate-gray creature was about three and a half feet tall from the tips of its curved horns down to wicked, sharp claws. Twin bat wings spread out mid-flap, and the crude, simian-like face bared sharp fangs in a terrible grin. The snake-like tail, nearly as long as the creature was tall, stretched behind it.

  An imp.

  He’d dreamed of a demon dedicated to one of the lords of vice, or a soldier under one of the devil kings. Something strong, but not impossible to best in battle and dominate. Something that would reflect the power and dignity inside him, and match his impending meteoric rise.

  And they gave him a damned imp.

  The world resumed, now with an awareness of the Timer ticking down from twenty. Ambrose sidestepped the demon coming at him like a knife-wielding child with wings. The barrier flared a darker shade of pink when the imp slammed into it and tumbled to the ground.

  Ambrose didn’t hesitate. He took a couple of steps to wind up and kicked the imp for all he was worth. The impact and yowl of pain satisfied him, and he ducked out of range of the clawed swipe that followed. He had to beat this thing down to bind it, and despite his disappointment, it was still a danger he wouldn’t underestimate.

  Unfortunately, half his spells this turn would do him no good. The creature didn’t have a deck, so [Shred Mind] would do nothing. The same with [Assassin’s Strike], which could strike down a summoned creature instantly. That left him with a creature and his cantrip.

  Ambrose cast the [Festering Wretch].

  [Festering Wretch: Common. A weak, toxic undead servant who is more useful dead than alive.

  Special: Caustic. When this creature is wounded or dies, it splashes the attacker with a corrosive acid.

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  Strength: D, Defense: D, Speed, D, Magic: C. 1 mana]

  His right hand emanated a dark purple glow, lighting up tattoos that hadn’t been there before. A summoning circle, about two feet in diameter, appeared on the stone ground with the same purple light. The Timer froze with fourteen seconds to go; it would pick back up when the spell finished casting.

  The imp whirled around. Its eyes burned a hateful red, and they bored into him for a solid second. Then it scrambled along the ground at him. Sharp, dagger-like claws clicked furiously against the stone. A second later it leaped, right into him.

  Ambrose raised his left arm to shield himself. White-hot, burning pain forced a surprised scream from him as he was hit by forty pounds of piss and vinegar. The impact nearly knocked him on his ass, but he stood tall and swung a fist into the imp’s face once, twice, again and again. It continued to screech, but now in staccato with every hit.

  Screams of joy and dismay came from the stands. One high, feminine voice rose above the others, calling out his name. Pain be damned, Ambrose lived for the thrill of combat, of performing for the school.

  The [Festering Wretch] finished appearing in the circle. It looked like it might’ve been human once, but now it was a rotting, shambling corpse. Sludge-like black ichor oozed from open sores all over its decaying body. With a deathly creak, it lurched forward and collided with the flailing imp.

  Ambrose managed to fling the creature to the ground in time for his summon to grab the imp’s attention. The two shadow-aligned creatures clashed on the ground for a second as he looked for his opportunity. The wretch lashed out chaotically, managing to get its rotten fingers inside the creature’s mouth, but that proved to be a mistake.

  The imp chomped down, and immediately regretted it. Black ichor flowed, eating away at everything it touched. The little demon screamed in pain and flailed violently. It slashed wildly at the undead creature, spilling more of that acidic ichor all over itself.

  It was enough to hurt, distract, and even kill weaker creatures, but the imp was stronger than that. Ambrose took a moment to appreciate the fight in it before he cast his cantrip.

  [Vampiric Kiss: Reach out into their heart and take a bite of their vitality. Drain life and invigorate yourself

  Spell Effect: Deal direct shadow damage to a target and heal yourself for the same amount. 0 mana]

  Once more his hand darkened with the shadow magic. It took only a second and a half to finish, but when it did, sanguine energy flowed from the imp’s body and into Ambrose. It healed some of the shallower cuts along his arm and neck. It wasn’t the strongest spell, but the self healing kept him going against stronger opponents.

  And scrappy, violent demons.

  Battered and weakened but still full of fight, the imp turned on him once more. It came for Ambrose again, but this time went for his legs, slashing wildly. He tried to get out of the way, but the creature sunk its claws in and found purchase in his ass. Clenching his teeth to avoid crying out, Ambrose reached up, but the Timer ticked down to zero.

  The world Paused, and unfortunately for him, it did so right as the imp sank its teeth into his scalp. The pain stretched out with his sense of time.

  Round 2

  Cantrip: [Vampiric Kiss], Spell: [Sleight of Blood], [Creature: Night Terror], Spell: [Thought Tap]

  This hand would’ve been much better against another wizard. Worry gnawed on him, nearly as painful as the creature on his back. It wasn’t impossible to lose this fight. If he did, if the imp got the better of him, he would never live it down. His time at Rentan would be over, hell, his father might disown him. That would mean one less thing to worry about, but was far from ideal.

  All he could really do was try to buy some time and wear the little bastard out.

  The pain in his head sharpened as the imp worried away at his hair. Hot blood flowed down his cheeks and forehead, always worse when from a scalp wound. Laughter and worry came from the audience, but he had no time for them.

  Ambrose reached up and grabbed the imp by the horns. It jerked, but he held tight and cast his cantrip again. The dark energy coursed between them again, weakening his attacker just long enough for the wizard to flip the imp over and slam it into the ground.

  It was the only spell he would cast that round. It was the only spell he needed. Ambrose wasn’t the strongest man in the school, or the best fighter. He was smart, sure, but brains wouldn’t do much here. No, his greatest strength was his ability to spot weaknesses and opportunities. Once you saw the moment, you just had to leap on it.

  In this case, the second the imp slammed into the stone, Ambrose grabbed it by the tail and swung it around. As heavy as it was, he was strong enough to get it moving. It cried out in pain and dawning fear. He didn’t let up and kept spinning, the momentum picking up and spinning them both faster and faster.

  No matter how much the imp struggled or flapped its wings, it couldn’t get away from him. Ambrose swung it around one more time before flinging the damned thing into the barrier. It hit hard enough for something to crunch.

  “You’re not supposed to kill it,” Dietrich reminded him from afar. “Bind the damned thing!”

  Ambrose nodded and pushed past the dizzy spell. He got a running start and jumped onto the imp as it tried to flip itself over. It bucked against his weight, but he managed to get it right where he wanted it. One hand went to the imp’s horns again, where he wrenched the head back to look at him.

  Murderous red eyes stared back. He saw a warped reflection of himself in them. This creature was full of anger and hatred, but also poorly hidden fear. It might one day grow into a fierce demon, but for now it was a scared, vicious little bastard, striking out at anything that got too close. It didn’t play well with others, and maybe never would. He could understand and sympathize.

  “Bind,” Ambrose commanded, and the card answered.

  He felt the imp in his head, still fighting him with everything it had. It understood what was going on, and it loathed him for it.

  “Too bad,” Ambrose muttered as he pitted his will against the small demon’s. Flashes of its life showed him hunts, chases, dark nests in the forgotten places in the eastern reaches of Amaria. It had been one of a brood of hundreds. Small, unimportant, and forgotten, left to run free.

  It knew nothing of familial expectations, of fighting to learn and master magic, or needing to pay off endless debts. It was a simple creature, prone to hedonism and casual cruelty. It lived for itself and the moment, and nothing else.

  “Not anymore,” Ambrose said, voice straining as he pushed the imp down further and further. It hurled its mind against his. No matter how fast or wild it was physically, mentally it was made to be ruled. If not by him, then by other demons. An imp might not have been much, but it was his stepping stone to greatness.

  “Bind!” Ambrose roared.

  All at once, the resistance crumpled. The imp darkened, becoming a shadowy silhouette against the stone floor. The shadows around it deepened, and then it disappeared from view, leaving behind a card between two of his fingers.

  Ambrose took a deep breath and stood. He held the card up for everyone to see. An angry snarl greeted the viewer, along with an outstretched claw.

  [Hateful Imp: Unique. A rotten, angry little demon, always ready to tear apart its enemies.

  Special: Flying

  Strength: C. Defense: D. Speed: B. Magic: C. 0 mana]

  His new Signature Creature, bound to him for life. Only an imp now, it was much like Ambrose himself: endless potential, just waiting to prove it to Rentan and the world. He grinned, blood still trickling down his scalp and from a dozen different burning cuts.

  “Do I pass?”

  *****

  Ambrose Adams: Level 3 Shadow Wizard

  Hand Size: 4

  Mana: 4

  Combat Deck Size: 6/8

  Cantrip: Vampiric Kiss

  Signature Creature: Hateful Imp

  Spell: Assassin’s Strike

  Spell: Shred Mind

  Spell: Sleight of Blood

  Spell: Thought Tap

  Creature: Festering Wretch

  Creature: Night Terror

  Noncombat Deck Size: 2/5

  Utility Card: Contract

  Ritual Card: Bind Creature