Cedric followed his coyotes toward where he assumed water would be. Only an hour had passed, making it roughly two in the afternoon. The heat was beating down with such a vengeance that he’d resorted to wrapping his forehead in a massive leaf from a weird plant Lisa called a “yawning fern.”

  The leaf acted as a makeshift, goofy-looking shade hat. Sweat still carved tracks through the grime on his scarred body, but he made do. It was better than nothing.

  They were following a small game trail. Cedric guessed it was well-used, likely by jackals or maybe African wild dogs. Just the thought of them made him feel a flicker of giddiness. He’d always loved animals—not as much as dinosaurs, maybe, but there was something different about being able to actually touch them. Back on Earth, he’d spent hours reading about hyenas, lions, tapirs, and jaguars. Now, he was actually walking alongside creatures he’d created.

  Still, he had a soft spot for wolves. He’d only chosen coyotes for this mission because they were cheaper and more adaptable to the sweltering savanna.

  They took a sharp right at a signal from the only female coyote in the pack. When he’d first made them, Cedric hadn’t realized he could choose their genders, but Lisa had explained that everything in the Grimoire was customizable. He just had to take care when "building" new things.

  As they moved, the tall grass and jagged rocks made the terrain uneven. Two of the coyotes led the way while the third trailed behind, staying on guard. Lisa floated just above Cedric’s shoulder. He didn't pay her much mind; despite the heat, he was busy taking in the scenery.

  But the heat was a ticking clock. His body was resilient, but he couldn't heal dehydration.

  Suddenly, the pack stopped. A sharp rustle came from the tall grass on their right. The coyotes lowered themselves, growls vibrating in their throats. Their noses twitched—this was a scent they didn't recognize.

  Cedric dropped into a crouch, one knee in the dirt and one foot ready to spring. He gave a sharp hand signal to the coyotes: Quiet. Stay low. They were going to ambush whatever was coming.

  The rustling stopped. For a heartbeat, there was only the sound of the wind. Then, it started again—closer this time—accompanied by a unique, rhythmic swwsh sound. Like something dragging.

  Cedric held his breath, his fist tightening as he readied himself. He sent a mental order for the coyotes to hold, but whatever was in the grass sensed them. It bolted.

  “Fuck, how did it—?” Cedric muttered, but he realized the answer as he began to jog after it. It was his scent. The coyotes flanked him instantly, picking up speed as he unleashed a new mental order.

  HUNT!

  The pack yipped their signature hunting call—a high, trilling sound that gave Cedric goosebumps. He followed close behind, his boots thudding through the grass.

  Whatever they were chasing was small, maybe half his height. It made no sense. Lisa, reading his confusion, chimed in.

  “Demi-human, most likely,” she said, her translucent face pinched in thought. “There are only a few species within the Southlands.”

  Cedric was about to snap at her for a more specific answer, but then they rounded a large foothill where the grass thinned out. He saw it for the first time.

  It had a tail that dragged slightly in the dirt, horns on the back of its head, and a lizard-like face. Cedric realized without breaking his stride: it was a Kobold.

  The creature was running hard, but it was no match for the coyotes. One of the males slammed into the Kobold’s back, the weight difference sending the lizard-girl tumbling into the dirt.

  “Good boy!” Cedric called out, breathing hard as he caught up.

  The Kobold was secured, screeching and clawing as she tried to fight back.

  “It’s a kobold, right?” Cedric looked at Lisa. She nodded, observing the creature with a detached curiosity.

  Cedric was genuinely confused. In his world, kobolds were "trash-tier" mobs in every dungeon crawler he'd ever played. Here, she looked like a feral, desperate creature.

  “Damn human, let me go!” she squawked. Her voice was high-pitched and vaguely feminine. When she tried to lunge for Cedric, the coyote pinning her leg shook its head hard, forcing her back into the mud. Another coyote clamped its jaws firmly around her right wrist.

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  “Burn in the nine hells, human!” she growled, struggling against the heavy paws. “You can try to force yourself on me, but I will rip your manhood off!”

  Cedric shook his head in annoyance. Her reaction told him a lot—none of it good—about how humans were viewed in this world.

  “One: assuming I’d even want to touch you is rude. Two: shut the fuck up. Three: where is the nearest fresh water?” He paused, his voice trailing off as exhaustion started to sap his energy. He was losing interest fast. He didn't want to be cruel, but he wasn't going to let some lizard with blunt fangs kill him, either. If she tried anything, he’d feed her to the pack without a second thought.

  The Kobold blanched, her golden eyes wide with shock. She clearly hadn't expected him to be more interested in a drink than a slave.

  “You don’t want to... use me?” She looked him up and down. She noted his pale, severely sunburned skin and his strange modern clothes.

  To her, he was the monster; to him, she was the first sign of civilization—no matter how primitive. She was clad in a breast wrap of woven reeds, a rusted, curved dagger hanging from a crude belt.

  “Lisa, why does she look so primitive?”

  The Kobold looked at Cedric in confusion as he spoke to the empty air. Lisa shook her head. “Kobolds are a varied race. Savanna tribes usually live in mud huts or underground caverns. It depends on how safe the area is.”

  The Kobold watched Cedric with narrowing eyes. Great, I was captured by a crazy human, he could almost hear her thinking. She shifted, eliciting a low growl from the coyote pinning her back.

  “Hey, no moving,” Cedric warned. “Now, tell me where the water is, and I’ll set you free.”

  He had the coyotes back off an inch to show good faith, but he sent a silent command: If she runs, kill her. No loose ends. He couldn't risk a lizard hunting party finding his position.

  “Human is strange... but fine,” she hissed. “South of here, there is a great falling-water. An Everlast. The old magics live in the spray and keep it pure. Drink there and live, or stay here and dry out like a husk. Choice is yours.”

  “You’ll lead the way, then.”

  She hissed in response, clearly hating the order. Cedric waved his hand, and the coyotes closed back in. Her tune changed instantly.

  “Fine, fine... it is a long walk...”

  As they marched, Cedric noticed her watching him with genuine fear. The weight of that fear sparked something deep within him—a flicker of power, a dark warmth he’d never felt back home. Lisa, hovering behind him, felt the shift in his soul. She didn't say a word, but her translucent face broke into a sharp, knowing smile.

  When they reached the basin, Cedric marveled at the sight. His coyotes yipped in excitement, rushing for the water’s edge without waiting for a command. The water was impossibly clear, and the roar of a distant fall filled the air, vibrating through the soles of his shoes. It was a pocket of lush life in the heart of the sweltering savanna.

  “Well, thank you, little kobold. You can run off now.” Cedric nodded in dismissal and cupped the water in his hands. He set the Grimoire aside on a rock, thinking he wouldn't need it for a simple drink.

  He guzzled the water down. But the Kobold didn't leave. She hovered at the edge of his vision, silent and watching. Cedric felt her presence like an itch, but he ignored it.

  It was a mistake he’d soon regret.

  “I said you could go,” Cedric snapped, his voice echoing against the rocks.

  Lisa was already hovering higher, her eyes fixed on the lizard-girl. “Get ready, Master.”

  Cedric smirked, but he didn't have time to reply. The Kobold drew her rusted dagger and lunged, aiming for his neck with a high-pitched hiss.

  In one fluid motion, Cedric snatched the Grimoire and slammed the heavy, scaly cover directly into her face. It was the most satisfying "bitch smack" he had ever delivered.

  “Nice try, but you just signed your death warrant,” Cedric growled. His voice dropped an octave as he cracked his neck. The Kobold whimpered, clutching her face as a dark bruise blossomed around her eye. She tried to scramble back, but Cedric was faster.

  He slammed his foot down onto her tail, pinning her to the mud. A sharp yelp tore from her throat.

  “I should kill you. I should feed you to my hounds...”

  He hesitated. His grip tightened. The jagged ridges of old injuries flared with a phantom ache—reminders of the 'hell' he’d endured back in South Dakota from bullies who thought he was an easy target. He’d been the one on the ground more times than he could count. Now, the roles were reversed.

  But that split-second of hesitation was a weakness the Kobold didn't share. She didn't care about his sentiment; she only saw an opening. She lunged for the dagger that had been knocked loose and lashed out, the rusted blade catching Cedric across the forehead.

  He roared as blood stung his eye. Instinct took over. He lunged, pinning her scaly forearm with one hand and wrapping the other around her neck.

  “Fucker...” he spat, his voice thick with rage. He threw his weight onto her, locking her in a stranglehold.

  He held her there for what felt like an eternity, her struggles growing weaker until the sound of his coyotes yipping broke his trance. He released her limp form and stood up, his chest heaving. Without looking back, he walked to the water’s edge and submerged his hands, washing away the grime.

  As he used the cool water to clean the blood from his brow, he looked at his reflection—distorted, red-streaked, and unrecognizable.

  He gave the final, cold command to his pack.

  “Finish it.”

  Mana gained: 70

  Target: Kobold Female

  Mana Storage Updated: 90