“I agree,” Arek said. “Although you don’t want too much – garlic can overpower other flavors. However, some grated garlic fried in the pan would go well as a topping. What else?”

Malissa drummed her fingers on her chin. “It was a little on the light side. Some meat would probably improve it as well. Maybe some bacon?”

“I like it,” Arek said, his grin growing wider. “You could also cook the bacon first, then use the fat to fry the eggs and bread.”

“You can do that?” Malissa asked, her eyes lighting up. “Now that sounds really good.”

Arek chuckled as Malissa jumped up and dashed off to her tent to start writing down ideas before she forgot them. Meanwhile, Belmont held Ming off with one hand while he chowed down on his sandwich with the other.

Ming let out a defeated groan once the food disappeared down the healer’s gullet. She backed off, shooting him a sullen look.

Belmont finished chewing and sent the mage a superior look. He wiped his hands off thoroughly on the grass and picked up his book.

“It’s good to have you acting normal again,” Belmont told Arek as he rose to his feet. “The moody attitude doesn’t fit you. You’ve had it ever since your magic came back. It’s best you leave the worrying to me. I’m much better at it.”

The healer gave Arek a nod and strode back to his tent, flipping his book open and scanning through it while he walked. Ming bid the orc farewell and headed off to study her own magic, leaving Arek sitting at the campfire.

Arek drew a deep breath. His mind felt restless after the barrage of emotions he’d gone through. For the first time in years, he felt like he was truly free of the shackles that had bound him for the majority of his adult life.

He rose to his feet, unable to sit around any longer. Arek looked down at his claws. He found that he had no desire to run any more laps around the camp, nor did he want to do push-ups until his arms gave out.

The runes crackled to life. Arek watched them shimmer for a few moments. Something told him that whatever this so-called Blessed One buisness was about, it would end up in people coming after him and Ming.

They’d barely won the last fight, and Arek had no intentions of going into the next round similarly unprepared. His hands clenched into fists as he drew on the magic stored within the runes.

Green energy sparked out, charging the air around him. It melted together, forming the glowing guandao above his hands. He grabbed it, unsettled by how comforting the weapon’s hilt felt nestled in his palms.

Arek forced his fears back. The magic was there, waiting for his call like a loyal hound. Just like it once had been. This time, though, things were different. He was in control. The magic was just a tool.

The orc pulled his lips back in a snarl. The runes sparked and shifted according to his will. Lines of green energy erupted out of his hands and twisted upwards along his right arm, melding together and forming into glowing plate mail. It ended in a large, curved spike at his shoulder that would have made Belmont jealous.

A faint buzzing filled Arek’s mind and his field of vision expanded. The smell of the campfire grew more pronounced and the world seemed to slow down. He stopped drawing on the magic instantly. It had been many years since he’d last felt the sensation, but it was unmistakable. Battle rage.

Not the false rage that Vell’s runes had given him, but true orc battle rage. It was not the loss of sanity, but an increase in killing intent. And Arek had forgotten how goodit felt. He drew a deep breath and wiped a trail of drool away from his chin. He was in control. Not the magic. Not the battle rage. Him.

Arek examined the armor covering his arm. It was much duller than his weapon, but it rang out like real metal when he rapped a fist on it. Arek gave his guandao an experimental swing, but it felt like he wasn’t wearing anything at all.

“I suppose you just don’t forget some things,” Arek said, rolling his shoulders. His eyes darted around the camp, wishing there was something he could test his powers out on. “It’s been too long…”

“What’s all that grunting?” Belmont asked, stepping out of his tent, his nose buried in his book. He glanced up and froze, his mouth dropping open in awe. “Gods above.”

“I decided it was time that I trained to my fullest potential as well,” Arek said, shifting uncomfortably. “Since you all knew who I was, I didn’t think I needed to continue hiding my magic. Unless you think it’s unsafe for me to use it?”

“It’s not that,” Belmont said, shaking his head and closing the book. “Because of this Blessed One garbage, you need to be as strong as possible. We’ve yet to see any side effects from your magic, so you need to train with it. I’ll keep an eye on you.”

“So what’s the problem?” Arek asked, tilting his head with a small frown.

Belmont cleared his throat. “Ah, I was just impressed by your armor. I’m somewhat partial to spikes, but I wasn’t able to get anything that large on mine. The metal kept breaking. How did you do it?”

“Magic, I’m afraid,” Arek said, laughing at Belmont’s crestfallen expression. “Perhaps we could find a large horned creature and you could use that?”

“That could work,” Belmont said, nodding. “But now I have another question. Do you only have a single arm of armor because you’re limiting your magic usage?”

Arek nodded. “I am. I don’t want to use too much at once. I’m going to work my way back to where I used to be so I don’t stumble into something dangerous.”

“Good,” Belmont said. “I was about to suggest you do the same. In fact, it might be best if you only use magic while someone else is there to observe you, just to be safe. We’ve considered that it could be dangerous to the rest of the party, but it could also somehow harm you.”