Dem and Ina developed a quick strategy over their bond and executed it. They moved together in a single direction, attacking and killing the young snake-beasts in their way, to break out of the encirclement. The snake beast young had pursued them immediately with a swiftness the elder beast could not have matched. The young beasts weren't as difficult to kills as the elder. Their scales were weaker and they didn't have their parent's physical strength, but they were fast and there were more than a dozen of them. Over the next eighth of a cycle, fighting and killing as they went, eventually they were driven to exhaustion. As they began to slow down, they realized they needed to stop and make a last stand against the the last remaining six snake-beasts before they were too tired to put up a fight. A calm determination took over the feelings relayed across their bond, and they settled in for a nasty fight.

***

They'd fought, and fought some more, taking bites as the little vipers attacked all at once. In the end, only Ina and he were left alive, though at a great cost. Initially, Dem thought them lucky, the snake beast younglings were smaller and weaker than the parent, their venom far less developed. Both Ina and he had taken multiple bites without immediate effect other than a wound, but eventually the venom built up in their systems. The caustic nature of the venom prevented their wounds from closing, even with the application of spells. He had cast everything at his disposal, but it wasn’t looking good.

Ina had the greatest burden of bites, taking several meant for him. She was covered in small wounds and had lost another two tails, worse yet his spells were not healing her. She would not live long at this rate, and judging by his own wounds he would join her soon after. Even if he was able to stabilize himself, it was still unlikely he would make it back to the settlement without Ina. He had done the scouting he wanted to do, and had even found a relatively defensible spot to camp for the party, but he had entered the territory of this the elder viper-wyrm in one last fit of curiosity.

There was no help for him out here. His only chance was to try one of the Class Spells he hadn’t yet practiced, but the chances were slim he would be able to cast any of them. It took an entire two rotations for him to learn the Class spells he currently knew, and another entire rotation to use Bond Beast well enough that it actually worked. The spell he was going to try was Minor Restoration, which had a more holistic healing effect, that might stabilize their conditions. Minor Heal Other was his only other Classed healing spell, but it was restricted to specific wounds, most of which wouldn’t close because of the venom. There were too many wounds to close them all with what he could draw from his Path anyway. He felt drained, the venom was working on him, just as it was working on Ina. Ina’s coat was a patchwork of bites and blood.

Dem centered his mind, ignoring the pain he felt over their bond, and tried to run through the Minor Restoration spell template left in his mind by the grimoire. He had to try, had to do something. He visualized the spell template in his mind, using the method taught by the grimoire. Different Classes visualized spell casting differently. His spells used a very basic method that looked liked a series of shining bright lights in his mind. Drawing from his Path, to power his spell, was like diverting a river of energy into those bright lights. If they all light up, in the right order, it meant you had at least a chance at casting the spell. However, it rarely worked the first time you tried.

The more he tried to get the spell to work, pushing his Path into the preset template, the less it made sense. Learning and trying a spell for the first time required total concentration and the best of circumstances, this was definitely not those circumstances. As he continued to try, he felt exhaustion take over. His mind lost focus, and he began to reflect on his imminent death. He could only blame himself, of course. He knew logically this was all his fault, his decision, but as bone-weariness set in, he felt anger at the injustice of his situation. He had gotten his Class, six rotations ago, and Ina had ascended just a scant two rotations ago! He had entered a new realm of strength and possibility with his Class and her ascension. He felt content for the first time! Why him? Why now? He wanted more! He had to live!

Ina’s pain spiked through the bond as she fell into a heap, leaning against a tree trunk. Her vitals were looking worse and worse. Even if he could get this spell to work, it might not save her. Additionally, it was unlikely he would be able to cast it more than once in any reasonable time frame. His mind grinded to a halt considering that if he could get it to work, he would use it on himself and survive. If he could live, he would at least a chance to get back, even if it was a remote one. He could tame another beast eventually even, though he would have to give up on the current job, which would harm his Path by breaking the contract, but it could be recovered from, even if it took many rotations. His mind grasped at survival selfishly, while Ina whined in pain. She thankfully, did not seem to understand his thoughts, her own pain taking up the entirety of her consciousness.

His panic pushed him to try to force the spell to be cast, but his mind could find no purchase as it grappled with the spell template. He felt his Intent weaken. He felt his reservoir of power shrink. Realization that his self-centered thoughts had restricted his ability to draw from his Path, dawned on him. His panicked selfish thoughts ran counter to his Path, to the very nature of his Intent. The spell would never be complete with so little power. His despair was total and complete, tears drip down his face. He crawled over to Ina, trying to apologize, anger at himself and at his fate still in his heart.

He felt something bash into the back of his head and his vision started to go dark. Several thoughts flashed through his mind at that last moment, he thought of the spell template, of Ina, and of his unwillingness to die. His parents. The treatement he had endured. He deserved more. The world owed him more. He wanted to live!

Then the world went dark and he thought of nothing.

***

As Dem woke up, a chronometer cantrip told him an eighth of a cycle had passed since he had been knocked out. Ina had fallen into a pained unresponsive sleep. The despair of his situation began to weigh on his mind as the surprise of still being alive wore off. He went back to trying the spell template. If he could cast it, he would use it on Ina first. The chances of him making it back were too slim to bet on, and Ina didn’t deserve any of this. It wasn’t her fault they were in this situation, it was his. Dem’s earlier anger had turned into regret. He loved Ina, as he loved himself. They had grown up together. It harmed his sense of self to even imagine life without her.

He wondered briefly what had hit him. He kept his eyes closed, still trying to imagine the spell template in his mind, while his hand reached out, touching around him. After a brief moment, his fingers touched something hard with a smooth texture. His eyes snapped open, he knew this feeling, this was a book! Surprise echoed through his mind as he picked the object up and examined it.

He inadvertently spoke his surprise out loud, “What in the.. ? This.. a Class grimoire?”

The grimoire was bound in hide, it was a dark red in color, and it radiated a kind of power he hadn’t felt from any grimoire he'd ever seen. It had no title. He felt a sense of unending strength from the book. Of all the possibilities, this was perhaps the least likely he could imagine. Grimoire didn’t grow on trees and they certainly didn’t fall from the sky.

He then bitterly laughed out loud. Dem's thoughts spiralled downward. What was the use of this thing now of all times? What good would this do him? He could tell this book was better than the mid-tier Class grimoires he had seen for sale in shops. He shouldn’t have even been in such a shop with his meagre income, but he had been curious and took a look anyway. If he could actually sell this grimoire, without someone murdering him for it, he would be set for a lifetime. This was at least a high-tier grimoire, which meant it was worth more gold than he had ever seen. Sadly, anything truly valuable was taken from the weak, and so simply having this would be a death sentence. He had no way of hiding the aura of power it spread. An amusing thought struck him, he would likely die before even getting the chance to be killed for owning such an item.

Despite the moment of black-mirth, despair set in further. He felt himself slide further down a mental hole. If his wounds didn’t kill him, then someone seeking the grimoire would. Shaking his head, trying to regain focus, he latched onto his thoughts about the absurdity of the grimoire.

He considered opening it, and started to review everything he knew about grimoires. Opening a grimoire would invest a series of spell templates into the mind of the reader. Some of those templates would be conveyed right away, while others would take time. The person acquiring the Class would continually read the grimoire for a while, even after all the templates were transferred, because most Class Grimoires also contained insights from their creators. Grimoires could be reused, but reusing them required a knowledgeable Class Master to respell the grimoire with their insights and the power of their Path. Used grimoires could eventually be sold back to those that produced them, but for a tiny fraction of their original worth.

Opening a grimoire, after already acquiring a class, would cause mental conflict if the two classes were not similar. The only way to advance some classes was by using a grimoire of an advanced version of that class, in his case a Beastmaster was an improved Beast Tamer. It was also possible to advance a Class by receiving direct instruction as an apprentice or student of a Class Master. A Class Master was a person who had mastered the aspects of a particular Class enough that they could forge their own spells for their Class.

Opening such a clearly powerful grimoire would likely harm him, and over-write his class. He would be whatever was in the book from then on, until either he found a more powerful Class, found a more powerful teacher, or died. The chances of the grimoire being anything compatible with a disfavored class like Tamer was astronomical. Beyond even the issue of compatibility, it was unlikely the new Class would save him. He wouldn’t be able to cast any of the Class spells right away. He would be, functionally, in the same situation he was in now, but with an equally useless, much fancier, Class.

Dem turned his mind awa from the grimoire back to his plight. Pain was beginning to build throughout his body as the venom set in, but despite the pain he tried again and again with the spell template, but he was too exhausted, it slide out of his mind at every opportunity. The grimoire that had hit him only served as further distraction. As the pain increased his mind swung again towards the irrational, desperately seeking a path to survival. Maybe this grimoire was a gift from the Divine Humanity, or perhaps a gift from some ancient Class Master looking for a disciple? A feeling like greed filled his heart, as he held the grimoire closer. Its power seemed to radiate through him. This was the most expensive thing he had ever touched, what a waste it would be to just die with it unused. He imagined some other scout or adventurer like him, stumbling across the skeleton of a many-tailed and a human, finding an object of unimaginable value. Perhaps they would feel pity for the corpses on the ground who they would assume had probably died fighting over the object? That is, of course, if they felt anything at all for the fallen. Some adventurers cared for nothing but themselves and profit, they would not even bury his body. Why should he die without even trying? Why should he die so another could profit? He deserved more, demanded more, wanted more.

He had nothing to lose now. The spell template fallen to the wayside of his mind, as intrusive dreams of power played in his mind. He knew objectively, the situation or the grimoire, or both, were effecting his rationality, but again, what did it matter? He was dying, Ina was dying.

He checked on Ina one last time, his mind sending the most pleasant thought to her he could, while his hand gripped the small metallic latch that secured the grimoire. He worried it was spelled into a locked state, but the latch came free easily. Usually such books were locked so that not just anyone could absorb the templates within. As the latch came undone, it began to leak the sort presence only the strongest of adventurers and Classed individuals would exude. It seemed to drive him further, to urge him to make the book his own. To take its strength. To own it.

Finally, the book opened fully, and Demneh’s world went white, and once again he thought of nothing.