Beastbound: The Gryphon Tamer

Benjamin knelt by the river, cupping another handful of the cool, shimmering water. As he leaned closer, his reflection caught his attention, and he froze. The face staring back wasn't his.

"What the…?" he muttered, leaning in closer.

His hair was jet-black, smooth and silky, framing a face that wasn't entirely unfamiliar but had been altered. His features were sharper, more defined—above average in a way that made him look almost unreal. His dark eyes reflected the alien hues of the forest, and his skin, though familiar in tone, seemed flawless. He looked to be in his early twenties, but this wasn't the face he'd seen in the mirror back in his apartment.

"Who is this?" he whispered, touching his face as if to confirm it was real. The reflection mirrored every movement.

He wanted to panic, to question what this meant, but the nagging hunger in his stomach cut through the noise in his head. Food. Focus on food first, then figure out why he looked like someone else.

---

Scouring the area around the river, Benjamin noticed a peculiar tree growing close to the water's edge. Its bark spiraled in odd, twisting patterns, and its branches bore bright orange fruits, round with a ridged, almost alien texture. A fragment of knowledge from the book he'd absorbed stirred in his mind.

"These are safe," he murmured. "Edible... but sour."

He picked one and hesitated for a moment before taking a cautious bite. The taste was unlike anything he'd experienced—like Earth's lemons mixed with the salty tang of shrimp. It was strange, but not unpleasant. Before long, he found himself eating a second fruit, and a third, until the hunger pangs eased.

Satisfied, he picked a few more fruits and stuffed them into the pouches on his belt. He glanced at the sanctuary's marked rock in the distance, the faint shimmer of its surface reassuring him. It was time to return.

---

Back in the sanctuary, Benjamin placed the fruits on the ground near the center platform and took a deep breath. The ancient stone platform loomed before him, etched with intricate symbols that glowed faintly when he approached. This was where he had arrived. But now, the portal was silent, inert. He stepped onto the platform, touching the markings, but nothing happened.

"Great," he muttered. "Stuck here with no instructions."

He turned his attention to the shelves lining the walls. The books pulsed faintly with that strange, living hum. He ran his fingers along their spines, pulling one out at random. Its leather cover was worn but intact, the glowing symbols on its front shifting subtly under his touch.

He opened it, expecting a flood of knowledge like before. Nothing. Frowning, he tried another book. Then another. Each time, the same result—nothing happened.

"Why isn't it working?" he muttered, frustration bubbling up.

As he slid one of the books back into place, something clicked. A low rumble echoed through the sanctuary, and the bookshelf in front of him shifted, sliding to the side with a grinding sound. Behind it, an ornate storage box was revealed, nestled in a recess carved into the stone wall.

The box was unlike anything he'd seen so far. Its surface was adorned with intricate carvings, glowing faintly like the books. Strange symbols spiraled around its edges, and it seemed impossibly ancient, as though it had been hidden here for centuries, untouched by time.

Benjamin hesitated, his hand hovering over the box. The hum of the sanctuary grew louder, almost as if it were alive and waiting for him to make his move.

"Well," he muttered, "no turning back now."

He reached out and touched the box.

Benjamin's hands trembled as he opened the ornate storage box, the glow of the carvings intensifying for a brief moment before dimming. Inside, he found three items: a sleek black poncho with a strange, glossy texture; a simple, unadorned ring; and a small pile of emerald-like coins, around a hundred in total, their surface gleaming faintly in the sanctuary's light.

He picked up the ring first, slipping it onto his finger almost instinctively. The moment it settled, a ripple of energy coursed through his body, making his hair stand on end. The sanctuary seemed to hum louder, as if responding to the ring's activation. Next, he draped the poncho over his shoulders. It was lighter than it looked, fitting him perfectly as it clung to his form. Another wave of energy rippled through him, warmer this time, as if the poncho itself acknowledged him.

Then, as he touched the coins, he felt an odd sensation—a tug from the ring. Before he could react, the coins were absorbed into the ring, vanishing in a swirl of green light. Benjamin staggered back, staring at his hand in shock.

"What the hell?" he muttered. His breathing quickened as he examined the ring. Nothing about its appearance had changed, yet it clearly held some kind of power.

After a few moments of stunned silence, Benjamin recovered. "Alright," he said to himself, "one thing at a time."

---

He turned his attention to the bookshelf, pulling out a smaller, simpler book. Focusing on it, he willed himself to absorb its knowledge, much like he had with the first tome. It wasn't instant, but as he concentrated, he felt a familiar surge. The book's information flowed into his mind, settling in his subconscious. Unlike reading, it was as if the knowledge had been deposited in pieces, ready to surface when needed.

He tested it. At first, only general knowledge came easily. But when he concentrated, more specific information bubbled to the surface. The ring on his finger, for example, was a "space pocket ring," an artifact crafted by those called the Sages. These individuals, who channeled the laws of nature itself, were the closest comparison to the mages he'd read about back on Earth. The ring could store objects, and with a little focus, he discovered he could render it invisible to avoid drawing attention.

The coins he absorbed were called Kads, the highest denomination in the currency of this world. A Kad was worth 100 Jhads, and each Jhad was worth 100 Shads. He didn't know all the details, but looking at the coins he had just absorbed, Benjamin made an educated guess: the Kads were used primarily in the Eastern continent of Khial. The maps from the books had shown that each region used different currencies, and from the Kads' design and familiarity, he deduced he must be in the Eastern lands. Despite having memorized the maps, it was still impossible to pinpoint his exact location. His only hope was that he was near the Sages' City, a hub of those who mastered the laws of this strange world.The closest semblance to the Sages that he could think of were the idea of mages back from his world. Yet the Sages were also very different.

---

Curiosity drove him to test other books, especially the more ornate ones. But when he tried to absorb them, sharp headaches knocked him back, forcing him to stop. He realized that while the act of absorbing knowledge became easier with practice, there was a limit to how much his mind could take. When he hit that limit, he stopped and focused on organizing what he had learned.

Using the ring's storage capabilities, he began to experiment. By concentrating, he could store and retrieve objects as easily as opening a chest. The ring's capacity seemed vast, able to hold multiple books, some fruits he had brought earlier, and a small amount of water. It felt like the perfect survival tool. He also discovered that by focusing, he could make the ring invisible—an invaluable trick in a world where artifacts clearly held significant value.

---

Satisfied with his progress, Benjamin decided to prepare for his next steps. He filled the ring with more food and water from his limited supply, then slung the black poncho tighter around his shoulders.

"Time to move," he muttered, stepping back to the marked stone door that led to the forest. The knowledge he had gained told him the Sages were his best hope for understanding this world—and for surviving it. Now he just had to find them.

With one last glance at the sanctuary, Benjamin stepped outside.

--

Benjamin trudged through the dense forest, following the river's flow. The gentle sound of rushing water was a small comfort, grounding him as he ventured deeper into the alien wilderness. His ring had proven invaluable so far. Each item he stored—water, food, books—remained perfectly separated in what seemed like its own invisible "slot." No matter how much he thought about the strange mechanics of it, the ring responded effortlessly to his will.

Stopping briefly, he took a few sips of the river water to keep himself hydrated. As he drank, a strange sound pricked at his ears. At first, it seemed like his own heartbeat, a steady thumping that grew louder. But then he realized it wasn't coming from inside him. The sound was external—deep, rhythmic booms that sent vibrations through the ground.

Benjamin froze, his head snapping up. The forest around him had shifted. The Dhubans, the insect-like fungal creatures that had been scuttling nearby, were now screeching in panic. They farted out puffs of glowing spores as they scattered, their bioluminescent caps flashing erratically. Something was wrong. The booms were growing louder, more deliberate—long, powerful strides.

Then, he saw it.

Emerging from the foliage on the opposite side of the river was a creature that made his breath catch in his throat. It was massive, towering nearly five meters high with a body over a meter long, excluding its tail. The creature's head glowed faintly, a mix of bioluminescent blue and green that highlighted the tendrils extending from its jaw. Its sleek, scaled body rippled with muscle as it moved, and its glowing tail swayed like a pendulum.

Benjamin's heart raced. He knew what this was—a Tinnin, one of the apex predators of Khial. The fragments of knowledge he'd absorbed rushed to the surface. The Tinnin was a highly territorial predator, known for its speed, strength, and insatiable hunger. It must have come to the river to drink, but its glowing, predatory eyes locked onto him instead.

Benjamin stepped back slowly, his legs trembling. "Don't run. Don't run," he whispered to himself, but his instincts screamed otherwise.

The Tinnin tilted its massive head, studying him, and then took a step forward. Its claws dug into the rocky riverbank as it began crossing the raging water. The river was deep and fast, but the creature's powerful body was built for such obstacles. Each stride brought it closer, its glowing tendrils whipping through the air like warning signals.

Benjamin didn't wait to see how long it would take to reach him. His survival instincts kicked in, and he turned, bolting into the forest. His legs pumped furiously, and the pounding in his chest matched the rhythm of the Tinnin's booming steps behind him.

Branches whipped at his face and arms as he sprinted through the dense underbrush, the glowing plants casting eerie shadows around him. He glanced over his shoulder just once—enough to see the Tinnin emerge from the river, its massive form dripping with water as it charged after him.

"Oh, come on!" he gasped, pushing himself harder.

The forest around him grew thicker, but the Tinnin was undeterred. Its massive form crashed through the foliage, snapping branches and leaving destruction in its wake. Benjamin zigzagged between trees, hoping to slow the creature down, but its strides were relentless.

Sweat poured down his face as he pushed through another 200 meters, his lungs burning from the exertion. His mind raced for a plan. Running blindly wouldn't save him. He needed to outsmart the predator, or he wouldn't survive.

"Think, Benjamin, think!" he muttered under his breath, the booming steps behind him growing louder.