Beastbound: The Gryphon Tamer

As Benjamin approached the caravan of merchants moving steadily toward the distant city, he straightened his posture and prepared to speak. He recalled the cultural customs he had absorbed from the books—the Bishirs of the Eastern continent valued politeness, humility, and a warm greeting.

When he was within earshot, he raised his hand in an open gesture of peace and called out, "May peace and serenity bless your journey."

The merchants paused, their guarded expressions softening slightly. One of the older men, clearly the leader, stepped forward, his curious gaze sweeping over Benjamin's travel-worn appearance.

"Peace to you as well, traveler," the man replied cautiously. "What brings you to the road?"

Benjamin had prepared for this. He wove half-truths into his story, explaining that he was from a small village to the south and had been traveling alone to reach Hukuma, the city of the Sages, to test his eligibility for the academy. He admitted he had little but the clothes on his back and a few provisions, which explained his appearance, but he spoke with just enough confidence to make his story believable.

The merchants probed him with questions, clearly wary of strangers, but Benjamin deftly avoided suspicion. He mixed details he had learned from the books with vague personal anecdotes, keeping his answers just specific enough to satisfy their curiosity without giving too much away. Eventually, the leader nodded, seemingly convinced.

"You're lucky we came along. The roads at night aren't safe," the merchant said. "Climb aboard."

Grateful, Benjamin accepted their offer and joined the caravan. The group traveled steadily toward the city, and as the towering gates of Hukuma came into view, Benjamin felt a rush of relief and awe. He had made it.

---

Hukuma, the City of the Sages, was everything the books had described and more. Its walls rose high, adorned with intricate carvings and symbols that glowed faintly as the sun set. The city was known for hosting the Academy of Sages, an institution revered across the Eastern continent. Independent of the political struggles between the major powers, the academy scouted, trained, and supported individuals who demonstrated the ability to channel the world's natural laws.

The caravan stopped outside the gates, where merchants and travelers alike queued to enter. Benjamin dismounted and walked toward the guards stationed at the entrance. They eyed him warily as he approached, taking in his tired appearance and simple attire.

"What's your business in Hukuma?" one of the guards asked, his tone gruff.

Benjamin didn't hesitate. "I've come from a nearby village to the south to test my eligibility for the Sage's Academy."

The guard snorted, a smirk spreading across his face. "A dreamer, are you? Plenty like you come here thinking they'll make it. Most of them don't last a week."

Benjamin held his ground, keeping his expression neutral. The guard's mocking tone didn't bother him; he knew he needed to play the part of an ambitious, if naive, young man.

"Any weapons?" the guard asked, stepping forward to pat him down. After confirming Benjamin was unarmed, the guard gestured toward the gate. "One Jhad for entry."

Benjamin nodded and reached into his pouch, pulling out a single Jhad, the pale green coin gleaming faintly in the fading light. He had exchanged some of his Kads with the merchants earlier, knowing that handing over the highest denomination of currency would attract unnecessary attention.

The guard raised an eyebrow as he took the coin, clearly surprised that someone who looked like a vagabond had the means to pay so easily. But he said nothing, stepping aside to let Benjamin pass.

"Welcome to Hukuma, dreamer," the guard said with a chuckle. "Good luck."

Benjamin stepped through the gates and into the city, the sights and sounds of Hukuma enveloping him. The streets bustled with activity, even at this hour, and the glow of magical lights illuminated the pathways and towering structures.

As he walked deeper into the city, a mix of excitement and apprehension filled him. He had made it this far.

--

The inn Benjamin found was modest but welcoming, tucked into a quieter street off the main thoroughfare. The warm light of its lanterns spilled out into the evening air, and the faint hum of chatter could be heard from inside. As he stepped through the door, the conversations quieted momentarily, curious eyes turning to him.

The young maiden behind the counter, no older than her early twenties, blinked at him, visibly flustered. Her hands fumbled with the ledger in front of her as her gaze darted from his face to his travel-worn clothes.

"A r-room for the night?" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes," Benjamin replied politely, offering a faint smile. "Just for tonight."

Her cheeks flushed a soft red as she nodded quickly. "Of course, sir. That'll be two Jhads."

Benjamin handed over the coins, carefully counting them from his pouch to avoid any suspicion. The maiden passed him a key with trembling hands, her fingers brushing his briefly before she pulled away, flustered. "Room's upstairs, third door on the left."

"Thank you," he said, his voice calm, though he couldn't help noticing the curious looks from the other patrons in the room. Most were Bishirs like him, though many had the rugged, seasoned look of adventurers. A few Hayawas sat among them, their animalistic traits striking even in the dim light—one with scales glinting faintly, another with a plume of feathers cascading down their back, and a third whose fur bristled as he glanced Benjamin's way.

Benjamin kept his head down, nodding politely before heading up the narrow staircase to his room. He didn't want to attract too much attention, especially not on his first night in the city.

---

The room was small but clean, with a simple bed, a wash basin, and a single window overlooking the quiet street below. After locking the door behind him, Benjamin stripped off his poncho and travel-worn clothes, carefully washing himself and his belongings in the basin. The cold water stung against his skin, but the feeling of being clean again was worth it.

As he settled onto the bed, exhaustion threatened to pull him into sleep, but his mind refused to rest. He stared at the ceiling, the events of the past few days replaying in his head like a fever dream.

How is this real? he thought. One moment, I'm in my apartment, reading and imagining worlds. The next, I'm running from a five-meter lizard, fighting to stay alive in a river, and now... I'm in a city that shouldn't exist.

He turned onto his side, his gaze unfocused.

This has to be a dream. Some kind of hallucination. Maybe I hit my head, or... maybe I'm still on the couch back home, and this is my imagination running wild.

A small laugh escaped him, bitter and hollow.

Right. Because my imagination would throw me into a world where I nearly die five times in two days.

His hand brushed against the ring on his finger. The knowledge he had absorbed, the abilities he'd gained, the creatures he'd seen—none of it felt like something his mind could have conjured up on its own. But the alternative was equally impossible.

If this isn't a dream, then why me? he wondered. What am I supposed to do here?

He let out a long breath, closing his eyes. His body begged for rest, but his mind continued to race. After a while, he shifted his focus, trying to distract himself the only way he knew how.

---

Benjamin had always imagined worlds to escape reality, but tonight, he did the opposite. He closed his eyes and tried to picture his life back on Earth. The smell of coffee at the bookstore. The sound of the bell above the door when a customer walked in. The feel of a paperback in his hands as he shelved it.

He imagined the quiet nights in his apartment, the familiar hum of the city outside his window. The comfort of his old life, mundane as it was. He clung to those memories, hoping that when he opened his eyes, he'd find himself back in that world.

But as sleep finally overtook him, the faint glow of the ring on his finger remained, a silent reminder that he wasn't going home anytime soon.