“So let me get this straight, you mean to tell me that this aspect of Dezmond came to you after your ego synchronization, and taught you how to use MAGIC? How?! If I were to teach you it would have taken easily months of studying and practicing to even manifest the twinkling embers of your mana pool! Hmph…he's stealing my thunder, I don’t like him!” Pwinx huffed, folding both arms across his chest like a jealous ex, all whilst floating beside Jonathan’s head.

During the waking hours Jonathan was able to harvest the remains of the butchered birch hounds. The materials combined with the supplies from the bandit caravan he was able to make much more durable weapons. ‘The Living Wood’ made the perfect durable yet bendy material to craft a new bow befitting his honed skills in Kyudo archery.

Its structure and density could only be compared to fresh Earth bamboo wood, prime for the bending. The string was easily crafted with the muscle fibers of the hounds, which were primarily made up of these mana infused stems. When coiled around one another into a tight braid they became stretchy, strong, and capable of withstanding the straining tugs.

Unlike the Everfree variants he usually plucked from trees and bushes, these components proved to be much easier to manage when stringing up a new bow. ‘Interesting…what if I could do…this?’ He held up two coils of ‘Birch Hound Muscle Fiber’, rolling them around in his palms. When pressing them together he began concentrating on the skill he was trying to tap into, peering deep within his core to draw out its mystical power. It was the same risky crafting technique that threatened his very life the last time he attempted calling on it.

Skill Activation: Item Compression

Jonathan felt the strong drain on his body, shuddering as the mana siphoned from his innermost depths. The flow dragged down both arms and channeled into his fingers that gingerly clutched the crafting components. Slowly but surely both tightly coiled bundles of the muscle fibers merged together as one. The completed product reduced the quantity, but improved the quality from uncommon to rare, the text hovering over it confirming its new status.

He performed the same actions for the living wood, improving the quality to rare as well. Unlike when he had used compression on his knives, he deduced that compressing simple materials drained less mana. This all also proved useful in increasing the experience of his compression skill overall, something Jonathan took note of for later exploration.

“Good thing you didn’t suck yourself dry this time…but what are these things for?” Pwinx looked over the improved materials with a puzzled look. With the instructions plucked from within the tome based earth’s strongest bows, Jonathan was able to use his freakish strength to bend the wood enough to properly rope his Kyudo bow. The 7 foot tall weapon was elegantly crafted, the string tightly bound to either end in intricate knots. His quiver of arrows rested snuggly behind him at his hips, made from extra Everfree palms.

It was a funny thing those arrows, they were long and individually assembled with a steady hand, rather than letting the crafting system do its work. Half the arrowheads were made from chiseled stone grinded into shape. The other half had been fashioned from the mana infused shrapnel that the Birch Prince so lovingly spewed into Jonathan’s body before death. These arcane splinters when combined with wood, feathers, and a pinch of twine, manifested a deadly munition…one without a name.

This proved to be an interesting moment, the tome had registered its rarity as uncommon, however it held no name, instead coming up as Unamed_Munition. Just like when he named Aelita an option to name his newest creation came up, suggesting he created something outside the bounds of the Tome’s identification capabilities. Pwinx watched with mild interest as Jonathan mentally projected the name of the arrow onto the floating screen.

“Splinter Shot”

The leather, scrap, and other supplies on hand were just enough for Jonathan to improve his attire over the span of four days, camping the abandoned supply convoy. It upgraded them from the fragile and easy to rip plant fiber outfit, to the now sleek, refined, and durable set of studded leather armor. With the excess leather he was even able to system craft a bandolier which slung diagonally across his chest. It held multiple chiseled stone knives, sharpened and ready for combat if need be. Jonathan’s fingers tugged the green laces of his boots, making sure they were tightly secured to his feet.

Aelita sniffed his cheek while he had been bending over to tie them then cutely started licking him with a concerned whine. Despite trying to shield the pup from the gorey site it in fact did quite the opposite. His little fur baby relished the taste of the bandit pony meat, even dragging Jonathan an entire head which he politely refused.

The man smiled softly and gently scratched between her ears with an affectionate hum. He calmly lifted the fox onto her perch upon his shoulder, then finalized his additions with a red bandana tied around his neck. “Now…let's get moving to that cave, it's pretty much one of the best leads we have in terms of higher quality materials…I have a few items in mind I’d like to craft if they are what I think they are.” He muttered.

3 long days had passed, the journey on foot, even when running and jumping at full sprint it was arduous and rough. With an overabundance of enraged hounds crossing his path in roaming packs, times were tough. The further into the Everfree Jonathan advanced, the more wildlife seemingly thrashed out at him, giving little time to rest. By night he would take to the trees, tying down his leg to a branch in order to keep himself safe in his elevated sleeping space.

Aelita, bless the pup, spent her time snuggling into his chest, finding a new home wriggled up under his shirt when the armor was discarded. When she wasn’t doing that, the fox traveled alongside her master with surprising speed, keeping a good pace for a young fox pup. It was strange, on Earth no fox could ever move so fast, especially leaping from tree to tree.

Her claws sank into the branches like climbing hooks, tearing chunks of wood off as she bounded from point a to b with such fluidity, that she appeared more like a soaring snake than a fox. This world…it broke all meaning, a factor that Jonathan would have to come to terms with. Even so, that never made it any less amazing to behold, to watch the reality and rules he had come to know break before his very eyes.

The trail that the smuggler bandits took was still fresh, their hoofprints imprinted deep in the forest soil. There were tell-tale signs of their supply caravans still present, starting with toppled trees, likely felled to clear the way for their various carriages and carts. On top of that signs of a struggle were everywhere blood, claw prints, even a few arrows embedded in tree trunks.

Judging from the notes left by Tecorat the group suffered many sleepless nights being hounded by the occupants of the forest. ‘It seems like she might have been able to see my echos…yet these slaver ponies didn’t seem to heed her warnings that they were wandering into disaster.’ Jonathan thought, letting his mind wander while sitting on the tree branch. His thumbs peeled open the outer layers of the fruit he had been eating, revealing the juicy, neon pink, gooey fruit meat within.

A “Tonfa” fruit, or whatever Pwinx called it, was a strange mixture between an orange and a skinless grape. The bioluminescence of food Jonathan had come to learn is a trait shared in ingredients with high levels of mana saturated into them. One other example was the mushrooms that had saved his life back when he was on the brink of death. The spine chilling memory of their salty texture being shoved into his gullet by the fist full made his stomach churn.

‘Ugh…I never want to eat another one of those damn mushrooms again for as long as I live, gods be damned if it provides more mana…at least these things have fucking flavor.’ The man’s gaze beamed down at the yellowed pages which were stiff with dried flakes of the zebra mare’s blood. He took great care not to squirt any juices onto the journal as he read away with his fox companion resting on his shoulders.

The zebra mare had drawn an accurate depiction of the location she was held prisoner, a large waterfall with a wide open field surrounding it. This was all set up by the criminal organization she and many other slaves had come to name them as “The Onyx Horn “. With them as slaves they had enough horsepower to chop down hundreds trees to set up the damn thing. When Jonathan looked back up to peek out from the foliage he could see the camp in the charcoal drawings matched the descriptive art rather well, if not a few differences here and there.

The camp was heavily fortified, reasonably so seeing as the rapid incline of these creatures was at its apex in this general area. Wooden spike barriers had been fashioned pointing outward towards the shadowy unknowns of the great wood. It was a vain effort to ward off any would-be predators seaking to rend the flesh from their bodies.

It was a clever ploy nonetheless, an outer perimeter with a 10 foot walking gap separating it from the actual camp. The dirt inside this gap had been purposely dug up and trampled to make a nice ring path, giving this ramshackle camp a bit more order.

Various carts were positioned in a circular shape, almost like a circus had pulled up to pony made clearing. More of the spiked barricades were neatly planted behind them as an added layer of defense, giving a nice extra layer of safety to each cart. Between every four carts and carriages, crude guard towers were fashioned from thick logs, each holding two guards.

Their equine forms were silhouetted by a thick layer of camo netting. One looked out at the forest while the other observed the unfriendly inhabitants of the inner camp.

Tents were erected towards the center past the varying carts, with a massive bonfire made at its core. The flames had long since died to a smoking pile of charred logs which radiated rippling waves of heat. Amongst the sea of tents and carts were piles upon piles of wooden crates, barrels, and supplies galore. That was when Jonathan saw them, for the first time in this fucked up world he saw its colorful inhabitants ALIVE if he could even call them that.

Among the many supplies he had pilfered from their retreating trade convoy, he had acquired a spyglass, which he was now using to peek out at the wandering husks. The unfortunate ponies that made up the camp’s willing or unwilling residents. To summerize the inhabitants could be broken up into two categories…the slaves..and the masters.

These equine creatures held an uncanny and unnerving amount of expression on their rounded faces. They bore sparks of sentience behind big, round, comically large eyes, complimented by various pastel colored manes and coats. It gave an almost cartoony yet somewhat realistic aura that confused the man’s brain the longer he looked.

The ponies came in all shapes, sizes, and colors, with the slaves looking more disheveled and unkempt than their privileged masters. Some of the guards wore studded leather, metal half plate, or a mix in between, giving them a more mercenary feel to them. One thing they all had in common was the trend of them burning their leathers a shiny black. It gave them an even more cliche, generic, biker, bad guy look that made Jonathan internally facepalm.

From what he could remember from the show, these markings slapped on their flanks were called “Cutiemarks” a marking that depicted one’s special talents. “To think these micro horses use ass tattoos to determine their fate or profession in life…kinda pre-determined don’t you think?” Jonathan murmured to his fox child who sat on his shoulders, messily gnawing one of the fruits she procured from his bag.

“I agree, kinda dumb and single minded whoever came up with that form of existence…just looking at these guys SCREAMS textbook evil minions.” Pwinx puffed his cheeks, sitting on top of a now curious Aelita. The fox seemed to yap in agreement, poking her fruit slathered tongue out between gushing bites of her fruity meal.

“Hmmm…seems like they've been here for a long while…look at the waterfall…” Jonathan pointed out when turning his spyglass to the formation of rock and flowing water. The Onyx Horns had built a wooden dam to redirect the falling water, causing it to evenly splitting the falls on either side to the green waters bellow.

Across from the exposed entrance was a crudely fashioned plank bridge, one that had been sloppily assembled to connect the cave to the other side of the body of green water the falls made. Thick, gnawed, and scratched supports held it up, a very dark foreboding in its constriction efforts.

The murky green water showed signs of life, various slithering dark shapes, outlines of massive fish, all wriggling just beneath the dark surface. It didn’t take a genius to know that whatever laid beneath the mossy surface was not a fan of land walkers. Jonathan saw the red sign picturing a pony being eaten by a fish. If that wasn’t a big enough indicator of the lethality, then the various bones floating on the surface were sure as hell the red flag he needed.

Beneath the sign’s image were the words….wait…words? Jonathan focused the spyglass, zooming in on the two “words” which brought him much confusion and discord trying to read it. The text looked more akin to chicken scratch, a series of blocky lines horizontally or vertically connecting like mayan hieroglyphics. It was much more different than the cohesive text in Tecorat’s journal which used proper earth lettering to write.

Jonathan lowered his spyglass for a moment and trained his ears towards the camp, hoping to pick up on idle chatter. It only took mere seconds before the heavy weight of the situation came crashing down on his head like a two ton ACME anvil. He caught the conversation of two passing guards that were patrolling the beaten path between both spike barricades, nearest to his position over them.

Both looked to be chatting casually, if not a little heated watercooler talk. Every word that escaped their lips was nothing more than garbled gibberish, a slurry of unrecognizable words that sent Jonathan’s thoughts into a spin.

"i abd't ajannevt lon bossz hase havri lek dayt vem ehnadasitt buckri gryif. Si roke Si caps weiev kulnid evd aidrothe ailn bailid lon gehdeth sie orderid linm erdaiy sell rast junk arshsupplsz. "

("I can't believe that the boss is having us stay here another bucking month. I knew I should have joined my sister and bailed the moment he ordered them to go sell our junk for supplies.")

The second pony let out a congested snort and nodded his head, bitterly looking away from the first with his spear tightly pressed into his side. Both his ears flopped back when he spoke, clearly heated up by the first’s alien speech. Despite their words being completely alien to his own ears, Jonathan could detect a hint of a slavic accent dripping from both ponies. Their body languages from the shuffling of stationary hooves, to the sway of their tails gave away the cold tension in the muggy forest air.

"i rike gled? Si don't trieve inm sie vock'tfyust leck nevt aritt aarvid bitch ailn sisa whineva brat henter lon rarestek'sz maw miy ohwey abd asdlass trieve laut vi linm ?"

("I know right? I don't get why he won't just toss that cross eyed, bubble butt bitch and her whiny brat into the beast's maw so we can FINALLY get some of that sweet treasure…")

Jonathan looked down at Pwinx who clearly looked just as puzzled as he was, already scrolling through numerous texts and screens within the tome’s infinite knowledge database. “I take it you can translate that drobble…? I've heard my fair share of fantasy speak but this is on a whole new level of tongue twisty bullshit…” He whispered and continued to watch as the two idly surveyed the treeline left of the hiding human.

One casually remained holding his spear in a relaxed manner, wrapping a hoof around the length of the weapon so it rested on his shoulder. Just watching it kinda threw Jonathan for a loop. ‘How the hell would they even use that anyway, they don’t have hands! Maybe with their teeth? Talk about impractical…’

“Hmmn…well, here is what I CAN do, I can produce a crude translation and visually place sub text over their heads for you to read. Right now I unfortunately don’t have enough data to verbally translate it to your ears. Anything they say will be stored in the tome for you to look over, kinda like a chat log.`` Pwinx pulled up a purple screen and tossed it into the man’s face causing it to vanish in a puff of purple particles. The information came to him at once, imbuing a new ability to add onto his ever expanding repertoire of skills

Skill Acquired: “Sound to Text”

“Huh…handy” Jonathan willed a screen of the surrounding speech logs to read what the ponies had said, and it all came out in easily understandable English. When he looked down at the chattering guards It was almost as if a ghostly text box was floating over them both. “Hmmn…can you do the same for me…? That way these fine folks can somewhat understand me? That language barrier is gonna hurt like a bitch in terms of keeping the peace if we have to confront them.”

Jonathan scratched his head while watching another pair of merc ponies chatting further in the camp. He took mental note that ponies far away couldn’t have their dialog cataloged clearly, hinting that the skill used a form of lip reading to print their verbal information. Just to test he willed the skill to end, causing the various text bubbles over pony’s heads to vanish in an instant. It came back just as quickly with another thought.

“Unfortunately not right now…deciphering this language is gonna take some time, if you can find me some books or listen in on conversations it’ll speed up the process yea?” Pwinx waved a tiny hand nonchalauntly as Jonathan moved around from tree to tree, circling the entire bandit camp. He took great care that the guards on patrol wouldn’t catch him, using the various tree branches and leaves as cover for each springlike motion.

He only stopped when the trees met the mossy, rocky wall leading to the waterfall. Before Jonathan could make the trip back around for another look he was halted by something out of the corner of his eye. His fingers clasped the spyglass he had slipped into his bandolier, bringing it up to his focusing gaze. When he double checked what he saw the man was pleasantly surprised and confused at the point of interest that snagged his attention.

In clear english, carved into one of the many flat rocks, bottom right of the pony made dam was text. He hadn’t seen it before, but getting closer made it a lot more noticeable.

“Harken herald, the _____ sing….the overlord above all _____ this sacred place demands b__, the guardian slumbers, lying in wait for the golden one’s- __________. When the sky twinkles a violet dawn ____ will ____ and the guardian will awaken once more, as will the true power of the sacred treasure within for ________ to behold.”

Even though most of the words were either faded or eroded from many years of exposure to the elements, it still made no logical sense. How could the cave have prophetic writings in plain english? The ponies don’t appear to grasp the fundamentals of human English, much less any other form of known languages.

‘In that case how was Pwinx able to translate Zebrican so easily into English from Tecorat’s notes? There are to many questions that need answers, and I have a feeling I won’t find those in the tome…’

Jonathan wasn’t a fool, walking into that camp would have been foolish, suicidal even. Bad as these ponies were, starting a head on confrontation seemed like It would be a bloodbath for either party. There was also the crucial need for information, the more he could understand about this cave the sooner he could unravel its mysteries. He dragged his spyglass along, looking throughout the camp, taking in every crucial detail.

The more he saw, the more sickened Jonathan began to feel deep down, an anchor that weighed him down into despair for the slaves. Cages, so many cages were lined up north of the fire, between the walkways, with many occupants inside. The confines were cramped with two or three ponies, all of whom were shackled to the rusty bars over them.

They all donned the daunting gems of the slave collar around their necks, a spell of domination flowing through each and every one of them. Many were sickeningly enough mares in various stages of dehydration, malnourishment, or sickness, some even sported a…belly…swollen, rounded with implied stages of an unwanted pregnancy.

Some of the unfortunate stallions amongst the sea of mares looked battered and bloodied. Dirty bandages loosely clung to matted fur as a shitty attempt at covering varying wounds. The stallions that weren’t in their cages were east of the bonfire, hauling, chopping, and moving firewood by cart. It didn’t help that the way they chopped the logs was by cringingly clutching the rusty ax between their chipped, bloodied, and ruined teeth.

Two guards actively patrolled the cages at a time, one with a massive bag of what looked to be hay, and another with a jug of suspiciously murky water. The cloudy sludge was poured into dog bowls for each individual cage with a sickly *SHLORP*.

Hay was tossed against the bars which smacked into some of the occupant’s faces before pitifully dropping onto the damp floor of their tiny prisons. It was a truly heart wrenching sight to behold, worse than any prisoner deserved. Some ponies practically bucked at one another for the little scraps of hay given by their jailers. Others had to gingerly support the injured or sick cagemates, just so they could bring their muzzles close enough to the brackish mix of water and hay.

Two mares in particular caught Jonathan’s attention, giving him pause when the guards walked to their cell towards the end. The smaller mare had a dirty rose colored coat, with an equally dirty yellow mane. From what he could tell she seemed like she would be around 15 years old judging from her facial features and spry frame, no cutiemark oddly enough. The older and larger looking mare was resting in the younger one's hooves, clear signs of illness wreaking havoc on her limp frame.

She held similar colors to the youngest, however the coat was discolored in various patches due to hair falling out. If Jonathan had to guess he would think she was about 18 or 20. Her eyes were rolled back, half open and twitching in their sockets lazily, paying the guards no mind, only focusing on each labored breath.

The youngest looked up at the guards, whimpering out in her native tongue. (“I beg of you m-misters, my sister is very sick. S-she needs medicine, I beg you please save my sister…”) The guards paused, mockingly humming and hawing until one them gave his partner a small nudge with his forehoof.

The mercenary holding the jug of water, the one that was nudged let loose a sickly laugh. He was an Earth pony, one with a dusty red coat, and a raven black mane that bore a silver stripe running through the greasy locks. His plump lips rolled back to reveal a set of gold plated teeth, gnashing in a twisted smile.

(“Ooooohh?~ Your sister is sick now?~ Don’t worry runt, I’m sure we can make her feel ALL better, though medicine ain’t exactly cheap. It's expensive enough to give you walking money-bags water and hay. How can we expect to run such a lavish “shelter” for you “lost souls” if we have to oh so willingly show favoritism~ If you want them meds shortie, you're gonna have to work for em.”) The stallion ran his grayish tongue across his teeth in a perverse display of depravity and lust.

One sharp whistle to his unicorn companion caused the stallion to eagerly set down his bag of hay. There was a brief flash of green from his horn before a thin rope of magic connected to the collar’s gemstone like a leash. The small mare yelped as she was yanked from the cage causing her older sister’s head to squish into a pile of soggy hay. The youngest sister was gradually dragged off to one of the many tents near the cages, her horrific fate sealed….when the screaming started.

*CRACK*

Jonathan had unknowingly squeezed the spyglass to the point his knuckles turned a boney white. The metal had become warped under each individual finger, while the glass lenses shattered to powder from the sudden application of pressure. The man could feel his heart palpitating rapidly, pounding loud and hard like the beat of war drums.

Repressed memories flashed before his eyes belonging to him and the man whose body he inhabited. Visions of soul crushing trauma weighed heavily on his heart, turning that anchor he felt into what felt like a two ton elephant. The gnawing sensation could only be described as cold hands crushing his insides in a vice grip. No words could describe it, the immense feeling that was gradually overriding every mental facility in the human’s brain.

Jonathan wanted to kill them, to butcher these vain, disgusting, steaming piles of shit where they stood. His feet shifted, knees bending in preparation to vault over the two barricades. Before he could though, a wave of shimmering amethyst light enveloped his head like a halo of faerie lights. Quick as the emotions came, it all just…melted away like dust in the wind.

It was a sudden and powerful wave of calm that slowed his pounding heart to a rhythmic throb. The pieces were coming together, if he were panicking and thinking with irrational rage he couldn’t use the full picture that had been forming since the beginning. They were crammed in the back of his mind, and were clouded by other thoughts that loudly rang true.

He subconsciously had begun gathering information from the beginning, watching guard patrols, and observing the ponies' behaviors, all tactical info that a true battlemaster would need before a fight. A plan had already begun formulating, he just needed that sound, empty mind to finish it, to follow through to see results. Rising to a standing poise on the tree limb his blackened eyes glared down at the camp.

Scumbags, thieves, and violators, the worst that humanity had to show for…all imprinted upon this supposedly innocent world meant for kids. There was no rage, no sadness, only a cold, collective, and calm glare with twin purple orbs shining through the darkness that dusk was bringing.

Aelita as if sensing her master’s rage began snarling, her fiery orange and white fur stood on end when she poised arched on Jona’s shoulder. The primal gaze became as calm and focused as his own, a chilling blue glow gradually creeping into the corners of her eyes. She too had repressed feelings, the yearning for blood, to please her new master with the heads of their new prey, awaiting her lord’s orders.

“In 3 days they will all fall…one by one…until none remain...”

Author's Note

Sorry about the hiatus y'all! Mixtures of conflicting work schedules, loss of data, and writers block have halted my steam train of progress to a halt. No worries though! I have more content coming and plenty time to work on it!

I also want to just say WOW! I finally reached over 100 likes! Thank you all so much, it really melts my heart all this work was worth it. I have some loyal viewers who enjoy my content, and even though I've recived some criticism I still hold it close to my heart and will use it going forward.

I have more bonus stuff incoming, especially for the 100 like goal, so stay tuned!