The night air burned with smoke and blood. Elior dove like a falling star, his crimson wings stretched wide, his body wreathed in bloodfire. Below, the Rune-Touched Warhorse reared in fury, silver armor glowing as ancient runes shimmered across its plated flanks. Sparks of energy rippled from its hooves, each strike shaking the ground like thunder.
The battlefield fell into chaos. The Silver Order's soldiers cried out, torches wavering as Elior's shadow engulfed them. The monster they had sworn to slay was no longer just a figure of flame—it was a storm descending upon them.
---
The Claim
Elior struck with both claws, aiming for the warhorse's reins. The beast screamed, its voice a shriek of steel and magic, and lashed upward with burning hooves. Elior twisted, the blow grazing his shoulder, the impact jarring down his spine.
> [Critical Damage Avoided – 21% Health Remaining]
The system's cold notification flared across his mind, but he ignored it. His fangs bared, eyes blazing molten red, Elior snarled.
"You'll serve me or you'll burn."
With one hand he grabbed the warhorse's mane, searing his palm against the glowing runes. Pain surged like fire racing through his veins. The beast bucked wildly, runes flashing in rejection. Elior's wings snapped, stabilizing his weight as his claws dug deeper into the armor.
---
System Convergence
Dragon Protocol: "Dominate it. No beast resists the apex."
Vampire Protocol: "Bleed it dry. Make it yours by hunger."
Overflow Engine: [Mount Acquisition Chance Detected: 37%. Risk of Fatal Rejection].
A surge of voices thundered within him, pulling him in two directions. The dragon demanded control by force, the vampire whispered for consumption, and the Overflow Engine offered cold calculation of odds.
Elior chose both.
He bit down, his fangs piercing the silver warhorse's neck just below its armored crest. Hot blood—strange, molten with arcane power—poured into his mouth. It was not human, not beast, but something forged in rituals of light and steel. His chest ignited, his blood roaring with raw magic.
The horse shrieked, its body convulsing, runes flaring to blinding brilliance.
---
The Struggle
The Silver Order saw what was happening.
"Protect the Rune-Beast!" cried a captain, his blade raised high. Archers fired upward, bolts of light raining upon Elior's wings. One struck through the membrane, tearing a hole that sent pain surging down his spine.
Elior didn't let go. His claws sank deeper, gripping the beast's frame, as his bloodfire pulsed into the horse's veins. The vampire within drank greedily, the dragon within roared dominance, and his systems synchronized into a violent storm.
> [System Conflict Detected]
[Protocol Fusion Imminent – Beast Bond Feature Trial Initiated]
Elior gasped as his vision split—one half through his own eyes, the other through the warhorse's. He felt its heartbeat, felt its fear and rage, the pounding drum of centuries of servitude under the Silver Order. Chains of holy vows lashed around its soul, shimmering like prison bars.
"Break them," Elior growled, voice echoing both inside and outside his mind. "Be mine."
---
Chains Shattered
Bloodfire surged from Elior's chest, racing into the horse. The chains rattled, strained, and then—shattered in an explosion of crimson flame. The warhorse reared, no longer screaming in defiance, but in newfound freedom. Its eyes, once silver, now blazed red-gold, mirroring Elior's own.
> [Mount Acquired: Crimson Rune-Steed]
Rarity: Epic (Corrupted Variant)
Abilities: Flamehoof Charge, Rune Shield, Crimson Bond (Linked Stats with Rider).
The system's voice boomed finality. Elior released his bite, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. A grin carved across his face, sharp and hungry.
"You're mine now."
The beast lowered its head, snorting fire, and for the first time did not resist his grip.
---
The Crimson Rider
The Silver Order was momentarily stunned. Their sacred mount—an emblem of their strength—stood beneath the very monster they swore to destroy. Their captain's voice broke the silence:
"Abomination! He defiles our relics! Bring him down!"
Hundreds of blades rose, arrows nocked, staves raised. Light gathered like a storm.
Elior swung onto the saddle, his body moving with instinct as the Crimson Rune-Steed surged forward. Its hooves blazed, trails of molten fire burning into the earth. Bolts of silver light rained, but each one shattered against the horse's Rune Shield, bursting into sparks that faded behind them.
He charged through the ranks, his wings flaring wide, bloodfire trailing in his wake. Soldiers screamed as they were trampled, burned, thrown aside. Elior's laughter—low, wild, victorious—echoed above the clash of steel and fire.
---
System Update
> [Title Earned: Crimson Rider]
You have claimed a beast of the Silver Order and bent it to your will.
Reputation: Infamy +300.
> [Quest Progress Updated – Fugitive of the Silver Order]
Escape radius reached: 40%. Pursuit continues.
---
The Escape
The battlefield blurred as the Rune-Steed's speed tore through the lines. Trees split as they galloped into the wilds beyond, Elior's wings dragging sparks through the undergrowth. The horns still sounded behind them, but fainter now, dimming with every thunderous stride.
Elior looked back once—saw the Silver Order rallying, their formations broken, their sacred mount gone. He raised a claw in mock salute.
"Try harder next time."
The Rune-Steed roared with him, its voice a chorus of blood and flame.
---
In the Wilds
At last they slowed, the chaos of battle replaced by the deep silence of the forest. Moonlight filtered through blackened branches, the smell of ash trailing them. Elior slid from the saddle, patting the beast's flaming mane.
"You're more than a mount now," he murmured. "You're my blade in the dark. My fury in the open."
The horse snorted in agreement, its runes glowing faintly, reflecting the bond forged in blood and flame.
> [Bond Level: 1 – Crimson Synchrony]
Passive Effect: 10% Shared Damage Resistance.
Elior's wings folded. He tilted his head toward the distant horizon where the Silver Order's lights still flickered. His smile was thin, sharp.
"They'll never forgive me. Good. Let them come. I'll take everything they hold sacred… and turn it against them."
The forest rustled, a cold wind carrying whispers of something older watching. Dungeon- like pressure pressed faintly against his chest. Elior's grin widened.
The world was opening.
And he was ready.