The 5th Hero is a Beast [Queer LitRPG Isekai]

Gryphons were as varied as their small cousins, the akergryphs.

Both the Qhai Republic and Staareaux used a subspecies of gryphons as war-beasts – a maned variety accustomed to both desert and hot grasslands, capable of eating fresh meat and scavenging from carcasses.

This variety of gryphon had a social structure, therefore it responded well to beastmasters who exhibited authority. It was food-motivated while acknowledging the pecking order. If the pride leader could be kept in check, then the rest would follow suit.

The species of gryphon in the Claylake Post [ territory ] was not as easygoing.

Given the absence of dragons in Amnasín, gryphons were the dominant predatory beast of the country. They were capable of living anywhere in the nation, from the vast evergreen forests to the rocky foot of the Staargraven.

Yet they always chose to occupy the [ territories ], of which there were many in Amnasín.

The [ territories ] had a replenishing population of prey. It made their flock growth possible, allowing a semi-social species of gryphon to form small prides.

Hallvar remembered seeing some drawings comparing varieties of gryphons in one of Rubert's books. They hadn't committed the content to memory, but the larger species had more in common with lions and vultures than the type from Claylake Post.

No, this variety was a mix of leopard and… and some kind of eagle.

Neither of those animals were particularly human aggressive. Capable of harm, yes. Willing to cause harm if provoked, yes. But not murderous on sight.

These gryphons were the exception. The [ territory ] was their hunting grounds; constant intrusion and interruption by humans made them territorial.

When they were in constant competition with smaller predators that respawned frequently, a stolen meal – even accidentally stolen, like the giant centipede – made them vengeful.

"We must flee," Guillaume stated plainly, no longer interested in showing off hir trophy carcass. "The gryphons possess the advantage in dark."

Ze omitted other observations, in an effort not to scare the non-hunters. Hir arrogant strutting was a distraction from hir duties, dropping hir guard within a [ territory ] of all places.

There were gryphon tracks all around the carcass of the kjerrborn and fresh scratches on a hollowed tree nearby.

If anyone died from this mistake, it was directly Guillaume's fault.

"But if they're surrounding us–" an adventurer interjected.

"Then we stun their senses with magic. The sound, light, fire, electricity."

The group let Guillaume take point, as ze was the resident beast expert.

They had to keep together as a group. Any stragglers would be picked off under cover of darkness. Use flashy magic to deter attacks.

Do not splinter, under any circumstances.

Hallvar hesitated as the orders came in to move.

Their own existence still felt slightly distant from their experiences, like watching a movie you'd seen a hundred times. Hallvar knew what they were going to do, say, but it still didn't feel quite like their own actions.

They didn't… they didn't want to go with the group.

They wanted to be alone, regardless of the danger. They wanted to find the cub. They wanted to take some time and grieve the kjerrborn.

Even if it was projection. Even if they needed to grieve the human life taken, yet all their emotions Hallvar could muster were fixated on the bear-beast instead.

Even if it was suicidal and stupid.

"I'll catch up," Hallvar muttered, as if they were shopping at different stalls in the market, not avoiding a pride of homicidal gryphons.

Human-cidal. Homonid-cidal. You know what, homicidal probably referred to humans anyways.

"No, we're leaving." Grim wasn't taking any arguments, grabbing onto Hallvar's shoulder.

The hero pulled away, startling Grim into a look of anger. Fearful anger. It was time to go or time to fight. Any more delays could be fatal.

"No," Hallvar insisted, mentally scrambling for an explanation. "I have a skill. I have a skill. My threat barely registers to beasts if I'm alone. Leave me. It's safer."

"Leave the beastmaster." That was Guillaume, who made eye contact with Hallvar.

It was a weird sense of understanding. A skill that could lower threat was common among adventuring beastmasters, but lesser known among livestock beastmasters and the general public.

The beasthunter's own radiating threat had masked the gryphon's presence. If only Hallvar caught it sooner. If only Hallvar wasn't so distracted.

Grim hissed through his teeth but conceded to Guillaume's expertise. "Don't die."

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

The adventurers formed a defensive group and began marching toward the path of least resistance, following Ikraam's searching skill to a gap in the gryphon's circle. There would inevitably be a scuffle, but if the conflict could be minimized, it was worth trying.

Hallvar waited until they were gone before whipping around and scanning the now-dark scene for clues. Their enhanced hearing was better than sight, picking up on the sounds of little motions from the hollowed tree.

The roots were dug out, exposed and in some places broken, slashed by gryphon beaks and claws.

Pipkin watched from her perch as the beastmaster lay down, trying to peer into the dark hole to catch sight of the cub.

Measuring the penalty of their new stupid idea, Hallvar reached into the darkness with their four-fingered hand. Nothing. Arms were too short.

They would have to–

There was no time for thinking. Hallvar could smell gryphon musk on this tree. With a small animal trapped underneath, the sequence of events became clear.

The gryphons were hunting the cub after finding the kjerrborn corpse. The adventurers interrupted the frustrated beasts, who were unable to catch the cub. The gryphons recognized a few of the humans and decided to take action after a second hunt was disrupted in their own [ territory ].

This meant the gryphons would return. Soon, if they were driven off by the adventurers rather than fighting them head-on.

Hallvar unbuckled their armor, pauldron, bracer, belts, weapons. They set their belongings with their satchel to the side before laying down to wedge themselves into the tree roots.

Monumentally stupid idea.

The beastmaster reached out again once they were within the tree roots, the ground smelling of freshly disturbed dirt. The cub had been digging to get further and further away.

They felt sharp teeth sink into their hand, swearing softly. It hurt. Those were big teeth, dog-sized.

Flashes of light and shouts were filtering through the forest. Time was running out.

Hallvar activated [ skill: tame beast ] in hopes that it might work.

The cub let go once affected by the skill, but struck out again, this time with a bite and a swipe.

Hallvar was beginning to bleed, which was like a firework and neon sign for the nearby predators who could smell blood in the air.

"C'mon," they grumbled. They were wedged ass-out into some fucking tree roots, trying to save a beast that wouldn't let them save it, while literal monsters hunted nearby adventurers.

It was beyond stupid. It was self-destructive.

Pipkin let out a call of alarm; Hallvar felt the warning through their shared connection.

Why couldn't the beast just let Hallvar save it?

Everything was going wrong anyways, why couldn't this one thing happen? Where was Hallvar's good luck?

Where had it been when an assassin attacked? Where was it when the adventurers were ambushed by gryphons?

Where was their luck?

An idea flitted into the hero's thoughts.

They didn't hesitate to act on it, as it was the one solution that could save everyone present. That could save the cub.

With effort, they struggled their way out of the root burrow. They glanced at their bag, before realization hit. Stella.

They had a few precious seconds to dig out their journal, forgoing a pen and just using their talon tip and the blood dripping from their injured hand.

SORRY 30

That was... they didn't have time to clarify or think of something better. Hallvar shoved the journal back into the bag and nearly ripped off their boots, just in case this worked differently than before.

Their bones cracked under sudden magical pressure, clothing fading, skin ripping to reveal fur, not feathers, blooming underneath.

From human to fish hawk felt like shrinking, becoming less, losing the flesh that was such an integral part of your body that you didn't realize what instinctual fear and powerless-ness the change would trigger.

From human to kjerrborn, however, was being expanded, organs bubbling up, growing like balloons to accommodate the ever-expanding structure of the skeleton. Bones broke and reformed, skin sloughed off and stretched and sloughed again until the furry hide fit right.

The kjerrborn's face ached as not one, but two sets of tusks grew from teeth not meant to bear that much weight.

Hallvar had some witticism about braces but it faded in contrast to the will of the beast-mind.

The humanity was still present, just unable to present orders or thoughts to their body as it was accustomed to. Not so much riding in a passenger seat while the kjerrborn instinct drove, but more akin to watching dash cam footage.

Thankfully there was overlap of intentions between the two warm-blooded mammals.

The kjerrborn huffed as they smelled for the cub, reaching down into the root burrow with a clawed paw. The system display was limited once more, reduced to only what was necessary for the beast, a countdown of time in the upper edge.

Sorry 30. Sorry. I'll be back in 30 days.

The countdown read 60 days. A system notification was ignored, in which it explained that due to lack of magical reserves, a penalty was enacted.

Hallvar wrote the journal message knowing that while the offense form was next on their list, it cost only 10 days to attune properly. The defense form, however, required an attunement of 30 days.

More things queued in the system alert feed. They would stay unread until the beastmaster could filter thoughts through the human-mind.

An action called [ bond ] was taken by the kjerrborn; at the same time, the system set off the paired [ skill: tame beast ].

The cub let out a distressed cry from the burrow, scrambling upward when it was faced with a paw that looked like its mother's.

It wasn't. It could tell by smell. She could tell by smell.

But the [ bond ] bond ] worked, as did the taming.

The cub squealed in distress as she pressed into the chest and belly of the kjerrborn, trying to hide among the adult's legs to find comfort.

It was a short reprieve, as the screeches of gryphons were nearing, the sounds of breaking tree limbs and thuds indicating that the beasts were landing.

The cub dashed back into the burrow to safety.

This beast was its own creature, but convergent evolution led it to be similar to a bear, a badger, and a boar, as Hallvar frequently noted.

In all three of those other-world species, the males were larger than the females. And Hallvar was a tall human.

The gryphons were snapping at each other and screeching as the kjerrborn turned to face them. The beasts were irritated at their failed hunt of the humans, not wounded, but frustrated yet again.

They wanted the cub. They would wear this beast down until it left the cub behind.

The beast action [ bond ] was exactly as it suggested. In a world where genetic lineage and bloodlines were interrupted by spawns in [ territories ], forming a [ bond ] was more important than blood relation.

This wasn't a random cub; this was now the kjerrborn's own cub.

With all the bristling rage of parental protection and the hero's projected fear and anger, the kjerrborn faced the gryphons head on.

The kjerrborn stood slowly, their bulk making it exceptionally clear why Hallvar was penalized for lacking magic, why there was a 30 day attunement period, why the extra everything was necessary to allow the human-mind to figure out the kjerrborn-body.

Standing, the kjerrborn was nearly 13 feet tall, with more than 2200 pounds of muscle and fat. It had a thick fur coat, dense skin, and paws the size of the gryphon's heads, with long claws on the end.

In a numbers game, the gryphons won.

Maybe there were seven gryphons, but there was one cub, and an enraged daddy kjerrborn in-between.