The Wandsmith [LitRPG, Isekai, Harem]

"Why don't you just let me carry you in my talons?" Lucas groused.

"I want to ride, not be carried, or there's no point, is there?" Ori replied, continuing to assemble the harness. He used Echo Forging to transmute local vines and plant matter into a sturdy harness, carefully designed to secure himself and Ruenne'del for the long flight ahead to Dremsway.

"We can survive a fall if this goes wrong, besides," Ori continued, "I have bad memories from being in your talons the last time."

"It's good that you've improved your abilities if last flight was anything to go by." Freya piped up as Lysara crackled and sparked to the side.

After describing their next destination, Lucas, the Dire Strix (Aether Warped), as the Library of Fates officially categorised his species, had confirmed that the journey could be completed within a day, likely even less after Lucas's recent advancement to the Immortal Rank and his new unique class: Wings of the Bondweaver. It would be roughly twice the distance Ori and Ruenne'del had already covered on foot, saving them much-needed time, and potential distractions given his multiple, concurrent deadlines.

Lucas himself was thousands of years old, hatched from an Aether-warped clutch and the only survivor of his original parliament of Strix. Over centuries of survival and relentless pursuit of prey across Twilight, he had mastered his unique form of Aether warping, a conceptual blend of Air and Light affinities that Ori was only beginning to understand. This mastery had elevated Lucas to become the formidable predator he was now, allowing him to endure even as his species faced extinction.

Ori had instinctively named Lucas his final familiar, sensing at the time that he was approaching some innate limitation, not in soul capacity, but perhaps something intrinsic to his Bondweaver class. Each bond offered unique capabilities, but the relationships with his familiars had always provided the most profound transformations in his own abilities and progression.

With Freya, Ori had gained extensive knowledge, enhanced understanding of the Astral plane, and a suite of significant spells, including Dreamwalking and Arcane Hands. Arcane Hands, in particular, had served as the foundation for his Reach of the Progenitor ability, evolving from a mana-dependent spell into a powerful form of Aethermancy reliant on Will rather than Intelligence.

Alongside Lysara, Ori had refined their shared Lightning affinity into Flux, unlocking an array of powerful Lightning spells crucial to his survival and eventual escape from Ghigrerchiax.

And now, through Lucas, Ori had acquired an Air affinity as well as new spells; furthermore, their mutual comprehension of Light and Air had evolved into an irregular affinity now named Altus. Ori carefully reviewed these new spells and his updated page in the Library of Fate, noting their recent evolutions resulting from their bonding.

Spell: Prismatic Mist

Type: Active, Utility, Augmentation

Characteristic Requirements: Wisdom: ≥50, Intelligence: ≥100

Other Requirements: Air affinity, Light affinity

Effects: Envelops the user in a shifting veil of refracted light and mist, reducing visibility and sound.

Description: Prismatic Mist bends light and disperses sound, rendering the user near-invisible and silent. Ideal for escape or infiltration, it muffles footsteps, blurs outlines, and distorts magical detection.

Notes: Ends if the user attacks, speaks loudly, or uses spells. Difficult to detect without specific counters.

Spell: Radiant Step

Type: Active, Utility, Mobility, Teleportation

Characteristic Requirements: Intelligence: ≥500, Dexterity: ≥500

Other Requirements: Air affinity, Light affinity

Effects: Instantly transports the user up to 60 yards, leaving behind a flicker of radiant light and compressed air.

Description: Radiant Step enables fast, silent repositioning. The user vanishes in a burst of diffused light and reappears elsewhere, ideal for dodging attacks or flanking unseen.

Notes: Cannot pass through solid barriers. May be used mid-air. Distance and fluidity improve with Intelligence and Dexterity.

Spell: Greater Feather Fall

Type: Active, Mobility, Combat,

Characteristic Requirements: Wisdom: ≥100 Dexterity: ≥1000

Other Requirements: Air affinity

Effects: Slows fall, allows controlled gliding or rapid descent for aerial repositioning or strikes.

Description: Greater Feather Fall provides air control while descending. The user may hover, glide, or dive to attack with precision. Often used for ambushes from above or navigating vertical terrain.

Notes: Can be chained into attacks with other Movement abilities. Movement speed and control scales with Dexterity and Wisdom.

All of his new spells offered utility in the form of enhanced mobility, which was something Ori had sorely lacked. Prismatic Mist granted improved stealth through refracted light and dampened sound, ideal for infiltration or escape, but fragile if its conditions were broken. Radiant Step was a short-range, instantaneous teleportation not limited by Breath and without the complexity or danger of Void Dance, which required physical momentum to activate. It was flexible, silent, and invaluable for combat and evasion, with surprisingly few limitations. Finally, Greater Feather Fall provided aerial control, turning a free fall into gliding or precision dives. Together, these spells significantly expanded his capabilities and gave him, if not confidence in facing the Name Eater, then at least reassurance that he was progressing in the right direction.

He recalled the battles from Nameless's memories, floating high above the ground. While he could now replicate such feats with his Domain, the sheer scale of power those combatants wielded had made such abilities feel incidental, not exceptional. It was a power-gap Ori would soon need to figure out how to bridge.

Within the hour, they were airborne. At the speed and altitude Lucas maintained, likely several hundred miles per hour at over twenty thousand feet by Ori's estimate, ordinary mortals would never have survived the journey. Ori, initially shielding themselves with Prismatic Shield to counter the intense wind pressure, used the time aloft to better understand his newly acquired Air and Altus affinities.

Though related, the two affinities behaved quite differently. With Air, stemming from both the Material and Elemental demiplanar meta-affinities, it aligned with Ori's expectations: modest control over atmospheric gases and wind, both in the meteorological and traditional magical sense. His comprehension leaned heavily toward the Material side, however, which made sense given his broader affinity for the Material demiplane.

Altus, by contrast, which was a conceptual hybrid of Air and Light, fell under the Cosmic demiplanar meta-affinity. It seemed to embody lightness in every sense: weightlessness, height and ascension. This unexpected categorisation required a shift in Ori's framework for understanding affinities, likely influenced by his recent exploration of Laws through High and Arch Magic.

As he considered the possibilities for future spellcraft, Ori couldn't help but feel a flicker of excitement. One of the first applications he anticipated was flight or levitation, independent of his Dream Domain.

Freya sat within his soul space while Ori planned to summon Lysara upon arrival. Meanwhile, wrapped securely in his arms, Ruenne'del radiated delight through their bond. This was flight beyond anything she had ever known, far higher and faster than her natural abilities. Together, they soared above the weather, watching as valleys gave way to open plains, and villages and towns blurred beneath them as the vibrant landscape of lower Twilight unfolded under Lucas's wings.

By early afternoon, they had reached the city of Dremsway. It was a large, densely populated settlement stretching across several miles. In some ways, it reminded Ori of London, with a wide, meandering river cutting through its centre. Inner city walls of white limestone encircled a castle at its heart. Industrial buildings lined the wharves, while slum-like dwellings filled the space between the inner city and its sprawling outskirts.

They circled the city before deciding to land at a village on the northern side, several hours away by foot. The site was near a location Ori had glimpsed in the memories of the flesh trader leaders: a rallying point, an infernal nest containing active portal gates with an Immortal Rank overseer.

So close to a major city and with his actions likely to attract unwanted attention, Ori felt uncertain. Whether he intervened or not, his Classes were silent for now. That, however, could change depending on what he found on the ground.

In addition, surrounding Dremsway were several large aether rifts Ori intended to absorb, one for each of his familiars. He planned to craft new Signature Spells for both Lucas and Lysara and assist Freya in her pursuit of three-fold unification across her characteristics.

There was also an inheritance site nearby, one open to the public where individuals could attempt to inherit the classes, comprehension, and affinities of failed human evolutions and ascensions. According to Freya, those soul fragments entombed in stone pillars were once royalty, offering power back to the people in death as they had wielded in life. Though rare, between one and ten individuals out of tens of thousands emerged with true inheritances. Despite the odds, the town built around the site was a well-known gathering place for recruiters, delvers and private exploration guilds.

With his battle harem in mind, Ori wanted to try his luck. Not so much with the stone pillars, but with the people drawn to them, those seeking power and willing to fight for it.

Within Dremsway itself, Ori planned to visit the library and engage in trade, purchasing enchanted equipment of all kinds to expand his repertoire of runes and enchantments. Not only did he need to reforge his Prototype Array of Duælism as his Flux affinity had severely damaged the blades, but the weapons and items he intended to craft to face the Name Eater would depend on enchantments and laws he had yet to discover.

Fortunately, with Lucas's help, they had cut weeks off their travel time. This allowed Ori to set up a temporary workshop, a base from which he could study, craft, and explore the surrounding region with far more flexibility than initially planned.

He mentally patted himself on the back for bonding with the Dire Strix. Strangely, despite all his bonds and abilities, having command over the magical equivalent of an F-22 stealth fighter did wonders for his confidence and sense of self-worth.

Ori chuckled into the wind as Ruenne'del gave him an odd look, likely sensing the strange turn in his thoughts.

They touched down gently just beyond the outskirts of a modest town nestled amidst rolling countryside with the capital far over the horizon. Lucas, with an impatient rustle of feathers and a grumbled comment halfway between genuine annoyance and playful snark, took to the skies again, choosing to hunt for himself after refusing to consume the 'tainted' flesh trader corpses they'd encountered outside Redharrow.

Ori and Ruenne'del took a moment to gather themselves, the pleasant tang of freshly disturbed grass underfoot mixing with the faint, lingering scent of woodsmoke drifting from chimneys within the town. As they approached, Ori noted that the settlement itself could barely hold more than a thousand souls, composed mostly of stone and timber structures clustered along a single thoroughfare. The centrepiece of this community, towering above the rooftops, was an impressive gothic church crafted from weathered limestone. Its steeple pierced the grey sky overhead, and ornate stained-glass windows depicted faded scenes of religious devotion, offering rare splashes of colour amidst the surrounding drabness.

The townsfolk, largely pale-skinned humans with an assortment of hair ranging from sandy blond, red and navy, to dark brown, moved about their tasks, clad in worn, colourless garments of coarse wool and linen in shades of brown and grey. Their expressions mirrored their clothing, sombre and fearful, neither destitute nor prosperous, merely resigned to their routines. A general odour permeated the streets, a combination of unwashed bodies, livestock, and the heavy scent of wet earth from recent rains. Poor hygiene was evident even from a distance, manifested in unkempt hair, dirty faces, and visibly poor teeth whenever anyone dared a brief, furtive glance in their direction.

Ori found himself briefly wondering at the apparent absence of Awakened individuals; there were no obvious signs of magic or enchantments in the surroundings. Unbidden, Lady Seraphine's words returned to him, explaining that certain towns lay beyond the Path, places inherently devoid of Awakened. Such towns existed as forgotten backwaters, overlooked or deliberately avoided by those with power who instead gathered in vibrant pockets across each realm.

Their arrival, unsurprisingly, drew attention. Ori and Ruenne'del made for a striking sight, he with his unfamiliar clothing and skin tone, and she, undeniably fae. Murmured whispers and guarded stares followed them through the muddy streets. As they passed an inn, a group of off-duty guards lounging outside in heavy plate armour turned openly to stare, their horses snorting impatiently, steaming breath mingling with the chill air.

"That's a new one," drawled one guard loudly, smirking through a dark, scraggly beard. "A fae-touched Nabinian and his mistress walk into a bar..." A contemptuous spit punctuated his words, the sound echoing across the street.

Ori frowned inwardly but otherwise ignored the outburst, noting the unusual density of military presence. The town housed or neighboured a sizable barracks, the disciplined soldiers attired in well-maintained armour, their tower shields emblazoned with a coat of arms unfamiliar to him. Mounted patrols were frequent, horses' hooves clattering rhythmically against the uneven stone cobbles. The atmosphere around these men was tense and wary rather than protective or reassuring.

He reached out through his bond, mind brushing Freya's presence. 'Freya, any idea why they're staring at me? Is it my clothes?'

Her reply came quickly, likely already awake and experiencing their excursion with him. 'I'm not certain. Your skin colouring differs greatly from theirs; perhaps it's unusual here.'

Ori sighed inwardly. 'Ah, so it's just good old-fashioned... well, if not outright racism, then at least the novelty factor.'

'That, or perhaps your suppressed presence still draws their notice,' Freya replied softly. 'Ruenne'del, though masterful at concealing her aura, remains visually distinctive enough to attract curiosity. There's also a distinct sense of unease among these guards, more of them than you'd expect from a town of this size.'

Ori acknowledged the warning silently as they continued. The market, spread along the muddy thoroughfare, offered a simple display of goods, vegetables piled in woven baskets, coarse fabrics stacked untidily, and crude metal tools gleaming in the daylight. The mingled scents of freshly baked bread, damp wool, and manure hung in the air. Ori stopped briefly, negotiating in awkward terms over coins that the vendor scrutinised suspiciously, until eventually handing over a loaf of hot bread. The crust crunched satisfyingly as they tore into it, the fresh warmth offering comfort in an otherwise unwelcoming setting.

But as Ori began to reconsider the wisdom of lingering in such an unfriendly place, raised voices caught his attention. Near the far edge of the marketplace, a heated confrontation boiled over.

"You've GOT to help them!" pleaded a voice, clear and desperate, ringing sharply through the onlookers. "They pay your levies, what's the point if no one comes when they're raided!"

The guards standing sentry appeared unmoved, staring straight ahead with deliberate impassivity. Frustrated, the figure, a woman or possibly a tall boy concealed beneath a worn cloak, stepped forward defiantly, demanding, "Let me see the captain, if you won't listen, I'll go myself!"

A guard shifted slightly, the heavy plate clinking as he placed himself squarely in front of the petitioner. The cloaked figure pushed forward with a staff or perhaps an unstrung bow, gripped tightly, attempting to squeeze between the guards in a desperate act of defiance. Without hesitation, the guard responded harshly, driving the flat surface of his shield into the petitioner's face, sending them sprawling into a puddle of mud with a heavy splash.

Ori felt a surge of emotion through the bond, a thrill of excitement, and expectation. Glancing over, he caught Ruenne'del's expression, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. Giving her one of their bemused glances at the sudden spike of shared emotion, Ori stepped forward instinctively, extending his hand toward the fallen figure.

"Hey, you alright?" he asked gently.

The response was immediate and hostile. The cloaked figure lashed out reflexively, striking Ori's hand away in confusion and rage with her staff, stunning, bright turquoise eyes wild beneath the cowl. Mud clung thickly to their cloak, face partially obscured but young, streaked with grime and blood from a fresh scrape.

Ori raised his hands reassuringly, keeping his voice calm. "Easy now, I'm not one of them. Just trying to help. Maybe I can do something?"

The figure hesitated, anger warring with suspicion in tense, wary eyes. The scents of damp cloth, mud, and blood mingled around them, the whole scene painted in shades of miserable desperation. Finally, the petitioner's breathing slowed, a little tension seeping out of rigid muscles. They nodded warily, accepting Ori's steadying hand as he helped them rise from the filth. As she stood, her eyes widened as a subtle flow of Channel Restoration healed her scrapes, and cleared her minor concussion.

Around them, murmurs rose from the watching crowd, speculative and wary, as Ori waited patiently, senses alert, already wondering what new trouble he'd just stepped into.

"You—you're not from here," she said, tone softening just slightly as her eyes flicked between Ori's unusual attire and Ruenne'del's openly fae appearance. "You're... Awakened, aren't you?"

"Yeah, something like that," Ori admitted, offering what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He glanced at the guards, their expression shifting from disdain to wary curiosity at his intervention, before turning back to her. "What's going on? Who's being raided?"

She glared past him, anger rekindling as she stood, brushing mud and grime from her worn cloak. "My village, Strafhollow. Flesh traders burned it to the ground, took everyone they could catch, my family too." Her voice cracked slightly. "I barely escaped to warn them here, to get help, but these cowards won't lift a finger."

Ori glanced around again, noting the subtle tension and avoidance from the surrounding townsfolk. The girl's plight was known, yet none dared intervene. Fear hung in the air, the populace caught in silent complicity under the gaze of their well-armoured guardians.

"Come. Let's get off the street. Know somewhere nearby we could talk?"

She hesitated, glancing toward the armoured guards before giving a reluctant nod. "This town… it's a human one. Doesn't take kindly to others. Myself included." She peeled back her hood, revealing the elongated ears of an elf and short-cropped blonde hair, slicked with rain and streaked with dried mud. Her expression was hard, elven pride unbowed despite her dishevelled appearance.

"Fine," Ori said, exhaling. "Let's get out of this town"

Not long after, they were walking west along a winding merchant road, the last slate rooftops of the nameless town shrinking behind them. Gloom still clung to the overcast sky pressing low over sodden fields. The air was thick with the scent of churned soil, damp bark, and old hay. Beneath their boots, the muddy track squelched, water pooling in the ruts left by carts. It was a stark contrast to the lightness of flight, and Ori missed the sensation already.

With her hood down and cloak loosened, the woman walked with poise, nearly matching Ori's height, perhaps just an inch shy of his six foot. Her stride was long, her skin bore the soft gold undertone of a woodland elf, though marred by a few dainty freckles. Most striking of all were her eyes: vibrant turquoise, bright against the gloom, alive with suspicion and a simmering, barely concealed determination. Wind teased her damp hair, the messy fringe curling slightly over her brow, and though the rain had soaked them all, she gave no sign of complaint.

The silence stretched before she finally spoke. "Who are you?"

"I'm Ori," he said. "This is Ruenne'del."

The fae beside him gave a small smile, her pink hair fluttering slightly as translucent wings shimmered in the breeze. She moved as if untouched by the mud.

"Tess," the woman said after a pause. "Tess of Strafhollow." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You… you're not human, are you? Or are you fae-touched?"

"I'm human—sort of," Ori replied. "It's complicated."

Tess didn't press. Instead, she turned her gaze back to the path, her jaw tightening.

"Why don't you tell us what happened?" Ori prodded.

"You heard most of it," Tess said. "The flesh traders hit just before dawn with no warning. They burned what they didn't want and took the rest. My brother and sisters. My gran. Even the neighbours' children." Her voice cracked briefly, but she kept walking. "I ran for help. Thought the guard here would do something. But they won't. Because we're not human."

Ori slowed. "The shire-guard refused because of that reason?"

"They didn't say it outright," she muttered. "But the message was clear. 'We don't protect mudblood villages.' I think I heard it twice. And the guard didn't even look me in the eye."

Her hand tightened on her unstrung bow, knuckles pale.

"Dremshire's always been like this. Especially out here on the edge."

Ori frowned. "That's not the impression I had."

She nodded. "The capital's different, more mixed. The royals are tolerant, as long as you serve and pay your due. But out here? The folk don't see us as kin, not when it matters."

A breeze ruffled the fabric of her cloak, Tess turned to him again, eyes sharp. "Can you help?" she asked simply. "Will you?"

Ori looked ahead for a long moment, then back to her. "Yes. I will. This… it's kind of my mess, actually. So I feel like it's my responsibility to fix it."

Tess blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I'll explain," he said, slowing to a stop beside a moss-covered milestone. Ori had rehearsed this moment before, in theory, if not in speech. He'd considered taking the indirect path, cloaking his offer in ambiguity, hinting at alliances and possibilities without making anything too clear. It would be safer that way, less personal, less vulnerable. But now, standing beside her in the gloom, soaked and mud-spattered, her turquoise eyes sharp and questioning, he found that he didn't want to be vague. He felt something between them already, faint but real and that small, impossible thing gave him hope. "But first," he continued, meeting her gaze, "a choice. I could go in, save them, and walk away. Or… I could empower you to do it. And if you succeed, you could join me."

"Join you, how?" she asked, suspicion rising along with her unstrung bow.

"I'm forming a battle harem. Or… a Thalan'avelir—that's the elven term. Soul-bound lovers who fight and grow together."

She gave a sharp laugh, bitter and incredulous. "Why not just go to a brothel and buy yourself a few mercenaries if that's all you're after? And why in the spirits' names wouldn't I want you to save them instead of myself? What could you possibly do to me, a mortal, to make that a remote possibility?"

Ori didn't flinch. "I'm not offering a transaction. I'm offering a place in my family. One I can trust my life to. Where you'd grow, fight and become something more. As for doing it yourself, think if it as a trial run, for what I can offer, and what you can accomplish if given the opportunity,"

She stared, her lips a fine line as she judged the quality of his words.

"You said this was your fault?"

"Not directly," Ori said. "Maybe a month ago, I was abducted. Like your people. Taken to a prison filled with demons and the fallen. I escaped, freed everyone I could, then destroyed the place. That disruption forced them to reposition, rebuild. They've been striking out… raids, destabilising the fringes of Twilight. I think your village was caught in the aftermath."

Tess's breath caught. "Demon bane," she whispered. "The rumours… they're true. You're him, aren't you?"

"Yes," Ori said quietly.

She exhaled shakily, hands clenched around her bow. Her voice softened, uncertain. "You know… there are prettier elves in the capital. High elves even, they'd probably fall over themselves to join your... Thalan'avelir."

"My first wives are high elves, Lunaesidhe. Maybe there's something about elves that draws me to them. Or the other way around. The first time I felt it, I ignored it. But after a while… it's like a tether you feel, pulling you closer. Stronger the longer you deny it, until it hurts."

"You're describing Taurna'diem?" Tess asked, sceptical.

Ori nodded.

"But you're human," she accused.

He threw Ruenne'del a look as she stifled a grin, the bond pulsing with her amusement.

"Like I said," Ori muttered, "I apparently have a thing for elves."

Tess glanced again at the fae. "But she's a fairy. A stunning one. Let me guess—your wife too?"

"In many ways, yes," Ori said, grinning. "Though it's not official. And she won't be in the battle harem, though. You would be the first, its captain. I'll guide and direct, but you'll command. I sponsor your growth, gear, magic. But you shape the path. Together, we choose who joins us. Who we fight beside. Who we protect."

She hesitated. "And your other… wives?"

"Eight soul-bonds."

"Soul… Eight!?"

"Two are wives, both high elves. Two more I'm romantically involved with—Ruenne'del included." He gestured toward the fae. "Three others... are complicated. And then there's Lucas."

"Who's Lucas?"

Ori smiled. A deep gust stirred the trees, and a moment later, the air behind him erupted with wind and wingbeat. The earth shook.

Tess spun, bow half-raised as the enormous form of a Dire Strix landed behind Ori in a storm of feathers and prismatic mist. The creature was easily the size of a bus, ivory wings folding with an eerie grace. One obsidian eye the size of a football fixed on Tess with bored menace.

"That," Ori said, failing to keep the smugness from his tone, "is Lucas."