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The Archives Of A Summoner

The youngest son of the Ingraves family, Rob, lives a hardworking but carefree life on the outskirts of the forest with his family. One day, he and his loyal pet, Fenrir, are entangled with a misfortune event that makes them cast away into a new realm of magic. This new world may look like a sunny magical fantasy, but it is a dark world where summoning magic is a closely guarded knowledge. Rob finds himself in a position where he must fool everyone that he is a skilled Summoner while trying to find a way back home. Such an intricate web of lies may help them find the power to succeed, but one misstep could mean their demise. Follow this unrelenting pair as they face all odds with only wit and an unfathomable amount of coincidences and luck, as they struggle to return home. Please be advised that this novel might contain vulgar language and specified acts of violence, torture, racism, rape, etc.

MWse · 奇幻
分數不夠
7 Chs

Chapter 3 - Year 1632, Day 2

The flavour of the beverage was quite refreshing. I had no idea the ale would taste so amazing. 'I suppose I could get used to this!' I ponder as I lay the wooden mug on the table I was sitting at, the second closest to the counter.

A big porcelain plate in front of me was holding some sort of salad with vegetables that I have never seen before. Small leaves with various yellowish, dark green, and red bits of beautifully chopped veggies combined with some scented liquid caught my interest.

My stomach was attempting to send me a loud and obvious message, which drew a chuckle from the spectators and made me flush for a second, feeling ridiculously small.

While eating my salad and a bowl of meat soup with potatoes, I think about how I fell asleep during my duty, which caused me to leave the western plains two hours late, which caused me to walk in the dark and get attacked by some terrifying creatures, which resulted in me to flee like a chicken from Fenrir's fangs and end up here. Everything seemed surreal. If I was going to wake up, I was going to regret having this dream...

'Is this a nightmare? It feels far too intense to be a dream. But how in God's name did I get here if it's not a dream?!' I was doubting myself.

The tavern was around 65 feet or 13 squares wide, with three tables – 15 feet each, two end aisles, and two 5-foot aisles on either side of the mid-table, all of which were full. Four humans sitting together looked like some thugs. They were dressed in tattered black-grey garments with some badly maintained body armour guarding the shoulders and chest or chest and legs.

Individuals of various races were eating, drinking, or talking about something I didn't understand at the other tables.

I stroke my chin in thought and cast another peek around, completely unaware that I had a giant unchewed piece of boiled potato in my mouth.

'I dreamed of being at a tavern that looked exactly like this when I fell asleep by mistake on the western plains.'

While the establishment wasn't precisely like the one in my dream, I was feeling a similar atmosphere. There, on each square table a candle was lit, illuminating the faces of those seated nearby in a yellowish flickering light.

Turning my gaze slightly to the right, I meet the eyes of the woman who was cooking something behind the counter. That is when I swallowed, or more accurately, tried to swallow the unchewed potato which immediately got stuck into my gut.

I get up from the table and punch myself in the stomach, attempting to push the potato out. The potato was vehemently opposing the idea. In my effort to gain assistance, the chair I was sitting on at the time was shoved to the side, falling to the floor.

The lady, who appeared shocked by the episode, leans down to grab something hidden beneath the counter. I was astounded by her quick reply, but I wondered what she was looking for. What does she need to take to help me? Wasn't it the quickest answer to smack me in the back or squeeze my stomach from behind?

I stagger towards her, gesticulating for assistance. My hands were either striking my stomach, attempting to grasp an imaginary hand that felt like it was attempting to stroke my neck, or gesticulating that I couldn't breathe. When she leans down, the joy in my eyes that she understood me grows, but I reconsider when she quickly pulls out a gigantic club three-quarter her size with two flat sides.

Sometime before the potato incident, two individuals emerge from under a stall raised half a meter from the ground by four wooden pillars, in the heart of a large marketplace. Fenrir and I were the two figures. We seemingly emerged by pushing to the sides a bush that struggled to grow in a tiny space.

After rising up, I began to take in my surroundings.

"Wait, what the-?" I glance around, observing the most prominent element from the perspective of a tired guy full of sweat, dog saliva, scratches, and many other minor but noticeable things; who ran for his life not long ago in the middle of the night from monsters that, now I realize, were somewhat like some hairless green rats but with humanoid features.

"It's day! It's day, Fenrir! I yell the only thing that comes to mind and give him a dumb, surprised expression. Fenrir, for his part, stares at me with concern and adjusts his head slightly, as if trying to figure out what's wrong with me. His long ears followed suit.

I was standing among stalls offering a variety of products, including food, ingredients, and much more. The bulk of the people, or at least those surrounding me, were dressed in heavy cloaks that obscured most of their features.

I wasn't fully aware of my surroundings at the moment. Because I was not in immediate danger, my brain just absorbed the positive aspects of the current scenario. However, I was about to discover that this was not the Dorumen Kingdom or any other kingdom I was familiar with. This was another world. A world where the magic really happens. Isn't it exciting?

But I wasn't aware of it at the time. However, the excitement was only beginning as a shadow began to tower over my head and expand. Looking behind, I see Fenrir growing 5 heads over me.

"Fenrir, Fenrir! What is going on?" I was surprised and jumped a few meters away from him.

The audience didn't panic, if that meant everyone scrambling for their lives as near to the edge of the street as possible and discarding anything they were carrying at the time, from small crates of various materials to items, food, and 'My staff?!' I stare perplexed.

The clockes that were obscuring the faces of the people around me fluttered in the wind as they ran. Fur, large ears, scales, and other racial features that I hadn't seen previously were suddenly obvious.

When I see some half-lizard, half-human who triples himself and attempts to defend his body from the hundreds of feet stomping on him as if he's a stepping stone, I close my eyes. I wasn't happy with what was going on, and I thought it was my fault in some way for causing this turmoil. However, I was calmer in this circumstance than I had been in the last one in the forest. Perhaps because the crowd was more afraid of us than we were of them.

"Or maybe something changed." I suggest and glance away from the terrified mob for a moment to examine the items they left behind.

'How is my staff here? I don't recall bringing it.' I approach it and pick it up. I examined it thoroughly, and the staff was looking and weighing the same. A light brown staff made entirely of wood that is smooth to the touch but tougher than it appears.

Behind me, Fenrir was getting familiar with his new high perspective. He was the world's tallest pet. So I reasoned at the time. In any case, I return to him and attempt to look him in the eyes. But I miscalculated my distance to him, and all I could see was the fluff beneath his snout. I took two steps back. "Perfect!" I exclaim triumphantly.

During the time I was checking Fenrir if he was alright, the crowd seem to start speaking with each other. I walk a few steps closer to the crowd who were nicely squashed on the other side of the road and other directions, to introduce myself and hopefully get some information.

"Hello! Rob Ingraves is my name. I was in the Willow Forest only a few minutes ago and somehow ended up here. Could you please tell me where I am now? Please!" I say this in the kindest tone I can muster.

There was no response. They were, however, whispering to one another. I decided to leave the matter after seeing everyone's terrified expressions. It was useless if they were too scared to talk even from a distance.

Then, making their way through the mob on the right side, a few guards in full armour stopped in the open with their swords drawn. Fenrir sensing danger, walked by my side snarling gently. The guards took a step back. I put my hand on Fenrir's muzzle, which was lowered as if ready to jump if necessary. When he felt my palm on his fluff, he quiet himself but maintained his watchful stance.

When one of the guards noticed this, he lifted his hand and placed his sword back, instructing the others to do the same. Then he muttered something I didn't understand, so I responded. He, too, was bewildered. He took a few steps forward as the other guards were attempting to tell him to keep away from us.

The guard stretched an arm, leaving a gap of a few feet between us. I turned to Fenrir and told him to stay put. I had no idea what happened to cause him to grow so big, but I prayed he could still recognize my commands. He was able to understand brief orders back at our house. 'Is he still the same Fenrir?'

He stared at me and licked the back of my head, causing my hair to rise awkwardly. That was all the confirmation I needed. I had faith in him, and he had faith in me. I took a couple of steps forward and locked my gaze on the guard's face. His gaze conveyed determination and confidence, yet his fingers shook as if he were in cold waters. We shacked after I cautiously lifted my hand. At that point, his harsh posture softened a little.

I let go of his hand, pointed at myself and said "Rob.", then turned to face my companion and said "Fenrir." At that time, his overly serious demeanour relaxed, and he pointed to himself and murmured, "Gerald."

Feeling hungry, I caressed my stomach and indicated that I didn't have any money on me. He nodded and waved for us to follow him. Gerald shouted something to the other guards, and they pushed the folks to the side of the road before pursuing us from behind, a bit too close until Fenrir gave them the glance.

Many folks were still astonished, scared, or intrigued, but they didn't freeze in a panic since the guards were with us and Gerald was telling them something now and then as we marched through the crowded streets, meeting new people who weren't in the centre before.

We reached a large building with a stone foundation joined together and an upper half made of wood. Fenrir was further back for whatever reason, which didn't bother me. Gerald motioned for everyone to halt and stepped inside.

Seven persons exited the building in less than fifty seconds. Two of them came up to me. The aroma of booze reached me long before they arrived. It was two individuals dressed in leather equipment and wielding short swords.

They raised their swords as they approached, unaware of the large dog behind my back. The guards behind Fenrir lifted their swords in response. I lifted my hands in surrender. "Hey... hey! Look, I'm not sure who you are, but I don't want any trouble."

The two men exchanged glances and started arguing.

'They're drunk and have no idea what they're doing.' I won't be able to restrain Fenrir from reaping them apart if they assault me. What if I end up in jail? What if the guards convict us and we get executed? 'What if-' I hit my forehead to stay calm.

The men get perplexed.

'OK, think about it. Think!' I clear my throat as if I'm getting ready to give a speech in front of hundreds of people and signal to myself saying "Gerald."

The two drunken men gaze, stunned, and their emotions morph to rage as they take a step closer.

My companion, which seemed to be gazing someplace else until then, saw and began snarling; he displayed his large teeth, and the hair all over his massive body rose in concordance with the tension around. He then approached me and curled his body, obscuring my front view with one of his front legs while glancing at the two alcoholic individuals and behind at the guards, who appear to recognize their error a little too late.

A lady with a long Lineweaver walked out the building entrance and began conversing with the two individuals before something worse could happen. Gerald soon followed and said something that caused the guards to lay down their weapons. The two drunk men were hardly convinced but, being pierced through by Fenrir's glaring eyes, they left with their swords in their hand.

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