When he opened his eyes, Nikolai still felt dizzy. His body throbbed, as if it had been drained of every last bit of energy. The journey, the magic, the constant vigilance — everything had taken its toll.
The bed seemed to spin beneath him, and for a moment he had the impression he was going to fall.
But then, something surprised him.
"Ashen…"
he murmured, rubbing his eyes.
"You… grew?"
The bear, who had once barely occupied half the space, now stood differently. There was something new about him: firmer muscles, a broader chest, the eye still sparkling with innocence, but the body revealing a sudden growth spurt.
Nikolai adjusted himself, surprised. Outside, the darkness gave no hint of the hour, but the distant echo of chains clanking revealed that the main gate was already locked. He got up with effort, and Ashen straightened up beside him.
"Wow… you must be at least a meter tall now,"
Nikolai's voice came out somewhere between pride and amazement.
Ashen stretched to his full height, and Nikolai stepped back: it was clear he had grown nearly forty centimeters since before the battle.
"If you keep this up… I'll have to get another bed made,"
he laughed, tired.
"Or maybe even ask for another room just for you. But… how did this happen? I mean…"
Despite the exhaustion, he was confused — but happy. A bigger bear almost always meant a stronger bear. It wasn't an absolute rule, but still an encouraging sign.
Ashen seemed to feel the same. His eyes sparkled with joy, although the awkwardness of a newly elongated body made his movements almost comical.
Nikolai was getting ready to leave when the weight of reality hit him: he tried to take a step, but limped. Looking down, his heart sank.
"Damn…"
His metal leg was damaged — beyond any improvised repair. Deep cracks, crooked parts, a destroyed joint. It was like seeing a part of himself broken.
"I'll have to make another one…"
he murmured, discouraged.
"Where's the wooden one?"
It was an invisible wound. The metal leg wasn't just a support — it was a symbol of strength, of achievement. Losing it meant returning to weakness and dependence. And that was a feeling he hated.
Even so, he didn't let it stop him. Leaning on Ashen, he walked slowly until he found the wooden one resting near the door, his heart torn between pride for his companion's growth and frustration at his own limitation.
From downstairs, voices echoed. Conversations, subdued laughter, dishes being stacked. The sound warmed Nikolai's chest. If there were voices, there was food. If there was food, there was life.
And at that moment, more than any banquet, the simple fact of hearing those voices was enough to make him smile.
When he finally reached the second floor, the joy of the people was contagious. The air upstairs seemed lighter, filled with laughter, loud voices, and the clinking of glasses. When Nikolai finally found his team, they were all drinking and celebrating like survivors who had beaten the odds.
"Look who's awake!"
shouted Andrei, already visibly drunk.
"Our rough diamond!"
Nikolai smiled faintly, still tired.
"Good evening, everyone… I was dead tired."
It was Ekaterina who analyzed him with the clinical gaze of someone who missed nothing. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Ashen.
"Well, well… looks like his bear went through its first growth spurt."
Nikolai blinked, confused.
"Spurt?"
The brief silence that followed made it clear: it was something obvious to everyone there… except him. It was the old wound of having dedicated himself to studying complex formulas, arcane theories, and northern histories, but neglecting basic knowledge. Kuzma, noticing the confusion, decided to step in:
"Don't worry, kid. It happens to everyone,"
he said in a calm, almost professorial tone.
"When a bear and its tamer begin to defeat enemies, they tend to absorb part of the vital energy of the defeated creature. The first time is always the most intense. After that, it lessens."
"In today's case, most likely, when Andrei struck the final blow, the creature was already on the verge of death… and the vital energy ended up flowing into Ashen."
Nikolai's eyes widened. He didn't know exactly what a "growth spurt" was, but he knew the concept of vital energy well.
Every living being carried this invisible spark — sometimes weak, other times as intense as a miniature sun. And apparently, under specific circumstances, this energy could be transferred to the bears.
No one in the group knew for sure how the transfer rules worked. Sometimes it happened, sometimes it didn't. Some believed it depended on the type of creature; others, that it was a matter of resonance between the bear and its tamer.
What was known, in fact, was that bears were like empty jars: they filled gradually, as they fought, learned new skills, or faced extreme situations — until they overflowed. And this overflow could be small… or immense.
White and brown bears grew by hunting, absorbing vital energy almost naturally — generally at a fast and steady pace, until they reached their limit and plateaued.
Blue and black ones were different. The blue bears only truly evolved when their tamers learned new spells, reflecting that knowledge in their bodies. The black ones, in turn, were the most mysterious: they seemed to grow only with time, without a clear pattern — although, even among them, there were exceptions.
The truth was that vital energy was a field of hypotheses, not certainties. Many spoke of theories, but no concrete law had been established.
And now, before them all, stood the living proof of this rare and complex phenomenon: Ashen, who had grown abruptly, his eyes still youthful, but his body already as big as the other bears in the group.
"Very good… he grew a lot for just a Leshiy,"
commented Daria, observing Ashen's renewed frame attentively.
"He seems to show evolutionary traits typical of a white or brown bear,"
noted Ekaterina, evaluating the possibilities behind Ashen's sudden growth.
Nikolai pulled up a chair and sat down. However, when the bear tried to climb onto his lap like he used to, the legs of the chair creaked dangerously, almost giving in under the weight.
"Ashen, sorry…"
he laughed, settling him on the floor.
"But I think you've been promoted to Laika's companion now."
Ashen lowered his ears, clearly upset. The disappointed expression, however, didn't last long: Laika, Andrei's companion, appeared with a huge plate of shredded Simargl meat that the warrior had prepared, and the young bear immediately forgot the frustration of no longer fitting on Nikolai's lap.
Nikolai wanted to understand more about evolution — especially how it worked in the case of white and brown bears — but his hunger seemed too strong to allow any questions. In just a few seconds, he found himself diving into the food with the hunger of a survivor.
He savored each bite with unrestrained desperation, until, finally, he noticed: there was someone else at the table.
"Mistress Svetlana!"
he exclaimed, wiping his mouth and straightening up.
"I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were here."
She smiled with evident fatigue and the sunken eyes of someone at their limit — but still conveyed serenity.
"Don't worry. I came to thank you all for today. And… I saw you lost your metal leg. So I thought it was only fair to repay."
From her rental ring, she pulled out a new leg. But it wasn't like the previous one: it was massive, elegant — and clearly of superior quality.
Nikolai stopped chewing. When he held it, he was surprised to realize that, despite its size and thickness, it was light.
"Wait… is this…"
"Rhodium,"
completed Svetlana.
"But don't get me wrong: the material came from Ekaterina. I just did the work. And, to be honest, it was even easier than I expected."
Nikolai remained silent, touching the gift as if it were sacred.
Unlike the others, he noticed the exhaustion on Svetlana's face: while everyone had rested after the battle, she had gone straight back to the forge, sacrificing her own rest to deliver that.
"Thank you very much,"
he said sincerely.
"I was going to ask you to… Oh, and thank you too, Mistress Ekaterina."
"Don't thank me,"
the mage replied, raising an eyebrow.
"And stop being so formal. Just call me Master. I have to spoil my apprentice somehow — besides, we all benefit from this."
The thanks multiplied, and soon Svetlana handed over the contract payment in some coins and strips.
She got up with heavy steps, exhausted, and left in silence, refusing to stay and celebrate — after all, she was at her limit.
"She worked hard for you, boy,"
Kuzma murmured, his gaze serious.
Nikolai understood the unspoken message. Svetlana had gone above and beyond, not just as a client, but as an ally. And that demanded reciprocity.
"I know, sir,"
he answered firmly.
"I'll help her. I liked what she did… and I think she can be an excellent ally."
Kuzma gave a faint smile, satisfied.
"Alright, everyone. Let's divide the coins, the strips, and rest. We don't have a mission yet, but since many people returned to the Fort today, we'll probably have a busy week."
Nikolai had forgotten that it was the day of the return to the Fort. He had already made it clear that he wouldn't go back, but deep down, curiosity still gnawed at him. He wanted to see who would return, who would choose to stay.
Unfortunately, he didn't find any of his closest peers. Neither Irina, with her easy laugh, nor Zoya, always practical and precise, nor even Viktor and Fedor. Even Oleg and his friends, who seemed to have made it their personal mission to irritate him, had vanished as if they had never existed. The void left by their absence was heavier than he had expected. It was as if fate itself was determined to keep them away from him.
For the veterans, this period was nothing more than rest disguised as work. Most simply kept an eye on the rookies from a distance, without truly engaging. Many had coins and strips saved up from past seasons, enough to survive without taking a single step outside their rooms. For them, Svarog during this time was almost like a luxury inn: sleep, drink, forget the weight of the tower.
Among the newcomers, however, it was a different story. Familiar faces crossed his path, but always in too much of a hurry, avoiding eye contact, rushing toward something or nothing. Evasive glances, short steps, voices swallowed by the constant murmur. No one stopped. No one started a conversation. Those who had once shared their fear and insecurity when the bears selected them in Vybor were now only shadows dissolving in the crowd.
It was as if the return to the Fort had torn the world in two: on one side, those just passing through; on the other, those who chose to stay. It was then that Nikolai understood something new, something that pulsed in his chest like a silent pain: staying also meant accepting the loss of those who chose to leave.
Ekaterina, noticing Nikolai's silence, took the opportunity to dispel the boy's daydreams:
"Since we don't have an immediate mission, I'd like to train my apprentice."
Her gaze settled on Nikolai. There was something determined in it — but also protective.
She knew he was strong. Much more than she had ever been, both at his age and even now. But she also knew he lacked experience.
The arrow he had fired at the Leshiy had practically decided the fight — but Ekaterina had noticed the issue: he had used too much power. Waste. Risk.
It was as if he only knew how to handle advanced forces, completely ignoring the fundamentals.
She didn't understand where this pattern came from… until she remembered the notebook he always carried close to his chest.
A notebook with notes from old Sobolev.
Then, everything made sense.