HP: Bad Intentions

Blake lingered on the hill for another day, taking his time before resuming his journey early the next morning. The sun had barely risen when he packed his gear and set out again, his companions following closely behind. Along the way, their progress was interrupted by sporadic attacks. Although the enemies seemed relentless, none of them posed a significant challenge to the trio.

Blake quickly realized that traveling with two "oil bottles," as he jokingly referred to Cassandra and Fleur, did not slow him down as much as he initially feared. These two were far from the helpless characters often portrayed in cliched adventure stories. Cassandra and Fleur were eager to pull their weight, taking interest in essential survival skills like pitching tents, cooking, and even basic self-defense.

It was Fleur who took the initiative to ask Blake for guidance, and Cassandra, ever competitive, followed suit almost immediately. Blake observed their determination with a mix of amusement and relief. While their rivalry often turned mundane tasks into small contests, it lightened the mood and added an element of fun to their journey.

"I can't believe I'm saying this," Blake thought, "but having them around makes this trip less monotonous."

The routine of travel by day and camping by night became almost comforting, even with the occasional interruptions of combat. Blake noticed that the once-awkward silences between Cassandra and Fleur had given way to laughter and teasing. Their bond was slowly growing, and it was evident in how they coordinated during minor skirmishes.

One evening, as the group rested by a campfire, a low, mournful howl echoed through the air.

"Awooo~!"

Blake sighed deeply and slapped his forehead. "Not again," he muttered.

A short distance away, a husky-like creature sat with a faux-philosophical expression in its eyes. Blake's exasperation grew as he approached the creature.

"Fennir," he said sharply, "we talked about this. Howling randomly in the middle of the night is not okay!"

After he recovered the giant wolf. From the mouth of the giant wolf, Blake learnt that its name is Fennir.

The wolf, named after an infamous figure from Norse mythology, had a complicated relationship with Blake. Fennir was a fearsome being in its true form, but in its husky-like appearance, it was almost unbearably silly.

He had after all fought against White who was strengthened by the Poke ball.

"Awooo?" Fennir whined, tilting its head innocently.

"Don't you 'awooo' me!" Blake retorted. "Do you have any idea how much trouble you've caused lately? The tent you tore down last night wasn't cheap!"

The wolf barked in what sounded like laughter, then bolted into the bushes, leaving Blake to grumble under his breath. "Why did I even take you in?"

The next couple of days passed uneventfully, with the group maintaining a steady pace. Frustrated by the lack of powerful creatures to test his strength against, Blake decided to take a more proactive approach.

"Let's hunt," he declared, using his heightened senses to track down formidable opponents.

The resulting battles were intense but exhilarating, with Blake leading his group through a series of hard-fought victories. These encounters provided an opportunity for Cassandra and Fleur to witness his strength firsthand, further cementing their trust in him.

Eventually, their journey led them to an ancient ruin that exuded an aura of power and mystery. The structure resembled a Roman coliseum, its towering walls stretching high into the sky. Blake studied it carefully, his instincts warning him of potential dangers within.

"This is it," he said, addressing his companions. "You two stay outside and set up camp here. I'll handle whatever's inside. If all goes well, we'll be out of here tomorrow."

The news brought a wave of relief to Cassandra and Fleur. They had been trapped in this strange, dangerous world for over a week, and the thought of finally returning home lifted their spirits.

That evening, as they prepared dinner, the competitive streak between Cassandra and Fleur flared up again. Each presented Blake with their version of a meal, hoping to outshine the other.

"This is my British speciality, Beef Wellington!" Cassandra announced proudly, placing her plate before Blake.

Blake inspected it with a mix of curiosity and hesitation. Before he could take a bite, Fleur scoffed. "British food? Is that even edible?"

"Excuse me?" Cassandra shot back, her tone indignant. "Beef Wellington is a classic!"

"It's also based on French cuisine," Fleur retorted smugly.

Blake, sensing the brewing argument, took a bite of Cassandra's dish to diffuse the tension. "It's good," he admitted. "You've definitely improved, Cassandra."

Not to be outdone, Fleur presented her creation: red wine-braised beef.

Blake raised an eyebrow. "Where did you get the wine?"

Fleur blushed. "I, uh, borrowed it from my father before coming here."

Blake sniffed the dish, and his eyes widened. The aroma was unmistakable. Fleur had used a bottle of Lafite red wine from the 19th century, a priceless vintage.

"Wait... you used the whole bottle?" he asked, incredulous.

Cassandra burst into laughter. "She had to make it five or six times to get it right!"

Blake sighed, eating the dish with mixed feelings. "Your father's going to kill me when we get back," he muttered under his breath.

Later that night, while Blake's physical body rested, his soul wandered freely. He sat in the corner of the tent, reading a book by dim light. Suddenly, the door creaked open.

Blake tensed as Fleur tiptoed in.

"I knew something was wrong with you! What are you trying to do?!"

She knelt beside his bed, her eyes lingering on his sleeping form. Leaning closer, she adjusted his blanket before retreating silently.

"Why?" Blake wondered, confused by her actions.

Moments later, Cassandra entered the tent. Unlike Fleur, she only glanced at him briefly before leaving. Blake sighed. "Why are they both so reserved?" he mused.

The next morning, Blake left Fennir, White, and his other beasts behind to guard Cassandra and Fleur while he ventured into the ruins. As he stepped through the massive entrance, the door vanished behind him, sealing him inside.

"So, there's no turning back," he muttered. "Interesting."

The interior of the ruins was far larger than its exterior suggested, opening into a colossal arena beneath a purple-hued sky. The atmosphere crackled with energy, and at the center of the arena stood a khaki-colored beam of light.

Blake released his black dragon, securing air superiority, and summoned his plant-based creatures to form a defensive perimeter.

As he approached the light, it suddenly disappeared, replaced by a massive, multi-headed creature that emerged with a guttural roar.

"A Hydra..." Blake murmured, his eyes narrowing. "This is going to be fun."

=============

Want to read more?

Join my Patreon

patreon.com/Max1mus

Also Please vote for this work with your Powerstones

And don't forget to leave a review