[Dawn Pasture] was the best place in Raven’s sanctuary for relaxation and rest.
The pale golden sunlight wasn’t overly harsh, and the terrain here was the most diverse.
In the distance stood a high mountain, its snowline distinctly visible in the morning light.
The pasture sat beside a river formed by the melting snows of the mountain.
It was mostly open plains, dotted with small groves of red pine and exposed rocky hills.
Raven had built a small manor in this realm.
Whenever he had free time, he would drink afternoon tea here (even though it was called the Dawn Pasture), cuddle the Puffskeins, squish the bellies of Nifflers, play with the Kneazles using a cat teaser, or watch the newborn Unicorn foals—their golden coats not yet shed—nudge balls back and forth with their heads.
Right now, the lord of this domain, Hazel, was hiding quietly in the red pine grove.
Hazel.
Hazel’s relationship with Raven was different from Funeral Belle’s.
Raven was Funeral Belle’s caretaker, and Funeral Belle was Raven’s partner.
Hazel and Old Purple, however, had been persuaded by Raven to relocate to his private sanctuary simply because their species were so rare.
All they had to do was pay rent on occasion.
Since the territory lords could travel back and forth between the Forbidden Forest and their respective managed spaces, she didn’t particularly care who the future master of this place would be.
Since Funeral Belle had sent this challenger to her, it meant the Thestral had already accepted this wizard child.
As long as the heir promised to maintain their tacit understanding and not interfere with the growth of the foals in her herd, she could contribute her strength to the heir when necessary.
That was her duty as the herd leader.
Sensing the gaze behind him, Raven turned around and spotted Hazel hiding in the trees.
Calling it “hiding” wasn’t quite accurate, as Hazel stood out altogether too starkly against the forest.
She was a gorgeous Unicorn.
While all Unicorns were beautiful, Hazel was unique.
Not only did she stand seven feet tall, but her horn was also remarkably translucent, as if coated in a fine glaze.
Most importantly, her body bore complex, intersecting natural stripes.
Seeing an old acquaintance, Raven waved at her cheerfully.
Hazel stepped forward with elegant strides, coming to a stop in front of Raven to inspect him closely.
Up close, she realized just how strange this young wizard was.
She didn’t feel any aversion toward this boy, which was the strangest part of all.
Unicorns could only be ridden by pure maidens, yet the person before her was clearly a wizard boy.
Yet at the same time, she felt no sense of emotional closeness to him—it was as if he were an object rather than a human being.
Raven really wanted to catch up with her properly, but several other creatures were waiting downstream.
He decided to make it quick and gain Hazel’s trust as fast as possible.
Raven pulled out a whistle capable of summoning a bound creature.
He looked as though he had just been romping around elsewhere, still clutching Devil’s Snare from who-knows-where in his mouth, its tendrils whipping against his equine face.
Char.
Unicorn foals were born golden, which usually faded as they matured, but there were occasional exceptions.
Raven mounted the golden Unicorn and threw a provocative grin at Hazel.
“Let’s race! First one to the foot of the mountain wins!” He patted the steed’s flank and galloped off ahead.
And then…
Raven got a mouth full of dirt.
So what if he had dripped a few drops of Dragon’s Breath Chili Sauce onto Char’s horn?
It wasn’t like he hadn’t done it before!
To think that tattooed, drag-racing old biker chick would actually blow her top!
And who kicks someone with their hooves?!
Who said item-based racing wasn’t allowed?
Some creatures never learned.
Rubbing his kicked buttocks, Raven took in his new surroundings.
Blazing sun—cliffs—sandy beach.
Confirmed: this was [Noon Coast].
Why wasn’t the cliff mentioned in the name?
Because the residents assigned to the cliffs were Hippogriffs.
These XXX-rated magical beasts were proud and free by nature, staying only long enough to leave their offspring behind.
Even Swiftwing and Shadowwing, who served as Raven’s mounts, were unwilling to stay inside the base most of the time.
Even with the full backing of the Goblins expanding the base until it was as large as an entire county, for these proud winged beasts, a sky that could be fully patrolled in three days was simply too small to contain their souls.
So Raven usually just let them roam wild outside, preserving their living space and granting them authority to return whenever they pleased.
Besides, back in the day, the two of them used to take turns on duty waiting for a summons anyway.
Therefore, this zone was named “Coast” after the preference of its lord.
Graphorn—Lord of the Coast—Old Purple.
Graphorns were magical beasts that had gone extinct by 1991.
Yet in Raven’s sanctuary, there were as many as forty or fifty.
Averaging twelve feet in height, they possessed powerful, lion-like physiques, covered in hide as tough as a rhinoceros’s armor.
Six symmetrical rows of spikes lined their necks, while their leopard-like heads bore a pair of sharp horns—though leopards didn’t have tentacle-like appendages on their upper lips. This chapter is updated first at novelping(.)com.
Graphorn.
Apex predators occupying such a high ecological niche rarely gathered in herds—unless they had a powerful leader capable of keeping the entire pack thoroughly suppressed.
“Passing Old Purple’s test won’t be easy. Looks like I’ll have to pick another fight,” Raven sighed to himself.
Even back when he had saved Old Purple from poachers, he had to beat the beast into submission before he could take him along.
Fortunately, this species respected strength above all else, and Old Purple eventually became his mount.
It was just a matter of repeating history.
With that thought, Raven pulled out two unactivated Chinese Chomping Cabbages from his pocket, tossing them casually in his hands as he walked toward the shore.
He knew Old Purple enjoyed sunbathing.
By the water, an exceptionally formidable Graphorn lay sprawled on the beach, letting the ocean waves wash over his body.
Old Purple was jolted out of a drowsy slumber by one of his calves, who nudged him to report that an heir had arrived.
Checking the base logs, it seemed that was indeed the case.
So Old Purple gave the calf a light kick, stood up from the soft sand, and turned to look at the newcomer.
One glance was all it took for Old Purple’s heart to go completely numb.
Having witnessed enemies torn to shredded bits by those green leafy vegetables, Old Purple felt a lingering dread every time he remembered his own foolish decision to challenge his caretaker back in the day.
What was worse than dying horribly?
Dying horribly and embarrassingly.
Getting chewed to death by cabbages—how humiliating would that be to tell anyone?
And now, it looked like trouble was coming again.
Big trouble.
His former master could control those cabbages so they wouldn’t reduce him to shredded meat, but who knew if this new kid could manage that?
That was advanced magic!
Old Purple could practically see the Star of Doom flashing in the sky—it was shining brighter than the sun right now!
DANGER!!!
*Thump.
Thump.
Thump.*
*Even at a time like this, the little brat is still playing with a rubber ball!*
*Wait…
a ball?*
…
Raven stared at the giant beast gesturing wildly, tossing two rubber balls over, and flailing its lip tentacles frantically for a long while before finally catching its drift:
[*Don’t use the cabbages—it’s a waste of food. If you hit me with the ball, you pass.*]