Chapters 29-30

They’d been blitzing through tunnel after tunnel for what’d felt like a lifetime, until—so suddenly that it was almost surreal—they were freed from those cramped confines altogether. The space around them opening up into an enormous cavern. One so impossibly large that he’d genuinely felt as though every harsh step he took could be heard for several kilometers around.

This was where the third ambush occurred.

The floor was very strange, he’d noticed almost immediately. Smooth in a way that the craggy rock of the tunnels had lacked. Curious, Jun had bent down to drag a hand across the flat stone. How odd. It’s almost as if it’s… manmade? But how can that be? Shaking his head at the oddity, Jun got back to his feet and continued onward towards… wherever it was they were going.

The illumination from his system screen only lit the darkness for about three or so meters in any given direction. It was a bit of an eye sore to have up all of the time, so he’d tried to position it as far out of the way as possible. As it so happened, that meant positioning it just above his head. On its own it couldn’t have given him more than a perfunctory warning of imminent danger before spirit beasts came boiling out from the inky blackness, savage bone weapons in tow. Luckily for him, he didn’t need to see them to know they were there. Not when he had Ivory that was.

If it weren’t for her perch atop his head, giving him silent warning of any incoming threats with sharp tugs on his hair in their respective directions, Jun would’ve been caught completely off guard by the attack. And, if it weren’t for his previous combat experiences—all three of them, thank you very much—there was no way he’d have survived the next few seconds.

He felt the moment when her small weight vanished from atop his head. It was for the best, they’d both decided. And even though that meant his effective sight had shrunk back down to three or so meters, the alternative was far too dangerous for both of them, especially given what came next. From this point onward she’d give what support she could from the air. A not inconsiderable advantage, as it so happened.

He felt the distortions of each concept before he saw them. Five simultaneous strikes coming from the directions she’d indicated. A terrifying prospect under normal circumstances. That said, he’d been no slouch over the past two hours. He recalled the feelings of helplessness he’d felt when his ace in the hole had been so easily rebuffed and had taken steps to minimize the chances of that ever happening again.

Instead of taking the brunt of the five-pronged attack, he immediately dashed to his left, with spirit empowered steps, to where he knew one of the attackers was approaching. He locked eyes with the rat beast, taller than most, with a robust frame that was likely a base requirement for wielding the massive, man-sized club it raised high. Raised and aimed in a downward arc, intent on caving in Jun’s skull.

That said, while the blow was certainly fast, Jun was faster.  His newfound agility unconcerned by a strike as slow as this. With a step and a pivot, he avoided the vertical blow narrowly. Angling his body so that the swing just barely whistled by. As the club shot past—trailing a dense cloud of silver vapor—Jun felt the intense pressure of the concept try to crush him. Just being in the near proximity of the billowing cloud was enough to send his body careening—he knew that from ample experience—so long as he did nothing to stop it that was. Without missing a beat, Jun raised his right hand and released all the pent-up aura he’d held in reserve.

Sword Slash

Or a modified version of it at any rate. It was a crude and brutal thing, half a dozen ruby red spikes exploding from his hand at odd angles, turning his upraised fist into a miniature Morningstar. Crude, though surprisingly effective. A wild swing was all it took to rip to shreds all of the crushing force that might have otherwise violently rebuffed him. Then, just as the massive club impacted the floor hard enough to crater it, Jun struck. Still borne by the momentum of his dash, a backhanded slash was all it took to mangle the beast’s arm, rending flesh indiscriminately, nearly severing the limb at the elbow.

Before he could turn and finish the job, however, a spear tip appeared to his immediate right—glowing with a pale green sheen that hummed with piercing aura. Meanwhile, from the opposite direction, a long, two-handed blade closed in—aiming for his midsection in a horizontal sweep. Emitting the savage will to cleave him in two, it was trailed by a faint yellow shimmer that left ripples in the air in its wake. Seeing no other option, Jun did the only thing he could think to. He jumped. This time, to his relief, he managed to finely control his ascent. Jun flipped through the air with a modicum of grace—barely cresting the furry crowns of his two combatants.

He’d learned from the last few bouts how much of an easy target being airborne made you and didn’t relish being vulnerable like that for any longer than he had to be. The sword and the spear streaked by underneath him—crude weapons practically singing with the speed of their passage—only to collide with a brilliant flash that was only partially visual.

Clearly the less strength-oriented fighter of the two, the spear wielder was the only one to lose their weapon in the exchange. A fact which Jun didn’t fail to capitalize on. Landing adroitly, he only spared a brief glance in the sword wielder’s direction before he acted. Jun locked eyes with the now spear-less warrior, sped up his circulation, and pounced.

Before the rat-kin in a flash, the beast was, in turn, scarily fast to recover. It swiftly righted its stance, then, with a shrill, feral cry, thrust its arm forward to meet his charge—its steepled claws radiating the force of the spear. Without thinking, Jun met the beast’s challenge with a contemptuous sneer and slash of his own. He aimed for where the beasts neck met its shoulder, and, with a thought, contorted his [Sword Slash] into a more traditional claw shape. A savage swipe which streamed ribbons of crimson smoke in its wake, like twining trails of looping, etherial braids.

Then, in the split second before contact, the world around him slowed and was leeched of color. The experience far milder than it had been the first time. Instead of lasting for what felt like long seconds, it merely served as a brief warning that he’d missed something crucial. After a second of disorientation, Jun recognized the problem.

Without him realizing it, the beast’s thrust had been subtly drifting towards his heart. Mind heightened beyond anything he’d ever thought possible, and aura making him feel as though he could do the impossible, he didn’t even hesitate to shift his center of gravity so that, when the strike inevitably did land, it would take him just above the collarbone instead. Then, as an added layer of precaution, just as the beast’s extended claws were inches from his skin, he reached up and snatched the hairy thing by the wrist—releasing a burst of sword slashes as he did so.

Most of his blades broke on the focused cone of piercing aura that coated the arm, but that was to be expected. In the same way stopping the strike outright, through main force alone, had likewise been out of the question.

He’d already come to realize that these beasts were ridiculously strong. Knowing that, he’d never intended for his weak hold to impede its claws. Merely to disrupt and chip away at the stubborn piercing force surrounding them—lessening their potential damage by half. In the next second, color returned to the world, the beast’s claws punched through his shoulder, and his own clawed hand reached its intended destination: the creature’s unprotected throat. The burst of pain was nearly enough to spoil his aim. Gritting his teeth, he let his aura flare even brighter—eliciting calm rationality—as he repaid the filthy rodent in kind. Splitting it from collar bone to groin.

Blood splattered Jun’s body all down his front, and it was a testament to how far he’d been pushed in recent hours that all he felt in that moment was grateful none had gotten in his eyes.

With a look of surprise, the rat-kin stumbled back in shock—slipping on its own blood and pulling its paw from his shoulder with a wet shlock. Even through his aura, Jun nearly fainted from the pain—his body swaying drunkenly, vision, suddenly turned blurry. He found himself fading in and out of consciousness, sounds becoming faint, far off, and distorted. Until, that was, the pad of approaching footsteps snapped him back to awareness. Jun turned to see three furry figures racing towards him. The sword wielder in front, and two other spear wielders behind.

Well, it worked once. Who's to say it can’t work again?

Jun snatched up the tail of the spear wielder before it could slide out of range. It didn’t resist. He didn’t know whether the beast was dead, or if it was simply too shocked to react, but either way, with a full torque and flex of his body, he flung the dying rat-kin with pinpoint accuracy. With an audible crack, the two spear wielders fell under the weight of their comrade. Which only left the sword wielder for him to deal with. The very same rat with its feet firmly planted, and a mighty diagonal cleave already on its way.

Jun didn’t even attempt to dodge. After all, what was he expending all this effort for? He already knew that he could nullify their concepts with his own. And so, instead of dodging around the swing this time, Jun merely raised his hand to meet it head on. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw a glint of glee in the rat-kin’s eyes at what could only be, from its perspective, a sign of surrender. More fool him. Jun almost wanted to laugh.

At the last second a brief leech of color pierced through the haze, reminding him that he should probably lean out of the way of the swing, even if he intended to take it head on. He did so. The maneuver barely enough for him to slip beneath the blade as it whistled past. Then, as he’d intended, the fleshy edge of his palm met the sharpened stone of the broadsword and sliced cleanly through as if it were made of cobweb—the disturbance of the blades passage ruffling Jun’s hair and clothes ever so slightly, though accomplishing little more.

He honestly doubted he could’ve achieved anything of the sort without the beast’s massive strength pool lending such a helping hand. As it was, his hand hadn’t even needed to move in the exchange. He’d merely sheared apart the beast’s cleaving force with a blinding series of ruby red slashes, reenforced a final blade with all the aura he could pack into it, then let the rodent beast’s momentum do the rest.

Coincidentally, the suddenly freed hunk of stone managed to imbed itself deeply in the original club wielder’s chest. Putting an end to the subtle sneak attack it’d likely been preparing.

The sword wielder looked down at his now much shorter blade—incredulous—before the unsuspecting rat-kin fell to the floor in several pieces. The glowing crimson arc of his slash leaving after images in the air.

Jun staggered, stumbled, then nearly fell to his knees. Shakily, he swallowed yet another mending pill, then held a hand to his shoulder—trying to slow the bleeding as best he knew how.

Your body has transcended its natural limits.

62 CELESTIAL ESSENCE CONSOLIDATED.

Your mind has transcended its natural limits.

62 CELESTIAL ESSENCE CONSOLIDATED.

Your spirit has transcended its natural limits.

62 CELESTIAL ESSENCE CONSOLIDATED.

Despite the sudden surge of revitalizing energy, truthfully, all he wanted to do in that moment was lie down and sleep. Unfortunately, he knew this fight wasn’t over just yet. Feeling Ivory alight on his head and then go still, he tried not to jostle her too much while he moved, as she was no doubt nursing her own strange injuries. He’d still yet to get the truth out of her regarding her newest ability, but he supposed that would come with time.

Jun staggered over to where he’d last seen the spear wielders fall, only to frown in consternation when he finally reached them.

Where there had once been two downed enemies, now there was only one. Quickly, Jun slit the throat of the first, then looked around, in growing concern, for the second. This wasn’t the first time one of the ambushers had gotten away. And if it was still out there in the dark, waiting for him to let his guard down…? Jun squinted, trying to pierce the murky gloom, but to no avail.

A chill ran down his spine, only serving to agitate his injuries further. Once again, he found himself with no time to properly extract each beast core. And so, feeling a bit queasy at the prospect—before a flare of his aura rid him of such weak emotions entirely—he quickly went to work. He decapitated each head not already relieved of their occupancy, then stuffed them into his dimensional bag with great speed. Within a minute the job was done, and his hands were that much messier.

Idly, he recognized that he’d have to take care of the growing number of heads soon, before the contents in his dimensional bag began to rot. For now, though, what he really needed was to disappear for a while. Maybe find a safe place to rest and recover. Unfortunately, he had this sinking suspicion that anything of the sort was still a long, long ways away.

No matter how much it pained him, Jun dropped his cutting aura—thinking to preserve his energy. Instantly, the full weight of his accumulated injuries fell upon him, nearly buckling his knees and making him seriously rethink his decision. But, he reminded himself, bad as this was, it still didn’t hold a candle to his second breathing form. He could persevere. Would persevere, he decided. Even as every fiber of his being practically screamed for him to re-summon the sweet sweet release of his aura. He managed to resist the temptation, though only barely.

“What was that?”

Jun paused to listen, but the mumbled words were just as indecipherable as they had been the first time. He understood them of course, the individual sentences, it was just that their meaning was entirely lost on him. Gently, he reached up a hand to stroke Ivory’s back, careful not to jostle her head in the process. Thinking them the delirious murmurs of a fevered mind, he picked up the pace with renewed urgency—a deepening concern quickening his steps.

Thinking on her ramblings, however, a rare smile tugged at his lips. He decided a gift was in order after this whole ordeal was over. After all, if she liked the books so much, there were plenty more where those first five came from.

“Liang Xin was never this sticky. Usually only takes a page or two. What did I do to become so unlucky? Let him be Li Minghua for a change. See how he likes it. Then I’ll be the one that gets to be very stupid and always hitting the books. I doubt he’d even last a day.”

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Interlude

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The Captives

Andrew Marion

“I have  what I’m just going to assume is a spreading knife of some kind and what must surely be a leather working kit. Who’s next?” asked Chen Mingxuan.

“A couple of knives strapped to my thighs and a few plates on my back,” Billy grunted. “Someone, help me untie these things. They chafe like mad.”

“Plates? What could we possibly need plates for?” asked Kit, his face incredulous.

“Well… I don’t know. I figured we could break them up or something. Make spears. Use them as the pointy end, you know.”

“But then where would we find the wood, genius?”

“You’ve seen those bucktoothed bastards twirling those massive things around. We use bone, just like them.”

“Yeah, but then where would we find the bone? Or do you know something the rest of us don’t? And, anyway, what about the string? You need string to make a spear last time I checked.”

“Actually, I think twine would be more appropriate, given the context,” Simon added meekly.

“What?” several in the group asked in unison.

“T-twine. It’s supposed to be stronger. You use it to secure the head to the shaft. Bind it, wet it, and then let it dry. It should shrink in the process and become, well, you know… sturdier or… A-at least that’s what my uncles would probably say.”

“Well, twine or string, it doesn’t really matter, does it?” pronounced Mingxuan in that matter-of-fact way she had. “Clearly there is no way this plan of yours would ever actually work. And besides, do you honestly believe that if you managed to shatter them here, using your bare hands, without any of them noticing, it would hold up whatsoever on the end of a spear? It’ll either be too brittle to be of use, or too strong to break in the first place. End of discussion.”

“Okay, so, I’m hearing a lot of criticism and not a lot of solutions. Miss dinner knife and leather working kit. And you’re calling my finds useless. What are you going to do, butter them to death after you fashion them uh… an… uh, a satchel?”

At this, Kit practically howled with laughter. To which Billy beamed his usual dopey eyed, always slightly befuddled looking grin. Mingxuan only glared.

“First,” Mingxuan reached behind her and retrieved the four-foot-long serrated implement. “You know as well as I do that place was built for giants. Their children’s cutlery may as well be swords to us. Second, the leather tool kit is for the grips of all of our weapons. I figured that if I could somehow find a way to rewrap the handles it would help our chances immensely. There’s really no point having all of these weapons if they slip out of your hands on the very first swing.”

“Oh…” Billy’s smile faltered. “Well, I… suppose that makes a bit more sense. But! I still think we should give my plate idea a try. I really think it has potential, you guys! Think about it! I mean there are bound to be roadblocks with any crazy genius plan, right? That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t-!”

“I keep telling you there’s no need for all this,” Caitlyn yawned. “All of our worries will be seen to in due time.”

“What?” Mingxuan scoffed. “Are you still going on about your imaginary prince?”

“He’s real, number one, and of course I am~! He came to me in a dream. And when I told Viviana about him she practically believed me, so there~!”

“You mean she didn’t outright call you a liar? Well, I don’t know about you all but that’s certainly all the proof I need,” Mingxuan rolled her eyes.

“As it should be. And you’d do well to freshen up a bit before he arrives. It would be a tragedy if he fought through all the nine hells and back to rescue me, only for your stench to immediately knock him out cold.”

“You’re. Insufferable,” Mingxuan snarled.

“And you’re a hag,” Caitlyn sniffed.

“Ladies. Ladies. Come now! There’s no need to get so worked up! Especially when your dashing prince in shining armor is sitting right here!”

Kit struck a pose, flexing the nonexistent muscles on his beanpole of a frame. The two girls made a face, meanwhile all four of the little ones broke into helpless fits of laughter. The two girls’ expressions instantly softened. As did Andrew’s, watching the small children roll around on the floor—practically delirious as Kit shamelessly assumed one nonsensical pose after the other. Adrian, Kaelin, Jiali and Jieyu. The eldest of them only around six years old, they were the least tainted by their time here, and every day their innocence remained intact was a blessing. Far too soon though, thoughts of their situation reemerged in Andrew’s mind.

For the last couple weeks now, he’d refrained from participating in the daily ritual the rest had devised. Not necessarily because stealing from the abandoned city under the noses of their captors was a daunting proposition for him. Like the others, he’d eagerly participated in the very beginning—smuggling out useful items and odd trinkets from the ruins to be used in their eventual escape.

It was just that, as far as he could tell, he was the only one Viviana had confided in. The only one she’d told of what they really faced down here. To be fuel for the advancement of some irregular cultivator. It was hard to be optimistic when you were aware of something like that. And honestly, the only reason he hadn’t given up completely was that, despite everything she’d told him, she, at least, wasn’t all that concerned. And really, that had to mean something didn’t it?

From a darkened corner of the room, one of Viviana’s band of mercenaries straightened. The movement not at all disrupting the peaceful slumber of the mysterious straw haired girl resting in her lap. Instantly, every eye in the room latched onto her. After all, when even one of their experienced seniors spoke up, they all knew well to listen.

“I sense killing intent,” this came, not from the lazy woman, but from the quiet, often nervous looking man. “Far more than a simple shift in guard detail should warrant. Raina?”

“I don’t know. It might just be that he has a particularly frisky bee in his bonnet. Stubbed his toe on the way over here maybe. Could have nothing to do with us.”

“And how much, exactly, do you want to bet on such a, quite frankly, limp supposition?”

“Hmm. Well, you’ve got a point there. Viviana?”

“Children, conceal your weapons. They’re close now. We cannot be seen to be a threat until the timing and terrain is to our greatest advantage.”

The group of captives, for their part, literally leapt to carry out her instructions. Loose stones were pried free from the floor and walls—revealing deep recesses, cubby holes in the rock where they’d taken to storing the larger pieces of weapon and armor. What few rotten sleep coverings they’d been allowed in this damp place were swiftly heaped atop the compiled mound. Glittering with every jewel encrusted dagger, blunt workman’s tool, and miscellaneous trinket they’d seen fit to smuggle over the last few months. Within seconds their small cell, once glittering in the light of their system screens like a warlord's treasure trove, resembled nothing more than the unremarkable cave it’d started out as.

Moments later, from beyond the rusty bars of their communal cell, came the faint jingling of keys and the pad of several claw toed feet. Everyone assumed slumped over positions, with expressions that spoke of pained exhaustion. A pretense that was actually not that far from the truth. Then, moments before the scrape of claws had fully reached them, a voice emerged from the darkness.

“I do believe this is it folks. One way or another, it’s unlikely we’ll be returning to our cozy abode, our little home away from home. I can only hope you made the best of the time you were given. Because after this, it’ll be nothing but the main event—the grand stage. Exciting right? Do me a favor though? Try not to break a leg. I’m afraid I can’t promise, on top of everything else, we’ll be able to carry you if you fall.”

And with that foreboding proclamation, before any of them could do or say something in response, the steady approach of footsteps came to a halt. And then, the sounds of key fitting into lock silenced all else.

Interlude

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A Slight Miscalculation

Swift Tail Bright-Burner

Swift Tail Bright-Burner was rather sure of himself. And why shouldn’t he be? He’d always known himself, and by proxy the Swift Tail clan, to be superior in all things. That every other clan’s attempts to slay the slave had as yet proven woefully inadequate, only served to further give credence to his clan's preeminence.

The slave was apparently quite weak, on the tail end of a recent engagement. In all honesty, Bright-Burner actually felt somewhat peeved at this. After all, it’d be infuriating should his valiant conquest somehow be mistakenly attributed to dumb luck. That said, a kill was still a kill, and even if only a fraction of the rumors surrounding the slave were true, it should prove to be an enjoyable hunt all the same. It had better be, he decided, since he would’ve hated to have come so far into tainted lands for nothing.

Silent as a creeping shadow, Bright-Burner led his sworn forward until the slave was well within their sights. The first thing he noted upon taking a good long look at their prey was its horrific appearance. It was even more monstrous than accounts had indicated. It resembled a newborn pink in many ways—a soft and nearly hairless thing—only far lankier in size, with fur sprouting in coils from nonsensical areas. It’s body clad in crude coverings intended to shield its modesty.

That, at least, was nothing Bright-Burner hadn’t already seen before. His clan, like many of the greater clans, utilized surface realm slaves for many a task deemed too menial for even the lowliest of subsidiary-clan bondservant. Given Bright-Burners expansive wealth of experience in this area, its unsightly appearance didn’t disturb him overly much.

What did, however, manage to partially unsettle him was the harsh aura of simple brutality that the slave seemed to exude, even whilst merely standing still. It was absolutely coated in the evidence of combat. Pools of blood coagulated at its feet, tufts of fur clung to its skin where blood spatters had left their sticky residue—bits of gore clinging to its body all over. So much so that it was impossible to make out what of the blood was the slaves, and what wasn’t.

Very briefly, what he must’ve mistaken for the flicker of movement drew his attention back up to the slave’s head. When, upon closer inspection, he found nothing amiss however, he put the apparent hallucination from his mind.

It was a feral beast, and no mistake. Again, just as the rumors had claimed. One could tell at a glance that it was not something to be taken lightly. Although it still did not seem to warrant the unbridled terror, he’d seen in the eyes of those few warrior cast who’d run away from the hunt in shame. It was too small, for one thing, and so didn’t appear to be overly strong. If it weren’t for the many bodies piled at its feet, Bright-Burner might’ve even surmised they’d stumbled upon the wrong beast entirely.

As it was though…? As they watched, yet another of the ridiculous rumors he’d initially passed off as mere hearsay was proven correct. He could’ve sworn that reports of missing heads were yet another deft misdirection concocted by the shamanic council. He couldn’t be sure, but based on what few offhanded comments he’d overheard from his sire, he had reason to believe those scheming hoods personally benefited from the corpses of the fallen, warrior cast especially. What other use could such defilement possibly serve, except as some wicked step in one of the council’s fell rituals? And yet here the slave was, feeding into that rumor. An unforgivable offense. If not to him personally, then most certainly to his sworn.

And, although his sworn were not crèche, he had known some of them for so long that the difference was practically negligible. And while he maintained the title of strongest, each and every one of them were warriors of great renown in their own right. There was Swift Tail Silver-Mane with his enormous hammer.

The very same hammer wielded by his great great sire during the infamous and bloody clan wars. With that hammer and his breaking force combined he could collapse an entire cavern system with a single mighty swing. Bright-Burner had seen it happen more than once and had no doubts as to the clan-born’s lethality.

Swift Tail Peak-Stone, a true demoness with the blade. With her quick cuts and sharp force there was very little in this world he believed she couldn’t sheer through. He’d once seen her part a clan-less bleeder from shoulder to groin with little more than a gentle flick of those knives.

And then there was Swift Tail Mud-Berry, or as they like to call him, the wall. Never had he seen a creature, clan-born or otherwise, take a hit from that massive slab of stone he carried and have the poor sense to get back up again after. He was also called the wall for a reason. Seeing as, if you placed him in a tunnel before a hoard of enemies, they weren’t likely to get through so long as Mud-Berry still held the line.

Sensing their growing agitation, Bright-Burner quickly ordered the attack before hot tempers could impede their better judgement. And then, as his sworn made to surround the target for a coordinated assault, he began to suffuse the tip of his spear with his spearing force—charging up his greatest technique whilst praying to the master there’d be cause for him to use it. 

Caught between giving the hunt his all—not wanting to take any chances with the slave—and his innate trust in his sworn’s abilities he prepared for the worst and hoped for the best. As his people fell into position, and still the slave had yet to react, however, Bright-Burners doubts as to the veracity of previous claims only grew. And so, it was just as he was beginning to suspect, rather forlornly, that he might not be needed at all, that things began to go terribly terribly wrong.