Chapters 33-34

Bodies.

The clan-less bastard previously known as Grey surveyed the scene of carnage with a face as expressive as stone. The macabre sight spread out before him merely the latest in a long string of gruesome landmarks.

A meandering trail of broken bodies which chronicled a harried migration from one end of this profane expanse to the other. He watched as acolytes dragged the few corpses still recognizable into neat and orderly rows.

Likewise, he did not flinch away as everything else was scooped up and shoveled into large, unsightly mounds.

The hoard will feed quite well tonight at least. One consolation amidst all this wanton savagery.

With a huff, Second looked away from the gruesome scene, turning his attention back to that of his companion.

Third Sheath of the Divine differed from him in more ways than one. Taller than most with a bulkier, warriors frame, it was apparent to anyone with eyes that the clan-born was not one to be taken lightly.

“Well?” Second asked. “You’ve been rather tight lipped, my friend. More so than usual. Tell me. What are you thinking?”

Third, for his part, took his time in answering. The grinding sounds emanating from his mouth the only indication he hadn’t simply ignored the question entirely. His mind slowly crafting an appropriate response as his jaw habitually wore away at the thighbone held between his teeth. Second merely waited patiently, well accustomed to their lopsided way of conversing by now.

“Waiting to collect horde… mistake,” Third rumbled.

“Oh?” this surprised Second. “You believe them to be insufficient for the task?”

Third did not reply, though this time, the silence which followed implied his opinion should be so obvious, as to make voicing it unnecessary.

Second was intrigued by this. Personally, he’d thought the idea to be overly cautious, if anything. After all, releasing the entire horde of ten thousand upon the city of ancients for the sake of a single slave seemed rather extreme. Apparently the third was not of that same opinion. Second found his curiosity peaked.

“May I inquire as to why?”

Another pause.

“He… is strong,” the words came out as if torn from his throat.

“And yet he is only one, while the horde is many. I still do not see the cause for your reservations, my friend.”

“Numbers mean little to the strong,” he paused. “Would have been better to catch him before. Now that he’s crossed into forbidden lands… uncertain.”

“But…?” Second was momentarily at a loss for words. “I doubt even a joint effort of the four would be enough to overcome such odds. Not without sacrificing some of our member to the swarm at least. Are you telling me that you see this slave as more capable than the master’s chosen?”

Another silence followed, though Second didn’t need a response to understand the certainty held in the words unsaid. Third, while proud to a fault at times, was nevertheless renowned for his pragmatism. If he truly believed this slave to be that large of a threat…?

“And if the four sheathes were to join the hoard?” came a young female’s voice from immediately behind them. “What then?”

Second felt the overwhelming presence before he saw it and seemed to act even before then. They were both upon the intruder in a flash, though Second was just the slightest bit faster.

My will splits the air; my spear his claw unsheathed—let none stand before the master’s might.

His spearhead lanced forward like the fang of a lunging serpent—closing the distance between them in the time it took to blink. Sickly tendrils of greenish mist pulsed out from Second’s chest, wound down his arms, then ran along his spear-shaft to pool centimeters from its very tip. A churning ball that grew rapidly before their eyes. Growing until fist-sized, head-sized, and then as large as his torso before, all at once, the roiling mass of pulsing aura shrank down to that of a single liquid bead.

A droplet of condensed spearing force so terrifically potent that, when the tight bundle of aura was finally released, the very air seemed to howl in the wake of its passage.

Mantra: [Howling Spear-Thrust] (3rd Aspected)

Grade: (Good Quality)

 The missile crossed kilometers in the time between blinks, punched through several cavern walls as if they were made of paper, and ended the life of not one, but two misfortunate clan-born before the force it contained was entirely spent.

A split second later and a titanic tremor rocked the cavern floor as Third’s hammer came down just a hairs breadth behind. When the dust finally settled, a wide fissure split the cavern floor for as far as the eye could see.

“Well? I’m waiting~? If I recall correctly, hmm, oh yes, I do believe I asked you a question! Really now, I know his whole shtick is that he’s the “big brooding silent type” but I really must say I expected more from you Grey.”

Second spun around in shock, weapon held at the ready, though he was now far more hesitant to use it. This girl… this thing…! He hadn’t sensed even a ripple of aura or internal energy on her. For that matter, he hadn’t felt… well… anything at all! And yet somehow this small child had not only evaded his, but both of their strikes. Just who or what in the world was she…?

And then he played back her words in his mind, and his confusion only redoubled. Because she hadn’t been speaking the crude slave tongue of the surface dwellers, but the exalted tongue of the under. And not only that, but she’d known his first name. A name he’d gone to great lengths to erase. Second made to take a step forward, when a meaty paw landed on his shoulder. With a start, Second looked up to find Third with his massive hammer already lowered, gesturing for him to do the same. After a moment of hesitation, Second begrudgingly complied.

“To answer your question,” Third replied cautiously. “Were that the case, my worries would not burden me nearly so much as they do now. Although… it does remain an impossibility however.”

“Huh? And why’s that?”

Second was incredulous. Why was Third even humoring this… this… abnormality. This blasphemous, repugnant, inconceivable…!

“Because that accursed city is to us as a tunnel collapse is to a thriving community. It is death. That is why! Do you truly believe that it hasn’t been attempted before? The land is inimical to our very existence! The stones turn to hot coals under our feet! Creeping mists obscure visibility to no more than a digit's length in any given direction. Even the forbidden air turns to poison in our lungs!”

“Hmm? Oh, that? Beast wards and minor protections. A bit finicky seeing as they’re so old, but easily dealt with all the same. Oh! Does that mean that if I promised you all safe passage, you think you and your creepy little hoard would be enough to get the job done? Or do I need to find someone else better suited for the task?”

Second paused. For a long moment the two sheaths of the divine merely stared blankly at the small child. Who for her part, appeared rather peevish, despite her earlier presence—openly impatient as she waited for their response. As if they’d rehearsed it, the two sheaths turned to one another in unison. And then—surprising Second nearly as much as this entire interaction had thus far—the ever gruff, often stoic, and self-assured Third… shrugged.

*** 

Jun awoke to the burbling sounds of running water, and the weak slap of small waves lapping against his chest. Recalling where he was, he couldn’t help but smile. Keeping his eyes closed, he sank deeper into the pool and simply allowed his mind to drift on the serenity of the place. It’d been a stressful couple of days, and he knew the trials he’d have to face were still out there waiting for him, but for now, he decided? Right now, he figured it should be okay for him to just sit back and relax for… just another… minute or two…

Without warning a high-pitched squeal disrupted his peaceful tranquility. A whine that quickly morphed into a sinister growl. A growl which seemed to portend the end of the world. Immediately, Jun’s entire universe shrank down to a single point. An ever-expanding void at the center of his stomach. A series of reverberations rippling outward from that spot, as a bestial hunger he’d never before experienced woke up with a vengeance. It spread out from his core like a blazing inferno. Subsumed his every sense, every impulse, his very mind. To be replaced by the insatiable, uncontrollable, need to feed. It devoured anything and everything that made up what he was, and then—not yet satisfied—absconded with his very awareness as well.

Like a candles flame in a hurricane, all conscious thought was summarily extinguished.

***

When Jun awoke, he found himself lying prone on the slick tiles of the bathhouse, only recognizing belatedly that his body was seizing. He felt the cause before he saw it. And it only took him a brief peek to confirm how screwed he was. How it’d happened, he had no idea, but the reality was undeniable.

His body was nearly filled to bursting with excess amounts of spiritual energy—worse than any breathing rotation he’d ever experienced. The first thing he did was flare his aura before his mind could black out from the pain. Once a brittle sort of calm had reasserted itself, he acted.

Somehow, he managed to control his seizing muscles long enough to find and maintain a seated position. Once that was done, Jun surveyed his condition with a more critical eye. What he found there did not bring him much comfort.

He wasn’t just being flooded with spirit; he was being inundated with it.

His body was literally tearing itself apart, completely unprepared to handle so many conflicting energies all at once. The only bright side being the fact that said energies were too busy contending with one another to properly focus all their attentions on him. Though, again, that served as cold comfort when just the backlash of their clash was likely enough to kill him.

Looking more closely at the streams of energy, it was as if Jun had taken a handful of mending, spirit restoration, and meridian pills all at once. So that, while the spirit from the recovery pills were doing their best to ruin his channels, the rejuvenating energy from the meridian pills did their best to soothe the damage.

And as both of these opposing energies clashed, the conflict was constantly tearing  into him. Injuries which the healing energies were quick to fix. It was a fragile equilibrium, he could immediately tell, and one which wasn’t likely to last long.

Further forcing his limbs into the lotus position, he quickly began the [Leaf Follows the Current] breathing form, thinking to absorb what of the rampant energies he was able. Unfortunately, his dantien’s capacity only extended but so far, and he soon found himself unable to compress leaves fast enough to meet the demand. Thinking fast, he transitioned into the [Leaf Rides the Gale] breathing form and began pumping his diaphragm full of spiritual energy—funneling the churning rivers faster than he ever had before.

At first, the spirit fought him—racing through his meridians with such insane velocity that it wasn’t enough to simply guide it where he wanted it to go. Instead, he was forced to jerk and shove the energy around—strong-arming the spirit onto the correct pathways until that terrifying velocity was working to his advantage instead of against him.

In this way, his diaphragm filled up in record time. Made even more impressive by the fact that, if anything, he now held more energy in his diaphragm than he ever had before. Honestly, if it weren’t for the stupid levels of stubborn persistence he’d built up during his long flight across the expanse, Jun wasn’t sure whether he could’ve held the raging hurricane in check. It was definitely a feat he would’ve been incapable of even two days prior.

After an unspecified amount of time the influx of chaotic energies eventually slowed down to a reasonable pace. Jun wasn’t naïve enough to relax just yet, however. He knew that the trial was only just beginning. After all, he still had to release everything he’d taken in. A prospect that would’ve been daunting at the best of times, but with the ludicrous amounts of spirit he currently held…?

 No time like the present, he supposed.

And so, with another flare of his aura to bring about a cool head, he began to let out the first of many breaths to come.

  ————————————————————

 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.

Jun let out the last ragged sigh. After a long moment spent shivering amidst the puddle of sweat he’d accumulated, he managed to push himself unsteadily to his feet. Staggering past Ivory’s still unconscious form, he half dove, half flopped into the waiting pool—allowing the weak currents to wash away all the sweat, grime, and stress of the last five hours. When his head, at last, breached the surface, he didn’t make any efforts to get out, or even move. Instead, he simply took in the tranquil atmosphere and the lapping waves. Which, as it so happened, did wonders for his sore mind, if not his aching pathways.

Eventually, the persistent ache of his channels proved too much. Thankfully, he didn’t need to move to open up the system general store.

Greater Meridian Restoration Elixir (Rare) —

1,000,000 SP

 It was expensive, but he’d already begun to notice that the regular pills were losing a great deal of their efficacy, and this ordeal had likely only exacerbated the problem. He wasn’t sure if this was a normal phenomenon or not, but if it was, it gave some credence as to why cultivation was seen as the most expensive occupation in the world. He would have to be circumspect with how many of these elixirs he took from now on. If he grew some sort of tolerance to these as well, at some point he might just find himself too poor to cultivate. Especially without his discount to lean on.

Once the bottle had been drained, he allowed himself to float on his back while the soothing energies flowed through him in waves. Only when the ache had subsided completely, did he finally get around to deciphering what exactly just happened.

The answer came to him quickly enough. The fasting pills. He’d known that the side effects could be rather severe, but he apparently hadn’t fully appreciated just how severe until now. He now figured that, when he’d lost himself over to the hunger, his body had sought out the fastest method to sate itself. Some part of him must’ve remembered that at least one of the pills possessed the ability, and so he must’ve simply taken pill after pill until he found the right one. Jun could only be glad that the fasting pills had been his first idea. He shivered at the very real possibility of his waking to a mountain of freshly picked rat skulls and a sickening fullness in his belly.

Haunting possibilities aside, his supplies had more or less been cleaned out in the ordeal, speaking to just how many he had taken. Looking over his remaining stores more thoroughly, he was continually surprised that he’d survived at all. He would have to be extra careful with managing his hunger from now on. If that sort of unthinking haze overtook him during a fight, for instance…? After a moment of hesitation, Jun bought two dozen more of the fasting pills, then restocked on all the other necessities.

After which Jun stepped from the pool, looked down on the rags he’d once referred to as “clothes,” then down at his own naked body. He’d probably need something to wear as well, he decided. Skimming through the system store he immediately noticed an undisguised bias towards cultivation related wear and accessories. Sighing, he bought the first thing that caught his eye. He was partial to the form fitting suits of the colonial states himself, but he supposed beggars couldn’t really be choosers. He even managed to find an identical one in Ivory’s size.

Crimson Accented Cultivators Robe • Small (Unranked)—12,000 SP

8,000 SP (-25%)

Crimson Accented Cultivators Robe • Pocket-Sized (Unranked)—2,000 SP

1500 SP (-25%)

Two expertly folded robes, one normal and one in miniature, appeared with a flash of golden light. Unraveling the garments, he found that they were, indeed, clothes. His only real gripe being the fact that they didn’t appear to come with any instructions, whatsoever, on how in the world he was meant to put them on.

Fifteen especially frustrating minutes later, Jun stood in his brand-new set of cultivator's robes. It was black overall with red accents on the cuffs, waist wrap, and lapel, with loose cream trousers and footwear that kept to the black and red motif. Jun was somewhat annoyed to find it was actually rather comfortable. It was tight enough to feel secure, without being too restrictive.

The sleeves were loose, and the bottom half was form fitting enough—ignoring the flair of the robe beneath his waist—that it was doubtful he’d have trouble fighting whilst wearing it. Now if only it was easier to actually put on. He supposed real cultivators would have servants to do this sort of thing for them. Or else never take it off in the first place. A strategy which Jun was beginning to see the wisdom of.

Resources managed and robes acquired, Jun figured it was about time he finally dealt with something he’d been putting off for some time now. Making sure Ivory remained undisturbed—both because he knew she could use the sleep, and because he wasn’t quite ready to have that conversation just yet—Jun found a secluded room as far away from the bath house as the mansion allowed. And then, without any further ado, upturned his spacial pouch.

With a mental command, a near unending stream of beast heads rained down onto the dusty floor, each in differing stages of decomposition. The room instantly filled with the scents of rot and decay. Jun wrinkled his nose, wishing he’d brought a strip of cloth to cover it with. Rolling back and securing his voluminous sleeves, he cracked his neck and got to work. Those beast cores weren’t going to retrieve themselves.

An hour later he sat across from a glittering pile of round stones. By his count, he’d collected one-hundred sixty-five beast cores in total over the course of the last twenty-four hours. The rough equivalent of around a million spirit coins. Not a shy sum by any means. It was the kind of small fortune a tiny branch like his would probably kill for. And Jun, for his part, was contemplating destroying it. And while it undoubtedly went against his better nature, hard times made for hard decisions.

The fact of the matter was, he was still far too weak. He had more or less scraped by thus far, yet he knew in his heart that it still wasn’t enough.

He’d been struggling with this for quite some time now. Because, while what he could do now with his cutting mantra wasn’t anything to sneeze at, he was under no illusions that, when things really hit the fan, he was in any way prepared for the worst.

Now, the only question he was left with was, could he? Did he even dare? Could he incorporate another concept without crippling his cultivation? He didn’t know, and that in and of itself was rather concerning. Mostly because, if he went through with what he intended, his plans weren’t simply to incorporate one of the weapon concepts, but all of them.

He had felt it more than once in the last day. Like he was on the cusp of some greater understanding. As he ducked piercing thrusts, and countered waves of crushing aura, he’d felt a kinship towards the ideals that’d only increased with time. He’d observed the ways in which trained fighters adapted their movements to better resonate with their mantra’s. And while, at first, he’d done so more or less unconsciously, as the hours dragged on, and his mind sought out patterns, he began to see the waves of enemies in a different light entirely.

He’d begun to learn from them. Not in terms of their stances or fighting styles, per say—all of that stuff was still too far outside of his experience range—but instead, he began to comprehend how the concepts behaved in and of themselves. As strange as it’d been to wrap his head around, over the course of the last day, he’d become increasingly confident that the concepts themselves had a kind of sentience all their own.

In dismantling his opponents’ forces, he’d felt the innate differences between how a cleaving aura reacted to his ruby red blades, versus, say, an overbearing aura of crushing. The unique dispositions of each requiring him to shift the way he approached any given fighter.

First and foremost, crushing force—with its inclination towards destruction—needed to be destroyed utterly in turn. Dispersed before the cloud could gain too much volume, and therefore, momentum.

Meanwhile cleaving force had to be “cleaved” in turn, as it wouldn’t recognize any form of opposition that did not resemble its own. Annoyingly, if it even suspected it was being underestimated—or in other words, challenged by what it saw as an inferior force—it would only grow stronger and more obstinate in its charge. This usually resulted in those clashes being more a battle of wills than anything else—forcing Jun to layer one cut atop the other in rapid succession. Mimicking the resistance of a massive, hacking slash.

The oftentimes unpredictable nature of cutting needed to be matched blade for blade, and at the appropriate angle. As he’d come to realize, cutting force was incredibly dependent on precision. If the angle was just right, it was probably possible to sheer through just about anything. In that same way, however, a cutting blade could just as easily be shattered if struck at the precisely wrong angle. It was why his Sword Cyclone was both effective and fragile in equal measure.

By sprouting blades from his body at odd angles and setting them to spin, the likelihood of a blade striking something wrong and shattering under its own force, was just as likely as it slicing cleanly through at the perfect angle. Random, in other words. Although, when even the broken shards posed a sizable threat, it wasn’t as bad of a trade off as you might think.

Lastly, piercing force needed to be stopped immediately and overwhelmingly lest it pierce straight through any and all defenses. A lot like with the cleaving concept, through a consecutive series of slashes, it was possible to divert or even disrupt a piercing thrust—often feeling like he was shaving away the dense aura one layer at a time. For him, it was probably the hardest of the four to counter. To the point where he usually found it easier to simply dodge the piercing strikes altogether, rather than go through all the trouble of shaving down layer after layer of aura, only to be run through by the actual spear by the time he was finished.

All of that was to say that, while his system wasn’t foolproof by any means, it had given him an outlet to observe and experiment with concepts other than his own. And in doing so, he’d been able to attain a far greater grasp of each. Even still, a minor familiarity, obtained over the course of a mere day, was a far cry from enlightenment. He was well aware that cultivators spent mortal lifetimes accumulating small handholds like the ones he was describing without coming anywhere close to enlightenment. So, barring the bestowal of yet another ideal vision from a being well beyond his comprehension, he recognized that he’d have to get a bit… creative with his advancement.

Which ultimately brought him back to his current dilemma. Beast cores. Tallying them up by dint of their aura, he now had sixty-one crushing attuned cores, thirty-three cutting attuned cores, thirty-five piercing, and thirty-six cleaving. It was a lot of cores by anyone’s measure, but would it be enough, he wondered?

It has to be noted that raw beast cores are poisonous to humans. He wasn’t sure why that was exactly, but it was fairly common knowledge all the same. It would be suicidal to contemplate eating one of the little death marbles. Thankfully, that wasn’t exactly what Jun had in mind. No, instead he had something far worse planned. He was going to waste them. Because, while whatever was contained within the cores were deadly to consume, he knew for a fact that the conceptual soup swimming around inside them was not. That said, in order for him to release the little concept particles, he would need to shatter the things entirely.

And therein lied the problem. Because once a beast core’s shell was cracked, and the condensed truths of the beast’s concept released, the energies contained in what was left would slowly dissipate over time. Without the proper methods being applied, the core shards would degrade in less than a minute. Robbing them of their integrity, power, and most importantly, their value.

Nevertheless, refocusing on the task at hand, Jun reached forward and snagged one of the crushing attuned cores. All it would take was a simple spirit empowered flex, and the process would begin. But…? Jun placed the core back onto the pile. Before any of that unpleasantness, he still had some preparations left to make.