Eternal Star - DaoistMystery, DiabloSnowblind - Cradle Series (2024)

Chapter 1: Desolate Wilds

Chapter Text

I yawned and stretch my arms over my head, clawing for every inch of length as I wrung the tiredness out of my body. I failed in my endeavour, and instead just slumped over, staring tiredly at my screen that was playing some grand-strategy game walkthrough, amusingly titled 'Uniting all of Europe under the Church of Stan'.

I tabbed out and checked my pending assignments. Still three more to go, the earliest due in just a week. Ample time. I could put it off for a week then.

"Dinner's ready!" My younger sister shouted from outside my door.

"Already ate," I yelled back as I tabbed out from my university's portal and opened up Reddit, for a lack of better options. Was I in my university dorm, I'd probably get stoned and make my own fun, but unfortunately, the global pandemic that ravaged the entire planet had different ideas, and I was homebound, stuck at home if you will. I would even go as far as to say that I was-

A notification from my phone interrupted my musings, and I opened up Discord, viewing the messages of my internet friend. A Cradle CYOA. I groaned; I'd fill one out, and then continuously fantasize about my choices and the ensuing adventure until I found the motivation to put it all down, and eventually get bored of it.

Then again, this was Cradle. How much of a grand adventure would that be? An exercise in pain, more like it.

> BuddhistUnrevealed: You're playing with fire, my friend

> EpicureanGrapes: Just fill it ouuut. I wanna see what your choices are

> BuddhistUnrevealed: Simple. A mercy kill. Or better yet, an obscene utterance involving a Monarch.

> EpicureanGrapes: How about 'By Malice's Gorilla-Grip Pussy'

> BuddhistUnrevealed: How about no.

> EpicureanGrapes: 'By Northstrider's Washboard Bara Tiddies!'

> BuddhistUnrevealed: Bah. You're the worst. Okay. I'll check it out. If only to take a break from you

I opened up the link to the website, and felt a slight shudder go through me as I saw the pitch-black screen.

My room got darker. My lights weren’t on, and the only source of light was my window. A cloud must have passed overhead.

Text appeared on the screen, a bold, stark white that contrasted sharply with the background.

Fate will realign and reality will alter to accommodate your presence, protecting you from Abidan reprisal

The text then disappeared.

Roll for willpower.

The number ‘1’ appeared on-screen, white like the text above it, and became smaller as more numbers appeared around it, minimizing further and further until all the numbers were just dots. Dots that were covering a black sphere that looked perfectly smooth. The background was now white.

The sphere was clearly a die so many-sided that it might as well have just been a sphere. Strange. Appropriately, above the die hung its name, the D10,000,000. I blinked, and cracked a grin at that.

I clicked the die, and it shook for a moment, before landing on some surface. I couldn’t see what it was until the die zoomed in on the number, revealing a rather ludicrous roll.

3,054,212

Two more rolls.

90,432.

One more.

9,000,899

“...Only one in a hundred Lowgolds ever make it to Highgold. The same holds true between Highgold and Truegold. Between Truegold and Underlord? One in a thousand.”

Lowgold: Any number

Highgold: >9,900,000

Truegold: >9,999,000

Underlord: >9,999,999

Um.

Okay.

The odds of getting a good roll were astronomically low. As astronomically low as it was to canonically be above Lowgold, I guess. Fair. The fact that this was quantified by ‘willpower’, however, was interesting. It wasn’t as if that was a hard-set resource that couldn’t be increased, right?

Judging by this, however, I had the potential to become a high Lowgold without additional willpower training, the website helpfully supplied. Ah, neat. I was just barely above fodder.

After pressing next, a list of benefits and drawbacks showed up on the screen, many of which affected my personality, some of them going as far as to affect the world itself or my own talents and skills. There was stuff like Selfless, Charismatic, and Extreme Luck, all of which took away anything from hundreds and thousands to millions of willpower points. The drawbacks were a lot more brutal, and added more willpower as a result.

Out from them, I picked... Adrenaline Junkie, and Cold Heart.

I felt something stir in my heart at that. Something… deep.

Perhaps I’d get more mileage out of this CYOA than I had imagined? This truly excited me.

The former gave me a proclivity for high-risk situations, and a penchant for seeking out mortal danger just to feel some sort of high, and the latter prevented me from feeling regret after killing. It'd be hard to flourish in a world without at least that much. It was a pretty terrible way to live, not being able to feel regret from killing, but needs must, and I'd rather not be wracked by guilt for the rest of my life for ending the life of someone that wanted to refine my corpse into a pill.

That set me at nine point nine millies and change, putting me just above the cut for Highgold.

...I was nowhere near making the cut for Truegold, let alone Underlord, so I decided to shave a little off the top to afford myself something nice. I picked the benefit 'Good-looking' because why the hell wouldn't I?

There was a page after the benefits and drawbacks titled missions. These were anything from 'become Emperor of Blackflame' to 'Kill every Dreadgod'. They added no extra benefits in terms of willpower points, but I supposed they were meant for giving whatever story you were writing a direction.

I sent my choices to my friend, and I tabbed out to watch some Netflix until he came back to me about them.

> EpicureanGrapes: You should have picked 'Monarch Butterflies', so minor actions wouldn't completely derail the future

> BuddhistUnrevealed: I sorta skimmed the list. But yeh.

> EpicureanGrapes: You rolled a lucky one for Highgold, but here's the deal. You're gonna have to train your willpower eventually if you want to reach Overlord and up, so why not splurge on the really costly bennies, the ones that cost millions?

> BuddhistUnrevealed: I think you're underestimating the difficulty of training your willpower. I mean, I'm approaching this situation very much with the attitude that I'm under duress, and I need to find a way to live in Cradle as comfortably as possible given the horrible circumstances I found myself in. Hell, I only picked Cold Heart cuz I'm afraid of PTSD.

> EpicureanGrapes: You're fucking lame, man. That's all imma say. Think about it; SUPERPOWERS.

>BuddhistUnrevealed: You make a cogent argument. I'll get back to you.

Okay, so... assuming I could get past the willpower training, what benefits would serve me best going into Cradle with the chief concern being attaining epic superpowers?

What could I do to elevate my position in the world?

The answer was simple: ride the coattails of the plot-armored main characters, to throw in my lot with Eithan and friends. From there, I was confident in the selection I had made.

'Friendly Encounter of the Smug Kind' so I would meet Eithan early on, 'Monarch Butterflies' to prevent minor actions from affecting the entire world unduly, more or less keeping me on track with the stations of canon until I did something exceptionally boat-rocking, 'Historian' so I wouldn't forget any details of canon Cradle among other useful things, and finally, 'Mind Reborn', a fix for disorders like depression and anxiety, protecting you from their effects for a full year until you cultivated enough willpower to handle them without the aid.

The willpower training would have been more potent with those things weighing me down, but I'd rather take the opportunity to feel less restrained than try to pretend I was a determinator that could overcome anything.

I sent it to Grapes, and he reacted with a bunch of smiling emotes.

> EpicureanGrapes: Now we're talking! 'Historian' is going a little on the safe side.

> BuddhistUnrevealed: It's got an 'Eidetic Memory' passive. That'll help me regardless. And I'm not a wiki warrior like you, so I can't be assed to remember every little detail of the series.

> EpicureanGrapes: I suggest you switch out 'Historian' for 'Battle Talent' tho.

I checked out the benefit. It let me learn to fight with prodigious ease and gave me immense benefits for advancement when putting my life at risk. The latter was a passive under the name of 'Edge of your Blade'.

> BuddhistUnrevealed: Hard work is better than talent. Plus, even with the increased learning ability for fighting-based skills, 'Historian' still lets me retain perfect memory of things, so I'd still learn fast.

> EpicureanGrapes: Yeh, but. You're conflating good memory for increased ability to learn skills. They're not the same, bro.

> BuddhistUnrevealed: Okay, then, chalk it down as an opportunity cost. Besides, I'd have to put on an extra drawback just to afford it, and I'd be risking my life too often just for the 'Edge of your Blade' passive. With Adrenaline Junkie, I'd be dead before the year’s end.

> EpicureanGrapes: Any chance I could persuade you to pick Blood Shadow drawback? It's free willpower training, and a smooth ride to Herald once you fuse with yours in the Archlord stage.

> BuddhistUnrevealed: It'd be a one out of ten likelihood to just survive the implantation. Surviving long enough to reach Archlord? I might as well say the panic words and let Malice or Northstrider smite me.

> EpicureanGrapes: The panic words? What are those?

> BuddhistUnrevealed: You're not gonna make me say them.

> EpicureanGrapes: You mean...?

> BuddhistUnrevealed: Don't.

> EpicureanGrapes: By Malice's

> BuddhistUnrevealed: STOP!

> EpicureanGrapes: Gorilla-Grip

> BuddhistUnrevealed: I'm blocking you.

> EpicureanGrapes: Kitten?

> BuddhistUnrevealed: It was a close one, too. I was hovering my cursor over the block button.

> EpicureanGrapes: Phew. Anyway, I'll get back to you about a table-top Cradle campaign.

> BuddhistUnrevealed: Really now? How will you combat the Munchkinry?

> EpicureanGrapes: Simple: what you picked in the CYOA will be your major traits, and no stations of canon, so no Ghostwater to take advantage of. Don't you regret not picking the Blood Shadow now?

> BuddhistUnrevealed: Wow. No, I actually like that. Did you do this with the others?

> EpicureanGrapes: Yup. Intransigent got pretty mad cuz she took a pretty safe route, picking Soulsmith and Refiner skills, but Torburn decided he'd go out with a bang if he ever got Cradle'd, so he'll probably have the strongest character. And the most unstable. He split his core five ways and made himself a living resonance launcher with HEPW and diamond veins.

I laughed.

> BuddhistUnrevealed: That's fucking nuts ngl.

> EpicureanGrapes: Tell me about it. He's gonna have to be a glass cannon to balance it out. I̷ ̵w̵i̸l̶l̷ ̵n̵o̶t̵ ̵a̸b̵i̴d̴e̶ ̷w̷i̸t̴h̶ ̴a̴ ̷m̷u̵n̷c̶h̵k̸i̶n̶ ̷i̸n̵ ̸m̴y̵ ̶c̵a̵m̶p̶a̸i̸g̵n̴.̷

> BuddhistUnrevealed: Zalgo-text? Really?

> E̵̥͛̎͂p̸̘̀͘͝ǐ̶̢͈͉͓̕͘ĉ̶͚̙̹̦͋͗͋u̴̳͍͉̍͝r̴̫̊̚ḙ̷̠̉̇̇a̷͍̝̥̔ǹ̷͚͛̔G̵̢͓̜̲̀r̷͙̗̓̏͌a̴̬͌̄͗ͅṕ̷̮e̷̱̋̄s̶̝̜̝̜͊: Ẅ̸̡̥̼́h̸͉̽͗̏ḁ̵̬̼͌̃̓t̴̩̳͕͕̔ ̶̖̄d̷̞̫̠̟͂̎̍ȯ̷̠̯̠͋ ̴͙̗̈́̄̚͝y̷̟̼̘̗̔̍̕͝o̷̢͇͔̮̊u̶͔̰̻̬͛͌͠ ̵̣͙̳̌͂͗̃m̶̞̜͔̈́ę̷̹̠̰̀̆a̴̭̻̤̹̐̊̀͆n̶̪̜̉̎͑̔?̶̨͓̽̐̔͝

> BuddhistUnrevealed: Dude, I can barely read your text

> Ę̸̨͙̞̱̫̪̬͓̩̘̯̻͍̫̮̝̿̃̋͋̈̇̈̾͝͝͝p̸̡̢̼̝̰̮̯̘͍̪̻̙̠̳̦̔̓̋̒̋̇̀̅̋̄̂̕͝͝͝ć̶̝̪̩͔ư̵͇̙̿̆̄͂͌͒̂̾̔̈́̉̐͝ỏ̸̡̨̢̡͖̹̳̭͖͑̽̾̓͘r̵̨̧̠͚̲̻͈͍̳̺̥̥̩͕̱̱̪̝͛́̑͑͊ạ̶̬͚̰͊͊̐̊̈́̂͑̇̾͛̋̓̂̕͘͝n̸̦̣̂̈̂̀͋̌̉͛̇̎͒͂̃̏̉̈́̕̕͠͠G̷̨̧̧̣̤̻̘̪͔̤͎͔͎̫̮͒̽̈́͗̀̚ͅr̵̢̲̪͇̗̱͉̭̣͕̞͕̭͙̤̼̻̾̆̐̓̆ͅơ̶̛̫͓̩͚̎͊̉̉̒͆̍͋̎͑̊͒͂p̸̢̢̢̤̤͈͖̥̥̝̹͙̾̇̃̈́͌ĕ̵̞͚̲̈́̈́̿͜s̴̢̤̖̻̞̩̟̟͙̜̦̖̟̦͎̪̬̯̝̰̋̋͑̆̾̊̑͊͐́̚͝ :You have made your selection

> BuddhistUnrevealed: Hahah. Is this the part where you fling me through space-time?

> Ȩ̷̼̤̲͖̞͕̫̗͖͎̮̳̪̔̂̄͂̄͒̔͗̕͘͘̚͠͝ͅp̴͙̩͓̫͎̜͙͛̒̂̅̓̑͘ͅớ̴̜̣̯̯̅̎̿̄̊́̈́̂́̿͛̌̊̕͘͝g̵̡̛̛͈̼͖̪̭̦̺̙͖̼̹̹̎͌͐͆̄̃̆͐̎͌̚͝͝͝r̶̡̧̧̢͚͓͔̻̩͔͕͔͖̘̼̭͕̮̎̇̉̂̐̚̚͘ȯ̴̡̮͚̘͔̰͖̳̰̮̖̺͊̐̐͘ơ̷̢̖̏̄̅̄̒͆͌̾̾͋̎͘C̷̢͈͉̖̞̹͊ͅR̶̛̭̺͙̄͗͌͐͑̅͑̏̓͛̐͗̒͑͘͝͝Ą̵͍̱͈̻͕̟͂͒̉͗͌̽P̴̞̱͎͎̈́̆̏̓͘E̶͔̩̘̭͆͒̐̀̽̑̀̐̓̆̽͛́̔̽͛̕͝͝Ś̵̡͇̲͈̮̳̱̥̰̱͙̙̿: Will you confirm your selection?

> BuddhistUnrevealed: Okay. I confirm. Now what?

My laptop shut off. Darkness spread from the black screen, into my room, spreading through the walls like a spill of oil, until nothing remained but blackness, and myself at the center of an unyielding void. Out from it, a book appeared. A black book with white pages. Within those pages was writing.

Writing that described all of reality.

I opened my mouth to scream.

000

Dessicated trees in a dead forest. Sounds of war in the far distance. Death in the air, a thick, cloying, putrid stench. Nothing made sense. I wasn’t supposed to be here. I had no business being in a place like this. I couldn’t remember coming here, either. I walked around like a zombie, turning around, over and over again, trying to see something different. Instead, it was all the same. Dead trees. Stench. Howls.

It was a bunch of little things that shook me out of my funk. Everyone around me had some form of strange, supernatural deformity or other, at least enough of them that I could assume that the rest hid theirs underneath articles of clothing. Flocks of beggars with huge fish-hooks had webbed fingers, groups of spear-wielding warriors showing off their weapon mastery had hair that looked more like helmets, a solid mass with a metallic shene, reflecting the searing shine of the sun. There were those with hammers of various sizes adorning them, a cloud hovering overhead each of them, and the most disconcerting bunch had serpentine centipedes growing out from their arms, coiled around them, or otherwise hissing like teakettles towards their rivals. I was in a cleared-out forest as well, men and women going about their work, some hefting impossible burdens while others dragged around carcasses of horrifying beasts of nightmare and dissected remains of translucent ghosts.

There was the enormous pyramid that likely could have taken up the entire size of my university campus as well, and the lake right next to it. All tiny things that picked at something in my brain and added up to a single conclusion, one that I had made mercifully quickly before I could have been incidentally splattered across the street by the errant backhand of a busy pedestrian who only thought they were pushing past me.

I was not in Kansas anymore.

And then, of course, came the panic. I evacuated from people pretty quickly and stuck to the sidelines, keeping away from others as much as I could as I hyperventilated, both from the effort of running, and from sheer terror. They gave me weird looks, the ones that were close enough to me in the social stratum to sometimes wander within a radius of five meters to me, but they minded their business and continued on with what they were doing.

There was no question that I was in Cradle. The Transcendent Ruins were out, and considering how the place still looked exceedingly busy, it had been out for quite some time. Since I couldn’t recall seeing a tall guy and his sword-armed companion, it meant that our main characters were either inside the pyramids, or things had only begun to kick up in terms of development.

Things were still being built, like the enormous palisades that likely kept out the hordes of dreadbeasts, so I was inclined to believe that I hadn’t come too late to be rescued by the only person with enough time on his hands to transform me from a mook to a breathing being with human rights in this world.

A Friendly Encounter of the Smug Kind.

Fuck. I should never have completed that form. What the fuck was I thinking?

“Eithan,” I whispered. I didn’t say Arelius, because there was no telling how well the Lowgolds around me could hear, so I didn’t want to take any chances on an early alert. That said, Eithan’s name would not be enough to get his attention. It was likely I wasn’t even pronouncing it correctly; these people weren’t speaking English, after all.

“Eithan,” I repeated, pronouncing it like the audiobook instead of how I usually imagined it; a basic ‘Ethan’. Then, “Ey-thaan.” I looked around, and unfortunately, no blond, shit-eating Underlord approached me.

“Tiberian,” I said. I would have moved on with ‘Reigan Shen’, but I wasn’t about to say any living Monarch’s full name if I could ever actually help it. “Tiberian,” I pronounced it again, this time sounding less English and more Latin, turning the i into an e and the a into an ah sound. “Ozriel, Abidan.”

After the first ten minutes, I ran out of hope. After the first hour, I found myself crying, hiding my face on a tree as I sobbed for all I was worth. After three hours, and the sun slowly approaching the horizon, I continued saying names just because it was something to do.

"Eithan. Tiberian. Cladia. Ozriel. Eithan. Tiberian. Cladia. Ozriel. Eith-"

A stream of calm and somewhat amused gibberish sounded from behind me,. If I had to put a name to the voice by referencing a voice actor, it would be Keith Silverstein. I jumped up in a start, my heart thundering in my chest as I turned around and came face-to-face with the person I knew I was looking for. Blond, blue-eyed, voluminous hair, flowing blue and white outer robes of exceedingly high fashion-taste for the usual rabble in this place, and a permanent smirk that looked surgically fastened, Eithan was everything I imagined, and at least three times as good looking. The Sacred Arts really did the body good.

"Eithan?!" I shouted. "Oh my god, I'm so happy to see you. You have noidea-"

“Eithan,” he pronounced it subtly differently and I nodded.

“Eithan,” I said. Okay, I would have to handle this one a little delicately. I needed him to know that I had information I could exchange for a good path, which would make him more inclined to take me in and keep me alive. There was, frankly, no option for an illiterate foreigner like me but him.

I pointed towards my tummy, and said “Madra.” I shook my head while gesturing negatively, shaking my head and crossing my arms. The strangest invasive sensation overcame me like earthworms were pressing themselves through my digestive tract, and for a moment, I thought I was developing an intense nausea, that there was something in the air that a Pre-Copper scrub like me could actually succumb to. I groaned at the agony, but just as I did, the sensation vanished completely, like it had never existed to begin with. Eithan’s considering and somewhat remorseful look clued me in that it was him. It didn’t take much longer for me to connect the dots, that he was using his Jade sense, his spiritual perception. He muttered something under his breath, but looked suitably fascinated. Hopefully it meant that I wasn’t crippled, but rather at the starting line with all the other newborns of this world.

I pointed towards my head now. “Ozriel. Abidan.” I gestured vaguely outwards. “Future.” That one wouldn’t have done anything for him. I felt stupid for even trying. Okay, what else, what else? “Jai Daishou,” I said. “ Shen ,” I said. "Meow," I added for extra measure and the guy chuckled. Eithan nodded along, more and more fascinated. I pointed at him, then at my mouth. “Help.”

He nodded in self-satisfaction and gestured for me to follow. We kept away from the foot traffic of the constantly jogging denizens of Cradle, navigating through the crowds expertly, though it felt like a whole hour had passed since this trek had started and my legs were almost about to give out.

It didn’t end all the way until we arrived at a nondescript building that looked like someone had inserted it directly on the ground without a cement foundation or prior preparation to speak of. It was made of wood and painted red, minimally decorated, and seemed to be the size of a normal motel. Eithan took me in, translucent blue coins exchanging hands with the receptionist, and we arrived at our room in good time.

There was a bed, a desk and a table, but nothing else. He pulled multi-colored river stones out of his void key by the handful, creating a neat pile on the table without a single shred of effort, balancing them like they were made for that precise purpose. Still, try as I might, I couldn’t hide the awe from my expression. Upon realizing where I was, I tried to keep my head down so as to not overload my brain with all the impossibilities of this new world, looking away from Remnants, or not overly focusing on those with supernatural strength. Coming face to face with it all, it was all I could do not to just gush my excitement all over him.

He conjured another scale, though whether he produced it by sleight of hand or from his own power, I couldn’t tell. He muttered gibberish to me and gestured towards the bed. I did. He reached over to close my eyes and poke me on my stomach. I felt a stab of self-consciousness at the contact but got the picture. I closed my eyes and tried to feel for my core.

He poked me again, but this time, something else followed. Power in the form of heat crawled through me harmlessly and settled on a diffuse patch of heat that always was there. With that new injection, I could feel it. It was a floating smudge that looked like God had accidentally left it inside me and had forgotten to clean it out.

He touched my chest and repeated a phrase several times that I assumed meant ‘breathe’. He pushed my chest in to stop me from breathing too far, and told me to go deeper when necessary, repeating the action until I had settled on an uneasy, strange and exceedingly uncomfortable rhythm. It felt like I was manually trying to calm my breathing after walking up the stairs so people wouldn’t realize I was exactly as unfit as I looked like. I opened my eyes, and he nodded proudly at me.

He gave me the scale and sucked a breath sharply, and gestured for me to repeat the action. I held the scale tightly, and when I inhaled, the scale broke apart almost instantly and became power that flowed into my hands, lighting up channels along my arms and chest until it finally settled on my core.

The new influx of power was enormous, easily engulfing my meager stores until I was more scale than personal madra.

Good, good. A few more of these, and I might make Copper! Surprisingly, that idea genuinely elated me. I felt like a normal human right now, so Copper would actually make me superhuman, and that was only the beginning of my journey! I was on Eithan’s side, and I had information to trade. I would have to be set up for life after this.

And as for making lifelong friends and allies, my winning personality would do the rest of the job.

I gave him a wide grin. “You’re pretty awesome, Eithan ,” I said. “Now, what’s next on the agenda?”

He handed me a pink riverstone. “Madra,” he said, creating a stream of power for me to see that led from him to the tablet. That confirmed my suspicion that those were dream tablets. He handed the stone to me gently, and I appreciated the gesture. Slowly, I willed a tendril of power from my core, through the madra channels in my hand and into the tablet.

We cannot be together, Arlo! Our stars are crossed!

Wherefore would thou deny the amorous interplay coursing betwixt ourselves?

Oh, ruinous joy and happy sorrow, thine clan and mine sect shall never reconcile! Leave, and never return, lest I never forget you!

It felt like hours had passed as ideas settled and my mind slowly caught up to the language used in the story. It was disorienting, and not at all painless as headaches wracked my insensate self for what felt like hours, but when I finally came to, I felt somewhat confident in my language skills.

Well, now I knew Eithan Arelius liked steamy gay romance novels chock-filled with tumult. “From the incredible imagination of Marcus Anibius,” Eithan explained to me, and somehow, I understood . My brain wasn’t following his words in real time, so it always took a few seconds before I registered them, but every word I heard in that dream tablet was stuck to my brain with extreme persistence. “His were the classics that established the star-crossed romance genre and his conventions have persisted for thousands of years. What I just treated you to was the purest expression of Anibius’ skills as a romance dream-author.” Relaxing my mind made understanding faster, I soon discovered.

I bit my lower lip to dim my elation so I could at least participate in the conversation. “I might offend you with my opinion, then, that I believe romance should not be the main focus on any story, but rather an inevitable result of good character interaction and other developments.” Eithan looked at me in wide-eyed shock, but nodded rapidly.

“You do not offend me!” Eithan said excitedly as he came to sit next to me. The sudden proximity put me off-guard, but his chattering eased me into it pretty quickly. “But surely, you can suspend your own taste in order to judge Anibius’ work by the merits of what he wanted to achieve, rather than your own criteria. If so, what did you think?”

I nodded impressedly. “ Very genre-defining and epic in scope. I’m still awash with the emotions of what I just witnessed, and I don’t think I can quickly forget the plot at all. I’m feeling a little tempted to write some notes of my own, really, steal some of the ideas or try some permutations of them.”

“A writer, then?” He asked. "As well as a linguist?" Ah, Historian was already paying its dividends then. That explained his earlier shock. The dream tablet wasn't meant to teach me the language, just give me enough of an idea of it that he could maybe do the rest.

I smiled wryly. “Everyone’s a writer, really. I just… actually write, I suppose,” he chuckled politely at that. “That said, I really did enjoy the book. What was it titled?”

“The Undying Love,” he said. “There isn’t a continent in the world where it hasn’t been bestselling at some point, and I struggle to imagine how a burgeoning writer never encountered it.” Ah, he was flattering me now.

“Same reason I never knew any Cradle languages,” I revealed. “And the same reason why I have no sacred arts. I do feel like I’m on the backfoot, however, in this cultural exchange,” I said.

“Well, naturally,” he interjected.

“I would like to show you some of my own favorites,” I said. “From my own world. We have our own convention of fiction about powerful individuals in secret identities protecting the weak from also-disguised villains, and they do it all in costume! It sounds rather silly, but it’s a favorite for a reason.”

“We have time, I believe,” he said. “If you think so, I suppose. You did have a lot of interesting things to say when you still weren’t speaking our language. I would not like to pry into your origins or make our interactions sourer than they have to. I would simply begin by asking what you want.”

I smiled honestly. “You’ll find that I’m exceedingly easy to work with,” my smile fell. “ I think. Actually, my request won’t be easy to fulfill at all, but I will still make it. I want to follow you and your future friends to the end of the sacred arts, change Cradle for the better, fulfill Ozriel’s vision and make my mark on all of existence.”

His smile froze, and he nodded a little shakily. I flapped the unflappable! Achievement Get. “You are… eerily well-informed.”

“My information is only worth you following a very specific script of the future,” I admitted. “And is riddled with holes, but I can guarantee that it is enough to have you living with a peace of mind for at least three years, if you play your cards right.”

He nodded. “And you want a Path in recompense and to follow my dream into a better future.”

I nodded. “I just genuinely like your vision, it’s… it’s better than what we currently have, and somebody should work to realize this. I can help you. If you help me first. Help me help you.”

He nodded and paused for a moment. “Well… I’m not going to candy my words, but… I highly doubt your chances of ever advancing past Lowgold. You’re just… riddled with softness, the stuff that infants are made of, stuck to you so persistently that burning it all away and creating the calluses necessary to shield you from the world could just as easily break you as make you. What it will do, guaranteed, is alter you beyond your current personality, and not necessarily for the better. This will remain true if you wish to follow me far enough into the sacred arts. Do you understand?”

I clenched my fists and nodded meekly. “I didn’t choose to be in this situation, but I trust that you know what to do with me.” Eithan would know what was best for my future growth, but he wouldn’t prioritize my sanity coming out the other side. That was all on me.

The sacred arts would be the most difficult thing I would ever experience, more difficult than anything else in the world.

But… if advancements got rid of any lingering mental hangups, if I could cultivate my will alongside my actual power, then couldn’t I grow to create a mind that would handle the rigors of suffering for power? Would I be more ready once I hit Copper? I could only hope, because as I was, I genuinely didn’t think I was mentally powerful enough to reach for the heights that Eithan had in mind for himself.

“This isn’t to say I don’t believe in you,” Eithan corrected. “In fact, belief does not even factor into it. I know how far I can elevate someone who will allow me, and if you are so eager to follow along my dreams, then I can only oblige your desire. I must ask, however; are you sure this is what you want? There are an infinite number of Paths that can let you live a happy, sedate life. I will formally adopt you as an Arelius and you may enjoy yourself for the rest of your days, even.”

“Stop,” I said, closing my eyes. It was tempting. All too tempting. I wasn’t some shonen hero with a lust for power. I was just a… guy.

Then why not accept his offer?

Because I didn’t want to remain irrelevant for the rest of my life, either. I wanted permanence, to make a mark on the world. I wanted to live for as long as I wanted and roam the world, exploring all its manifold mysteries without the ticking timer of mortality counting down on me. Immortality was within reach, and I’d be a fool not to fight tooth and nail for a piece of that timeless pie. I wanted tolive, and not be beholden to greater powers. I wantedfreedom,the freedom that only power could grant.

I would also like to save people, to be the hero. Now, I could .

I had to at least try before giving up. I couldn’t throw in the towel this early.

“You may ruin me,” I said. “Or you may build me up, alter my personality and turn me into a sacred artist in truth. I’m not sure if I should even grieve the loss if that comes to pass. Actually, I’m certain I shouldn’t. You can’t shy away from growth, and if that is within reach…” I tried not to think too hard about how woefully unequipped I was for this task. I was never number one in any meaningful metric in my former life, in the great before, but now I was aiming for universal acclaim. “I will do my best to endure.” I gave him a nervous smile. It was all I could really promise anyway, all I could really give. “And when it’s all said and done, we may still discuss the finer points of genre fiction.”

He smiled fondly. “You know my name, friend, but I never caught yours.”

A name, huh.

This was a new world, and Eithan had vowed to destroy the old me, so it only stood to reason that my old name would be obsolete as well.

I looked out the window of the cheap inn, wondering if there was a word that fit the current me. I was an empty vessel, but the emptiness was what made me special, different. I was potential, a glass, an empty canvas vast and blank like the sky. My potential under Eithan’s ministrations was limitless after all.

“Glassy Sky,” I said. It was a promise, too, to reach the ends I never imagined I once could.

And, I guess, I just really liked the song.

“What would you like to be called?” Eithan asked.

“Sky,” I said.

“Glassy Sky Arelius, then,” Eithan nodded in satisfaction. “Now, I hate to be blunt, but do you have anything for me right now, Sky?”

I leaned forward. “Now, Eithan,” I said. “You came to the Desolate Wilds for some prospective disciples. You would find two, unless you’ve already found them.”

He shook his head. “Describe them, if you would.”

“Wei Shi Lindon hails from the Sacred Valley,” he said. “To the west. It’s a cursed region where no sacred artist advances past Jade. He was particularly untalented, so his clan never bothered to teach him the sacred arts. His is an interesting story filled with twists and turns, but the essence is he got out along with the disciple of the now-deceased Sage of Endless Swords, Yerin. They’re companions, and Lindon managed to gain her loyalty and protection for long enough that someone teaches him a Path or two—ah, his core is split, so he thinks that will let him learn two Paths.”

Eithan’s smile was practically shark-like. “How very, very fascinating.”

I shrugged. “They’ll run into trouble with the Sandvipers, Lindon will accidentally kill their Highgold heir, and he’ll be embroiled in a life-or-death duel a year from now to save his life. Ultimately, he chooses to learn the Blackflame Path while keeping one core pure in order to cleanse his madra channels of corrosive build-up. Really sets the foundation for a powerful Path.”

“His cores are both pure?” Eithan asked.

“I’m not sure both of them are at Copper, yet. Tiny details, so don’t get too worried if I don’t have perfect recollection of the events. Yes, he is all yours, however.”

He nodded. “ And I just found them. Blade-arm Goldsign and a tall, angry boy with an oversized backpack, yes?”

“Yes,” I nodded.

“Okay,” He nodded. “You may already know, but I’ll be taking them into the Transcendent Ruins for some much-needed training. I will be gone for a few weeks, meaning you will have to stay here and never leave your room. I picked this hotel because it’s of a low enough quality that no one will choose to just rob it, so as long as you remain in the room and wait for me to collect you, you will be completely safe.”

He gestured towards a closed door in the room. “There’s a toilet, and meals come in thrice a day. You can use the other dream tablets so you won’t only be speaking my ancestral language, and I will be back in a few hours with a Parasite Ring that you are in dire need of. I expect you to spend all your time taking in scales and cycling madra to take you to Copper as soon as possible. When I am back, I would like to hear more thoughts about a Path that you might want to choose. Can I leave you alone here for so long?”

I closed my eyes. “That will be highly unpleasant, but I can manage. By the time I left my world, there was a plague. Mastering the art of not seeing each other was a necessity.” I’d be telling my kids about that one regardless if I ever got to go home again. ‘When I was your age, I’d die if I stepped foot outside!’ Now, it wouldn't even be an exaggeration.

“Oh,” he said. “Is that the reason why your hair is so…”

I covered my head. “It’s meant to be this curly, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Obviously. It’s just very unkempt,” he raised his hands in a placating manner. “All I’m saying is, you could stand to do more about your appearance.”

I rolled my eyes. “Advice taken.” That said, I really did need to fix myself up now that going out wasn’t a thing that could endanger me or my loved ones.

Hah, it would only endanger me at best.

He stood up to leave the room. “See you later then, Sky.”

It took me a moment to register that he was talking to me, but I found that I quite liked the sound of it. “You too, Eithan.”

000

While Eithan had spoken with the newest Arelius, Lindon and Yerin had managed to sneak out of the Jai inn that their braggadocious host with ill intent sequestered them inside. Now surrounded by enemies, it would not be long before the Sandvipers collected what they thought they were due, killing or crippling the Lowgold sword artist that had humiliated one of theirs. Of course, Eithan would not let any of that happen, and risk losing two such promising students, one with an empty spirit with limitless potential, and another one trained by the Sage of Endless Swords himself.

He would, of course, let them struggle for a bit. It built character, and it was so very entertaining as well. Then again, could a petty diversion really compare to the excitement of his meeting with this Glassy Sky? From the outset, his presence had shocked him. Eithan had spent hours observing him as he muttered names no one in all the Desolate Wilds, the Empire, or even this continent should know, words that betrayed an understanding of the world so deep that he knew he was dealing with someone formidable, and perhaps even someone... out of this world.

At first, his observation was an invitation for the man to seek him out, but when it grew increasingly clear that he had not noticed Eithan's constant metaphysical staring, and the dense web of his bloodline legacy wrapping around every inch of his body, Eithan took it upon himself to make the first and approach him, afterwards burrowing into his spirit with an emphatic scan with his Jade sense, one that could penetrate through even the most thorough veil, or at the very least, detect the presence of such a veil.

Instead of taking the scan like it was nothing, thus also giving away a measure of his power, the man grimaced in obvious agony, one too pure to have been faked. Eithan prided himself on his perception, so he could tell that this was his true reaction.

As far as most random encounters went, this one was the most bizarre that Eithan had ever experienced. Hands down. Very little could ever approach the strangeness of dealing with someone privy to information they should have had absolutely no way of knowing in the first place like they had just plucked it from your mind. It was just as well that there were still some... substantial holes in his purported knowledge.

Eithan had grown too used to being the man in charge, a director that strung along a multitude of puppets towards a direction only he could perceive, but now that role was entirely reversed and he could no longer see the strings. Perhaps this man was now the puppeteer, and himself just a simple puppet?

He even found himself entertaining a trickle of fear towards this newcomer, fear that he was being lied to, played by someone so weak, yet so knowledgeable. A part of Eithan had demanded he press him for all the information he was worth, but there was a deeper instinct, still, that advised him to remain peaceful, to let the mystery unfold organically and trust that it was not malevolent. After all, if he was being played by a hypothetical all-powerful entity capable of running circles around his perception, then the outburst of an Underlord, even one as formidable as him, would not save his life.

He set all those thoughts aside, and adopted a simple paradigm, one that would serve him better than paranoia would: Glassy Sky was a weakling with valuable information, and had entered into a transaction with Eithan. All he had to do, now, was fulfill his end of the bargain.

There was a lot to do before Sky could be prepared for the rigors of sacred arts, but Eithan genuinely would like to see him prosper, his usefulness to him notwithstanding. He would do his best to help him reach power, true power.

It was only a fair trade for what the young man had to offer, and one could never have too many companions when taking on both the world and the heavens.

Chapter 2: Parasite Ring

Chapter Text

I couldn’t believe it took me so long to get to the most pressing matter of my entire transmigration: the ‘Good Looking’ benefit.

Only minutes after Eithan left did I enter my compact bathroom and look myself over the stained mirror. I was… exactly the same as before.

I liked it, though. No, I mean, I really liked it. Did I always look this way? There were absolutely no discernible differences between the me in the mirror and the me I remembered from Earth, but I was rocking this look, though.

I laughed out loud at that. Sure, I was pretty-much jipped in a transaction that cost me valuable willpower, but who was to say that I’d ever be happy with the way I looked even if I was improved from an objective standpoint?

I wasn’t a giga-chad or an average enjoyer, and that was totally fine! It totally worked out. Yeah…

Could have made my chin stronger, or my cheekbones more pronounced, maybe cleared out my skin a little...

The door opened with a slam and I screamed and hid in a corner of the bathroom, my hands covering my face. “Please! Please don’t do this!” I shouted.

“I’m afraid I must,” a gruff voice sounded, one that was very familiar. I removed my hands from my sight and saw Eithan glowering at me. “We had a deal, you and I.”

I stood up and cleared my throat. “Uh, yes, we did. On that note, let’s not ever speak about that again.”

“No, no, I think I will,” he said. He handed me a ring made of braided strings of silver, with an arcane script etched into it, almost too small to read. “This is yours, now. Come. I shall make sure you at least know how to cycle the pittance of madra in your core before leaving you to do some much-needed closed-doors cultivation.”

I chortled. “You’re the master, I suppose. Anyway, did you," I gestured outwards vaguely. "Find them?” It was... a departure from normalcy to rely on a person's superpowers.

“I found them the moment you told me about them,” he grinned. “You think they’d somehow slip through my vigil? Who do you take me for?”

“Well, excuse me for not being used to… this ,” I gesticulated at the air. “Alright? Where I come from, people don’t inherit inexplicable superpowers from god-like ancestors.”

“Then where do you come from?” He asked me, as he sat down on my bed.

“Story for another time?” I would have asked him to elaborate on his scheme to kill the Dreadgods involving his Monarch, and more on Reigan Shen’s true motives, but telling him I was from bumfuck Egypt studying general education courses because I didn’t see a future with my major of choice, and that magic was a thing solely reserved for the world of fiction… it just wasn’t a fair trade. And I didn’t want to sour our relationship by dredging up any bad memories.

“If you insist,” he nodded. “Sit.”

“On the floor?”

“Were I a better mentor, I would have caned you just now for insubordination, but that obviously wouldn’t go well for someone of your paltry durability, so I shall simply resort to striking at your ego.”

“No, no,” I shook my hands at him as I sat down. “Not that. Anything but my precious, over-inflated ego.”

He laughed. “Oh, that was a polite laugh, by the way. Your sense of humor falls flat, and your delivery was terrible.”

I pursed my lips. “Consider me suitably struck. Can we continue?”

“Cycle your madra. Really get in there and do anything . Once you do, I will direct you. Don’t wear your ring for this one, though. Why give weights to someone that can’t even lift their arms?”

I did manpulate my madra to access the dream tablet, so this shouldn’t be so hard.

“Complete a revolution. That is, cycle your madra all over your body, once. Don’t forget your progress.” He proceeded to explain everywhere I should cycle, and sent jolts of his own madra into my spirit to guide me as I did. He was teaching me a cycling technique!

Remembering my progress was the easy part. Moving it in such a manner wasn’t. Some of the madra ended up escaping through my skin and into the world, but after a concerted effort, it took me ten minutes to make a full circuit.

“Your memory is marvellous, and you will find that I do not dole out compliments liberally,” he said. “You’ve gotten the picture, though, yes?”

I nodded.

“Do ten revolutions with the parasite ring per day. Fail to complete this number, and there is absolutely nothing I can do to ever make you powerful. Not even a Monarch has the ability to elevate someone without work ethic.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Promise me,” he said, looking at me with wide, probing eyes.

“I…” promises actually meant something in this world. Even if I was too weak to ever have one backfire on me, my word should still be my bond. Otherwise, what did anything I ever did mean to anyone? “I promise.”

“If you keep your promise, I will do my best to train you, Glassy Sky Arelius, on my soul.”

The air between us didn't bulge like I'd expected, but I could feel a sort of metaphysical weight settling on my soul, like someone had strapped a tiny piece of string around my spirit and bundled my madra channels together.

Breaking the promise wouldn’t scar me; I barely had a spirit to enforce such a penalty to begin with, hence the whole string-visualization. That said, the consequence would likely hurt me worse than that. Losing Eithan’s tutelage would seriously screw me over.

Before I could ask him more specifically about the repercussions of breaking our promise, he took my momentary shell shock as an opportunity to flee out of my motel room, leaving me to my thoughts.

I put on the parasite ring, and came across my first wall to progress.

My madra wouldn’t move. At all .

I made a promise, though, and if I couldn’t notice the progress, that wasn’t because there was none. I just had to be patient, and push through. Just like lifting weights on the last rep. It wouldn't be nearly as fast as your first rep, but you just had to keep pushing and you'd get there in time.

Six hours later, I was completely drenched in sweat, and my spirit, a light in the center of my entire being, stretching out to every toe and finger, stung like hot coals, lava pulsing through my bones. I fell asleep on the floor.

When I woke up, I evaluated yesterday. Firstly, I didn’t know how I did that. Whatever drove me to continue for so long, ignoring most of my pain until my exercise was over, I did not have that in me before.

The memory of my balance of willpower flashed before my eyes. Ninety-six thousand will. Setting aside how low that was, how far away it was from Highgold, it was enough to put me on par with fodder Cradleites, and considering the kind of death world they lived in, it meant I was made of tougher stuff now.

Not tough enough to brute-force simple cycling with the Parasite Ring, but baby steps. This was willpower training. I just had to push through my limits and all would be well. Now for eleven revolutions!

Twelve hours of painful grinding, interrupted by eating, tasteless grub delivered to my door by the motel staff, and tending to other needs, and I just managed to finish… ten revolutions.

This was worse than yesterday!

Attempt number three. I just had to take hour long breaks, interspersed throughout the day, and push myself as much as I could during the hours I was active.

Six hours of active cycling, and six hours of taking breaks, and I finished ten revolutions. What did this tell me? It wasn’t that I maxed out all my efforts after six hours, since the day before, I proceeded at an even clip across all twelve hours. The breaks were doing something. Sure, I likely wouldn’t be able to do a repeat of the time after Eithan left me alone, that was six hours of uninterrupted cycling, but that motivation was in response to keeping a promise, and to not be the disappointment that he expected me to be.

Next time, shorter breaks, and physical exercises during downtime.

Day four.

I barely managed to meet the quota. Turns out, physical exercise saps will just as much as spiritual exercise does. I needed to use the resource sparingly, just like in real life. I only had so many spoons to spend on stupid stuff, and I couldn’t waste them doing planks when I'd receive an Iron body soon enough.

Day five.

Hour long bouts of cycling. Half an hour break of simple meditation to regain lost mental energy. By sun-down, I was just completing my eleventh revolution. Did I refine my will enough that my madra was responding to me, or did I just train my spirit to respond to my will better? I hoped it was the former, but it could just as easily have been the latter. Either wasn't so bad, though.

Day six.

There were scales on my table. Translucent, off-white disks as wide as my thumbnail, marbled with baby blue veins of power, they weren't exactly the 'Calamari Flan' that had pictured in my head, but they were no less magical regardless.

I hadn’t worked on absorbing any of them, too busy cycling to help advance myself. I took them one by one, and sucked in the energy, letting it rest inside my core, and then become it. I stopped when my spirit felt full to the point of bursting, and cycled revolutions with the parasite ring and cutting it very close for the sun-down deadline.

On the seventh, my core didn’t feel as swollen, and I felt like I could take in a lot more scales, so I did. And then I cycled. And with the scant few minutes of lucidity I had before sleep could claim me, I wondered whether I should set aside an hour to feel profoundly bored at this. I had perfect memory, but it said something about how I lived that I could hardly differentiate one memory from another.

It was three days until I reached a bottleneck, and my core wouldn’t stop feeling full and swollen, so I figured that this would be the advancement point. I focused on seizing all the madra in my core, challenging myself to advance with the parasite ring still on, and pressed for all I was worth.

Just like Lindon, I ejected madra from my core, enough to form a layer around my core and use it as a glove to press it into a single point. The jolt of agony in my stomach stopped me just once before I recalled again that I was supposed to feel that pain.

I continued pressing. It felt like someone had stabbed me in my gut and twisted the knife as I mounted the pressure. I was almost certain that I was going to pop a vein by the time I made enough headway into compressing the ball of power into a tiny orb, but mercifully enough, something else took over and the core snapped into a single laser-sharp point of pure power, becoming more real in the process. This was advancement; an additional tier of density in madra, and the potential to expand my volume further until another advancement was warranted.

I fell on my back and panted, pushing the bounds of my new breathing pattern that I had quickly gotten used to, and marveled at the feeling of pure potency .

I cycled with the parasite ring on, and made eight revolutions in a single hour!

I was officially superhuman!

I jumped up on my feet, finding the maneuver disgustingly easy, and I had to brace against the bed so I wouldn’t lose balance. I was naturally more powerful, that was for sure, to the point where I could barely even feel my own heft anymore. I did a few effortless push-ups and handstands, careful not to knock anything over.

It must have looked ridiculous, seeing an overweight guy doing cartwheels in a cramped room, and truly, I did feel ridiculous, but nothing could stop the sheer glee radiating from myself either. I was an actual superhuman now!

I stood up straight and widened my eyes, bending over with my hands on my knees, glaring daggers at the window. “Okay, turn on, motherfucker.” The sensation was unlike anything I had ever felt before. It felt like I was pushing a button with my eyes , like they extended briefly to touch something, switching modes.

The change wasn’t instant. Thin wisps of flowering green life peeled from the wooden walls like old wallpaper. Sunbeams sparkled with an ethereal whiteness that I knew could be nothing else but light. Stone had a combination of golden brown and a heavy gray that tasted like force.I blew out a lungful of air, and saw another form of green, one that didn't flower, but insteadpushed.It pulled and swirled into dizzying patterns until it became too diffuse to make out. I blew again, and summoned more of it. I let out a peal of unrestrained laughter, joy filling my body in its entirety. I loved this.

Vital aura. In the flesh. An ineffable part of a world so far removed from my own that it wasn’t even funny. At this point, I could draw this vital aura, this power that emanated from every facet of the physical world, into my core and refine it into madra, creating the basis for a Path to godhood.

I was standing on the doorway to unlimited power.

I had to cover my mouth to prevent my screams of sheer joy and amazement to annoy someone stronger than me, and thus earn me death . Not even the thought that I was an ant in the world of giants slowed me down as I danced a jiggy in front of the bathroom mirror.

I was getting there. And I looked great. Life was good.

Now, soon for the next step. I already had a perfect Iron body in mind, the Drifting Iron body which was known for being the most comfortably attained Iron body in all of Cradle. Getting it entailed being literally covered from head to toe in a cocoon of cloud madra, like being suspended in a hundred pillows for hours a day, for weeks . It sounded like an incredible vacation. From there, I could specialize in a high-mobility Path that let me avoid damage rather than recover from it, and use superior speed to punish opponents.

Yeah. That would be a safe bet.

000

Walking out of the Transcendent Ruins was, for Lindon, an unaccountably bizarre experience. The looks that the Sandvipers cast him was nothing less than venomous, like they expected their madra to affect him through the sheer weight of their malice rather than physical contact. Their young prince, killed by an Iron, and not one of them was powerful enough to avenge him. Lindon always believed the sacred arts was about attaining power without regard for the people you hurt, leaving a trail of corpses slain in honorable battle all for the opportunity to reach the heavens. All the stories corroborated the idea, and so did his parents. He realized the hollowness of the sentiment when he sent that young Jade elder of Heaven's Glory to an early grave, but now that the consequences were palpable, he realized a simple truth that was no great wisdom, but now he knew how to put it in the fewest words possible.

Violence only begot more violence. And in a year, his chickens would come back to roost and he would know the consequence of killing the best friend of a man vastly more powerful than him. There was no guarantee that it would stop there, either. The Jai may retaliate on theoffchance that the survived this duel, and he would have to contend with dozens of warriors equal or more powerful even than Jai Long himself.

The thought made him queasy, and almost caused him to miss a step in the rough ground, but his Iron body picked up the slack and righted him in the nick of time.

Right. His Iron body. He felt for the glass marble inside his pocket, the one with the blue candlelight inside that always managed to burn upwards, like a mundane flame. Suriel had told him his path to power would not be easy. She showed him those sacred artists who had to endure humiliation, public beatings and all manner of unpleasant things to get where they were. No. His Path was simple. He would rather suffer for power than suffer for his own weakness. It was barely a trade. If it meant being powerful enough to savethe only home he ever knew from a monster of epic proportions, then he would gladly suffer.

Instead of heading back to the Fisher sect's territory in the Five Faction Alliance, Eithan took them away. Yerin was nursing injuries all over, and the only reason she was even good to walk around was because Eithan had medicine at the ready. "Honored Underlord... where are we going?"

Eithan stopped abruptly, and so did Lindon, hoping he hadn't offended the eccentric expert. "Ah! I forgot to mention! You two are not the only recruits I've invested in. I stowed away a young man just a few weeks ago, to do some closed-doors training in the sacred arts."

"You found him here as well?" Lindon asked. "What was his advancement?"

"He's a Copper," Eithan's smile widened. "Turns out, you weren't the weakest sacred artist in the Wilds past puberty."

"How did he survive?" Yerin asked, and Lindon couldn't help but agree with the question. Without Yerin, Lindon knew how far he'd get in this gathering of Gold artists. The answer was 'not very'.

"He did the wisest thing he could think of," Eithan grinned smugly. "He came tome."

000

In the coming weeks, I fell into a dreary cycle of inhaling scales, cycling madra and taking care of my animal needs. I had experienced Eithan’s collection of Anibius’ work completely, and felt completely ready to tackle a book report on the subject. The urge to interact with other humans came and passed in near-debilitating waves, but the paranoia of being splattered by anyone that looked at me wrong was enough to have me come to my senses. I was reckless at best, not suicidal, and this was the Desolate Wilds. Law and order belonged to the strong, and my only sponsor was either making headway with the two protagonists or braving the bowels of a labyrinth from an age long-past.

Ah, I also did have some hours-long sessions of bawling my eyes out, letting the crushing realization of losing all my friends, family and everything I’ve ever loved settle on my body. I let myself spiral as far as I could without missing any of my sacred arts training. The thought of letting such a thing happened had more of a psychological impact on me than I had honestly expected. It felt like I would let myself die if I didn’t cycle every now and then. That wasn’t a lie.

I was sure I was approaching some sort of wall to Iron by the time Eithan finally reared his head, with two new friends in tow. Even with the parasite ring, I was beginning to make very good progress into my madra control, and the breathing pattern was basically second nature by now.

I was proud that I showered just that hour before they arrived, wearing a change of clothes that the hotel sold to me on credit. Thankfully, the hotel also had a whole host of options for hair oils and other cosmetics, allowing me to do my best to not look like a quarantining college student. I still needed a haircut and a good shave, but this was the best I could do for now.

“Hello, Sky!” Eithan greeted me genially, giving me his hand. I shook it. “These are Yerin and Wei Shi Lindon. I hope you’ve been productive during your stay.”

“Certainly,” I nodded. “Not much else to do, really.” Both Lindon and Yerin looked at me with some confusion. “Uh, I was… stuck here for four weeks, I think. Couldn’t really be outside on account of the law of the jungle, you know?” They were even more confused now. “Okay, the bottomline is, I’m weak and I shouldn’t be outside to begin with. It’s rough out there, heheh.” I turned to Eithan. “Seriously, all the busy-work aside, I think I’m in love with the sacred arts. I’m crazy strong now!” I flexed my arms. “Nothing can beat this feeling of raw improvement! And my madra is responding so much better now, I can’t imagine—”

Eithan grinned like a loon. “Switch languages.”

“Huh?!” I paused. Right. Languages. Two . The way the Arelius homelanders spoke, and the language that Emriss made an effort to spread. Fuck. “Ah, my apologies.” I said. “I wasn’t thinking.” At all. I gave Yerin my hand, and she looked at it askance. I took it back and gave her a bow of my head instead, hoping the gesture translated. She looked like what I expected, thin scars covering her face and arms to the point of being morbid and with bangs and a bowl cut that reached just above her shoulders. She had a bladed arm growth on her back as well that curved over her shoulder like a scorpion's tail, the Goldsign of her Path. They were less mechanical than I imagined, the joints non-existent, yet the solid silver implements were flexible enough and bent without issue. They also had a quality of unreality to them, like they weren’t consistent with real-life graphics and were actually CG. A visual property of madra, no doubt.

Somehow, I was still really disappointed. She looked… drab. Her sacred arts robes were painfully rudimentary, and it was obvious she didn’t give a rat’s ass about appearances, a far-cry from my mental image of her, a shonen-esque character with an overabundance of visual detail on her person. At least her Blood Shadow rope seal thing was pretty visually striking, and I grew immediately nauseous when I turned on my aura sight looking at it, too, so that was a plus.

“A pleasure, Yerin.” I said, swallowing my vomit and shelving the sheer instinctual horror for another time. I turned to Lindon, a tall guy with a discontent expression. He didn’t look like the brutish thug with a round and flattened nose, cauliflower ears and a buzzcut. I knew that he was supposed to have hair, and wasn’t that ugly, but it was a persistent image that I hadn’t shaken off, and hey, ugly people needed representation in popular fiction, too.

He was fairly handsome, in fact, but the scowling wrinkles on his forehead were too deep, a thick tree-trunk that really did have him looking like an asshole. His laugh lines, too, were overly pronounced, painting a constant grimace on his face. That and his impassive, neutral lips gave him an aura of cold malice. In my world, I would only assume he was just predisposed to aggression, but in a world of cultivation, that invariably translated into being pretty slaughter-y, so I could understand why people got the wrong idea.

Unlike Yerin, he was visually striking in all the wrong ways. He was obviously not comfortable in those garishly pink inner robes, looking more like he stole them from his mother’s wardrobe than anything else. Hell, they looked like he stole them from my mother's wardrobe. It looked exactly the same as a dira dress that my mother and sisters tended to wear. I tried not to laugh.

“You must be Lindon, then,” I gave him my hand, too. “So, I’m guessing by convention of adoption, we are now siblings.” Again, my hand was not shaken. I decided to give him the ol' bow instead.

Yerin huffed. “Nothing’s been decided yet,” she said. Now that I got a better look at her, she looked worse for wear, fresher scars on her arms and her stance was subtly unstable. I likely wouldn’t have noticed before my Copper advancement—hell, it was surprising that I was so perceptive even now, though that likely had to do with the fact that I was finally carrying out a conversation with people I was sure wouldn’t slaughter me out of hand. It was psychologically freeing.

“No, of course,” Eithan said. “At any rate, we came here for you,” he ambled over to the desk where I kept all his gifts stacked neatly, from the dwindling supply of scales to the dream tablets. He plopped them into his robe where they disappeared into his hidden void key.

“Alright, let’s head out,” I said. The only footwear I brought from Earth were sandals, so I was already ready to leave, with a new set of comfortable robes on my person. The only other possession of value on my entire being was the parasite ring too, which was firmly attached to my person at all times. Had I been someone else, I might have felt profoundly deprived of anything of value, but I was used to depending on others as a lifelong leech, still a university student living in my parent’s house at twenty, not that I was ashamed of that at all.

At least this time, I was bringing value to the relationship with my sponsor, rather than relying on familial ties to see me through. It was an excellent change of pace, and served to really lift my mood.

Yes, look on the bright side, always. It didn’t matter I was in a death world with indomitable monsters that could kill people like me only as an incidental consequence of their very presence.

As we walked the hallways, Eithan decided to delve deeper into my introduction. “Sky here is actually in a similar position to you, Lindon, though you may have already assumed that from his stage in the sacred arts” he began, and I felt a little self-conscious that he would reveal that. So they had talked about me, then. I turned around, feigning surprise, while Lindon seemed to… glare at me. Ah, wait, that was just his face.

Jesus, no wonder he made so many enemies.

“Yup,” I said. “No one bothered to teach me the sacred arts. Except for Eithan over here. He found me, lost and wandering aimlessly, and decided to take me in.”

Yerin stopped in her tracks. “Lindon I can understand, though that took a fair few words to explain, but how have you stayed alive so far?”

“A sheltering family,” I said. “I wanted more, of course, hence my great escape!”

“And Eithan just took you in,” Yerin surmised.

“For a few favors,” I said. “Power and information tends to even out when you’ve got a big imbalance, hence my lack of worries.”

“So you know something the Underlord with a thousand eyes and ears doesn’t.”

I chuckled. “Funny how that turns out, huh?”

She clicked her tongue. “I don’t envy your trials. You start out in the arts as a kid to get used to the constant trials. Not sure how someone big like you will deal.”

“I imagine like Lindon,” I said, giving him a gentle smile. We were in this together. He looked down on the ground, somewhat bashful. Yerin was doubtful still, which warmed my heart in a roundabout way. She had a lot of fate in Lindon, and it was beautiful to see.

Lindon then spoke. “Are there… others like you? Where you are from, that is?”

I shook my head. “I haven’t met any, no.” I hadn’t been entirely focused on the sacred arts while isolated. I liked to think that my cover story was pretty solid as well, provided nobody pried too closely. “I grew up in a library, actually. It was filled with knowledge of sacred arts, but no Paths could actually be trained there; just stories and sciences and other things. It left me woefully unprepared for life, but also in a unique situation where a visionary fashion icon like our Underlord could take full advantage of my brilliance.”

“Ah, you flatter me,” the Underlord in question chuckled. I smiled cheekily right back at him.

“How did you get out?” Lindon asked. “Did… did someone show you a way out?”

“I stole money from my family, paid for transport and didn’t stop until I ran out,” I said. “I figured that anywhere would be better than there, so I left. Then I appeared here, in the Desolate Wilds, where the world had seemed to gather. Eithan situated me with the resources necessary to advance to Copper, and now here I am, considering my future.”

“…No one taught me any sacred arts either,” Lindon said. “I managed to get out of my home with the help of Yerin, and now I’m looking forward to embarking on the sacred arts. There’s a lot of things I don’t know, things I’m not sure about, but I hope to go as far as possible.”

I slung my arm around his shoulder. He was taller than me by a fair few inches, but not enough that it made the maneuver awkward. “You’ll go farther than you could possibly imagine, Lindon. I know it in my bones.” I flashed a smile at Yerin as well. “You too, you know. I get the feeling that we’re all meant for the greatest of things.”

Yerin rolled her eyes. “If I had a sword scale for every chump that thought high hopes and friendship could take them to real heights, I wouldn’t have to cycle aura a day in my life.”

“Fair,” I said. “But we’re not just chumps with high hopes, are we? We’re the Ascension Crew!”

Eithan actually laughed now, while Lindon looked at me strangely. Yerin seemed to contemplate whether to conclude that I was being crazy or insulting.

We were out of the hotel and wandering the streets pretty quickly. The masses split before the advance of the Underlord, much to my awe. It was mighty convenient as well, since I was still walking on the Cradle equivalent of high-speed traffic with the body of a child. Just one laboring sacred artist in the vicinity with more haste than wit could render me a paraplegic completely by accident.

“What does that mean?” Lindon asked. “Ascension Crew?”

“We are a crew of future ascenders,” I said. “We will ascend past the bounds of Cradle in time, and make a difference on a multiversal scale.”

He blinked. “You… know what Cradle means?”

“It’s our world, I believe,” I said. “I saw it mentioned in a few manuscripts, that heavenly messengers refer to our world as Cradle.” I looked at him curiously, head tilted. “Do you happen to know why, by any chance?”

He smiled down at the floor wryly. “It might be where they keep their infants.”

I laughed. “Then I suppose it is on us to grow and mature if we wish to leave our cradle.”

Yerin interjected. “Then you know you need to be a Sage or Herald to leave this world, right?”

“Yes,” I said. “It won’t be a problem.”

“ No one ever makes Sage or Herald,” Yerin said. “You need to be talented and lucky beyond your wildest dreams to even look at those ranks. The odds alone don’t look kindly on every single one of us making it that far, and I’ll bet my sword against two coppers that most of us won’t even make it to Overlord.”

“Yes, but,” I raised a finger. “We’re built different.”

“I can’t help but think you’re taking me for a joke,” Yerin said, folding her arms and giving me a glare. “I was the disciple of a Sage, you know. I know better than anyone else that you don’t just become one.”

I nodded respectfully and my expression sobered up. “No, it will be hard. It will be the hardest thing any one of us have ever done, but we will get there in time. There’s not a doubt in my mind about that.”

“If dreams were advancement resources…” she shrugged and walked ahead.

Lindon looked at me apologetically. “In her defense, you speak of these things with an unbefitting gravity.”

I sighed. It was more of a defense mechanism than anything, really. I wanted to minimize the feeling of challenge in order to not let the despair overcome me, knowing just how tall the odds were. I really should have been more tactful about it, though. Sacred arts was just as much a religion in Cradle as Islam or Christianity was on Earth, and making light of grand achievements would very easily make me a target of derision. Hell, ‘sacred’ was in the name.

Lindon continued. “Nonetheless, I appreciate the faith you have in us. We shall learn to overcome the handicaps that our families imposed on us.”

I smiled at that, though I couldn't help but feel a sting at the minor betrayal since I was lying to him. “Thank you, Lindon.”

000

Lindon felt a swell of pride as his scheme worked, all eighteen of the training dummies in the scripted training module Eithan provided lit up at once, signifying their 'deaths'.

"Congratulations, you beat his time!" Glassy Sky chuckled as he pointed towards the Underlord, a man powerful enough to splatter him across the streets with a casual gesture. The dark-skinned young man seemed entirely uncaring about putting his own life at the hands of the vastly more powerful sacred artist, showing that he trusted him not to abuse his power. Though they were kindred, it seemed that Sky's upbringing was vastly more sedate.

Yerin admonished Lindon, impressing upon him the importance of going at certain tasks theright way in order to facilitate growth. Eithan agreed, and to his surprise, so did Sky. He supposed there was something to be said about universal truths, and if Lindon was being honest, he didn'tprefer to cheat his way to victory every time if he could help it. He would use every weapon at his disposal to win, but if that distracted from the bottom line of getting stronger, then he had to re-evaluate his playstyle. Yerin said the sacred arts was a game, and it was time he honed his strategies.

After Cassias, Eithan's cousin who looked a lot younger than the man himself, arrived at the barn and they made their introductions, he gave a report to his Patriarch regarding recent enemy actions. Lindon felt increasingly confused as the conversation went by.

"I know what you're thinking," Sky said. "Well, the gist of it, is that the Jais are growing power-hungry and are seeking to make a powerplay. Something to do with their Underlord's incoming demise, and a little of it is that their Patriarch despises Eithan's personality, but a lot of it is that Eithan is so good at his job, the Jais think they'll be supplanted."

Both Eithan and Cassias stopped talking, both to look at Sky, the latter scowling in confusion, while the former only chuckled. Lindon was shocked: he knew Eithan's capabilities first-hand, and Gesha had impressed upon him multiple times that Eithan could see and here everything, so to have him flatfooted in such a manner was a sight to see.

"Explain," Cassias said. "Uh, your name?"

"Glassy Sky..." He hesitated for a moment. "Arelius," he then said. "Uh, your Patriarch adopted me a while ago, so I hope I'm not being presumptuous."

Cassias smiled gently. "Not at all. Welcome to the family. Where did you come upon this information?"

Sky looked pleadingly at Eithan, and the Underlord took the reins of the conversation. "I have vetted him personally. He is not a safety risk."

"Certainly, I was just curious."

"I know a lot of things," Sky said. "I know that Jai Daishou is in dire straits, and he's gonna want to shore his assets up with stolen ones if he wants his clan to survive past his passing."

Cassias nodded, frowning pensively. "Explains his... eagerness." Cassias returned his attention to Eithan and continued reporting on the litany of enemy actions.

"The Arelius family are known for their cleaning services," Sky continued to explain. "Eithan didn't lie about that part."

Lindon couldn't help but be awestruck at the relaxed air the man conducted himself with. Sky was even weaker than Lindon was! "How are you so relaxed... around the Underlord?"

Sky considered the question for a moment, before his eyes widened. "You know,I really shouldn't be. It's just... hard to look at him as anything more than just a human. I know that Eithan doesn't really havebad intentions, so I suppose that helps, but other than that, I'm a little shocked that I've kept so calm thus far." He stared into space as he pinched his chin. "Huh. Well, anyway," he smiled as he looked into Lindon's eyes. "Could you try not scowling?"

"Huh?" Was he being insulted by someone weaker than him?

...This was an entirely novel feeling. He honestly didn't know how to react.

"No, I mean, like," he smiled easily. "Just relax your eyes. Separate your eyebrows."

Lindon tried.

"Just...relax your face."

Lindon did his best, thinking happy thoughts. "How do I look?"

Sky chuckled. "If I'm being honest, you look pretty grave. Ah, just forget about it. It's just really difficult to reconcile the lumbering, scowling, muscled man with the soft-spoken boy inside. If I'm being honest, and speaking from an entirely instinctual realm, I'm more scared of you than I am of Eithan."

He grinned at the man's candor. He supposed he could take that as a compliment. He enjoyed the idea that his looks were imposing, even if it could land him in more trouble. At least he would never have to worry about not being taken seriously. He'd had enough of that for a lifetime. He bowed to Sky, fists pressed together. "Gratitude, Glassy Sky."

Sky's grin threatened to split his face in two, and he inhaled sharply. "You did the thing," he whispered. Then he proceeded to whisper in another language. Lindon wondered if he had said something wrong, or if his gesture could be construed as rude by someone that hailed from his culture.

Finally, he regained his composure. "It's nothing at all, Lindon," he said. "We'll be fighting side by side one day, taking on the entire world, and I couldn't imagine a better man to follow." He raised his arm as though beckoning him to an arm-wrestling match, and Lindon took it, careful not to put pressure on the Copper. Sky pulled him in for a one-armed hug, patting him on the back, and Lindon felt a flutter of warmth at the familiar contact.

Sky was as strange as they came, but his enthusiasmwas infectious. If he could afford to be so optimistic for the future, in spite of all the difficulties ahead, then Lindon could do nothing less but follow in his example.

Chapter 3: Sky's Mercy

Chapter Text

The cloudship was exactly like I'd imagined, a manor placed on top of a bed of clouds with absolutely no regard for aerodynamics and such things. It was a house and a cloud, and nothing more, with a large balcony at the top floor. Sky's Mercy, the Patriarch's own moving home, was beautifully constructed, but an efficient vehicle, it was absolutely not.

After a more full introduction to Cassias Arelius, the Arelius Patriarch sequestered me to his personal quarters where we would touch base.

“Like you predicted,” he said, sitting across from me on a room with an ornate wooden desk, the room itself decorated in all sorts of paintings, statuettes and tchotchkes hanging about, “Lindon managed to kill a Highgold and now he has a life-or-death duel on his hands.” Wow. Those butterflies sure were behaving. “I decided to go through with this eventuality, as I believe it is his best shot at truly awakening his potential. He will not die, but I highly doubt that he will win. That is fine; not all lessons are learned through victory.”

I nodded. “Indeed, failure teaches more most of the time.”

“Now tell me,” he said, grinning at me. “Why lie to the others?”

I looked down at the desk. “I’m not from Cradle, that much is clear,” I said. “I have sheltering parents, and I’m… fairly educated, I suppose, so saying that I grew up in a library would not suspend their disbelief very much.” I sighed. “I guess I didn’t want to create a greater distance between myself and my future comrades than strictly necessary. I fear that the truth would create a rift between all of us that may never heal.”

“This has to do with how you encountered all this information,” Eithan surmised. “Whatever makes you feel the most comfortable, I don’t really mind. As long as you realize, of course, that the power you have can be abused, and the true divide between a friend and a foe is whether you would use it to benefit yourself alone or help as many other people along the way.” He grinned at my look of mild disbelief. “I know what I am, Sky, and I do my best to even the scales any way that I can.”

“I understand,” I said. “Now, to more fruitful matters. You have a Jai problem,” I said, pointing at him as I took a biscuit and nibbled at it. “Jai Daishou is seizing all your assets left and right, and will soon take a refinery in Serpent’s Grave as well.”

“He has been a thorn at my side,” Eithan acquiesced.

“He’s about to be a lot deadlier,” I said. “While Jai Long romps through Serpent’s Grave, accumulating power and slaughtering his kin, Daishou will co-opt him, and while pretending to lay low to avoid the exile’s murderous rampage, will launch a wide-scale attack to wipe the Arelius clan off Serpent’s Grave. This will happen a few months after Yerin and Lindon complete the first Blackflame trial, so in six months thereabouts. Specifically, Daishou will position his fighters for an attack under the guise of curfews and hiding from Jai Long, and you will notice nothing differently because he will not speak about his plan to anyone at all. The assault will happen suddenly, and will target every Arelius member in the city.”

Eithan didn’t reveal his anger, but there was irritation in his cast now, from the tension in his jaw, but it was barely a flash before he returned to his equilibrium.

“What’s your move?” I asked. “Will you keep watch over Jai Long to prevent that? Maybe help him avoid the Jai Underlord for as long as possible to prevent the exile from folding? He only does so because the old man personally intervenes, and I know that you’re stronger than him, so what do you think should be done to minimize deaths?”

Eithan sighed. “Personally gutting the Jai will be satisfying in the short term, but it will only lead to unwanted attention. Balancing acts and all that, my friend.” I nodded in understanding. “The exile puts the Jai on a deadline. Act too slowly and their clan will succumb to him. It’s a matter of survival for Daishou to swallow his pride and to do what is best for his clan. Very well, I will have to launch some probing attacks his way, too,” Eithan nodded. “Put him on the back foot long enough that the exile takes care of our problem for us, and I can sweep out the dregs of a broken clan like a good little janitor.”

I threw in my own two cents. “To make matters easier, you could one-sidedly coordinate with Jai Long to help him hit them where it really hurts.” If anyone could do it on a subtle enough level that no one would notice anything was amiss, it was Eithan.

I was suggesting Eithan aid in murder, and it only came as an afterthought. Immediately, I sobered up and remembered ‘Cold Heart’ with preternatural clarity.

Fuck . Fuck !

No. I couldn’t let some sociopath-adjacent trait control me like that. I had to rise above that sort of stuff.

“And in the process, fatten Jai Long up so Lindon is even less likely to win!” Eithan exclaimed, completely unheeding of my inner turmoil. “Ah, you truly are a devious fellow, Sky.” Well, at least there was a valid reason now not to help Jai Long.

“So obviously then, we should not do that,” I said.

Eithan looked at me for some time. “I was joking,” he said. “Nothing can be learned from certain defeat, and Jai Long will grow powerful enough in time. There’s no use intervening. Anyway, thank you, Sky,” he leaned closer to me. “I’m grateful for this. Now, have you given thoughts to your Path?”

I relayed to him ideas about the Drifting Iron body and a mobility path that was also a cut above the rest, and perhaps a way to incorporate the Heaven and Earth Purification Wheel into my style to smoothen my eventual rise to Sage. He nodded intently.

I did, in the end, clear up the fact that he had the last decision if he thought there was something much better for me out there.

“You trust me,” Eithan said. “ For some reason , and while I’m flattered beyond belief that you would put so much power over your life in my hands, I have to warn you that what I have in mind borders on the unreasonable, unbelievable and will take more out of you than you mentally have. To ensure that you can keep in lockstep with the rest of us, you are going to be on a Path every bit as devastating—both to your enemies and yourself—as the Blackflame Path, every bit as demanding as the Path of the Endless Sword, and every bit as esoteric as my very own. I am, in fact, tempted to have you write down every prediction that you are worth to ensure that if you do die to my ministrations, nothing of value would have been lost, but it is only my goodwill and basic human decency that prevents me from doing this.”

“Ahahah,” I laughed unconvincingly, trying my best to ignore the pressing weight of my chest. “Sounds like work.” Was this just the power of an Underlord or the existential dread I was feeling? “Okay, yes, yes,” I said. I didn’t want to think about it too much, because that could lead to making an actually intelligent decision, and those were boring. If I said yes now , then I had a guaranteed return on investment in the future, even if I eventually gave up due to copious trauma, and I would be a celebrated Arelius member. That was still a good thing.

All I had to do was give it a try!

“Your ideas are not entirely meritless,” Eithan began. “You want a high-mobility Path, and I am entirely ready to pour my resources into procuring you one such Path that compares to the rest of the, uh, Ascension Crew . A catchy sobriquet to be sure. Makes us all sound like a motley bunch of misfits here to shake up the status quo,” he pumped his fist as he grinned. “I love it.”

“Will I get the Drifting Iron body?” I asked.

“You will get something better,” he grinned. Because of course getting the softest, most comfortable Iron body in Cradle was too much to ask for when learning under Eithan fucking Arelius.

“How much will it hurt?” I asked, crossing my leg and rested my elbows on it, and my chin on my fists

“I have three Iron bodies in mind,” he admitted. “Each one hurts a fair lot more than the Drifting Iron body, but it either does the job of making you weightless even better, or serves you better on the superlative mobility Path of your choice.”

“Pick the better one,” I said, gesturing with a shrug.

He nodded. “The one that hurts the most. As you wish."

"Fuck you," I said in English.

Eithan's eyes widened. "Rude," he said, and my eyes widened in shock. His knowing smile told me he'd baited me into revealing that I did insult him. I smiled in defeat. Good fucking game, Arelius. I never stood a chance. "Anyway, " he continued, the time for games over. "One thing you must understand, however, is that if you would like to match the rest of us, then you cannot rely on pure mobility to see you through. That would make you no different from a courier Path, many of which are dramatically faster than combat Paths in straight directions. You must optimize for combat if you wish to follow the rest of us, and that will include a fair amount of pain.”

“Do you have anything specific in mind?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. “But the alterations we will be making will render you a trailblazer, meaning it is on you to forge this Path to its full potential. For now, work towards a hundred and fifty revolutions with the parasite ring every day, and add fifty more as you go. The moment we hit Serpent’s Grave and I’m done with Lindon, we will begin your Iron body transformation. Brace yourself for then; you will be leaving your old self behind, Sky.”

I nodded grimly. “Thank you for the care you’re putting into my future.”

Eithan smiled. “I’m a generous soul, but not even I will waste precious resources on a hopeless sacred artist, so understand that a large part of your future hinges on whether you can impress me.”

I shook my head. “I protest that. The information I can provide you is worth precious resources. Whether I impress you or not is immaterial.”

“I’m glad you said that,” Eithan said. “It means that it’s on me to justify spending resources on you. I don’t make waste, so in the end, you will have to endure even more to reach my exacting standards. You’ve admitted that this is fine.”

“You know!” I wrinkled my eyebrows petulantly. “You’re being incredibly cruel already and my training hasn’t even started yet!” It was like he was doing his level best to psyche me out before we could even get started.

He chuckled. “You were the one to put your trust in my hands, and like you said, I do owe you for the information. I just can’t, in good conscience, pay you back without conditions, conditions that I will force you to meet.”

“Thank you,” I said. “But with all due respect, I would like to, uh, not see your face for a few days. If that’s fine. Only to adapt to my new reality of course; your brilliance is always a pleasure to lay eyes on.”

He smiled flatly at me. “Flattery will get you nowhere, my dear Sky.”

I snapped my fingers. “Shoot.”

Eithan’s grin softened a little. “If we can still discuss bawdy romance novels after I’m done with you, then you will have exceeded my expectations.”

I looked down on the table and drummed my fingers on them. “I will remember that.”

000

I was reluctant to bother Lindon or Yerin in the days leading up to our departure from the Desolate Wilds. Instead, I tried to make myself busy by submitting to some training with Cassias. There was a genuinely decent man that would have made for an amazing Arelius Patriarch, and though I understood why that couldn’t come to pass, I still found it rather sad that the clan had to settle for Eithan.

Eithan was okay , but Cassias’ personality was just awesome. In terms of combat training, Eithan was someone I would hire if I needed to take revenge for my murdered family, but Cassias would be my PT that only worked to keep me at peak physicality. Simple, reliable, and not prone to making me suffer a nervous breakdown.

After I was done cycling, the curly blond Arelius with the metallic bracer Goldsign taught me basic martial arts forms in the dummy shed that Lindon spent his time training in until exhaustion. Lindon was fast and struck like lightning on account of his advancement, but obviously held no candle to Yerin or Cassias, who both practically blitzed through the course.

Meanwhile, I was still learning to throw punches.

“Before you embark on the dummies,” Cassias began. “You will need to familiarize yourself with basic strikes. I don’t expect you will take very long at all, but it is important to build a proper foundation regardless, so I will endeavor to drill the basics into you until all that remains for you is practical experience.

“Now, I want you to remember that these dummies are not satisfactory substitutes for real opponents. Do not get too psychologically dependent on the feedback of the dummies, as they are only there for practice. Do you understand?”

I nodded my head at him. “I understand.”

“Good,” He said. “Now, start punching.”

I was expecting him to fuss over my movements. What I wasn’t expecting was for him to constantly correct them. For hours. Sure, he was being gentle, a far-cry from the staff-wielding wushu instructor cliché with a penchant for corporal punishment, but it was still disheartening to be constantly wrong.

Yerin and Lindon weren’t even focusing on me anymore, either chatting between each other, taking turns with the course, or not being in the room, Lindon likely doing Soulsmith training. I'd ducked in a few times to catch a glimpse of the Remnant parts, and I always took the opportunity to do it once a day. Seeing the paint-stroke dead matter and the swirly bindings was always a sight to see, and another reminder of how far away from home I was. I felt self-conscious about approaching them, Lindon because he needed all the time he could get to avoid being ripped apart in a year, and Yerin because she likely didn’t consider me worth interacting with, being so weak as I was, so I threw myself into training as much as I could.

By the time three days had passed, we were finally taking off. The compound began to levitate at speeds I genuinely didn’t expect. It was overencumbered with an additional building, but it still managed to travel as fast as a car in a highway. I stayed grounded as we ascended, spread-eagle on the floor of the living room while Cassias looked at me in mild amusement.

The rest of the day, Cassias let me off so I could adapt to the increased altitude and motion, which allowed me the time to stare at the expanse of white clouds. It was beautiful, and I could get lost in the sight of the sky for a whole day. I cycled madra around my body to stave off exhaustion, and my muscles received fast relief as well.

Indeed, I had to be called by an Arelius servant for mealtime by the time dusk had arrived.

I made small-talk with Lindon and Yerin, and though the latter still didn’t think I was her favorite human, Lindon was all-too-eager to talk about his life in the Sacred Valley, how weak everyone was and how jarring the outside world was in comparison. He seemed to have taken a shine to me, and I to him. It wasn’t so hard; he was a good kid.

It was my hope that my presence could ease his future suffering, however. He wouldn’t have that encounter with Sandviper Gokren and Jai Long ahead of schedule, which would allow him to flourish in safer conditions with less of a reliance on luck, but I feared for his growth all the same. As cruel as it was, he needed suffering to get stronger, yet I was actively working against that. I was conflicted, truly.

That wasn’t even getting into what Eithan had in store for me .

If I didn’t get white hair before thirty, I’d be counting my lucky stars really.

I went up to the upper deck, the balcony floor, where I encountered a decrepit elderly woman of an exceptionally short stature hurling her guts out over the railing. The wind was biting and chilly, but it helped the nauseous old woman clear her head, likely. She stood on a platform raised aloft by eight spider-legs as she threw up, and had a resplendent golden hook attached to her back as well. Again, a sense of surreality overcame me as I realized quickly that I was looking at a character that had been described to me in a book. Fisher Gesha wore threadbare robes fit for a beggar and large goggles that made her eyes look several sizes too large as well.

I clapped her on her back gingerly and she swung her head at me in shock, chin covered in vomit. “There, there,” I said. “Just give it a few more days.”

She proceeded on her business and I turned to bring a few bottles of water for her troubles.

When I found her again, she was off her spider platform and slumped against the railing, looking dead to the world. I crouched and opened the bottle, bringing it to her lips. She grabbed it and chugged it with relish.

“I hear the Wellspring Iron body produces its own water,” I said. “Rather, it processes water well, right? Makes you less reliant on it.”

“Among… other things,” Fisher Gesha gasped, letting the empty bottle drop from her hands. “Contaminated water… healthier blood… high energy…”

That sounded pretty good, actually, for a Path adapted to living in the Desolate Wilds, and not as useless outside of it either. Sure, it likely wouldn’t make her dodge better or regenerate faster, but lacking water sources would be the least of her worries, and she wasn’t a primary combatant anyway so what did it matter as long as her Underlord advancement didn’t kill her? A Perfect Iron body wasn’t particularly costly to achieve at any rate. A good one was, though, but they were optional.

“I was in the mountains once,” I said. “I’ve flown many times as well. I assure you, you will come to treasure the memories of the sights once you’ve gotten over your... ordeal.”

Not much to see for now but the starry night sky, and though that is quite the sight for me, I imagined that someone that spent a better part of a century living in the wilds had gotten over the mystique.

“A birdie told me you were…” she sighed. “Also a… neglected wretch… like Lindon.”

Great! Now we were making conversation!

“Hm,” I said. “It happens. I won’t be worthless for very long, though.” I flashed her a confident grin.

“I… suppose,” she said. “You’re… lucky.”

“I know,” I chuckled. “I suppose you are, too, for being able to hitch a ride on this grand adventure.”

“I certainly don’t feel… lucky,” she wretched a little, but managed to hold it down.

“We don’t always do,” I said. “Especially when we really are. Luck and happiness is best seen through the lens of retrospection. You should know this, being so wise as you are.”

She looked at me in an expression I couldn’t quite decipher. “I’m not sure whether to…” She swallowed back some vomit. “Like you or find you profoundly annoying, child. How does a Copper survive with a mouth like yours?”

“Good cheer and a winning personality,” I flashed her a grin. “Of course, it helps that I’m so devilishly handsome and cute beyond compare. Who would be as vile as to harm someone like me?”

“You talk like someone that hasn’t worked a day in their life,” she said. “I would like to see you in another year, once the Underlord has had his way with you.”

I looked at her bashfully. “You really think he would do such a thing, the brute? Did he make his intentions clear while I wasn’t paying attention?”

“You really like playing the fool, don’t you?” She said. “He has eyes and ears everywhere, you know. I hope you are aware of this.”

“Certainly,” I said. “Besides, you started with the unfortunate wording. If anything, he should draw and quarter you first for giving me ideas.” A treacherous part of me wondered if I had flustered him or something. It was a silly, idle thought so I dispelled it pretty quickly. I’d definitely be barking up the wrong tree, anyway; it would take a special type of person to be happy with him in that way.

“I seriously wonder how you will even survive a month in the empire,” she said. “As you are now, even a servant would be right to strike you down in a fit of irritation. You understand? You’re useless, hm?”

I laughed at that. I didn’t expect such vehemence from her, but I supposed poking her right in the Underlord-fear would do that. “You shouldn’t be so scared of Eithan,” I said. “He’s set his sights too far to settle on terrorizing those weaker than him. Rather, you should be scared of me, because I will remember your words when I become Monarch, and I will plunge your sect into ruin.”

“Are you mad ?” She asked, looking at me like I had swallowed a tarantula on the side of the road.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “If it is a matter how long you have left to live, then I can assure you that I will keep you alive long enough for you to see the folly of your words. For shame, Fisher Gesha. And I was planning on installing you as Empress of Blackflame, too.”

She scoffed. “There is a limit to childish talk.”

I smiled. “Well, you will find that I am not so entirely useless as you think I am. With the help of Eithan Arelius, you can make forays into revolutionary launcher Soulsmithing.” She looked at me strangely.

“What do you know about Soulsmithing?” She asked.

“Meld a collection of Striker bindings, create a resonance between them, and you get a launcher that sends a devastating beam of force more powerful than the sum of its parts,” I said. “With Eithan Arelius’ senses and your Soulsmithing ability, it is a possibility. In the meanwhile, as you work on that, I will work to procure you resources that will let you hit Underlord. And then, you can do me a favor.” Jaran needed new eyes, anyway.

I could tell that Fisher Gesha’s mind was racing, though that had likely more to do with the first half of my statement than the second. “The Underlord would… work with me?”

“He wouldn’t throw away a good opportunity to make waves,” I said. “He’s likely hearing us right now, and will get back to you on it. He’s always rushing through three plans at once, you see. Never make the mistake of thinking that he spends his time frivolously. As long as you try making headway into such a launcher construct, he will help out.”

She hummed, clearly considering it.

“So how do you feel?” I asked. “Did I distract you from your sickness?”

She looked at me in shock. “That, you did! I see you’re not completely useless, hm?”

“Well, a simple ‘thank you’ would have sufficed!” I said. “I am but a poor young man with a fragile heart.”

She scoffed. “Don’t tell me Anibius is trending again. Wasn’t it only fifteen years ago since the current generation rediscovered him?” She looked at my eager expression with disgust. “Don’t take that as an invitation to have a discussion with me. I was on Anibius before your grandparents could walk, so believe me when I say I’ve exhausted all of its value by now. Just the thought of revisiting it makes me want to vomit now.”

“That could be the motion sickness,” I said.

She groaned. “Well,” she clambered up and started to climb up the railing. “It was a good few moments of respite.”

While she hurled out her insides again, I got her some more water.

000

Training with Cassias only picked up to make up for the previous lull as he let me get accustomed to the altitude and motion. Through it all, I couldn’t help but marvel at my dedication to put myself through all that physical rigor. Sure, I could do something similar on Earth with enough emotional support and incentive (and nothing beat incentive like eternal life), but the amount of time in which I just carried on would have bordered on obsessive back on Earth.

When I wasn’t eating or cycling madra, I was only training. Cassias gave me a couple of breaks to let me cycle away the exhaustion, but otherwise we were going for hours.

Yet, the most impressive part of it all was how my mind simply did not slip. I didn’t slouch nor give it less than my very best, something Cassias took completely in stride. Was it a byproduct of sacred arts advancement allowing me supernatural focus as well as strength and speed? I was, after all, elevated in every way since I arrived here. I could probably go toe-to-toe with Mike Tyson right now, and that was while looking like a pudgy gamer. If I got in shape while staying a Copper, I would truly be superhuman.

I feared that my force of will and tenacity would lag behind as my strength increased, yet that hadn’t become a problem just yet. It likely was a natural feature of Cradle; every inhabitant worth anything spent an inordinate amount of their day cycling vital aura for advancement, and that was just completely natural and expected. Anyone on Earth with enough time to set aside an hour or two just for meditation would be seen as extremely spiritual, not to mention the dreariness of such a repetitive action.

The bottom line was my path wasn’t as rocky as I had come to expect, and with that realization, I threw myself deeper into training.

Cassias didn’t give me much feedback beyond the occasional compliment for mastering my own movements, and I was too scared to ask him where I stood in terms of talent level or improvement, highly regretful that I didn’t pick Battle Talent. He thankfully never let his disappointments show. Contrary to my joking around, I really did have a fragile heart that could shatter at the first sign of discouragement, especially during new pursuits. I always did find it difficult letting myself be taught by someone proficient as a result, and always preferred to go at it my own way until I grew skilled enough. I would likely never learn how to sing as a result, but such was the price I paid for cowardice.

I didn’t have the luxury of self-study right now either, but Cassias, bless his precious heart, completely sidestepped my misgivings and just did his job .

And to be honest, the results were certainly stunning. I was moving like an immensely talented athlete trained since childhood. It wasn’t obviously superhuman yet, but considering the scant days I had gone on, I was enjoying the Bruce Lee act.

Even if I knew that I was starting off so far behind that it wasn’t even funny.

Even Lindon had prior physical conditioning, and I was still working on getting rid of my persistent flabs. On the bright side, I was more or less in the normal-weight BMI category, so that was a load off my shoulders. Marginally.

One punch at a time.

000

Yerin hadn’t approved of the course from the get-go, on account of the formulaic nature of it all. There was no formula in combat, really, so she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was taking away the wrong lesson. Now without a master, it was up to her to judge the worth of what training came her way, what would help her or lead her to an early grave.

Nevertheless, it was a challenge, and even if she ran the risk of taking away the wrong lessons, she would at least play the game, and maybe master her Goldsign in the process. The damnable limb would be the death of her if she didn’t at least try.

There was the big issue, she mused. She wasn’t actually making improvements in her own battle style, but ironing out the weaknesses, correcting mistakes. Being restricted to only using the bladed limb that grew on her back was only shoring up her weakness rather than pushing her forward. Her master’s Remnant tried to imply that in any way that he could. It didn’t like being corralled.

There was no difference, she tried to remind herself. A removal of a weakness was a step forward; there was no stagnation to be found. Her impatience was her own greatest enemy, so she needed to just bear with it all for now. She wouldn’t admit that Eithan knew best, but Yerin wouldn’t put herself through training that she didn’t see the sense of. She wasn’t anyone’s dutiful little disciple, not anymore at least.

Once she finished the course, from a healthy distance behind and wearing a guileless smile stood Sky. He was… an odd one. His skin was a curious brown that Yerin recognized from her master, one of the only other people she had ever seen that looked like that . The Frozen Blade people came close, but her master was on another level. Once upon a time, she had even assumed that it was a part of his Goldsign, but she supposed that there were just people like that, like there were people like Eithan Arelius and Cassias with natural yellow hair, blue eyes and skin with pink undertones.

Of course, it wasn’t his ethnicity that made him odd. He was like Lindon, but unlike Lindon, Yerin was stumped that someone like him could have managed to stay alive thus far. He spoke like there weren’t enough words in the world to express all his feelings, latched onto people like a particularly persistent barnacle, and fought like someone who only learned to throw a punch the day before. He was, mercifully enough, making headway on that, and likely would only get better once he had an Iron body to his name, but Yerin couldn’t shake the discomfort of just looking at him.

She did feel a protective instinct towards Lindon, but when she looked at Sky, she only felt a desire to remove herself from a hopeless situation, to look away while the world claimed him as one of its hapless victims. There was nothing she felt she could really do for him other than hope, and since that didn’t quite sit right with her, she resorted to not interacting with him much at all. He wouldn’t appreciate her pity anyway. She sure wouldn’t have.

“Yerin,” he said. “Can I ask you a favor?”

He was almost fifteen feet away asking, and only soon cut the distance once Yerin had regained her breath. “What sort of favor?” She asked.

“I can’t help but notice that your masterfully styled hair is much too straight to have been cut any other way than through your expertise in the sacred arts,” he said. Lots of words just to butter her up, but that was apparently his style. Couldn’t just say what he wanted and be done with it.

Perhaps that was just a survival instinct, really. He was like Lindon in that regard, though Lindon’s chattering leaned more towards groveling than charming, which was a much safer bet if anything.

Yerin decided to be charitable, however. “I use sword aura to cut my hair,” she said. “Why? You want the same?”

Sky nodded with a smile. “Yes, actually, I, uh,” he reached into his outer robe and pulled out a roll of paper which he showed to her. To her relief, it was just a drawing, not a letter or anything like that which she couldn’t read. It wasn’t the best drawing in the world, but it basically gave her the right idea on what type of hairstyle he wanted. Currently, his hair could have been described as an unrelenting, narrow bush. He had combed it out for the occasion of his haircut, and the drawing suggested that he wanted more geometry.

The hair on his sides would gradually taper off downwards into nothing, while leaving the top of his head straight and flat. Her master always preferred a ponytail that didn’t get in the way very much, but she supposed everyone had their tastes. “Not afraid for your ears, I take it?” She asked.

He smiled like someone had mocked him and he was only taking it. “I trust that you have the skill and precision to only cut the things you would like to cut.”

She supposed he was right, but she did enjoy winding him up all the same. “I’m a sword artist, not a barber. When the things I cut don’t bleed, it doesn’t really sit right, but I’ll try my best all the same.” She reached both her hands for his head, to gauge his head shape, and he looked like he was doing his very best not to flinch. The things some people did for beauty.

“I trust you,” he whispered as he closed his eyes like someone grimly accepting their execution. Yerin couldn’t help it; she chuckled.

Her Goldsign always emanated sword aura, so once she got a feel for his head, she let go of him and got to work. The aura sheared him exactly to her understanding of how he wanted to look. When it was done, he looked… well-groomed, actually.

Except for the peach fuzz facial hair, which looked more like a sad excuse of a beard. Yerin wasn’t a man, but she could recognize the merits of not half-assing.

The facial hair came off just as easily.

“Done,” Yerin said, turning around to brave the course once again.

“Thank you so much!” Sky said. “I promise I’ll make it up to you!”

Well, she wouldn’t deny free gifts.

As long as he could stay alive for long enough to make good on his promise. That wouldn’t be so bad.

Chapter 4: Serpent's Grave

Chapter Text

Over the weeks that passed in our flight eastwards from the Desolate Wilds, Fisher Gesha had settled into an equilibrium and no longer felt so sick, giving Lindon all his due attention. I ducked in to witness one of the lessons in the dummy shed Eithan had attached to the cloudship, just to get a glimpse of Remnant parts from up-close, and they looked exactly as surreal as I had imagined them. It was a clash of art styles, going from the ultra-realistic real life textures of normal life to painted and brush-strokey tentacles, arms and legs belonging to multitude apparitions. At first, they gave me a headache, too, as my brain adapted to their existence and slotted them into my ken slowly. It was the same with the Copper sight, really. By the time we were weeks into our journey, I'd gotten used to it, but always made sure to get a looksy here and there.

I, on the meanwhile, was beginning to actually develop some muscle mass, nothing like Lindon the calisthenic youtuber. Getting there, of course, though I was fine either way, appearance-wise. ‘Good Looking’ and all. A boosted self-image was objectively better than actually looking good, especially for one's mental health. I felt confident in my own skin either way.

It was great, and I was happy, but nothing could distract me from Lindon’s own progress. He was actually getting there, while I had just recently finished clambering up towards the starting line. To make matters worse, he would actually become a contender in the setting in a year, courtesy of Eithan’s power-leveling shenanigans. I would benefit from something similar, sure, but I didn’t have the benefit of the luck of a protagonist. I could actually die without destabilizing the setting overmuch. Indeed, my dying would likely be the safest bet for Cradle.

I just had to catch up. Always.

We arrived at Serpent’s Grave all-too-soon. The city screamed fantasy land because of the mind-boggling, disgusting scale of the laughably enormous dragon remains that I simply couldn’t tear my eyes away from, and the urban sprawl that had somehow incorporated itself into the draconic remains as well. It was so incredible, so out-there , that I did the only sensible thing I could think of.

I jumped up at the banister, at the edge of the Sky’s Mercy, and screamed my lungs out.

Did I say ‘sensible’? My mistake.

I was at the bleeding edge of falling to my death, but there was not a single shred of fear in my heart. I just felt so damn fucking alive that there was no room for something so plebeian as that.

Yerin and Lindon had come out for the view as well, so I didn’t dare turn back to look at their reactions. I just kept screaming.

“Let’s do this!” This felt so good! Adrenaline, man. Can’t get enough of it.

I was looking at my entire future, the turning point of my life. Nothing would ever remain the same once I alighted, and I was ready to throw my identity into the air one last time just to prove that there was a Glassy Sky here.

“Brace for landing!” A loud voice shouted from the control room, one that I recognized was Cassias. “Situate yourself, Sky!”

I grimaced in embarrassment as I clambered down from the banister where I turned around and saw Yerin and Lindon. The former rolled her eyes at me while Lindon cracked a wide grin, for a moment forgetting his predicament. He had the greatest burden among us all.

Cassias didn’t lie about bracing myself, however. My bravado fled like a skittish horse once we began our dive downwards. I grabbed onto the banisters with an iron grip before realizing that I was more than powerful enough to keep myself on my feet.

After a few minutes, I got over the fear and enjoyed the ride until we finally alighted atop the skull of one mega-dragon, where we were welcomed to a whole bunch of well-dressed people standing on two rows, creating a corridor for us to walk through. They addressed Eithan as their Patriarch, reported all the enemy actions of the Jai clan, and the Patriarch came out with words of encouragement for their good work and reassurances that he would take care of everything. I knew he meant it.

The moment he dismissed them all and we were on our way, I veered Eithan’s way and resisted poking, since he likely knew I wanted his attention. A memory had resurfaced and a pit grew in my stomach. “Hey,” I said. “Uh, the thorn in your side is here and I would rather not be around when you provoke him.”

Eithan ignored me.

“You can’t be serious,” I whispered. Cassias looked at me curiously. I wasn’t sure just how much he knew about my little prescience-situation, but I’m assuming he knew enough to know that when I was being serious, I really was being serious.

“What?” Lindon came closer to me and muttered so softly that I almost didn’t hear him. I acknowledged him for a moment and turned back to Eithan for an answer.

Eithan chuckled a little. “ This is what I was talking about, Sky. You need more grit .”

Dammit .

I turned to Lindon with a tightly pressed smile. “We’re going to have a mildly horrifying encounter with an elderly man that Eithan can’t help but needle. And I have to be there in the meanwhile because that apparently builds character.”

Lindon looked at me with a death glare that I knew only meant he was intensely curious. “How do you know this?”

“I know a lot of things about our journey,” I said. “Unlike you, I didn’t get a spot in the Ascension Crew with my superlative skills in dummy-fighting.” I smiled so he knew I was joking.

“You’ve seen… our future?” He asked. “Is that why you’re so sure we—”

I clapped him on his shoulder. “I hope you are aware that fate is fickle and extremely prone to change. What I’ve seen or what I tell you will not necessarily come to pass. It’s still mostly on you. Us, really. By my estimates, I’ve only made our journey slightly easier.”

Yerin hummed. “Explains why you’re alive in spite of your whole jester routine.”

I chuckled. True enough, that. The fact that I'd come this far was truly commendable.

We entered a pretty enormous chamber the likes of which I didn’t think was possible to build on Earth. In my head, I imagined that this was the scale of the Ninecloud Court building that Lindon was shown all those weeks ago, but that one was likely so much greater.

Unnecessary bigness would be the death of me someday.

There were thousands of people just milling about, actually doing unique jobs, taking tasks and rushing in and out in groups. I focused on the backs of my companions in order to drown out the bustle. I was never good with dense population centers, but now I felt twitchy and no longer in control over my limbs. I hid it as best as I could and remained functional, however, until we arrived at an open air area where we were greeted to the sun, the piercing blue sky and an enormous statue of a wild-haired murder hobo wielding a knife.

It looked like a depiction of an Asian demon of some kind, but entirely human. The only demonic part of him was the sheer fury that the statue emanated. A Xianxia statue with in-built emotions or just a really good work of art? I couldn’t rightly tell.

Eithan explained the statue depicting the original Patriarch, who I knew to be Ozriel, and when we approached a spiraling bone tower, we said our farewells to Cassias, who would be reuniting with his family.

Eithan sent Fisher Gesha away, sent a servant to prepare Orthos’ underground chamber, and we turned away to wait in the outdoors, Eithan wearing the most self-satisfied smirk in the world while the rest of us fidgeted in our own way.

Jai Daishou arrived too soon for me to prepare myself emotionally. He was tall and wiry, an old man with the stability of someone that looked a quarter his age. He had long, thick braids of metallic white hair sparkling with the sun, the Goldsign of the Stellar Spear Path, and wore his white outer robes with gold lapels effortlessly, the hems of his sleeves billowing with the wind.

I tried not to hide behind Eithan as he began to spew poorly veiled slights at the prideful old man, staring at the floor like it owed me money while taking comfort in the presence of my two comrades.

“This is Yerin,” Eithan contined. “My top-ranked disciple of the outer family.” He gestured at Lindon. “Lindon is the second-ranked, and the one staring at the floor is Sky, who happens to be the third-ranked!”

An invisible ghost-hand burrowed into my stomach, taking the wind off my lungs, and for a moment, I met Jai Daishou’s disgusted expression. I had to bite my lip not to laugh; I knew those ways, man. It sucks to suck.

“Second,” Jai Daishou said. “And… third .” He said the word like one would say 'this soup tastes like piss'.

At any other situation, I would have quipped something self-deprecating to lighten the mood, but Eithan was convinced that giving us pants-shitting terror was more important than protecting us, so I couldn’t rely on his full protection, only staying alive, and not even in one piece at that.

“I ranked them myself!” Eithan beamed. “Disciples, meet Jai Daishou, seventh Underlord of the Blackflame Empire.”

There was something missing there, I could feel it. Jai Daishou felt so, too, and personally corrected him. “And Patriarch of the Jai Clan,” he said with an appropriate level of pomp in his voice.

“The third-ranked clan of the three great families,” Eithan added. That’s right; dead last. No shame in being dead last among the top three, but Eithan had all but rubbed it in.

Jai Daishou stared at Eithan for so long that I felt I had to interject on his behalf, but before I could muster the courage, he spoke. “Your family’s performance has slipped in your absence, eleventh. I can only imagine how the rest of the clan has fared without your supervision.”

Something about that burned me. It was his infuriating subtle grin, and the fact that lives were taken only to boost his ego. Unfounded courage and bravado welled up inside of me, and with the protection of Eithan, I finally felt the power to talk. “There’s not much a clan of janitors can do when jealous spear-wielding warriors beset them, don’t you think?”

Jai Daishou’s attention settled on me like a sack of bricks. The rush of his attention alone was enough to set my heart to hammering. The rush was something indescribable , too. Uh-oh. I hoped I didn’t get used to this. “A Copper with insolence.”

I couldn’t help but crack a grin at that. It was purely a ‘fuck me’ grin, but Daishou got the wrong idea entirely, however, and now it felt like he was physically pressuring the air from my lungs.

Not so fun, being choked out like that.

Oh, wait. Very fun . Adrenaline Junkie made me a freak. Could this situation get any worse?

“Perish his words,” Eithan said. “I’m certain your Jai warriors had nothing to do with the blatant attacks against my people by unknown spear-wielding ruffians on light and sword Paths. At any rate, I am quite pleased with my people regardless. They have held out well against these wretched fiends.”

Jai Daishou ground his teeth, eyes darting between myself and Eithan. “Don’t blame the lion for picking off hapless sheep, Arelius. Secure your holdings better or simply suffer the consequences.”

How the fuck did Eithan not see this guy’s attack coming anyway? He was gearing up since day zero . Sure, it was ballsy, assholic and completely out of left field for a warrior clan to just stomp on a custodial clan, but would it have killed Eithan to have taken the guy more seriously?

“I should say the same,” Eithan said. “Stay safe in the coming months. It wouldn’t do for the Jai to be brought low by the dreg it once discarded, would it?”

“A Highgold is not worth my notice,” Jai Daishou said with less emotion than I had anticipated. “An appropriate opponent will deal with the unruly child.”

“Glad to hear it!” Eithan said. “Your time is worth so much more than that! Ah, I’m grateful we had this conversation. I will seek an audience with you as soon as I am able, to reciprocate your courtesy. But I am really busy,” he began to push us the other way. I could hardly believe that we were walking away from him like that.

Then, for a moment, everything changed. My ears began to ring, I was on all fours on the ground while Lindon and Yerin were ten feet away, weapons and fists raised for a fight. I turned behind myself slowly to see Jai Daishou leveling a spear straight ahead, and Eithan blocking with a pair of tailoring scissors. He looked like a stiff breeze was enough to blow him over and allow the old man his advance.

And I had no doubts that the thrust was aimed at myself, seeing as how Jai Daishou was giving me a death glare. “A lot of trouble for a Copper,” the Jai Patriarch seethed. “Let me have his head and I will forgive your insolence.” My eyes widened in shock and fear, but I still couldn’t help my grin from spreading.

Eithan turned to me with a strained, but still smiling, expression. “What do you say?”

“Will a simple apology suffice?” I asked, gingerly pressing my forehead against the floor as I suppressed a chuckle. Wow, my first unironic kowtow. I hoped I wouldn’t get used to this. It felt like my head could just fly off from my neck at any second. I imagined the feeling would be utterly vertigo-inducing, but death would come too quickly for the discomfort to reach a head. Hah, head .

I could really die right here.

Jai Daishou scoffed and put his spear away as if by magic. Then, he released a wave of pure fury. I prepared for this, going full slack. Eithan would defend me from harm, and I repeated that mantra in my head like the scared bitch I was, all the while apologizing mentally to Yerin and Lindon for having to go through with this with me.

To their luck, I was the main focus of Daishou’s pressure. They were straining to stay upright, and Eithan was doubled over like a boulder rested on his shoulders, but I literally could not move. I could not breathe. I could not think. All I could take solace in was in the fact that Eithan would not let me get hurt.

I was taking away the wrong lesson from this, I was sure, but the experience had to count for something. I would never forget this, after all.

I would never forget feeling this helpless. Even without 'Historian', I wouldn't.

Ah, maybe I was getting the right lesson.

The pressure ceased almost too abruptly, causing me to hyperventilate, and I didn’t regain my composure until Jai Daishou was long gone. I stood up shakily and shook my nerves away. Eithan, meanwhile, never lost that amused expression. “I hope that was worth it,” I said.

“What?!” Yerin asked, looking around as if to say ‘are you hearing this guy?’ “You took those words right out of my mouth!”

I bowed my head her way. “I’m sorry.”

“A bald-faced lie if I’ve ever heard one,” she accused.

“Well, I got to mouth off at an Underlord and kept all my limbs, so yeah,” I shrugged. “I guess I’m not. Lindon, how are you feeling?”

“Forgiveness, but you should invest in a self-preservation instinct.”

I glared at Eithan. “This was going to happen regardless thanks to our Patriarch. You’ve got him to thank.”

“You’re welcome!” Eithan beamed.

“For a Copper,” Yerin said. “You'd do better worrying for your life a mite more.”

“It was barely a gamble,” I said.

Yerin folded her arms. “And Eithan was just playing the fool, then?”

“Yeah,” I said as I came over to shove him. He obviously dodged, and it was all I could do to not trip over my feet. “That, he was. He’s a garbage actor. But we’re all alive, so that’s cause for celebration. I think.”

She didn’t seem convinced, but she also wasn’t willing to push the issue. Perhaps she was catching onto the fact that Eithan had hidden depths?

“Moving on,” Eithan said, almost giving me whiplash from the shift in topic as he tossed Yerin a wooden token. “Have a servant direct you to a refinery. Ask them for a Purple Feather Elixir.”

It took a moment for Yerin to let the topic go as well, but when she did, she was all business. “This will help me reach Highgold?”

“You don’t need help and you know it,” Eithan said. “But if you wish to go at it your way, then the Elixir will help you advance without cracking into the Remnant in your core. Cycle as much as you can while the elixir is still effective.”

Yerin wasted no time darting off.

Eithan looked towards Lindon. “Sky is feeling neglected, and to be sure, I have neglected him, so for now, I’m going to show him his roadmap to power.” He tossed Lindon a wooden token just like Yerin’s. “Get a servant to take you to one of the waiting rooms—doesn’t matter which— and have some tea and biscuits while I tend to our ridiculously reckless boy. As you can see, he can’t go on like this for much longer with a body that can’t even support his mouth.”

I gave Eithan a sidelong glance. “And you said I lack grit.”

“If you wish to prove yourself,” Eithan said sagely. “There are safer, more productive ways than provoking an enemy Underlord.” He had a point, as infuriating as that was. “Still, I am proud of you for doing what you did. It took real courage and bravery to completely ignore your survival instincts and common sense in such a way.” I honestly couldn't tell if he was being facetious or not.

Lindon stalked off after a bow, leaving me to follow Eithan completely alone. “So,” I said. “Library?”

“Yes,” he said. “It’s better I give you a visual.”

Ten minutes later, and lots of navigating through the enormous Arelius compound, we arrived at the library. It was just a room, not particularly large compared to the rest of the place. It was a welcome change of pace, actually. There were scripts on the walls and ceilings, and an altar containing a copper-plated ball the size of a fist.

“Do you know what this is?” He asked.

“The library,” I said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, just to troll him a little. “It’s right there, right? I’m guessing it’s pretty valuable, since your clan can gather information with the best of them.”

“Quite,” he said, smiling, knowing I was cheating by pulling information from whatever my source was. “It was within these walls that I, Eithan Arelius, designed my Path. I’ve designed several others since then, just to see if I could, just to test the limits of this wondrous game we call the sacred arts. I’m going to skip the whole song and dance of giving you a choice in the matter, since you seem to trust me implicitly—let me say, that really does warm my heart, you know.” He sounded genuinely sincere, too. “I will be blunt and say that you are only getting a high-mobility Path because I also think it’s a good idea. Psychologically, you fit the profile of someone that thinks quickly on their feet, someone that relishes in situations that rely on wit and reaction speed. Like recognizes like after all.”

I shrugged. Yes, I liked the twitch gameplay genre, and I suppose that had an effect on my choice in Paths. I always was immensely satisfied by the raising of my internal clock as I scrambled to stuff blocks together into neat arrangements or shoot my pixelated opponents before they could hit me. I was never great at it, which was somewhat worrying now that I was going to stake my life on that stuff, but then again, I never had to stake my life on first-person shooters in real life, so maybe I had a surprising amount of talent deeply buried?

Right?

Eithan went over to snatch the Copper-plated ball, and soon enough, a purple man stood in the room. With a considerable show of effort as his knees bent and his hands pressed together, a ball of crackling violet light formed in his hands. The light expanded into a rod-like shape before tapering into a spear-point. Just to fuck with me and my recent trauma, Eithan had the image point the spear directly at my face. I only saw Jai Daishou’s expression but realized quickly that I was just having a mini-episode as purple covered the mannequin-like man’s blank face once more.

To my pride, I only took two steps back before glaring at Eithan. “Very funny, funny man. What is this?”

A blank white man appeared, and the purple man directed a beam of light from his spear that tore the man’s torso open like a hot knife slicing butter.

The white man disappeared, and was replaced by a glowing white man wielding a spear as well. “Path of the Stellar Spear,” Eithan said.

The glowing man tried to block the beam, and lost his arms, and soon his head, in the process.

“This is the Path of the Broken Star,” Eithan began, gesturing at the purple man. “It was the original path of the Stellar Spear, one that could do a lot of amazing things like blow holes into people and kill them. You know, basic sacred arts things. For its part, it does it very well. It does it vastly better than the Stellar Spear, which happens to have a great family practicing it as you may have come to notice. You will undoubtedly make a splash with this Path.”

I hummed. “It has disadvantages, I believe.” I could vaguely recall that it was more trouble than it was worth for Lindon, though I had to assume that it was because Eithan had a better option for him anyway.

He nodded. “The Jade cycling technique is notoriously meticulous, the conditions for proper use rely too much on ideal conditions, as does vital aura cycling, and there is a sealed city that you must enter in order to cultivate the Path in the first place. It will take about three months to gain access, unfortunately. At any rate, the Path stabilizes during the Gold stage and you are less reliant on its finicky nature, but that is a long road from now. You will have a lot of work ahead of you.”

I was almost disappointed by how simple the choice was. That said, I put my trust in Eithan. If he thought this would be what I needed, then that was okay.

The purple man shrank, and opposite him, about ten meters away in scale, a man with a burning red outline and white center appeared, wielding a spear identical to the Broken Star practitioner. They charged up Striker techniques. The burning man released his far before the purple man was ready. The burning man’s Striker technique looked like an unfurling ribbon, or a narrow arc that seemed like it could swallow up the thin ray of the purple Broken Star man.

It did, and then bisected the purple man, and a building right behind him.

The purple man resurrected and the burning man engaged him in a melee, the tip of his spear shrouded in burning light with a white outline. The Broken Star man’s purple-tipped spear was de-stabilized at every impact, growing more and more incorporeal and the burning man took advantage of this. They both grew larger and larger until they were basically human-sized, allowing me to just barely glimpse their rapid battle. It took almost no time at all until the red man could no longer keep up and the burning man sliced him in half horizontally.

The purple man resurrected again, and it was a battle of speed. They became a whirl of movement, and soon grew faster than my human eyes could even follow. The Broken Star man was taking cuts left and right while the burning man only became faster and faster, markings of white stretching across his skin like pulsing tribal tattoos . The pulses accelerated to become so quick that it became a constant light, at which point the man reached his full potential.

He threw the Broken Star man with a thrust that sent him flying hundreds of feet as they shrunk rapidly, but caught up to him far before he could even land, spearing him through his chest and throwing him away with contemptuous ease.

He grew to the size of a normal human and the Burning Man pumped his fist in victory.

“Holy mother of god,” I said, still gaping. “What in— was that the Broken Star Path?”

“No,” Eithan said. “The purple man was the Broken Star practitioner. The man with the burning core is of my own creation. I call it the Path of the Collapsing Star. What do you think?”

I was fucking amazed, that was what I was thinking. “I like it a lot. Is this the one?”

“No,” Eithan said. “This is the one.”

A golden man with a long cape manifested before the burning one, floating in the air like an angry god and ten times his size, and with a wave of his hands, the Collapsing Star practitioner ceased to exist. “I call it the Path of the You Always Win. In this Path, you always win. What do you think?”

I resisted laughing and nodded. “I think it can barely meet my standards. You have done well, Arelius.” How did he get away with putting junk data in his family’s library anyway? That had to be some kind of dick move. “All jokes aside, if you’ve made such great Paths here, then how come the Arelius haven’t taken over the Empire yet?”

“We are quite powerful as it is,” Eithan said. “So I guess it comes down to not having ambition. Besides, the library can only be accessed by Bloodlined Arelius members, so it’s not like just everyone has access to the You Always Win Path. The vast majority of us have to settle for simpler Paths. Besides, the superlative Paths that I create, or exist naturally tend to have ludicrous requirements too great to support so many people. The Collapsing Star Path is barely within our budget, and accounts for the worth that you bring to me. That said, it is more than enough to keep in lockstep with the rest of us.”

In short, they were too broke to fund the super-crazy Paths, and I just barely brought enough worth into the equation to justify it.

“I’ll take it,” I said. “Supposing the You Always Win Path isn’t real, of course,” I added.

“Great,” he said smiling wryly. “Now, the Broken Star Path mixes a bevy of energy-aspected madras and a pinch of space authority in a barely-stable concoction that doesn’t even work in some atmospheric conditions while below Gold. While the resultant techniques are impressive, they take too long to master and pose too much of a threat to their wielder to actually show their full potential. The Collapsing Star Path foregoes the space authority altogether, and focuses on mixing force, sword, light and fire madra in a balance that produces an… impressively devastating cocktail that is both easier to master, reliable, and doesn’t sacrifice on raw power much at all. I even considered adopting this Path when I sketched it as a young Copper, but I found that I valued flexibility more than destructibility, and it felt too much like a compromise as well.

“Now, for disadvantages, because of course there are some. While hard work can’t be really counted as a downside to a Path, you will most assuredly have your work cut out for you. The Broken Star Path city is a must, unfortunately. The ratio of madra aspects will have to be manipulated slightly, but it’s nothing too challenging. Before then, we will have to worry about your exceedingly painful Iron body advancement.” Ah yes, jolly. Poison or a scalding hot oil bath. I can’t wait. “The Jade cycling technique will not be the Heaven and Earth Purification Wheel.”

“What?” I asked. “But isn’t that one the easiest way to hit Sage?”

“It is a good way to consistently build enough will that you can seize an Icon in the early Lord realm, yes,” he said. “But it’s not the only way, nor the most effective way for someone on your Path.”

“But… madra capacity,” I muttered. I was looking forward to having an infinite battery, too.

He laughed. “That’s funny. No. Collapsing Star madra is something you want as little of in your system as possible in the earlier stages. It is dangerous to control without the right tools. Of course, I will give you those tools, but an impractically large core is not one of them. This Jade cycling technique will be a hybrid between madra capacity and madra control, with a greater emphasis on the latter. You will likely have to cycle it for about two hours a day in order to stay in control of the Collapsing Star madra, and as you gain more skill in the cycling technique, you may reduce this time. Only you know what your spirit really needs in the end.”

I gulped. That sounded like a huge investment of time, especially something daily.

“You will, of course, have less of a need for sleep as a tenuous byproduct of your Iron body,” he said. “So no need to search for time to cycle! See, I really did think of everything! Ah, not to worry; your Iron body will have more of a function than just lessening your need for sleep. In fact, it won’t be all that bad. I’ll be putting you on a diet of your favorite foods and an array of tasty elixirs while you stay suspended in a cocoon of fluid that will seep into your body and break down your unhealthy attachment to flesh.”

“What?! ” I asked. “What does that do?” All I wanted was to be lighter, and now this ?

And he knew my favorite foods?

Nice.

“It’s called the Ethereal Iron body,” he said. “And it is great for energy-based Paths, among many other things. It removes more of the obstructions of flesh that prevent madra from raging through your body. You will be a natural conductor for the ravaging energies of Collapsing Star madra, with very little personal risk attached. Except for the part where you should, by all means, try to not take any life-threatening injuries.”

I frowned. “…Why? I mean, I don’t expect a Bloodforged constitution, but what exactly do you mean by that?”

“I mean,” he said with a strained smile. “That you are more likely to not recover from great injuries than the average sacred artist. There are ways to limit this, of course, even in the Gold stage. You won’t be like that forever, but it is best that you exercise caution before then. That said, with your speed, you only need to be diligent in your training to prevent something like that from happening.”

I looked at him with a serious expression. “You want me to be a fighter . I can’t go around relying on luck and speed to not get hurt!”

“Correction,” he poked my chest. “ You want to be a fighter. You want to keep up with the rest of us. I’m giving you a double-edged sword for now, but it will grow to become your greatest weapon. I can’t help the fact that powerful sacred arts come attached with immense risks anyway, and you are painfully behind as it is.” Before I could lose more heart, Eithan raised an index finger. “That said, you will get more powerful at a very high speed, and you seem like you know a few good fortunes will come your way anyway.”

Ghostwater came to mind. If my body was frail, I needed the Ghostwater fish to shore up that weakness. If I could grab some Refiner skills as well, I could make it extra potent, too. And Eithan wouldn’t let me flounder as a glass cannon, either. Not for very long.

I understood, now, what Eithan meant with grit.

“As for physical benefits,” he said. “Your bones will be more flexible, and your muscles will also be structurally augmented, so pound for pound, you are far more powerful than someone else your own weight. Compared to the average Iron body… let’s just say speed is your only friend. There are a few surprises for you, however. Good surprises.”

“Okay,” I said. I didn’t like the sound of that at all . “I don’t suppose there are other downsides of the Path?”

He shook his head. “Daily cycling, frail body and an adventure in an unexplored city lost for generations. Those are the broad strokes. The rest is only boilerplate. Risk of death, dismemberment, madness, headaches and self-immolation.”

“Headaches ?” I asked in exaggerated horror.

“I understand if you’re having second thoughts.”

“Pardon my disrespect,” I said. “But I’m only trying to gather bravado: your mother was a hamster and your father smelled of elderberries. You are nothing; sign me up.”

He clapped me on my shoulder. “This is where I turn into nightmare Eithan. You said yes, and I’m not letting you walk away with a flawed Iron body. Are we clear?”

I closed my eyes and smiled placidly. “Crystal.”

Chapter 5: Tempered Iron

Chapter Text

I was pacing around in my room. It was miles better than the hotel Eithan had first put me in, and looked like it would cost a thousand dollars per night to sleep in on Earth, with marble walls and carpentry and upholstery out of a fantasy anime. I couldn’t appreciate the gesture, however, or touch the snacks on the table.

Actually, I could.

Of course, once I ran out it was back to pacing. I hadn’t been left alone for an hour and anxiety was already mounting. I said yes, and Eithan promised he wouldn’t let me off the hook for it. Fuck, fuck. Why did I choose to play this stupid game? Fuck. I should have taken up shadow origami. Zero risk of death there.

I picked up some dream tablets from the closet and decided to pass the time a little. Thankfully, it wasn’t all just Anibius. There were revenge plays, adventure romances through the high seas and court intrigue stuff.

It was nearing dusk when Eithan arrived to find me in a stupor of consideration, judging the merits of the story against the irrational decisions of its characters. Sure, I loved a good romp with stupid characters that spiced up the setting, but some of those characters were actually too dumb to live. They reminded me a little of Akura Harmony, actually.

I mean, say what you want about me, but Akura Harmony straight-up asked for death. I actually had assurances in my survival when I needled the laser-spear guy, so we were different. Besides, the asshole deserved it.

“Follow me,” Eithan said. “We will have a swift meal and your first submerging will begin.”

I nodded. “Did Lindon pick the… Path?”

“Naturally,” Eithan smiled. “He and I were of the same mind, really. And there isn’t a Path that can serve him on the short-term or long-term like the Blackflame Path does.” No one was listening in then. “I’ve already introduced him to Orthos and they have created the contract.” That meant a few more days until the Blackflame trials, something I would not be able to make it to at all.

Oh well. They did fine without me anyway. I could still meet them after gaining the Collapsing Star path. Three months for an Iron Body, or until we gain access to the city, and maybe six more months until I got used to my new Path. I would see Lindon in jail then.

“I’m not hungry,” I said.

“Irrelevant, I’m afraid,” he said. “We’ll need to put three gallons of slurry in you before we continue.”

My face turned ashen. “Are you joking?”

“Yes,” Eithan chuckled. “There’s a couple of gross meat wraps with your name on it. And some painkillers, so you don’t immediately give up. The first few days will be the worst, so there’s a life artist on standby to make sure that the drugs don’t overload your liver and kill you. I will be there for emotional support for a little while before I’m finished making arrangements here to protect my clan and disciples. Afterwards, we won’t see each other for a few months as I will be busy rerouting madra into complex scripts in order to activate a construct city.”

“A city of constructs?” I asked.

“No. A construct that is also a city. It’s a self-feeding system of vital aura, trials of the Broken Star and a whole ecosystem of Remnants feeding off of pure madra fonts. It was built a few thousand years ago, and it speaks volumes about its effectiveness that the only still living practitioners of this Path are Archlords that find themselves unable to ascend.”

“Really?” I asked. “Where are they now?”

“Scattered here and there,” he said, waving his hand. “Working under the employ of more powerful Archlords and Monarchs, I assume. They are just the untalented ones anyway.”

“Will they mind our intrusion?” I asked.

“I highly doubt it.”

…Was this a plot thread?

This is totally a plot thread.

Eithan looked entirely oblivious about it, too. No knowing look or anything like that. He genuinely thought it would just be an in-and-out twenty-minute adventure while in reality, I’d probably have to contend with the lackey of some ancient Archlord. Fuck.

We arrived at a private room where a stern white-robed woman adorned in ruby necklaces and ear-rings stood. She had brown hair parted in a way that gave her forehead much prominence, and on that forehead was an eye, with a red iris marbled with luminescent white strands. I assumed she was only a servant until she approached me boldly and sent the most invasive scan I had ever felt throughout my entire body, worse than Eithan’s the first time we met.

I almost buckled under the merciless pressure of her sight.

She nodded to the Underlord, and Eithan gestured towards the table where I took a seat. I tried to ignore the looks of the others as I devoured the food with relish—the secret to a good wrap was always in the sauce—but my Copper constitution made gouging myself easier than ever.

And I wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.

Once I was done, the life artist handed me a vial, which I drank from. It was so bitter that it almost overshadowed the memory of the meal, but I managed to keep it down nonetheless.

We left the room and entered an open-air courtyard high enough up to overlook Serpent’s Grave, now dotted with lights as night fell.

There, I saw the dreaded cocoon.

It was a blue, coffin-like object of fleshy goo with a few steps leading up to it. I imagined that once I stepped into it, it would close up around me and fill up with the mystery juice that would change my body.

This was going to suck so bad.

The life artist began to speak. “Once the sac fills up with the fluid, it will seep into your body to get rid of waste material, so you need not worry about excretion. You will be inside for twelve hours, after which we shall complete exercises in order to promote madra channel proliferation. The average completion time is a month, but it can take anywhere from two weeks to three months depending on how diligent you are. Children usually take a month.”

Okay, so no pressure. Basically, if I took more than a month, I would be less than a child.

“Of course,” the life artist continued. “Children have smaller bodies, so the process would be less thorough for them. At any rate, try not to take more than two months, as it puts you at risk of laying flaws on your Perfect Iron body. I recommend you work as fast as possible.”

I stepped up into the sac while Eithan gave me shouts of encouragement.

The sac closed up and fluid began to pour in. I tried to claw my way up for air, but eventually, the fluids entered my lungs.

That feeling was something I would never forget. I felt like it should have been more agonizing, but instead, it felt like I was dying. Not a torturous death, just death. I was in pure panic mode, and convinced that I wouldn’t survive.

It was the pain that came after which gave me relief. It distracted me from the panic, and gave me a healthy dosage of realism. I wasn’t supposed to die, only suffer. It was a truth that calmed me down.

When the pressure began to build up in my body and I started to feel like a balloon on the point of bursting, I took deep, drowning breaths and stilled my mind. It was only pain. Not death. I would get past this.

000

By the time the fluid sac opened, I felt exhausted and my flesh raw. The life artist caught me before I could fall down and hurt myself, not even minding the slurry covering me. “I need you standing,” she told me.

I coughed embryonic fluid, much of it dribbling off my chin as air began to take precedence. I looked around blearily for Eithan, who was standing there with a sympathetic smile. I tried smiling right back, but I supposed I looked more like I was on the brink of death than anything.

Right. She needed me standing.

I flexed all the muscles in my body in order to remain standing. She held my hand, and I stepped down the dais slowly. “Thank…” I wheezed.

“Follow me,” she said. “Cycle madra and try to keep up. Can you do that?”

“Uhn.”

I looked down at my finger. Fuck, I still had that Parasite Ring on. What if I…

“The Underlord has requested that you keep it on,” she said.

“It’s for your own good!” Eithan supplied.

I rolled my eyes. If she wasn’t going to take it off, then I sure as fuck didn’t have the energy to do so.

We did a few rounds around the courtyard in which I ignored the mounting agony in my feet. I felt like someone had literally flattened me to a table with a baking pin, and was growing increasingly tired as I just walked. I cycled madra to stave off the pain, but it was only a stopgap at best.

I tried taking the lead to make the life artist walk faster. She was probably wondering why such a big guy couldn’t even muscle through an Iron body advancement, and if she said that this process would take less time through diligence, then so be it.

The life artist matched my pace, and we were soon at a jog, one that I couldn’t sustain for very long at all. When I stopped, she looked at me impatiently. “You still have a few more rounds to go.” Because of course my best would still not be enough.

I didn’t want to injure myself, I wanted to argue, but then that would be insulting to say to a physician, wouldn’t it? She was here to prevent that.

Very well.

I continued running, pushing myself past my limits and moaning like someone had stabbed me in the liver ten times by the time the life artist finally had the mercy to say ‘enough’.

Eithan was nodding in approval, and a few servants were moving in with a table and some food.

Eithan spoke then. “You will be in for twelve more hours after finishing your meal. Enjoy.”

I barely looked at what I was choking down.

000

I hated this.

The first morning after my submersion had been the most merciful, or the painkillers just weren’t as effective anymore, because I was rapidly losing my ability to keep up with the life artist’s demands. I did my best to just suspend my free will and do exactly as she said, but soon enough, it turned into her dragging me around like a child.

I changed tacks and decided that screaming as I ran was apparently what was expected of me, as my pain and anguish would be the soil that I needed for my will to sprout. I couldn’t just doll up and expect to pass through the sacred arts that way. I had to suffer. What the fuck.

Eithan didn’t look at me with pity, just smiling in encouragement while I bawled like a baby every time the life artist gave me a break. I was moved by his propriety, really.

The life artist began to supplement me with things other than painkillers soon after. Scales, elixirs and a bevy of other medicines that were likely supposed to keep my organs up and running.

All too soon, Eithan stopped coming as well. By then, it felt like the life artist completely forgot that I had the personal attention of the Patriarch. She just started dragging me around like I was deadweight, losing patience much faster than before.

She was horrible.

I soon began to cycle around my organs, to keep my system in line with the rest of my body. Those were the better days, as it didn’t require nearly as much agony. Just sitting down and cycling was the greatest thing in the entire world, and I couldn’t believe that I once found it boring. It was a vacation! It was fucking fun in comparison!

At some point, the fluids began to remain in my body. I became a Michelin man, and it played absolute havoc on all my movements. The life artist was under the belief that this was normal, so I could only suffer the indignities. Thankfully, only a select few servants really saw me anymore, but I still couldn’t lose that sting of humiliation and sheer disgust. This was beginning to become an ordeal I wasn’t able to deal with.

I tried to speedrun the process as much as possible, asking only questions about how much was required of me and trying my best to shoot past those expectations. It was no longer about excelling in the sacred arts.

I just wanted the suffering to stop.

000

Sherha looked at the patient with a mixture of fascination and morbid interest. She had grabbed only a few hours of sleep after making sure that he was stable, and he remained so even now. She looked up at the night sky, seated on one of the steps to the cocoon, and tried to remember the days since this all began.

It was two weeks now, she was fairly certain. He was progressing at a reasonable pace, a little slower than she would have expected from a big guy like him, but it wasn’t completely hopeless. He was wearing that half-silver ring, after all. It had no actual benefitis to his Iron advancement, so Sherha didn’t understand why the Patriarch insisted on him wearing it, but she wasn’t being paid to ask questions at any rate. The man wasn’t completely hopeless, though.

On the contrary, he was conducting himself with dignity and decorum now as well. He no longer cried, and seemed to have found the stoic attitude of a proper sacred artist.

What absolutely impressed her, however, was the fact that this was even working in the first place. Sure, she was good at her job and the Arelius Underlord likely knew what he was doing, but the sheer amount of biotes in such a powerful concentrate of fluid should have digested the man entirely by now.

The Arelius must have given him something for his metabolism, one of the elixirs she was ordered to give to him no-doubt. The Patriarch was an Underlord, wealthy beyond mere words. It was likely well within his means to make sure he stayed alive.

She sent a scan to the dark-skinned man and concluded that they likely only had a week left. Good. By the time the Underlord returned, she would have her bonus, and he would have an Iron disciple.

000

I operated under the personal philosophy that if you had nothing good to say, assess whether it was rational to say it out loud and choose accordingly. The life artist was my doctor, so I said nothing, even though I fucking hated her like cats hated water.

Would it fucking kill her to smile? To tell me this was going to be alright and that I was doing well? How about a fucking timeline or maybe even some compliments?

I was more of a bulbous mess than before, and likely weighed twice as much than I ever did at my worst. Everything fucking hurt, I hated it, and I was glad I there weren’t any mirrors here. Otherwise, I’d just say an insult to every Monarch in existence and be done with this place.

By Malice’s Gorilla-Grip Pussy. I giggled. I was only five words from sweet oblivion.

Food stopped being a comfort as well, and the life artist had the stuff slurrified anyway to prevent me from breaking my jaw against it all. That was a week ago. Now, I was an actual invalid. The life artist had to prevent me from running too fast so I wouldn’t break any bones, and made me take things easier.

It was like she led me down a path to disability, and I couldn’t forgive her for it at all.

When would it end?!

“We will begin your advancement now,” the life artist said. I could barely see her nowadays, as my face was too swollen, blocking most of my sightlines. I could, however, see her handing me a single, shiny scale. “This is a high-grade scale, and will push your core to the transformation to Iron. You have done all the groundwork already so now all you have to do is make your core overflow with madra and your constitution will do the rest.” I take it back, she was an angel.

She dropped the scale in my hand and I inhaled it like the fat fucker that I was. I felt my core overflow with madra and spill out over my entire body like a raging maelstrom. It was pain more intense than anything I had ever felt during my preparations, the perfect climax to this absolute shitfest.

By now, that mattered to me very little, as the prospect of being over and done with this bullshit enticed me more than the fear of bodily harm. It was finally coming to an end.

My body exploded.

Like, literally. Black gunk poured out from my skin in actual explosive pulses that synched with my heart beats until they only settled into raging rivers that didn’t let up until… I couldn’t say how long it lasted. It just kept going.

It was the final indignity, the smell and feel of absolute filth, the final trial in what was absolutely the worst stage of Cradle’s sacred arts. I did not care. It was finally done.

I rubbed my face free of the nasty and looked around.

I was surrounded by a pool of inch-deep black gunk twenty feet in every direction. The walls weren’t spared from splatters, and the life artist was actually behind a glass screen covered in splatters as well. She gave me an approving nod, but said nothing.

Infuriating. Absolutely infuriating. Give me a fucking compliment, dammit! I survived this!

“Stand up,” she said. “Let’s get you washed and changed.”

I jumped up on my feet.

And kept flying.

I was in the air, staring at the floor that was at least ten feet away from me.

Then, I began my descent, and wondered if this would be the end of my sacred arts journey. Eithan expressly told me not to get injured after all, and I didn’t see myself getting out of this without two broken wrists.

I landed painlessly, splashing in my own impurities.

It felt more like I let my hands fall on a bed than anything. I moved my hands around and surmised that I was completely fine.

“Yes!” I screamed. My voice! Even my voice sounder… better, smoother! “I did it! I actually did it!” I got up shakily and pointed my finger at the life artist. “You never believed in me, but I did! And that was enough! Hahah, yes!”

She pointed a tubular device straight at me, and I fell on my back at the raging jet of water.

000

Rule number one; don’t provoke Sherha.

Actually, rule number zero; don’t provoke sacred artists more advanced than you in the first place. The life artist in charge of my advancement was a respectable Truegold who obviously had better things to do than oversee a Copper going to Iron, especially someone as old as I was, so I could understand her lack of patience with me, if only a little.

That said, she didn’t have to go so above and beyond the battery of tests that followed after my advancement. I did go through a lot of changes, though. A lot of changes.

For one, my skin was flawless and looked constantly moisturized. I was a vain motherfucker at the best of times, so I was almost ready to gush to Sherha about that alone if it wasn’t for one other fact as well. The fluid that had burrowed into my body had done more for me than just make me lighter on my feet or more receptive to energetic powers. I was expanded, in every way possible. I specifically recalled the life artist being an above average height lady, maybe an inch shorter than me, but now she looked like she was Yerin’s height.

My entire body was slim and toned as well, by no means muscular, but definitely a good start. I assumed that Eithan wanted me looking this way in order to facilitate faster movements. My muscles weren’t so large that my flexibility was negatively affected after all, which gave me more edges on my high mobility Path.

The obvious downsides, however, was a complete and utter lack of coordination. Beanpole as I was, I had to relearn a lot of movements, ranging from basics like running and walking to advanced stuff like combat forms and all that good stuff. Thankfully, Sherha was no less competent a trainer than Cassias, though she lacked a profound amount of warmth. I had learned to ignore that, however, and come to accept it. I wasn’t a child, and it was immature of me to expect her to cater to my low self-esteem.

I threw myself into training with a conviction reforged during my Iron advancement, relieved beyond measure that the hardest part had been surmounted. It was all about just doing my best, now. It always was, but now there were no undercurrents of humiliation and disgust.

After the pure rigor Sherha put me through, which I would grudgingly admit was exactly what I needed to get back to the state I was in while at the end of my training with Cassias, I was shuffled over to a spear trainer, still in the courtyard, and we began the basics.

“Good day, kid,” he said. He was actually the same height as me, and the same build as well, showing that Eithan really had thought of everything. He was middle-aged, with long red hair tied in a ponytail with a white tip—kind of like a fox’s tail, now that I thought of it—and eyes locked in a perennial fox-like slant and a grin to match. “My name is Mu Shu and I will be your spear instructor. Say, aren’t you a little big to be Iron? I mean, it’s none of my business, but…”

I shrugged. “Early puberty.”

His grin sharpened. “Wait, how old are you, really?” His ponytail stirred. Uh oh, a Goldsign. I tried not to stare.

“Ten?” On the enormous scale of sacred artist lifespans, I was basically ten. It was just ten years away from my actual age, so who was really counting?

He laughed. “You can’t be serious. Ah well. I hope that’s true for your sake, but I’m not pulling my punches even if you are just a kid. Your Patriarch is giving me a hefty bonus for getting you ready within two months. Since money is on the line, I’m going to make your life miserable until you meet my expectations. You understand?”

The fuck? Was this why Sherha was like that? That did explain a whole lot, to be sure.

Wow, Eithan was truly a bastard.

“Wait,” I said. “You can’t injure me. My Iron body—”

“I’ve been notified,” he said. He waved his spear around. The blade was a simple spear-head, but it looked absolutely solid and metallic, sharp even. “My piece is a construct scripted to only inflict pain. It reroutes almost all force from damaging tissue and instead sends a shock of energy through your nerves. Observe.”

“No!”

He hefted his spear over his shoulder like a javelin and sent it flying directly at my stomach. For that instant while the spear was in flight, I knew I was going to die.

The sharp, gleaming, obviously metallic tip bounced off from my stomach and the spear landed ignobly on the floor. It hadn’t even penetrated my outer robe.

My entire torso felt like one big tunnel. Breathing was a pipe-dream, and I didn’t waste much time falling into a writhing mass of agony. Where was the sweet relief? Where was death?!

While I wheezed on the ground, I heard Mu Shu’s voice. “Get the picture, kid? Get good or get hurt. The choice is yours. Now stand up or I’m stabbing you in the butt-cheek.”

One paralyzed butt-cheek later, and I was ready to learn the secrets of spear-play.

000

Mu Shu didn’t reveal his Path during our training at all, and frankly, why should he? He would kill me if he did.

That said, he could still kill me if he wanted to, of that I was certain. He could overload my system and cause me irreparable damage if he were so inclined. After all, he was a bona fide genius. Even without his sacred arts, with only the power of his Iron body, he had enough skill to make me consistently look like a child.

He emphasized repetition and punishment the most in our training, and I could see why. He was trying to instill an instinct in me, and frankly it was working. I was terrified of being hurt now. Not just intellectually averse to suffering a ‘debilitating injury’ that would end my sacred arts career as Eithan so ominously hinted. The fear of being hit was in my bones, now.

In response to an attack, I fucked off. I parried, dodged, moved away, but what I never allowed myself to do if I could help it was let myself be hit by anything.

I was in a feverish cycle of eating, sleeping and training as well. My cycling had completely fallen to the wayside as well, but it was a sacrifice that I literally had to make if I wanted to keep up with Mu Shu’s demands.

I remembered Jai Long’s spear expertise from reading Soulsmith. Even limited to only the power of his Iron body, he had the raw skill necessary to kill a Lowgold. His form had been perfected from millions of repetitions, meaning that if he had spent even one second doing a single repetition, it would take me straight-up months of only training with no breaks to catch up. That meant zero sleep or food, only spear-play. Spacing that out to doable levels, it would literally take me years to catch up.

I needed something to jack up my skill. Not just through rote training, but through direct bodily intervention, something that affected the nerves in my body and made me the perfect spear-machine.

Thoughts of cheating only took a fraction of my brainpower, as I needed to remain productive even as I fantasized about rapid growth. My daily routine was thrusting, slashing, parrying and not getting hit. Over and over again. When Mu Shu got faster, I poured more madra into my Iron body and kept up, staying on the bleeding edge of my capabilities so I could absorb as many lessons as I could. I could almost feel my past self slipping away too, as my newest obsession settled in my psyche and I threw everything else to the wayside. I was always like that, but a combination of trauma and sacred arts was now accelerating that process so much more.

I didn’t spare much time to grieve for myself or anything. It would all come back in time; I was just shelving it away as a self-preservation instinct. My ability to socialize would likely take a hit, as it had done every time I came out of a prolonged bout of self-isolation, but that too would come back.

One thing I really didn’t like about Mu Shu’s teaching style was that he wasn’t even interested in giving me the illusion that I could beat him, or that there even was a win-condition in the first place. Every day felt as difficult as the first, and the more I learned to control and push my Iron body, the more Mu Shu revealed his true power. I remembered reading that Iron was a stage of advancement where you shouldn’t be abused because it could ruin one’s foundation—in Yerin’s case, at least—, but where did that leave me, really? I was pushing myself to the point of insanity and a physical breakdown in order to absorb as much of Mu Shu’s instructions, and much like Sherha, I had no idea where I stood.

This time, it was because I couldn’t trust Mu Shu’s words.

“You learn like you were born with half a brain.”

“Does pain mean nothing to a thick-headed hellion like you?”

“Do we need live blades for you to get the picture?”

If I took more than one attempt to do as I was asked, I would receive verbal abuse. If he found me just a little lacking, he would say nothing, and I would have to try again just to elicit any form of positive utterance.

I found myself dreaming about Sherha, actually. She was just… so nice. So understanding, kind and gentle. She didn’t deserve having to deal with me and I didn’t deserve the luxury of her presence.

The torment continued on without end nor fail.

000

Mu Shu was content with the boy’s progress. Eithan Arelius had sounded mad to him to suggest that a complete novice—an actual child, if the novice in question was to be believed—would have to reach such a level of skill in the spear at such a short time, with an Iron body like that to boot.

The kid was one thorough stab away from never practicing the sacred arts again. Mu Shu wasn’t a life artist, but even he could sense the fact that his body worked so fast that it sacrificed all recoverability for the sake of absorbing skill and outputting speed. It was a damn travesty, and he had no high hopes for him.

On the bright side, his Iron body made him learn like a fiend. Lessons sunk into his body and stayed there, like every punishment was a marking on his skin, every accomplishment recorded in his muscles. Perhaps there was a dollop of natural talent there as well? Mu Shu didn’t count on it—talent was by and large a myth, or at best, a single step up from novices. There was really only persistence, a good attitude and speed of learning. A boatload of advancement resources helped, sure, but those were the three main things that took most from Lowgold to Truegold, no two ways about it.

It was only a month and a half into their training when he brought the kid to the dummy course that Arelius had created for him. The wooden dummies were controlled by scripts and constructs, and maintained by a team of Soulsmiths in charge of its smooth operation.

Mu Shu explained to the kid what was expected of him. “Strike the dummies where they light up. Screw up, you start over. Oh, and hit them with actual madra or nothing happens. Also, I’ll be here in case you really start screwing up, at which point you better just slit your wrists.”

The kid gulped and clutched his spear tightly.

“What are you waiting for?” Mu Shu asked, raising his spear.

The boy quickly got to work.

Mu Shu’s grin widened a little as he considered his timeline. One and a half months to create a good foundation for his spear skills, and three more weeks to let him master the course. He needed to get him to under twenty seconds to get his first bonus, under fifteen for his second.

If Mu Shu got him to under five seconds, the Arelius promised him something that truly would give his sacred arts an edge, enough soulfire to fill his soulspace and an opportunity to advance to Underlord in an aura-rich environment. Upon being offered this, he was immediately certain that this was only a way to make him push the disciple to his limits in order to teach the boy as much as possible, but Mu Shu immediately knew the Arelius meant business when he explained what the Underlord advancement truly entailed.

It required a singular insight, the reason why you practiced the sacred arts, boiled into a single sentence in the middle of a vast spider-web of motivations and personal goals.

“The revelation seems to be the bigger secret in these parts,” Eithan had said. “The requirement of soulfire becomes a matter of personal wealth or fortune. Enough ambient power to notice the unity of aura is one less simple to solve, and places of power that caters to such conditions crawl with powerful sacred artists already, making it risky. If you succeed, soulfire and a safe area abundant with aura will be provided.”

This was now personal, and Mu Shu would be damned if some kid would stand between himself and Underlord.

000

There was something seriously wrong with Mu Shu. He was abusive at best, but ever since the dummy course training started, he straight up became malicious.

And fuck him for that. I knew the benchmarks now, knew where I stood in comparison to my peers, and if I did say so my fucking self, twenty-five seconds on my first try was amazing. That was only five seconds away from matching Yerin, the fucking master swordswoman trained by a Sage from early childhood. Sure, she was only using her unruly Goldsign to fight, but I was still impressive in Earth standards. No, not just impressive; I was a fucking superhuman.

Not to Mu Shu. Only disgust radiated off from him. He was a bully through and through, and at this point, he was beginning to erode my willingness to put myself through training.

He had a timer, and promised that if I didn’t shave off a tenth of a second for every attempt, he would stab me with the spear until I started crying. The time cut down would happily add up, so he only looked at my average, rather than punish me if I couldn’t follow a strict trend, which was the only mercy he afforded me. In essence, if I shaved off a fifth of a second instead of a tenth, and then made no progress on the subsequent attempt, I would go unpunished.

It wasn’t sustainable, obviously. Not one attempt passed before I fucked up and the bastard began to stab me repeatedly, mercilessly on my flank, pushing the air out from my lungs. He genuinely didn’t stop until I started tearing up, at which point he only slowed down while I grit my teeth and wiped my eyes.

The first time I exploded at him, he beat the fear of God into me. The second time, we had to take a break for the day as Sherha was called in to address some minor nerve damage to my body. I fully intended to inform Eithan of this, but the injury was thankfully addressed. The tingling didn’t go away for days still.

But I ‘got the picture’. There was no point in rebellion. Mu Shu wanted his fucking bonus, and would stop at nothing to get his paws on it. There was nothing I could do on that part either, but to dredge up all the will and conviction in my flagging spirit and exceed my limits.

The days passed by too quickly. Crossing the twenty-second mark didn’t feel like a big achievement at all once I was down to fifteen seconds. This was all done naturally as well, with no Empty Palm shenanigans. It was natural that I would be beating Yerin’s speed on a high-speed build like my own, so I didn’t let the achievement grow my head overmuch either.

Once we finally hit ten seconds, nothing changed still. Rather, I felt an increased amount of urgency from my instructor, more naked resentment as his punishments ramped up in intensity. Sherha had to intervene several times once he approached the limits of my body, both during punishments and training. I tried to dissociate from it all, to be in another world while Mu Shu went ham. It made the pain easier to bear, but it interfered with my training, leading to a vicious cycle of greater punishments.

I had to take it all head-on, accepting everything and leaving nothing behind. Pain and anguish was the pot and soil in which my will would sprout. I was intimately aware of that by now. I couldn’t avoid it. I had to feed it.

The dummies whirled in my vision. They lost their identities and became nothing but targets, nothing but a game. They lit up sequentially and I went off instinct and memory to hasten the process up. I was only barely moving consciously, leaving the rest of me to operate on a shitty instinct that likely wouldn’t help me in a real-life battle. This was probably what Cassias meant with not picking up bad habits, and I would have a hell of a time unlearning these behaviors. Mu Shu fucked me, but I hoped his stupid-ass bonus was worth it.

Four point nine seconds.

I stared at Mu Shu in the end, wondering whether I should just risk it all and fight him to the death, here and now.

“Congratulations, numbskull.”

That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Mu Shu couldn’t kill me or hurt me in a way that would piss Eithan off. He couldn’t let all that work go to waste. I used that fact to engage him fearlessly. He looked at me like I had told him a particularly amusing joke as he parried and riposted my strikes like they were nothing but I didn’t care.

I wouldn’t let his cruelty animate me anymore. I wouldn’t let the fear of punishment move me towards any path.

Mu Shu didn’t take me seriously throughout the fight at all. There was no last stand or lucky strike. He kept up with me until there was no longer any madra in my core left to animate me, and my body felt like a wrung-out towel.

I expected punishment at that point, but nothing came.

I didn’t know when I lost myself to exhaustion, but at some point before that, I saw the proud face of Eithan.

Chapter 6: Journey

Chapter Text

Throughout my training with Sherha and Mu Shu, when I wasn’t sleeping in the fluid sac, they had led me to a small room to rest before waking me up abruptly for whatever drills they had ready. I hadn’t known comfort in the three months since Eithan set me on the path to my Iron body.

Not until now, waking up in a bed of clouds, feeling like all the things in the world had finally been made right. There were no more wars, starvation was a distant nightmare, and my body finally felt right and painless.

I opened my eyes to see Eithan reading a book of all things, seated on a chair right next to my bed. He turned to me and gave me a comforting smile. “Good, you’re awake. Now tell me, how was training?”

“Have Mu Shu’s head cut off,” I said. “Crucify his family.”

“Excellent,” he said. “He really did earn that bonus, huh?”

I groaned and turned away from him. “It was the worst.”

“You’ve impressed me,” Eithan said. “And proven me wrong.”

I was glad that I was facing away from him, because I wouldn’t have wanted him to see my smile. The sentiment dimmed immediately when I realized who it was I was dealing with. “How are Lindon and Yerin?” I asked.

“They’re doing fine,” he said. “The Blackflame Trials are proving to be a tribulation for them, but that is to be expected. The fact that they’ve held out for this long is commendable enough as it is.”

“They’ll beat it,” I said. “They’re built different.”

“Hah, indeed,” he held his chin pensively. “Well, anyway, niceties aside, it’s time we get back on track.”

I groaned, pulling the blanket over my head.

“The Broken Star city is within reach,” Eithan said. “You will be flying there on the Sky’s Mercy within the hour, and we shall finally embark you on your unique Path. Aren’t you excited?!”

“No!” I said. “I hate the sacred arts,” I said. “I wanna go home and sleep forever. I’m not excited for this at all!”

“But you’re still going to do it, I hope.”

I mumbled. “I guess.” I mean, I couldn’t go home even if I wanted to, which I did.

“More conviction, Sky,” he urged. “You’ve gotten through your Iron body advancement, and that’s basically where ninety percent of the sacred arts rigor lies.”

“You got yours playing games.”

“Well,” he shrugged. “I guess that makes you the more authentic sacred artist, doesn’t it? Shouldn’t that make you feel proud?”

I threw the blanket off my body. I was wearing robes I didn’t recognize, silken and smooth. Perhaps a servant dressed me while I was unconscious? “Well, maybe I am,” I said. “And sure, fine! I’ll continue down this blasted path. I’ve already come this far, I might as well go the extra mile.”

When I stood up, I found that I was just as tall as Eithan now. That was a pleasant surprise.

“Fair warning,” Eithan said. “You’ve distinguished yourself in the dummy course, but that doesn’t make you any more of an expert than Lindon. We must fill you with proper experience while the iron is still hot, and though Mu Shu did a good job of keeping you on the straight and narrow so you wouldn’t pick up any bad habits—” Really now? “—There is still much left for you to do. You are a vessel that has been cracked open; before the cracks heal, fill yourself with the essentials. Up now. Dress up and let’s go.”

There was a stack of clothes on the table, left by a servant no doubt. “I’m taking a shower,” I said. “Expect me to be done in five,” I thought it over for a moment. “Or forty-five minutes.”

Leaving Eithan to wait, I grabbed the clothes, headed for the bathroom and spent at least a minute figuring out the dials and switches that activated the shower. After I was done, there was a razor that I used to shave off my pathetic facial, and I must have spent fifteen extra minutes just marveling at my features as well. I looked better than I ever had before, and my slim build had filled out with visible muscle as well! I felt like Narcissus, lost in the throes of his own self-love.

If this was just after two advancements, I couldn’t wait for Underlord. I didn’t even have to wait that long, either. I could go out and get a whole make-over once I had the time; a new haircut, maybe some magic moving tats, the world was my oyster.

Loud knocks rang from the door. “It’s been an hour!” Eithan said. “And if you don't hurry up the pace, I can’t stop myself from no longer ignoring whatever it is you’re doing in there.”

I felt my cheeks heat up as I dressed up as quickly as I could, straightening myself out to the best of my abilities. My level of grooming wouldn’t be enough to impress someone as appearance-sensitive as Eithan, but every bit counted, and I was doing it for myself, too.

My sacred arts robes were almost comparable to Eithan’s in splendor, but was thankfully toned down in terms of gaudiness. To my surprise, it matched the color scheme of the Collapsing Star practitioner’s shadow that Eithan had shown me in the Arelius archives. The center-most parts like the accents and lapels were a shiny, milky white while the rest of the outer robes were a burnished orange and red at its edges.

Eithan gave it a proud nod. “I put a team of tailors on this piece working for three months. It’s made of Burning White Lion-moth silk, and only a thumb’s worth of material could run you up to a hundred standard scales. See how the orange parts look like they’re on fire when they catch the light? You like it?”

I did, and by the looks of it, this was more than just a thumb’s worth. “Are you sure you should be spending money like this?”

“It might not sound like it, and it might not be to your credit directly, but you have made me a very pretty penny since you arrived,” he said. “I ran into some good fortune of my own on my way to the Broken Star city, and managed to move my pieces well enough to stave off the Jai incursion and grab a few of their pieces in the process. Sure, most of it was me, but I likely wouldn’t have been nudged in this direction without your help, so you deserve to be splurged on a little.”

Wow, that was… impressive. I hadn’t fed him much at all and he was already making some good progress. “It’s only the tip of the iceberg,” I said. “A lot is coming our way, things that can’t be helped, and things we should do our best to prepare for.” Ghostwater came to mind again. It was, in my opinion, where Cradle truly picked up, and to my luck, an opportunity of a lifetime. If we could track down an additional Eye of the Deep, that meant another drop of ghostwater. Sure, Dross was the most valuable ingredient to a Presence, and annoyingly unique to boot, but that still wouldn’t reduce from the splendor of a Monarch’s invention.

“I cannot wait to hear about it,” Eithan said, seemingly content to trust me to just tell him when the issue came up. I could appreciate that, and the fact that he was not so hypocritical to press me for information when he treated it like diamond-encrusted gold bars himself. “Oh, lest I forget,” he pulled out a pouch from the inside pocket of his sacred artist robes and handed it to me. “You may have noticed that Lindon received a fair share of Four Corners Rotation Pills for cycling. Now that you’re Iron, it is befitting that you go through a similar regimen.”

I looked into the pouch and took a deep breath. They were plain white orbs and smelled like… autumn rain and lavender.

“You may consider this a holiday,” he said. “Simply cycle the Four Corners Rotation Pills in transit, and when we arrive at the Broken Star city, you tackle the tasks ahead of you.”

“About that,” I said. “Why a city? And if we’re changing the ratio of madra aspects— please walk me through this,” I gestured forwards with my hands.

“Mhm, I will try.”

“Okay, firstly: why a city?”

“Ah, there’s a long story behind that,” he said. “Long ago, before the Blackflame Empire was even ruled by black dragons, there was a sect of sacred artists that wanted to reach the stars.”

Oof. Not much to find there. Cradle was the only inhabited planet in the universe, or ‘Iteration’. They’d only find a whole bunch of nothing.

“They built a series of Soulsmith foundries and refineries that would be used to serve only a single purpose; to create technology that would let them leave the world and seize the stars. You see, they believed that the concentration of light and fire aura there would allow everyone to ascend to Truegold as a matter of course, with the Lord realms being only moderately uncommon.”

A people filled with dreams, huh? “I take it they failed?”

“Oh, yes, spectacularly,” he chuckled. “At this point, they were all just normal light and sword artists, no different from the Stellar Spear path. Their sect experienced a schism, and the half that wanted to take off didn’t have the requisite power to launch all the constructs, leading to a disaster that claimed thousands of lives. The remaining survivors decided to band together, salvage the pieces of the machines that were meant to take them to outer space, and instead find a way to bring all the aura they wanted down here. Indeed, they succeeded.

“The vital aura they corralled together was a very specific ratio of fire, light and sword aura. You could think of them as layers, where the fire aura burns in the middle as a core, light emanating from it and sword aura giving it shape as its crust. It all gets mixed up in the end, but the visualization spells out its function. Add in a dash of space authority granted from the Remnants of those that died in space from the accident, and you have the Broken Star Path.”

“Okay,” I said. “Fire, light and sword aura. We can make that right here. And for Space authority, we just need to take a Remnant back with us.”

“We can’t make it in the required intensity or specific ratio,” he said. “The Broken Star Path needs to bathe the practitioner in so much vital aura, for such an extended period of time that doing it ‘right here’ would require me to beggar the Arelius family several times over. The point of vital aura harvesting is to teach your core the type of madra aspect you would like for it to naturally produce, and so without the initial spark that leads to critical mass, you will not have a true Path, only one diluted in pure madra and bound to purify further until nothing remains but pure, human madra.”

I nodded. “I understand. But you’re not putting me down the Broken Star Path.”

“The Collapsing Star Path has a force aspect as well,” he said. “Sword aura is a type of force aspect, but this one—picture the fire, light and sword aspected orb of madra spinning in a forceful pattern. Unlike the Broken Star Path, the Collapsing Star Path’s madra is naturally energetic and always in some sort of flux, hence its difficulty to control. Ah, and we will achieve this new blend of vital aura by personally fiddling with the scripts responsible for the operation of the city.”

No biggie at all.

Before I knew it, we were in the open air again, this time on a smooth, bony platform that was likely a part of a dead dragon’s skeleton. It still hadn’t sunk in for me how huge those fuckers must have been, and I was just walking all over them like an insect.

The Sky’s Mercy awaited us, reduced in size to only accommodate the main complex, a really nice house.

Eithan entered first, and I followed. The common room where I shared so many meals with Lindon and Yerin now had children inside. Three children to be exact, all holding spears of their own and seated around a table. Two of them looked to be sleeping while another just stared at a wall all stoic-like. They couldn’t have been older than twelve either, the biggest one at least.

I turned to Eithan in puzzlement but he only gestured towards them. “These are promising Arelius younglings.”

The children stirred, and the one that was still awake stood straight at attention, staring at the floor. He poked the butt of his spear at both the others, waking them up. “What gives, Donar?” A little girl muttered blearily.

“Stand up,” Donar hissed. “The Patriarch is here.”

She turned around to see us and immediately got up from the chair to stand straight while the third trailed after lazily.

I looked at Eithan hesitantly. “You’re bringing kids?”

“Only for the Broken Star Path,” he promised. “They received their Iron bodies only a few months ago, and their parents were grooming them for a combat Path that would help them defend the family better. Since they seemed to take a shine to the spear, I decided to try ensuring the future of the Arelius more explosively.”

Well, he was the Patriarch of a clan. Couldn’t forget about that. “Are they bloodline Arelius?” They all had various shades of blond hair, but still kept the somewhat Asian cast that most people seemed to have in this continent, as opposed to the more Scandinavian Arelius phenotype.

Of course, there was no Asia or Scandinavia in this world, so my words would mean nothing to anyone but myself.

“Yes,” he said. “Their bloodline senses will allow them a greater ability to weave the power of the Broken Star. I can assure you that they will become pillars of the Arelius family in ten years. Exciting, is it not, nurturing the future generation?”

I didn’t like relying on children for that sort of stuff. It felt like I was death-flagging them. I turned to acknowledge them finally. “Hello, my name is Sky. What are yours?”

The tallest one stood even straighter. “I am Donar Arelius.”

The girl responded next. “My name is Bettina.”

“The name’s Jeral,” the last one said. He didn’t look all that concerned with being in the presence of an Underlord.

“Donar, Bettina, Jeral,” Eithan addressed them one by one. “Follow us up the deck.” He was already walking towards a staircase.

“Will there be fighting?” I asked in a hushed tone before mentally kicking myself. There was no way bloodline Arelius wouldn’t hear me from this distance. Goddammit.

“As I said, consider this a holiday,” Eithan repeated. “A holiday into a distant land of fantasy and wondrous sights. The Broken Star city truly is a wonder to behold, and it was practically built for Foundation stage children to frolick about without a care in the world. Ah, except for the sacred beasts and Remnants of course, but those are a feature! You can make friends with them!”

I smiled pleasantly. “So… no threat of death?” I mean, the last few months were hard, and sure, I did wonder if I was going to die at times, but I knew that I was in good hands intellectually. Adventures in Cradle would always carry a risk of death, however. To hear that it would be safe enough to bring children along was a load off my shoulders.

We surfaced at the top deck where I had spent many a night staring at the starry night sky. “For the children? No, obviously not. Under the supervision of someone in my employ, they will inure themselves in a Broken Star aura font and complete the trials meant for Iron children. In half a year, they may reach Jade, at which point they will be returned with a few Broken Star Remnants with their names on it, and will safely train back home until they are ready to take the step to Lowgold. You will, obviously, have a more intense experience. After all, you are going to the inner sanctum. Nothing will directly attempt to kill you, mostly, but you might find that there are more pressures in life than that of death.”

Yeah, no, that sounded reasonable as hell. “So… puzzles, trials and diplomacy with sacred beasts and ghosts?”

“Yes,” he said. “Now, I’m not trying to lower your guard or anything—by all means, be ready for a Herald to crash into the city and demand your firstborn children. This juncture of your Path can be very easy and sedate, if you allow it. Otherwise, it can be very rocky and difficult, but to great effect! In six months, even you can be a Lowgold and it won’t even cost you much sanity at all!”

Six months? Even Lindon would not be a Lowgold within six months. Though I wouldn’t be able to participate in the Blackflame Trials with them, as Lindon would likely be in jail preparing for his fight with Jai Long, that was still an astonishingly small amount of time to advance to Gold. “What’s the catch?”

“The catch is you could have been faster,” he said. “Stronger. You could have invested in more skillsets, made more friends, even climb up the aesthetic rankings of the Empire. Instead, you spent all this time gathering only the minimum level of power necessary. You and I both know that it’s not sustainable in keeping up with the rest of us, not when both Lindon and Yerin are constantly scraping for a singular edge in their sacred arts.”

Ouch. “I… see.” Besides, it wasn’t like I wasn’t operating on a deadline, myself. Sure, I didn’t have a life or death battle with someone four stages above me, but the Bleeding Phoenix was coming. There was no stopping that, not after Eithan and Lindon encountered each other, and they would have done that even without my presence, or even if I hadn't tipped Eithan out. The only thing I could prepare for at that point was being powerful enough to protect my friends from Skysworn abuse and the rampage of bloodspawn.

It was a chance for me to step up, to be a big fucking hero. I could feel fire returning to my spirit already.

“So,” Eithan continued. He gestured towards the ceiling dramatically, hand swirling upwards, and suddenly, the cloudship lurched. We were ascending. “What will it be? Will you exceed my expectations once again?”

There was no other option. “I am ready.”

000

His lifeline had crumbled, his madra was unwieldy, and he was at the end of his path.

The old man robed in fading black sat against a boulder in a corner of nowhere.

The Icon continued to elude him. His authority stalled, refused to deepen. It was all for naught, it always was. He would never reach Sage.

The dying Archlord let out a breath that sounded more like a death rattle. He had kept himself artificially alive with miraculous elixirs for two millennia, but now he refused to drag out his misery any longer. All his countrymen were dead or ascended, and he had failed to follow the latter group for too long. It was high time he joined the former.

The Broken Star City stirred in his mind’s eye. It became a beacon in his expansive spiritual perception. Someone had found it. Not too impressive a feat; it would take himself only a few months to do the same.

There was nothing for him there, really. No advancement resources or knowledge that could serve to deepen his connection with the Star Icon. He had maximized its use hundreds of years ago.

One last hurrah, then. If it fell through, he could make it his final destination, and rest in his ancestral home.

For the first time in months, the Archlord stood up from his final resting place and made the trek.

Chapter 7: City of Broken Stars

Chapter Text

The Four Corners Rotation Pill was amazing. Where before channeling madra felt like blowing pebbles through a straw, an exercise I had gotten very adept at over the past few months, now the power of my cycling was just excessive. I tried taking off the Parasite Ring that always inhibited my madra for only a moment to see how it would feel, and it felt even more liberating, like I had been shackled all my life and finally tasted sweet freedom.

The Parasite Ring was vital to my training, so I kept it on. Aside from regular cycling with the wonder medicine, I also made sure not to slack off on my spear-play, running myself ragged with exercises until my core ran out.

“…Now, the Lowgold aesthetic rankings are just something you shouldn’t even look at,” Eithan said. We were sharing a meal in his office, as we usually did, since I discovered that the ‘supervision’ for the kids would be motherfucking Mu Shu. To my credit, I hadn’t outright attacked him at the sight of him, and he kept it suspiciously cool even after accusing me of lying about my age, but I genuinely couldn’t stand the sight of him. I had gotten assurances from Eithan that the children wouldn’t be abused like I was, so I decided to wash my hands off him forever.

“Too ugly?” I asked, taking a bite out of my homemade sub sandwich.

“On the contrary !” He exclaimed, more serious than I had ever seen him in my life. One would think he was discussing politics. “It is so competitive that nothing comes close to the difficulty of reaching the Lowgold top one hundreds. The thing about Lowgolds are that many of them have purely aesthetic Goldsigns, and because they’re not so powerful, they invest so much in image that it becomes impractical for anyone else with a life and responsibilities to match them. I mean, it’s ridiculous! Now, go up just one step to Highgold and you’ll find the warriors of the Empire, people powerful enough to advance . Whether through money, luck or skill, they now have more power than most Lowgolds can dream of. As a result, they no longer need to look the best. Not when their weapons can do all the talking.”

“I take it reaching a high aesthetic rank is easier there then,” I said. “Since there’s less Highgolds.”

“Hahah,” he laughed. “There are still dozens of Highgolds on par with Lowgolds in terms of fashion, but their numbers are a tad lower. With some luck, you can sneak into the top one-hundreds, provided a lot of them are distracted and haven’t looked as good over the past few weeks, but the top ten is a dream for even me. Nunali Arinalu recently took first place, an amazing upset because she dethroned the ten-year reigning champion Madame Chandra. Turns out, the latter couldn’t hold onto her rank because she needed to attend her sister’s funeral, where she smudged her dress in a heartfelt act of throwing the first spade of soil on her casket. Do you understand? And this is the Highgold rankings. The Lowgolds are even more ridiculous. The reigning champion there employs a force Path where nothing can touch him and his clothes are always in a state of perfect straightness. Nobody has touched him in fifteen years!”

I laughed. “And the Truegolds?”

“Top one-hundred is doable,” he said. “Truegolds are positively rugged compared to other Golds. Top five is, however, impossible. To their credit, their rankings are much more stable, and the competition between them is much less toxic. Supposedly, it has to do with the fact that they’re all rich and powerful enough to treat the aesthetic rankings as a game. I can respect that attitude, really. But yes, the competition dies down dramatically at Truegold, and disappears almost completely at Underlord. In case you were wondering, I am the reigning aesthetic champion.”

“Good for you!” I said. “Do other Underlords actually care all that much?”

“The Emperor’s sister sort of does?” He shrugged. “She’s moderately fashionable as far as royalty goes. She’s actually second. I mean, this is the Blackflame Empire, so appearances do matter and every Underlord has a baseline level of good style, but it just doesn’t dominate their entire personas like in the lower ranks.”

“Except for you, of course.”

“If the number one janitor can’t look neat and tidy, then who can?”

Perhaps his need to look good was informed by the need to subvert expectations? His clan worked as janitors, so maybe in an effort to reclaim some amount of pride from such a menial task, he wanted to always look better than everyone else?

Or there was nothing deep to it; he just liked fine clothes and his job, and I was approaching the issue in a classist lens.

The latter theory was more realistic , but the former gave Eithan a lot more depth, so I liked that one more. But I wasn’t so socially inept as to share any of this with him.

“Advice taken,” I said. “I’ll try not to tear my hair out in frustration if the rankings start to get to me.” To be fair, I genuinely didn’t care about that stuff anyway. As long as I strove to look good to myself, then what did any of it matter?

I’d leave the stuntin’ for when I was an Underlord and I didn’t have to climb over a mountain of fashionista corpses in order to distinguish myself.

“Anyway, random question,” I said. “How do I compare to Lindon right now? In a fight, that is.”

“Lindon would fold you like dirty laundry,” Eithan said lackadaisically. “He’s a Jade on the Path of Black Flame and you only have your spear play and Iron body. Don’t get me wrong, your course time was impressive, but your speed comes at the cost of raw power. Provided Lindon reaches you, there isn’t much you can do, and you’re not skillful enough to prevent that.”

I groaned. This build relied too much on dodge-tanking. “Does my power matter if I have a spear anyway?” I asked.

“That’s the beauty of weapons mastery,” he said. “It only takes skill and precision, not raw power, to defeat your opponent. But in the end, you are only a novice spearman. Your growth has been swift, but between yourself and true mastery lies tens of thousands of hours of practice. If you faced off against Jai Long as you are, he would destroy you in a handful of exchanges. That goes doubly for Mu Shu, who you should really utilize more often. He’s a fifty-year-old veteran of the spear arts and highly likely to advance to Underlord within the decade. In a contest of pure skill and both opponents reduced only to their Iron bodies, he could gut Jai Long like a fish.”

Dammit, I really shouldn’t be avoiding him. The sacred arts weren’t supposed to be easy anyway so why was I shying away from such a challenge? “Is there a pill to replace all that?” I asked petulantly. Now, he grinned excitedly.

“How about you make one?” He asked. “Refining is a fine art that will serve you on every level of advancement. I doubt that you can make anything as miraculous as you have in mind right now , but it’s an investment for the future.”

Before I could express interest and ask where to begin, Eithan stood up. “We’ve—well, arrived is a strong word, but I figure we can begin the trek from here, see the scenic route.” He was already headed out of his room and to the upper floor. I wiped my hands against some handkerchiefs and followed quickly after grabbing my pack with all my essentials.

The pilot began the descent, and it was all I could do to not alight from the very ground. That was a change that I didn’t know would annoy me as much as it did; my Ethereal Iron body basically made me a cracked-out squirrel when I poured madra into it, but even passively, I likely weighed less than half what my current build would suggest. Possibly even a quarter. I was thankfully, no shit, built different— my bones and tendons were more rubbery, and my muscle fibers were thinner and more tensile— so that reduction in weight didn’t prove a threat to my structural integrity. Not until, as Eithan had warned me several times now, I suffered a debilitating injury. That would take me out of the game forever.

I was a reverse Lindon and it sucked. That said, Eithan had told me that starting off with an extremely handicapped Iron body would make me invincible once I shored up my weaknesses, as my strengths would still remain even afterwards. I was nerfed in the early game, but I would only get more and more impressive as I advanced and ran into valuable resources. I had to tackle recoverability and raw power. An Iron Heart and Ghostwater fish should do it. A ridiculous thing for most to count on, but entirely doable for me, the latter at least.

We landed on an idyllic hill on a rolling meadow of light-green grass. The sun was shining, the sky blue, and there was only a distant mountain range as the main feature of the landscape. It was enormous, but beautiful beyond belief.

I activated my copper sight on a whim, and green rose from the grass like smoky vines. Thick veins of earth aura flowed in the ground in waves that gave me the impression that I was on a boat, and the cloudship was a marine vessel carting us through sedate, golden seas. The shine of the sun provided ample white rays of light aura, and blowing winds brought gusts of wispy green lines with them.

One thing was conspicuously missing from this otherwise magical vista, however.

“Where’s the city?” I asked. Eithan jumped down from the top floor of Sky’s Mercy and landed softly on the grass. I took the stairs.

I was assuming that we would be making a trek to the mountain range. There weren’t any clouds around it, so my first assumption was that our cloudship would malfunction if we got near it, maybe an inbuilt defense built by the ancients.

“The city,” Eithan said, “is somewhere around here.” He reached into the inner pocket of his outer robes and pulled out a spear as long as he was tall and tossed it to me. “Halfsilver spearhead,” he said. “It’ll be your best bet against Remnants and other opponents. If you meet someone vastly more powerful than you, simply stab and run away. They’ll be too disrupted to lob Striker techniques at you, increasing your chances of escape.”

I did a few quick thrusts with it. The balance was good, and I surprised myself with the fact that I was proficient enough in spearmanship that I could notice that stuff. Did I really just have a talent for the art? I mean, I was getting to grow really fond of it, something I definitely didn’t expect after what Mu Shu put me through. His training was ass, but the spear was fun.

Speak of the devil, Mu Shu exited the Sky’s Mercy, the three kids trailing after him. They were remarkably mature for children, but perhaps that was because they were aristocrats as well. They likely had all the practice hammered into them at a young age. Jeral was the most laid-back of the three, but laid-back in the way adults were. He did only as much work as was required of him, so he’d probably live a pretty content life. Donar was the oldest, and looked like he would become a hard-ass when he grew up as he'd already mastered an aura of seriousness. That, combined with amazing talent in madra control, spearmanship and the Broken Star Path, would likely make him the archetypical hero of his clan. Good for him. Bettina was diligent and worked harder than the other two, so she would likely go far as well.

Mu Shu probably practiced a rather dead-end Path in a dead-end country where Underlord was a distant dream, and would die having accomplished nothing at all. Too bad, fox-tail-head, fuck you.

I turned to look at Eithan again, and he was just watching the clouds. “Somewhere around here. Is it hidden behind an illusion, then? Is that why it took so long to find it?”

“You got it all wrong,” he laughed. “The three months I spent were to find the construct towers necessary to track it down, and finally, provide it with convenient coordinates, preferably somewhere absolutely deserted.” He turned his gaze away from the sky and looked at me. “I wasn’t finding the city. I was making sure that it would find us .”

Almost a dozen kilometers away, nearing the horizon, a cloud, just like any other cloud really, dropped an enormous, cylindrical tower towards the ground, and it slammed down in an earth-shaking explosion. The shockwave even reached us and it was all I could do to keep my footing.

The cloud dispersed, revealing the rest of the tower, shooting into the sky before terminating at a decent approximation of a death star, an enormous ball of dark gray streaked with flowing script-like patterns that stretched across the entire surface like so much enormous wiring. The cloud layer had dispersed for kilometers, allowing me to see it in its entirety, and I was certain that it could easily have leveled Earth if it fell from space.

The ball only evoked the death star, but it turned out that it was actually Forged madra, as it soon began to melt . The bottom of the star that touched the tower began to sink and extend into a puddle-like platform stretching out for miles and miles. By the time it became wide enough that I could no longer see the top of the star, it cast enormous shadows on the entire meadow, plunging the place closest to the support tower in eternal night.

The Broken Star city had stopped expanding for only ten seconds before Eithan said words that I couldn’t quite hear. I still wasn’t done staring.

“Oh my goodness,” I whispered as I began to smile excitedly. “I can’t wait to tell Lindon and Yerin about this place!”

“Finally back?” Eithan looked at me, grinning smugly. “Now, shall we make the trek?”

“W-why can’t we use the cloudship?” I asked. The tower was dozens of kilometers away, give or take a few, but the shadow of the ledge—not edge, ledge— of the city couldn’t have been more than a hundred or so meters away from where we stood. Everything in this world was just so fucking enormous !

“The city still has defense systems that I haven’t been able to remotely disable,” Eithan explained. “As you can imagine, it would be worlds more convenient to land directly on the city with a flying construct, but a little before the ancients abandoned it, they left it on siege mode for whatever reason.” He grinned excitedly and patted my shoulder. “You might even find the answer to why! Doesn’t that excite you?”

It had no reason to, as none of this was any of my business, yet it absolutely did excite me. I was going on an adventure into ancient ruins in a fantasy world. It did not get any better than this. I felt no mortal fear or any misgivings even though I likely should have. I just wanted to sprint towards the tower at full tilt.

And I did.

My Iron body made me fast, and I was much faster when I cycled my madra through my legs as well. That said, I never really tested the limits of my running speed as I was always too busy training the spear.

I was the wind. Darkened grass whirled behind me so fast that it felt like I was driving a moderately paced car. I pushed myself to my limits and relished that single moment of maximum speed before slowing down to look behind.

I hadn’t even run for twenty seconds, and yet Sky’s Mercy was at least half a kilometer away. I should seriously time myself and find my top speed, because this went above and beyond human limits. To be fair, “killing” thirty training dummies in five seconds was pretty superhuman already, but this was just so much cooler.

Speed. I am speed.

The deeper in I ran, the darker the surroundings became. I went from the dimness of a winter afternoon to the darkness of night and all the way until I could just barely make out the central tower, even though it couldn’t have been a hundred meters away.

By that point, I decided to stop running, relishing the pump in my leg muscles as I laid on my back and stared up at the floor of the Broken Star city.

I was so scared that I wouldn’t be able to dedicate myself to the pursuit of power before I began on the sacred arts, and for good reason. Depression was a motherfucker after all. I was never a tireless worker, and barely kept functional, and yet now I felt like a new man. I had ‘Mind Reborn’ to thank for that, but my newfound will was probably my rewards reaped for advancement and training.

Advancements did the body—and the mind—good, and I had advanced twice. I owed the sacred arts so much more than just the ability to run fast. I owed Eithan so much more than just the meager information I had to offer as well. I knew he didn’t believe I could get very far, so it was on me to become someone that he could use to change the world for better, to share in his vision and add my own ideals in the mix.

By the time Eithan and the rest had arrived, I was long recovered from my state of pure awe at myself, and stood up, dusting off my robes.

“Gotten that out of your system yet?” Eithan asked. He carried a source of light that soared above him, illuminating his surroundings. With it, I could see that there were enormous cracks on the meadow around the tower, creating valleys of grass enclosed between them.

“I don’t see an entrance,” I said.

“I’ll unlock the script,” he said. Our group walked the rest of the way together to the tower. I was a little surprised that Eithan trusted an outsider like Mu Shu to not only guard Arelius children, but include him in an expedition to a place of legend. It was far too late for the man to change his Path, so that meant he was being paid for discretion as well.

Then again, there was no telling where the Broken Star city would go once his job was over and Eithan decided to send it away. Who would believe him if he said that the Arelius had managed to unearth the path of the Broken Star again?

The Jai clan might investigate, but again, Eithan could send it anywhere he wanted, and such a thing would make them more wary of the clan of janitors, not less . Leaking this information could only benefit us.

Ah, I was already thinking of myself as an Arelius. The thought made me somewhat self-conscious about Eithan’s likely low opinion of me. I still had to prove myself. I had to do the same to Lindon and Yerin as well, who no doubt saw me as mediocre. We couldn’t all be brooding and constantly striving for power, but I could show them that it was still possible to enjoy themselves despite the tight deadline ahead of them.

Lindon thought he only had thirty years before a Dreadgod, a massive city-sized—Cradle cities even, not piddling Earth ones—monster walked all over his homeland, the Sacred Valley. He had closer to three. There was no helping that, and I obviously couldn’t reveal that to him this early on for fear of breaking his resolve, but we could still evacuate, or use Penance to kill the Wandering Titan, the Dreadgod in question.

Using Penance to kill the Wandering Titan would require preventing the winner, Yerin, from having a reason to kill the Dragon King Seshethkunaaz, who in the original canon was tearing up the country side in his fight against Akura Malice, in his attempt to reinforce his dragon Heralds against Akura Fury, who had ascended to Monarch.

The most obvious solution was to prevent the attacks that destroyed the Temple of Rising Earth and decimated the Frozen Blade school. Akura Malice would have no reason to directly declare war on the Dragon King because of that. There was a chance that she still might, as they were mortal enemies, but that was literally all I could do. I was manipulating the actions of Monarchs . Nothing about this would be reliable. But I would try .

The feeling gave me an immense rush. Manipulating Monarchs . Their lives were in my hands. I even squirmed in excitement a little as I walked.

My insights could bring Lindon to Undersage and Yerin to Overherald before things got too tense, and there likely wouldn’t be such a deadly run-in with Kiro, Meira and Daji of the Seishen Kingdoms if we didn’t give Charity a reason to push us like that. That was why we also had to spare Akura Harmony in Ghostwater.

It would suck not to be able to participate in the Uncrowned Kings tournament, as Charity would have to pick the three strongest Blackflame Underlords under thirty-five, which would be Eithan, Yerin and Lindon.

The thought instantly dimmed my mood as I genuinely wasn’t certain how I’d advance as explosively without the Uncrowned Kings gifts and rewards. How would I keep up with the rest?

I’d have to pull an Orthos and go on an adventure. Hell, I could just tag along with him, but I wasn’t really sure.

No, stop thinking about that stuff. I had to focus on the present if I wanted to be of use to the Ascension Crew as quickly as possible. That meant entering this city, establishing my Path and maybe finding a few treasures left behind there.

We reached the wall of the tower in time. Eithan stretched out his hand and streams of light blue power flowed out in seemingly random directions.

Then a stretch of the wall slid away, revealing an entrance to pure darkness, in which Eithan slipped in without a single shred of hesitation. The three children followed along as well, and I realized that the darkness did nothing to limit their senses. To them, it was like the lights were always on. The light was for mine and Mu Shu’s benefit.

The Arelius bloodline would never stop slipping my mind unless I grinded the fact that I was in a fantasy land into my skull. Why was it still so hard for me to adapt though?

I trailed after them quickly, and Mu Shu followed behind me. I couldn’t see his expression, but I was hoping to see unease.

Then the entire interior of the tower light up and my eyes stung. The light was white and cold.

“I’m disabling the defences,” Eithan said. “It’s a process of trial and error, and a little skill, but… a-ha!” He exclaimed in realization.

A transparent, glass-like cylinder fell down from the ceiling all the way up and I backed up to avoid it, pushing back the children as well in a fit of protective instinct before forgetting, once again, that they likely saw it coming before me.

To make matters worse, it wasn’t anywhere near to falling on us. It had landed at the center of the tower’s room soundlessly, leaving me to conclude that this was Forged madra.

A lot of madra went into these scripts, but canon told me that scripts and constructs never lasted that long without regular maintenance. I was slightly worried that the endgame of my romp through this city was surviving the apocalyptic disaster of this thing falling apart.

I recognized that to be irrational. If the scripts and constructs were that decayed, the man with a thousand eyes would likely notice before I did.

Eithan approached the cylinder without hesitation. He penetrated it like it was a more tenacious bubble membrane, and it wobbled back into its former shape upon his passing.

When all of us were inside, it was a rather cramped fit. Instead of ascending, as I had assumed this to be an elevator, we only experienced a brief flash of light, and the world around me tore away like posters on a wall, revealing pure blue for only a fraction of a second.

Then, we were on top in the landing area. The walls evoked a feeling of sci-fi, with wirings and panels spread haphazardly. My Copper sight told me there was a disparate amounts of auras in the air, but instead of the more-or-less random distribution that was usually the case in the world, these were currents of homogenous aura whirling about in thick, serpentine coils.

The room we were in led to four different hallways in each cardinal direction. Eithan didn’t waste any time seemingly picking one direction at random and then walking there. “How do you suppose you hit Lowgold without a Collapsing Star Remnant, something that doesn’t exist?”

“With Collapsing Star scales,” I said. “Ah, those can’t exist without me. Expensive Spirit elixirs to help my core produce more Collapsing Star madra, until I’ve hit Lowgold.”

“Would you like a Heaven’s Torch as well? That would help immensely.” He asked. It took me a moment to realize he was talking about the greatest source of fire aura in the world. A Heaven’s Torch was every fire artist’s wildest dreams, and obscenely expensive to boot. The Overlord in charge of the Blackflame Empire couldn’t afford it, much less his Empire’s janitor clan. He was being facetious, then.

“Okay then,” I said, taking his sarcasm in stride. “Then how does it work?”

“Overcorrect, then split the difference,” he said. “What is the difference between Broken Star and Collapsing Star madra?”

“Force?”

“Then add more Force,” he said. “So when you bond with a Remnant, the force is reduced to acceptable levels as the madra of the Remnant and your own madra mixes. The space authority inherent in the Remnant will disperse too without having cultivated your body in preparation for the influx, so you are left with a more or less perfect blend of Collapsing Star madra. Luckily for you, I know exactly the right mix you need in your core before you do that. Unluckily for you, it will limit you in… certain ways.”

I groaned. Changing the madra properties obviously would have that effect, but for it to be a limiting effect? “How so?”

“You can only hold the Enforcer techniques,” he said. “In terms of Stellar Spear techniques, those are Flowing Starlight, which aids in movement speed and perception, and Star’s Edge, a weapon Enforcer technique. Feel free to name them differently, of course! This is your Path.”

Eithan had already showed me how the Collapsing Star techniques would mutate. It was actually a departure from the standard Broken Star techniques, and circled right back to the Stellar Spear as a closer analogue. The full-body Enforcer technique gradually built up to an amazing crescendo of speed of bodily movement and perception. The main difficulty was maintaining the technique as it built up as it became increasingly difficult. The madra would loop faster and faster until you lost control and the technique fizzled out.

I could call that Solar Step. Though that made it sound more like a movement technique, that was basically all that it was, only it made my whole body move faster rather than emphasizing in travel , which barely made it qualify as a full-body Enforcer technique rather than movement.

The Star’s Edge was more aptly named, and would practically tear a hole through your retinas if you stared at it for too long, though I was sure that my Iron body would likely protect me from the worst of it. Essentially, it concentrated Collapsing Star madra on the tip of a spear’s blade, allowing it great rip-and-tear-ability. Combined with Solar Step, you had an immensely quick body and an unstoppable weapon. I would call that one Solar Point. My first pick would have been Solar Edge, but that was too on-the-nose.

The Striker technique was akin to a solar flare, a ribbon of power extending from the spear and slicing, burning or destroying everything in its way. If there was more flux in my madra, this already difficult technique would be impossible to control.

Solar flare was already descriptive enough, so I would call it that.

Finally, there were two Forger techniques. There was the standard multiple spear echo that made it look like several spears were coming at you when you thrust. I would call that one Solar Spear Echo. Actually, just Solar Spear was fine. The next one was a defensive technique that had a punch to it. Essentially, it was a disc you used to absorb an attack. The disc would release a burst of Collapsing Star madra in the direction of the attack as well. The best defense was a good offense, and this Solar Anvil embodied that completely.

No Ruler techniques, because finding fire, force, light and sword aura in the correct ratio in the wild was disgustingly unlikely and I’d do better honing my other skills than preparing for such an unlikely event. Lindon had trouble enough finding Blackflame aura in the early game of his fights, which was literally only fire and destruction in equal amounts. Unless I prepped every battlefield with the requisite auras, I wouldn’t really be able to do much.

Eithan assured me that lacking a Ruler technique wouldn’t harm me. The Path of the Hollow King didn’t have one because pure aura didn’t exist, and many Paths with a high amount of aspects in a complex blend forewent Ruler training entirely as well.

That was… basically my Path. Two Enforcer techniques, two Striker Techniques and two Forger techniques, totalling six techniques. Lindon had a similar number of techniques, too.

I had given thoughts to living madra techniques, but those could only be accessible at Underlord according to Eithan, granted I didn’t have a weird madra mutation like Jai Chen, or a corrupted Remnant that may have found its origins from a Dreadgod cultist Path, like Jai Long. The latter was just a pet theory of mine, though, so I wouldn’t stake much on it.

No, for living techniques, I would need Icon authority and a soulfire technique that let me manipulate my own dream aura and insert it into the technique in question.

Okay, so only Solar Step and Solar Point would be accessible to me in the interim between my current advancement of Iron and Lowgold. I was down to two unpracticed weapons in unknown territory. Not fun.

We passed by a lot of… things on the way, objects both real and Forged madra. The place wasn’t as much of a mess as I had imagined, but I soon realized why once we came upon a stranger.

I had seen Remnant parts in passing before, but seeing a real, live Remnant brought a feeling in my gut that I couldn’t quite account for. There was fear there, fear of the unknown, but also wonder and excitement, only curtailed by wariness. I wanted to approach it as much as I wanted to run away from it, and only ambivalence kept me standing.

It was a ghost in more ways than one, like someone had painted a white cloth over a figure. Two eyeholes were cut into the cloth, and it had sleeves for the creature’s arms as well. Wind aura whirled around it and stacked dust in piles.

It didn’t have legs, or they may have been hidden under the veil as it floated a foot aboveground.

“Ah, the Remnant cleaning crew,” Eithan said. “I was wondering who kept the place all neat and tidy over the eons. Hey, janitor!” Eithan shouted.

The Remnant looked at us only vaguely and excitement surged in me. We were making contact!

Eithan pulled a coin from mid-air and threw it at the Remnant, who caught it easily. It looked at the scale of solid power and in only moments, the scale burst into power and flew into the Remnant in dozens of strands. The Remnant nodded slowly as though in thanks and went back to work.

“Wait,” I said. “What kept them alive for so long? Is there a deposit of pure madra around?”

“The scripts take in vital aura, purify it, and likely leave it in wells for the Remnants to take their share of. These Remnants were contracted to keep the area clean, and there are likely Remnants intelligent enough to maintain the lower scripts in charge of the wells. It’s a self-maintaining machine, albeit on the verge of a systemic shutdown, though that’s nothing for you to worry about. Also, the Remnant I just gave a scale to could likely take on an Underlord if it wished to. It has been fed pure madra for centuries after all.”

“What Path is it on?” I asked.

“Not the Broken Star Path,” he said. “I can tell you that much for free. The Broken Star Remnants will likely all have developed concrete egos outside of their immediate nature, and the lowest may just be Highgold as well. You will have your work cut out for you if you wish to bond with any of them. They won’t give up their freedom without a fight.”

“Do you happen to have any script seals on you?” I asked.

“There are script seals in the city. You just have to find them.”

“I can’t even read.” The dream tablets didn’t go into such things at all. “Could you have two literacy tablets ready by the time I return?”

“Why two?”

“Yerin can’t read.”

“Ah,” he said. “That’s unfortunate.”

“Yeah, and she won’t be learning how to read for years to come. You need to get on that at some point.”

“You know,” he said. “It is just appalling how functional you can still be without knowing how to read. It truly shocks me that people can just… do that.”

“I suppose people just make do anyway,” I said. “You don’t need to read to learn a Path from a master. And dream tablets are a thing.”

We came upon more ghost-like cleaners on the way and I tried not to take my eyes off the ones I got too close to, or interrupt their cleaning. Sure, they were ghosts, but I feared their advancement levels more than anything else, and you couldn’t predict the actions of Remnants.

Finally, we arrived at a room that looked like a mix between a control room and a wizard’s study. Floating lights encased in orbs of glass-like substances provided illumination and Eithan got right down to injecting madra into random parts of the wall.

After a few minutes, Eithan clapped his hands in satisfaction. “I have revived two aura fonts. They are both at the opposite sides of the city.” Because nothing could be easy when it came to him. He approached a chest which he opened with his madra, and pulled out two orbs. He threw one to me and another to Mu Shu.

I injected it with some of my madra and blue lights beamed upwards in a conical shape, widening dramatically before revealing a holographic map of the city.

The center was dominated by a large tower that looked like the narrowest pyramid in the world. We were likely inside of it.

The surrounding area seemed built for function and beauty, large, towering buildings held aloft by narrow support poles, elevating them from the ground-level vegetation. We were represented by red dots, and on each opposite end of the city was a glowing red and white dot and a purple dot.

“Purple is Broken Star,” Eithan said to Mu Shu.

“That’s our cue,” Mu Shu responded. “Come on, pups. Let’s make legends out of you.”

The Arelius children jogged after Mu Shu, who had taken off at a brisk pace.

“He’s so good with children,” Eithan shook his head as he smiled. He probably just said that to needle me.

“Anything else?” I asked.

“Of course,” he said. “Your Jade cycling technique! Cycling position, now.”

I sat crosslegged on the floor and closed my eyes, focusing inwards. My core was there, full and healthy. It was a pale, pale blue that looked more like white tinged with blue than anything else. Pure baby madra.

“Imagine an eight-spoked wooden wheel.”

Alright. Eight-spoked. I imagined a cross, and then another cross, rotated forty-five degrees. It took me a while to find the image, but when I did, it mercifully held. There was an eight-spoked wheel in my mind’s eye gaining detail gradually.

“Now, imagine that wheel is actually on top of your core.”

My mind travelled to my core, and the wheel with it. The persistent image remained, and I superimposed it on top of the core.

“Now, shrink it, so it’s many times smaller. If your core is the size of a round shield, then the wheel should be the size of a marble.” The wheel complied only barely, and I had to zoom in on the wheel in order to keep its shape. “Now roll it up the edges of your core for a full revolution.”

I did. The first revolution was surprisingly easy. The ceiling was difficult to move in. I imagined gravity following the wheel so it would always be rooted to the core, but the unnatural reality of up being down seemed to strain my mind something fierce.

“Gather momentum and keep it rolling,” he said. “Push it as fast as you can, will the wheel to spin along the edges of your core so fast that it barely slows down once it reaches the top.”

At the point where I had gathered so much momentum, my pure madra began to cycle along my body on its own, reaching every inch of my body in a systematic, orderly fashion that I had no control over.

And it felt exhausting.

The Heaven and Earth Purification Wheel was a Herculean task—although more Sisyphean in nature. It was divine punishment and a legendary labor wrapped in a single neat package.

This Jade cycling technique, though, felt like I was running a marathon, but I was already exhausted on my first step.

But I kept going, and vowed to myself that I wouldn’t stop until I was told to stop. It felt like I was breathing through several layers of fabric and all I needed was air. My head was swimming both with a lack of oxygen and a feeling of profound tiredness that I tried my best to penetrate. The tiredness was a haze that threatened to obscure my core and the eight-spoked wheel.

Unlike the Purification Wheel, there was no feeling of iron bands wrapped around my torso, preventing me from taking breaths. It was all just exhaustion, unending exhaustion.

Soon enough, I entered a sort of panic mode. My brain took over, and almost forced me to banish the cycling technique and resurface, but I pushed against the impulse as much as possible. A flash of awareness was all I could project to remove the haze of tiredness and renew my focus on the rolling eight-spoked wheel.

It had slowed down, so I sped it up, succeeding in ignoring the panic. I spun as fast as I could, willing the wheel to gather incredible speeds. Soon, it could revolve twice within a single second, and I worked to increase that speed as much as possible.

The panic returned even more substantially, and I forced myself to ignore it, focusing on the core with renewed intensity. The wheel wasn’t spinning any faster, but I worked to maintain the speed even as I felt I could die at any moment.

“Now, consciously speed up the cycling of your madra. Approach your upper limit of speed; don’t worry, you will find it much easier to reach it.”

True to his words, I did. It didn’t actually take so much brainpower to maintain the wheel’s revolutions that I couldn’t focus on other tasks; my main problem was exhaustion, not mental strain.

Now, the mental strain did come, and compounded with the feeling of all-encompassing tiredness, the next panic attack was so substantial, it felt like my animal brain had tackled me off my conscious control and was taking the reins. I fought back, thinking of Lindon, thinking of how he had managed to keep himself cycling until Eithan told him to stop, thinking of the difference between our resolve, the difference between our willpower.

I wanted to keep up with the only people in this world that I could safely call friends, that I wanted to follow to unending glory. I honestly didn’t know where I’d pull out excess resolve from—I didn’t have the willpower necessary to get over the massacre of everyone I knew or loved, or the ability to rise up from the depths of nowhere to carve my name on the world. Yerin and Lindon were amazing, and I was just… not.

I could only try to copy them, try to copy Eithan who wanted to defy a Monarch and change the entire world for the better.

I barely managed to regain control over myself, and I rolled the wheel around the edges of my core once more while cycling pure madra as quickly as I could.

“You may already know this, but in case there are any gaps in your knowledge, this Jade cycling technique is instrumental in advancing you to Jade. At that realm, it’s all about creating a vortex in your core. The spinning motion will condense madra, increase your spiritual perception, speed up your madra recovery and help you gain control. When advanced enough, the suction can even hold in a Remnant.”

I knew this. I knew all of this.

“Lindon’s Heaven and Earth Purification Wheel specializes purely in pushing the bounds of his cores and allowing him greater madra storage. There is, of course, the willpower training that comes with it, something I’d appreciate you don’t tell Lindon yet. I would like for it to be a surprise when he reaches Sage before Archlord. The Void Icon is such an interesting thing after all.” I had actually told him about this, but he didn’t look very surprised. The Unsouled badge he wore when they met likely gave him an inkling of the boy’s future anyway. “Now, the Eightfold Wheel of Reincarnation also trains your willpower at more or less the same rate as the Purification Wheel, but it splits its focus between madra storage and fine control, leaning much more heavily on the latter than the former.

“The downside, unfortunately, is that the Eightfold Wheel is even harder with Collapsing Star madra, and you will be required to keep this up for two hours a day. Even Lindon doesn’t have to cycle for so long, and neither do I. You may even catch up to us in madra storage given enough time!”

The next panic attack didn’t get easier, or the next one after that, but each and every time, I held on by the skin of my teeth, clawing my way up from a loss of concentration. It was clumsy, floundering, and pathetic, a torture of the mind, and freedom became evermore tempting.

“But, as you are experiencing currently, it is difficult. Feel free to ask for a different Jade cycling technique; I will sort you out with something that can still work with your Path and may require less cycling time.”

At the cost of catching up with Lindon and the others. Every price for an easier road was always losing out on the chance of standing alongside Lindon and Yerin. Never acceptable, yet always so tempting.

“If you can’t keep up with it even now, then I can’t in good conscience let you cycle Collapsing Star madra with it.”

I just continued cycling. I was doing my best, and I would keep doing it. Eithan couldn’t penalize me for suffering. I was keeping up as it was. It was hard, but I was .

The Wheel of Reincarnation cycled me from panic to struggle to control, all the way back to panic again and again. The trick was to anticipate the panic, immediately force all your willpower into the struggle, and in the sedate control phase, prepare for panic once more. With this strategy, I began to flounder less, and was on the ball quicker. I felt like I could truly master this Jade cycling technique now.

“Good!” Eithan said. “You can stop now.”

I did, and immediately, my core spewed pure madra from my body. I was covered in a blue-white aura for only a moment before it fizzled into the air.

“Now,” Eithan grinned widely. “Imagine that was the razor-sharp, ultra-heated madra of the Collapsing Star, formlessly burrowing through your body and skinning you as you bathe in it, and not pure madra.”

Fuck.

“Moral of the story? Slow the wheel to a stop and settle your madra when you are done.”

I felt invigorated beyond belief, like I had just woken up from a long nap. Was that just the feeling of contrast between my exhausted self mid-cycle and my waking self? I was practically covered in sweat, too, so how was I feeling so good?

“Nonetheless, I am proud of you,” he said to me. “Once upon a time, I told you that you were covered in softness. Now, I can see the diamond within, fierce in his desire to keep up with the rest.” He reached into the void key in his inner pocket and pulled out a vial and handed it to me. “Have this.”

I opened it and upended the contents into my mouth. Then, I cycled whatever hit my stomach. It seeped into my madra channels and settled into my core.

“White Canvas elixir,” he said. “It will help you completely empty your core and make it more impressionable towards an aspect. Usually, your core takes a while before the aura you absorb becomes imprinted on you, but with this, it will happen remarkably fast. I would like for you to advance within a day, and if you exhibit the will you showed me right now in that endeavor, it is entirely possible.”

Eithan’s mischievous smile returned. “Oh, and the madra you expend now will take a remarkable amount of time to regenerate, so if you do not reach the aura font before you run out, you may find that things will be… difficult for you.”

“I thought you said this was a holiday,” I said. My voice had less color than before. Although I felt awake, I still couldn’t quite shake off the torture of the Jade cycling technique. And soon, I would be forced to use it for two hours every day so the madra didn’t go crazy on me, on a madra aspect that was even harder to control than the true Collapsing Star madra, which was incredibly difficult to control to begin with.

A nice incentive to reach the peak of Jade as quickly as possible. Great.

“One day, you will look back to your time here and think that,” he said. “The Broken Star city is remarkably safe for a place with as many opportunities as this.”

We walked through the corridors now. I used the holomap so I wouldn’t get lost. Eithan always knew where he was going though.

If I could pick a single bloodline in Cradle, it would one hundred percent be the Arelius Bloodline. If there was a way to artificially implant it, I would find it. It was just too damn useful.

Soon enough, we reached a fork.

“So,” I said. “Any great wisdoms to give me before setting me off on this grand adventure?”

He opened his mouth, likely to make a joke. I wouldn’t even have been mad if one came; my question was pretty nonsensical already. His smile grew a little more sober, and he took on an air of respectability. Suddenly, it felt like I was speaking to a new man, a… leader. “All things come to an end.”

Blood drained a little from my face and I looked down on the floor, wondering how I should interpret that. Was that my own end? An encouragement to kill when the time came? Either interpretation was grim and something I didn’t want to hear, but then again, weren’t the best pearls of wisdom like that?

Eithan turned his back and walked towards the elevator in a sedate pace. I didn’t follow him or shout after him, but I did watch him go. He didn’t turn around to see me a single time before disappearing to the bottom of the tower in a crack of spatial rifts.

Fire filled my stomach and I turned the other way, eyes stuck to the holo map.

I ran through the corridors until I finally reached the great outdoors of overgrown plants and buildings both collapsed and intact that nature had reclaimed.

This was it. The beginning of my story.

Chapter 8: The First Collapsing Star

Chapter Text

I had multiple water bottles in my pack that were actually constructs with water Ruler bindings inside. They would, with the help of water aura, drag ambient water into the flask and eject it upon activation. I drank deeply from one of them. The Eightfold Wheel had taken more out from me than I had expected.

Also, my madra was already at three-quarters capacity, and I had only spent it on a rudimentary Enforcer technique to make my legs feel less tired. All it did was concentrate madra inside my muscles, but it still shouldn’t have taken so much. Perhaps it was the Eightfold Wheel that expanded my core, and the White Sky elixir that inhibited my regeneration? It was unlikely, since that meant a single session of Eightfold Wheel grew my core by over thirty percent, which was impossible. It was very likely the full-on sprint from Sky’s Mercy to the base of the city that did it. I consulted my perfect memory and confirmed that I had drained a substantial amount of my madra in that run.

The Broken Star city’s primary feature, as seen from the map, was the main tower at the center. It was five hundred meters in diameter, a monstrous feat of construction that still managed to pierce through the second cloud layer in the sky. You probably needed this much to collect Broken Star aura in a great enough magnitude to set one’s Path.

I made the trek towards the general direction of the Collapsing Star madra font when a huge fog blocked my way.

I was still in the forest, so I carried the risk of running into Remnants and sacred beasts, even. As such, I tried going the long way to avoid the fog. Unfortunately, the fog was enormous and followed me along the way so far that I couldn’t justify walking any further on a dwindling madra supply. I needed to refill, hopefully before sundown, and due to the pill Eithan gave me, I could only do that at my aura font.

I steeled myself and burst into the fog. I walked briskly, arms ahead of me to avoid crashing into a tree. With every meter I walked, I was more and more tempted to spring into a sprint as my anxiety spiked. I hadn’t heard a single sound since I entered the forest. How did sacred beasts or mundane animals even survive when the Broken Star city was in death star mode? The answer was they likely didn’t. The plants were weird, though. They should all be wilted, but they weren’t. Remnants were the real worry then.

I broke into a clearing where the fog disappeared completely. Remnants like the janitors, wearing clouds instead of cloth, fussed over some small floating purple clouds on a stone platform. There had to be at least fifteen remnants to the enormous amount of clouds.

And they all turned to me the moment I arrived.

I resisted the urge to sprint away and raised my hand peacefully. “My name is Glassy Sky Arelius. Are you the keepers of these Thousand Mile Clouds?”

“Disciple!” One Remnant howled like a stormy wind in an incredibly high, and frankly ridiculous-sounding, falsetto. “Do you wish to claim a cloud construct?!”

I thought we were an autonomous collective! I remembered the line, the memory arising entirely unbidden as I heard the voice of the Remnant, and I held in my laughter with literally all my might. I must have looked pretty intense, eyes wide and jaws tensed up like they were.

I watched my words carefully. These could be Underlord-level combatants. They were a lot more solid than the Remnants I saw Lindon and Gesha dismantle, that was for sure. It was Pixar studios CG compared to the usual Van Gogh’s Starry Night I saw Gesha tinker with. “Depends on whether you would let me.”

It slid a cloud construct my way, and it took only a few seconds before I reached me, all the while the maintenance Remnant stared at me with perfectly circular black holes for eyes. “Should I return it when I’m done with it?” I asked it but the Remnant was already turned around, gathering what my Copper sight told me was cloud madra in his hands. It turned purple not after very long, and after some injections of more madra, it held the shape of a cloud. I watched as it Forged a milky white ball and added a script to it before inserting it into the cloud.

They were making and keeping Thousand-Mile Clouds that no one was using here.

No one, yet. There wasn’t a chance in hell that nobody would notice the opening of this playground. I had interesting times ahead of me. Eithan assured me that I would be safe, since sacred artists generally didn’t touch Foundation realm combatants, but you never really knew with some of them.

I climbed on top of my gifted cloud gingerly and looked for its script before putting my madra into it. From there, I could push my madra towards a certain direction like a spiritual joystick and take off that way.

Once again, childlike wonder overtook all my faculties as I registered one very simple fact; I was flying on a cloud.

Cradle was the best thing that ever happened to me. Except for the part where I lost contact with all my friends and family. That still sucked. But hey, every Thousand Mile Cloud had a silver lining.

Once I finished marveling at the sheer impossibility of my reality, I decided to go high above the canopy, breaching the layer of fog on my way. The whole place was a dome of fog, and conspicuously marked. I would definitely be returning here once this one ran out of power or my future Collapsing Star madra hurt it too badly.

After orienting myself towards the aura font, I took off, pouring madra in at a quick rate. The Thousand-Mile Cloud was thankfully very fuel economical.

Fetching a cloud construct proved to be the right choice when it turned out that the aura font was in a residential district of sorts, with the surrounding grounds paved, and most of the houses and shelters were either demolished or teetering on the edge of collapse. The aura font itself was like an island in the sky, held aloft by a metallic cylinder, and my aura sight showed a rush of energetic aura swirling about in a confined bubble, no doubt the work of scripts. By the time I was peeking over the ledge of the island, my madra was a bare trickle.

It was a simple overgrown garden with tall grass, and a well that spewed heat in the very middle. Slowly, I walked closer to it when I was sure it wasn’t actually spewing fire, just fire aura, and three others. My Copper sight painted a vivid image of fire, blades, force and light. At the bottom of the well, however, was only darkness. The environment was more intense than I had ever experienced before, though. The aura was so thick that it fell on my shoulders like a physical weight, and I found it hard to keep upright. It was scorchingly hot as well, and my skin prickled. I made an abrupt movement, reaching for my pack, and a thin line opened up on my finger, not deep enough to draw blood though, but enough to jolt me. “Fuck!” I shouted, jerking again, this time opening a gash along the back of my hand that let out a few drops of blood. I froze, slowly cradling the wound, all the while trying not to fear for my life.

That could have easily been my eyes. I struggled to think how this font was fit for an Iron, but then I remembered that Eithan was the one that activated it. He categorically disagreed with the idea that anything could be simple and easy.

Slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements, I sat my back against the wall of the well and began to expel all the madra in my core. When there was absolutely nothing left and I began to feel like a limp set of clothing, I began to cycle the madra into my core according to something Eithan had told me.

I didn’t need a sophisticated cycling technique to imprint aura into my madra. I just needed to take in all the aura in the air indiscriminately into my core using my breathing technique and cycle like usual. It wasn’t as good as selectively manipulating aura for a Ruler technique or for cycling, but it was well within the power of Coppers and Irons.

The aura wasn’t especially responsive, so I poured all my energy into taking in as much as I could from my lungs. My breathing grew labored as the aura began to noticeably trickle into my Iron core. The aura in the air was arranged in the perfect ratio, and soon, my core took on a different color, a light red that seemed to spin and roil by its own accord.

It was only a tiny globe, yet I could already feel how unruly it was.

I needed a full core to take advantage of the elixir Eithan gave me, so I took in more and more until it began to stretch the edges of my core and it became a matter of advancing.

From there, I took deep breaths, calmed the shakes, and cycled the Eightfold Wheel of Reincarnation, all the while thinking of Lindon and Yerin.

Control, panic and struggle. The Collapsing Star madra had the wheel running a mile a minute, and it coursed through my madra channels faster than the pure madra ever could, but the feeling of exhaustion was impressive.

Control, panic and struggle. The stage of panic came all too quickly, and I poured every ounce of my will to keep in control. The Collapsing Star madra made me feel like I was in a house on fire and I was strapped to a chair. I wanted to panic wildly, pull against the restraints, until I realized that the restraints were my control, and resisting was counterintuitive. Or something. The Eightfold Wheel made me conjure incredibly realistic phantasms that made me want to surrender control, give up and let my madra explode outwards.

Eithan’s words rang clearly in my head, warning me of death should I let that happen. The thrill pumped adrenaline through my veins like a quadruple shot of espresso and I directed that mental energy towards surviving.

Already, I felt like I was developing a taste for this cycling technique, which horrified me just as much as it elated me. Adrenaline Junkie indeed.

Though my brain was starved of oxygen, and my mind exhausted beyond belief, I managed to resist the urge to follow my instincts and remained still on the chair, untouched by the raging fires. The Eightfold Wheel kept spinning.

Three cycles soon turned to nine. Then eighteen. Each time, I only managed to get through it all by shortening the rationalizations to remain calm every time, until I was down to only a scant few words instead of entire sentences. It was a mantra now. Control, panic, struggle, control, panic, struggle, control, panic, struggle, an endless cycle.

Soon, I began to notice a change in my core. The Collapsing Star madra became robust, its aspects now engraved in my soul, but soon, in the middle of the track for which my Eightfold Wheel constantly spun, I was creating a vortex. I sped up the Wheel as fast as I could, and its rapid pace actually managed to redouble. More madra stirred until the vortex began to grow larger and larger. It began to push the Wheel along as well, and I had to concentrate not to lose control over it and experience a magnitude of panic or cycling that my mind or channels couldn’t handle.

I stirred it regularly, and kept pace with the cycle of control, panic and struggle, until the madra finally calmed down. It spun lazily in a persisting vortex and it no longer chafed my stomach, so I considered this a success.

I had a better sense for my madra now, too. I could feel the aspects so intimately, the cutting edges of the sword madra, the brightness of light, and the heat of all that fire, stirred constantly by the force aura in the mix. The flux was what almost made me lose control over the Wheel, but I was glad I got it under control before it was too late.

I slowed down the wheel, but the vortex only continued. When the wheel had stopped completely, energy returned to my mind, and I opened my eyes, feeling great now that I escaped the continuous hell of my Jade cycling technique.

It was the dead of night, but the Broken Star city was alight. The cement between the stones paving parts of the ground level glowed an ethereal purple, illuminating the overgrown streets and buildings. On the ground level, the night wasn’t dark at all. Even this platform was alight from the glow of the well itself.

But none of that mattered, as I was hungry and parched beyond belief. I dug into my pack and retrieved packed lunch and my water. Of course, I took advantage of Arelius resources and requisitioned a whole bunch of sandwiches just filled with the good stuff. Breakfast sandwiches, BLTs, and the weird shit I’d order from Subway that was literally just a collection of meats, a whole bunch of vegetables and an ungodly mixture of three or more sauces.

It took a while before the Arelius kitchens found me the good stuff, but when they did, I couldn’t thank them enough. Creating a sauce was an art form in and of itself.

I limited myself to a single sandwich. I found overeating to be straight up impossible these days with this Iron body, one that made me full after very little inside the tank.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case this time. I had exerted myself too much, and I was still a little hungry by the time I was done. With a heavy heart, I decided to forego another sandwich as I began to think about the future. Eithan told me there would be unintelligent sacred beasts here that I could eat. I had found nothing so far, and I wasn’t sure how I’d deal with eating something I killed myself. Field-dressing would be a bitch with a whole spear. Thankfully, starting a fire would not. My madra would help with that.

I had to kill eventually, so I supposed animals would be good practice before I got to the real stuff.

My stomach roiled in slight nausea, not at the idea, since that stupid ‘Cold Heart’ trait prevented that. It was in disgust with myself, that I didn’t think it was a big deal at all.

To my surprise, I spent very little time content in my improvement until I realized that I needed to push for Jade as soon as possible, and that meant more Eightfold Wheel.

My mind rebelled and I gnashed my teeth, shaking my head erratically. I physically could not commit myself to another minute of that torment. I had pushed too far, and I needed a minute to recover. Let’s try a change of pace first. I dug into my pack and retrieved two pink river stones. Dream tablets.

I had wrestled with the conundrum of how to procure dream tablets with memories of techniques that no one knew when Eithan had just told me he had recorded himself mimicking the general spirit pattern of the techniques from the Arelius library and his own inferences. Madra channels varied from body to body, but the paths they traveled formed shapes that could be translated to every system.

I consulted one dream tablet.

“Full-body Enforcer technique,” Eithan said, and I could feel the spirals and movements of his spirit intimately, like I was him. The feeling was utterly eerie, and emphasized a disconnect between myself and him that felt like it would make me get motion sickness. I bit through it and copied the impressions of his madra.

When the experience ended, I stood up and slowly whirled my madra in the pattern as I remembered it. The remembering part wasn’t hard at all on account of ‘Historian’, but controlling the madra sort of was. I thought the cycling technique would take care of that. Or maybe this was the normal level of controllability. That was a scary thought.

I would be getting more controllability eventually though, if Eithan was to be believed.

Or the increased madra capacity would scale with controllability and I would be back where I started? That sounded more likely. Still, I could increase control the traditional way too, by practice. According to Eithan, madra control could be learned.

When I was done with the technique, lines of madra began to form all over my body, like tribal tattoos. Rings formed around my arms and legs, and lines traced every major muscle group on my torso and back, lights escaping through my robes. Two lines stretched up my neck from the sides, up the sides of my face and into my eyes, and I could feel the heat as well.

Gently, I tried to take a step, for fear of throwing myself forward in an explosion of motion and cutting myself against the ambient sword aura. Instead, the step I took looked like I was on fast forward. My mind barely kept up with the technique and I stumbled forwards in a rising crescendo of speed until I forced myself to fall before I fell over the ledge. I still cut myself on the sword aura, but less than I had expected. None of the cuts drew blood, thankfully. Both of my arms and my head dangled off the end of the grassy platform and my heart beat thunderously as the technique collapsed. Fear gripped me as I seized control over the madra and refused to let it run roughshod over my channels, but thankfully, a failure to hold the technique only caused the madra to return to my core sedately.

Since I felt too traumatized to return to the Eightfold Wheel or attempting spear practice with the Enforcer technique while still on the platform, I instead practiced Solar Step while seated. Upon a successful cast, the madra would travel around my channels faster and faster, and the tattoos would pulse with light faster and faster until it became a sustained shine. My goal was to hold the technique until it could reach its zenith, and then I would attempt to master the same thing while actually moving—on the surface, of course. Any combat training on this tiny island was bound to end in tragedy.

It took me what felt like minutes to reach the technique’s zenith. I needed to cut that down substantially if I wanted it combat ready. Real-life fights with deadly weapons lasted seconds, not minutes. In a world of sacred arts, that was no longer true, but there was still an immense value in cutting a fight short using as little of your playbook as possible. Ideally, Solar Step would be everything I needed to win. I had discussed this with Eithan, who took sandbagging to another level. Practice your entire repertoire, but reveal only as much strength as necessary in a real battle.

When my channels began to feel strained and raw, I pushed on a little more until they started to genuinely hurt. I could, perhaps, push myself further. Cradle characters reported constant spiritual pain when in high-stakes battles, and largely came out entirely unscathed after a short while of recovery. I wouldn’t take the chance of sneaking in extra training and risking my spirit, the only thing that kept me from certain death in this death world.

I was still not tired or ready to retire for the night, so I decided to try for some old-school cycling of vital aura. With the aspects of vital aura in the air as my main Path, the vital aura responded more readily to my manipulation, entering me without resistance. My channels were strained, so I had to go at it slower than I would have liked, but I did manage to advance my core a little.

I always was a little confused about the difference between a slight advancement and simply growing a core. Lindon still had to cycle vital aura despite his prodigious cores, but I understood now that there was a certain level of maturation in your madra to take into account. Maturation led to an increase in size, but also towards a readiness to advance, to pressure my madra to become a stage denser. In this case, it likely meant the force of the vortex. The Jade cycling technique would help me advance to Jade, but outside of that, it wouldn’t help me advance again. It would improve my madra capacity and control, purportedly, but it wouldn’t get me closer to Lowgold.

I took in vital aura and improved the suction force of the temporary vortex until my channels screamed at me to stop, at which point, I decided to just watch the stars until I felt my eyelids grow too heavy.

Chapter 9: Rising Danger

Chapter Text

Thanks to my Iron body, I woke up while it was still dark. My channels were in perfect condition again despite the short amount of sleep, so I decided to cycle vital aura until the sun came up. I wished there was a progress bar to show how much I had left to advance. Eithan gave me six months at a sedate pace and three months while taking things seriously, which was the better option in my opinion. It would help me overtake Lindon, though I wasn’t certain how that would translate to real combat ability.

Ah, I likely wouldn’t be as good at all. The Blackflame Trials were meant to deepen his understanding of the three foundational techniques of the Blackflame Path before he advanced. There were training facilities like that for the Broken Star Path here, so I had to mirror him by tackling them.

When the sun was finally beginning to peak over the horizon, my madra started to grow a little volatile, and I decided to bite the bullet and revisit the hell that was the Eightfold Wheel of Reincarnation.

With a mind cleared after a night of good sleep, it was noticeably easier. The Jade cycling technique was ideal in the mornings then. Control, panic and struggle again and again and again. Like Eithan said, only I knew what my spirit needed, so I only stopped cycling when the abnormal volatility dropped completely. Judging with the finger-horizon method, that had taken about two hours. The sun was eight finger-widths above the horizon.

I sprayed the water bottle straight into my mouth, but I hated the caterwauling sound it made when my new madra came into contact with it. I tried to limit it as much as possible to prevent any undue malfunctions. The Ruler binding was literally one of my only water sources, and I wasn’t keen on trying to find one in the woods. I wouldn’t know the first place to look. The holomap had a whole bunch of symbols and a legend to explain them, but I was as literate as Yerin, and knowing how to read in the Blackflame Empire likely wouldn’t have helped either. The script was decidedly different, but that was to be expected. This city was thousands of years old anyway.

I elected to not use the bindings to shower, and instead enjoyed a more weighty meat sandwich to fight the growing hunger pangs.

I washed my hands before devouring the sandwich. I had eaten more of my fill than I did yesterday, thankfully, but I still remained a little peckish. Just another disadvantage of camping in the great outdoors, unfortunately, but one that I could deal with. I would have to pay Mu Shu and his posse of tiny tots a visit, maybe show them where to find some Thousand-Mile Clouds if their aura font was also on a tower platform.

I checked the holomap, and saw that they were directly on the aura font. Either theirs was on the ground or they found themselves some Thousand-Mile Clouds. Either way, it was good for them. It meant I could spend more time without meeting them.

Before then, of course, I had to work on my Solar Step.

000

Lindon felt a small measure of shame when Eithan returned for the first time in months. They hadn’t come near to clearing the first trial yet, though they were still making headway.

He arrived in his usual abrupt manner, bearing only the news of gifts and backhanded encouragement.

Yerin, as usual, didn’t have the patience for him, and stalked off towards a wall, arms folded. Lindon, for his part, couldn’t wait to get his hands on Blackflame scales, and would work his hardest on trying to meet the timeline Eithan had set up for them.

Before Eithan left, Lindon did stop him, however. “Any news about Sky?”

“I left him about a week ago, but it’s highly likely he’s broken through to Jade by now.” Eithan said. Lindon almost couldn’t believe it, but he supposed he couldn’t have a monopoly on fast growth. He did feel happy that the strange man was breaking free from the destiny his family had imposed on him, though.

“Where is he?” Lindon asked. “Is he coming?”

“No,” Eithan said. “You’ll likely won’t see him until he’s hit Lowgold. I’ve put him on a grand adventure, actually, not unlike what you two are currently experiencing. He will learn valuable lessons like self-reliance and survival skills, two things he,” Eithan’s expression took on a worried cast as he looked at the ground for a moment. “Really doesn’t seem to have.” Then, his smile returned in full force and he locked eyes with Lindon again. “As for the specifics, I’m sure he’d rather tell you in person.” Lindon couldn’t wait to hear about it, though he also couldn’t help but worry for him. Being a Jade in Sacred Valley was easy, but a Jade in the outside world, released in the wild and left to their own devices? It was hard not to imagine the worst.

Yerin, for her part, looked suitably impressed. “Bleed and bury me, that fool really made Jade so fast?”

“The vital aura is powerful where he is,” Eithan explained. “And did you really think you are the only ones bleeding my clan dry with your endless demands? Sky receives the same value of training resources as you do. At least he makes me money in return for it all.”

Yerin looked away, arms crossed. “I’m not going to deny that you’ve been useful, and I am grateful. Do you see me complaining?”

Lindon bowed on principle. “Gratitude, Underlord.”

“I expect he will make Lowgold within five months,” Eithan said. “But he regularly aims to exceed my expectations, so three months seems to be the safer bet. He might be able to join you in the last trial!”

Something about that both burned and inspired Lindon. Sky had started at the bottom when Lindon was an Iron, and now they were in the same stage of advancement, and he was still slated to overtake him.

Although with Orthos, it was only a matter of time before he advanced, and he was focusing on his techniques as well, not just his advancement.

“Oh, and,” Eithan said. “He also had some advice to give to you because of course he does. Lindon, have you tried letting the Sylvan Riverseed purify your channels after using Blackflame? And Yerin,” Yerin instantly perked up. “Cracking into your master’s Remnant will in fact grant you more insights into the Path of the Endless Sword than not doing so. And memories of your master.”

Lindon immediately rushed for his pack where the Sylvan Riverseed’s habitat lay. If Sky was right, then this could drastically help them recover between attempts. They might even be able to make multiple attempts a day.

“Little Blue,” Lindon spoke to the glass case where the six-inch tall dress-wearing natural spirit lay. “Let’s try something out.”

000

It didn’t take long at all before I turned into a complete hobo appearance-wise. Bad news: my food storage was gone after seven days of camping out in the Broken Star city. The good news was I’d finally made Jade, after what felt like a hundred hours of concerted effort. The first thing I did was flex my spiritual perception, sweeping it over the overgrown skybase to look for any living beings. It felt like an unaccountable part of me, one that was neither my eyesight or hearing, but still a form of sense, reached out from my being like one big tentacle growing out from every corner of my body. I swept it around the skybase, and predictably came up negative on any other presences.

That was only the active part, though. Passively, I still had one spiritual eye out open on my surroundings, and even if someone blindfolded me and spun me around a dozen times, I could with perfect accuracy point towards the aura well, and the edge of the skybase for that matter.

Still, while the promise of a super-awesome spiritual perception did spur me onwards, it didn’t really light a fire under my ass as much as a threat to my continued existence.

Either my Copper eyes were malfunctioning, or the aura was growing denser as the days passed, and it became a matter of bodily health to advance before the energetic auras cooked me alive, or the cutting aura sliced me into strips of long pig.

By the time I was out of food, thankfully, Broken Star city had come alive with new visitors arriving from far away on wings.

Enormous birds settled on trees, likely sensing the abundance of vital aura in the area, and were drawn to it like moths to a flame. I assumed that I would have to go hunting, but it turned out that the birds were not only predators—hawk-like blue birds of prey with wickedly sharp talons and were as tall as Yerin—but also unintelligent, or refusing to talk to me. I tried waving them down and shouting at them, but they responded only with avian screeches and a redoubled pace. Obviously, they meant business, and I was too hungry to really look too hard into it.

I took to the Thousand-Mile Cloud and flew down to the ground at the first sight of them. Fighting in the cramped platform would only spell doom for a non-flyer like me. I jumped down the rest of the way, what likely had to be twenty feet before the first dive bomb found me.

There, on the ground, I waited for the bird to arrive before activating Solar Step and going for a thrust. My drastically increased speed took the bird by surprise as I ran it through with deceptive ease, my relatively low strength mattering very little in the face of my overwhelming speed. The bird waved its wings, almost pulling the spear out of my hands as it retreated, but it weakened considerably as it did. I pulled the spear out decisively, sending a spray of blood over my robes and face.

I didn’t have time to think about the mess, as I was forced to slash at the throat of another bird that thought it could catch me in its talons. Though I wounded it, it still carried momentum, so I pushed my Iron body to its limits to evade the strike.

Solar Step wore off in a sparse shower of light, and I renewed it shakily. Two birds were down, but there were still three more circling above.

Having a Striker technique would have been highly convenient right about now.

Fortunately, the birds decided to retreat. I looked at the purple Thousand-Mile Cloud. It was getting noticeably smaller and see-through. It would never have lasted very long with me and my madra fueling it, so I was bound to have to replace it eventually.

I would have to get another Thousand-Mile Cloud from the weirdos living in the fog before attempting to return to the Collapsing Star font. I would not want to be stuck up there.

I took the cloud and pushed its scripts to its limits, racing above the canopy of overgrown trees faster than I ever could have with pure madra until I finally arrived at the cloud Remnant Soulsmith foundry.

A Remnant actually approached me once I got off, but ignored me entirely and poked into the construct. I wasn’t so afraid of the Remnants anymore now that I knew they were just… doing their job. Always.

“So,” I said. “How’s work?”

“You have torn asunder many a connecting script!” It said in that howling wind-like falsetto, though a little deeper than the other one. “Disciple, have you deviated from the Path?!”

“Oh no,” I said. “I, uh, practice a slightly different one. Is that a problem?”

“Operating the cloud construct shall become one!” He, I guess, said matter-of-factly. That was too bad, I guess, but it did give me some sick speed. “An additional script will be placed to filter out volatility!”

“Ah, thank you!” I said. I bowed my head and saluted, fists pressed together.

When he was done, he slid the Thousand-Mile Cloud closer to my side. It wasn’t as fast as before, but if it lasted longer, that was fine, too.

When I arrived at the place where I killed those birds, I found nothing but smears of blood leading away into the forests before disappearing entirely.

FUCK!

I flew the Thousand-Mile Cloud around as fast as I could, searching for the culprits, but finding nothing. The canopy was too dense to see into the forest, so I had to search everywhere else. What could have possibly taken off with my kills? More birds? Had to be.

I turned the corner of a desolate building and saw a-

I turned the fuck back.

And then I flew up to the platform and hid there, behind the well, calming my thundering heart.

There was a dragon, a coiling, serpentine, four-limbed being with antlers and rows of razor-sharp teeth. A green dragon, so probably on a life path, but a dragon nonetheless. It was chomping on the blue sacred birds I had killed, coiled around a tree like a monstrous anaconda. I hadn’t stuck around to scan its spirit and measure its advancement, not even sure if I could measure advancements at Jade yet. That said, I would treat that one like a mega-predator and hide away as much as I could.

It must have seen the wounds on the birds, so it no-doubt knew there was another person in the city. With any luck, it would find Mu Shu and the Truegold would do short work of it. Assuming the creature wasn’t an Underlord and insane enough to kill a bunch of humans out of hand.

I cycled vital aura until I had calmed myself down. By then, it was noon, and the baking hot sun prompted me to pour some more water over my head with the water construct.

From my perch, I looked for the green dragon. Either it had blended together with the green of the forest, or it was gone.

The blue birds were much easier to find, perched on a tree as they were. I could try picking a fight with them, hope that they attacked and then dispatch them as well as I could. They couldn’t have been better than Lowgolds anyway, and the halfsilver spear tip took even that away from them. It was a solid plan.

I only needed to kill one. I didn’t know many methods of meat-preservation but smoking and salt-curing. I didn’t have that much salt in handy, meaning that I had to eat the bird as quickly as possible if I wanted to maximize its utility or bring the rest to Mu Shu.

Would my Iron body protect my stomach against the dangers of expired poultry? I could count on their meat being cleaner than Earth poultry at the very least, and their flesh could have properties that made them last longer, too. It was wishful thinking, but I really, really wanted to minimize my contact with wild sacred beasts. I only had very basic spear play down, and I could just barely maintain Solar Step in its zenith while standing still. I could forget about high-speed anime maneuvers for the time being.

I needed to find a trial ground and really get to working. I had squandered a week making very little progress on my actual skill. Cycling vital aura in this incredibly dense environment was useful, sure, but there was a reason Eithan put Lindon and Yerin on the Blackflame Trial rather than, say, forcing him to constantly cycle vital aura and advance his Blackflame core until Orthos was ready to lend more of his power.

That said, seven days of the aura font and fourteen cumulative hours of the Eightfold Wheel had in fact quadrupled the size of my core. Cheers and celebrations, but that only meant I still had a long way to go before I was advancement-ready if my growth was so fast. I had to really push against that bottleneck before I was confident that the suction force of my core vortex could hold in a Remnant.

As for my hunt for food, it was now or never.

I descended with the cloud and rode a fair bit towards the boundary of the forest before alighting. The birds were perched roughly five hundred meters away, and I didn’t want to fight them in the forest at all if necessary. I couldn’t swing my long weapon very freely if I had to worry about trees getting in the way. Thankfully, the birds were the same, to an extent.

Their maneuverability would be severely hampered with so many obstacles in the way, but I was more compact, and legs were better than wings as an adaptation for moving through forests. The worst I’d have to worry about was dive-bombs from above through gaps of trees. The density of the canopy and my own foot speed would take care of that, for the most part, and vigilance would take me the rest of the way.

With a deep breath, I walked in, collecting twigs and sticks on the way in, for the fire. Once I had an adequate amount, stuffing them into the backpack I had brought with me, I ran at a brisk pace towards my goal.

I was fast, but I wished I could be faster. Solar Step was supposed to increase my perception levels in order to let me deal with the overwhelming power of the increased speed that it gave me, but the abundance of Force madra in my core tipped the technique over to pure speed over speed and perception. It was impractical, and only suitable to someone much more talented than myself. It made navigating a forest a nightmare as well. Relying only on my Iron body for now was a dangerous game, but one that I hoped would inspire me to skill up faster in my techniques. Nothing beat training with external pressures that didn’t care whether you lived or died.

Mostly, I wouldn’t have committed to this at all if I wasn’t hungry and averse to tracking down Mu Shu and begging him for scraps. He’d never let me live it down, not to mention the personal shame it would bring. I was a cultivator, now. Suicidal pride was just a part of the package deal.

It didn’t take long for the screeches to reach me, and by the time I made sure that they knew where I was, both birds had come out in force, diving together. I missed a talon that would have gouged out my flesh by mere inches as I threw myself away from their advance, barely holding onto my spear.

Clambering up to my feet and taking off in a mad dash took only a second. I was probably fifty meters into my sprint before thinking to check the holomap. I had veered only slightly off-course, but I was slated to make it out of the forest in…

Now!

I leaped out of the forest and stopped at a roll, pocketing the map and turning around to see one reskinned blue pidgeot dive over the canopy and towards me.

It was only a paranoid hunch that made me retreat instead of face the strike, evade it and dig a furrow through its neck. I was rewarded for my wisdom with extra longevity as the place I had just occupied was now the foundation of an inverted triangle of jagged ice.

The sacred beast was an ice artist. Ice beast? Not important. What did I know about them? Eithan never went into much detail about the individual strengths of more varied madra types, like ice and other things. From the texts, I knew that water madra was supposed to be flexible and adaptable, but wouldn’t the solidity of ice counteract that?

The bird didn’t give me much time to think any deeper on it, forcing me to skip around, dodging a barrage of Striker techniques. I was fast enough to place a wide berth between myself and the projectiles far before they touched down, and the pleasant coolness of their techniques served to calm my blood down as well, much to my joy. A calm mind would help me infinitely more than some scuffed ultra instinct. The grounds soon became a forest of ice even before the second bird arrived. I turned on my Copper sight and decided to not be here as I saw the aura was thick with frigid ice. I didn’t want to deal with a surprise Ruler technique that would encase me in ice.

Strategies: I could just not use madra, and instead only my Iron body to evade until the birds ran out of madra, and then go in for the kill. Problems: they wouldn’t stay to fight until they ran on empty. They attacked me because I… wandered into their territory, perhaps? If I became more of a hassle than they initially assumed, they wouldn’t grow obsessed and throw themselves against me. That was a distinctly human thing to do; beasts prioritized survival more than anything else, and I had to assume that sacred beasts still retained that instinct, even if these two were too stupid to even talk—the only reason why I felt okay with eating them in the first place.

I had to give them the idea that they could defeat me, and then rapidly turn the scales, disabling them before they could flee, like I did the other birds.

Again, this would have been a lot more convenient with a Striker technique of my own to work with.

The second bird did in fact go in for a dive. I repositioned myself to evade and strike at his body. Its feet repositioned as well, parrying my attack with its own talons. Frost began to spread on the halfsilver tip, but did nothing more as the bird flew past me and began to turn upwards. My eyes didn’t leave the bigger bird, and I was on the move soon before it could impale me with another ice spike.

“Come down, you cowards!” I shouted. I knew they couldn’t understand me, at least from how the other two that attacked me earlier today reacted. A part of me still wanted them to say a few words, give me an excuse to end the hunt and just leave. There was no way I was eating another sapient being.

More attacks came, leaving me constantly on the move while I had to occasionally defend against the other’s Enforcer technique.

Three times did they barrage me with ice spikes and ice talons before I caught onto a general pattern. I activated Solar Step before one arrived, managing just enough speed to avoid its talon and plunge the spear directly into its midsection. I swung the spear along with its descent to prevent it from crashing into me, and unexpectedly hammered it into the earth in an audible thud that shook the ground where I stood. If the stab hadn’t killed it, and if the halfsilver hadn’t disrupted its spirit long enough that I could have finished it off, the smash certainly did. It cawed ineffectually, spasming slightly, but I didn’t spare it more attention than it deserved.

The big bird now looked truly incensed, cawing bloody murder as more ice spikes flew towards me in quick succession.

It wouldn’t come down. I knew it wouldn’t, not after I had proven myself superior on land. It wasn’t going away either, which wasn’t ideal since I already had my meal.

A solution bloomed slowly. I had kept to the tree line in case I would be forced to resort to such a boneheaded tactic, but I didn’t see how else I could end the fight decisively. The Solar Step still held, but it had taken up almost half of my madra. I wasn’t anywhere near peak efficiency in the skill, and it was my only weapon for survival.

I looked towards the trees, the tallest of which was almost level with the bird.

This would be so much easier if the Solar Step technique increased my perception as promised. Instead, I would only be taking a chance.

I ran towards a tree, jumped on it and continued running vertically. A handful of steps into my mad sprint, gravity just barely began to reassert itself over me. I jumped off it just as my momentum died out, flipped, and managed to land on a thick branch where I just barely regained enough speed to land on the crown of the largest tree.

From there, I jumped without hesitation, flying over a twenty-meter sheer drop to nothing but grass as I gradually inched towards the sacred bird, the world having come to a stop.

It flapped its wings in panic as fast as it could, but my momentum was faster. I drove my halfsilver spear through its chest, and then, we fell.

I hadn’t really planned out this part, but I let go of the spear and tried to roll with the fall, all the while hoping this wouldn’t cut my journey short.

I rolled several times before I stopped, my entire body feeling like one large bruise. No sharp pains, however, so I counted myself lucky. My madra was a bare trickle, too, so had this little move failed, I wouldn’t have been able to even escape with the Enforcer technique.

I stood up slowly and approached my kills. Kills. Instead of revulsion, only a feeling of triumph filled my heart. I won, and with this victory, I got to continue living. I would never make it a habit to go killing things for no reason, but even setting aside the nutritional value of food, it felt good that I won.

I grabbed the birds by their legs and dragged them over to where I had first parked my Thousand-Mile Cloud, singing myself a song on the way, the afternoon sun behind me, inexorably marching towards the horizon.

“To the town of Agua Fria rode a stranger one fine day
Hardly spoke to folks around him, didn't have too much to say
No one dared to ask his business, no one dared to make a slip
For the stranger there among them had a big iron on his hip
Big iron on his hiiiiiip.”

I got through three verses until a part of me I couldn’t account for screamed that I was in danger. It reminded me of Jai Daishou, but less heavy, yet more focused.

I let go of the birds and activated Solar Step with what little madra I had, just barely avoiding the dozens of roots and vines flying my way.

The skies darkened for only a moment, and I heard a whoosh as a weight landed on the earth.

It…

It was easily the length of a limousine, its reptilian form rippling with muscle as it coiled in front of me. At its chest, it had to be about three feet in diameter, covered in gleaming, emerald scales that immediately disabused me of any idea that my meager strength could punch through them. The stereotypical weak points, its eyes two golden orbs with pitch black slits, were equally out of the picture considering the snarling maw with rows of only canines that looked like they could shred my flesh like a woodchipper. The green dragon stared at me for only a moment, an ethereal weight settling on my soul, before simply huffing, looking away from the disappointing sight that was me. “You’re just a Jade,” it said, its voice hissing and high-pitched. It reached a clawed arm at the larger bird and began to tear into it, making a bloody mess as it did.

I didn’t dare interrupt it, or leave, afraid that I would somehow offend the creature. Cradle didn’t give dragons the best reputation when it came to sensibility.

“You can keep the other,” it said. “Hunt me one prey every day and I will even spare your life.”

“Great one is… wise and merciful,” I said a little shakily, anger and dread filling my heart. “This lowly one will obey.”

It grabbed one of the birds and threw it to me. I backed up as I caught it, dissipating its momentum. “Leave me.”

I did, running away as quickly as I could. Once I found the purple Thousand-Mile Cloud, I threw the bird over it and jumped on top, pushing madra into its scripts and taking off towards my aura island.

The aura here was a lot thicker than in the Blackflame Empire to my Copper senses, but the inside of the bubble of aura in my aura font was becoming so bright that I could barely even look at it.

I plopped into the bubble, jumped into the grass, the carcass of an enormous bird behind me, and I… began to scream in rage.

I just got Cradle’d.

000

Mu Shu still couldn’t puzzle out how his services rendered could possibly be worth his reward. Before his sect fell, he was considered the premier talent in the Path of the Vulpine Edge, a Path of sword and dream aura that let him deceive as well as destroy to great effects. After its fall, he still remained one of the greatest spearmen in the Empire, going toe-to-toe with the likes of Naru Shuai, Kotai Eren and Jai Ling.

He was the number four Truegold in the Blackflame Empire based on combat ability, at the very pinnacle of attainable power outside the Lord realm, yet he never really expected to be able to take the next step until well into his twilight years, once the specter of death haunted him and motivated him to advance.

“It’s really just a matter of introspection once you learn the trick of it,” the infuriatingly powerful and young Arelius patriarch said lightly while they spoke in the cloudship that had ferried them to this place. “The other requirement requires a more daring and enterprising soul,” he continued. From then on, he had explained not only the secret to Underlord, but every Lord rank from there. Very little of it was immediately useful, but for the Underlord revelation he had explained so long ago. He needed to define a reason for why he set out to excel in the sacred arts, to tease out his rationale all those years ago when he was just a Copper, or in the case of others, when they truly embarked on the Path that they were currently on.

Mu Shu was of the latter group. The Razor Fox took him in after he attained his Iron body, while he was just a pure madra artist still seeking a Path that could take him to Lowgold or maybe even beyond.

After the disownment of his family, the subsequent persecution he suffered from his village for his political opinions, and having to endure the indignities of a vagrant’s life while still clinging to a dying hope, he always did have an inkling of his direction.

A completely matured Truegold soul, an open soulspace filled with soulfire, the revelation that would trigger the transformation, and an environment where he could easily sense the unity of aura.

Arelius had granted him the secrets and the means to all these—the abandoned city was lousy with resources if you knew where to look—and only asked that he do one last thing for him; take care of the younglings. That was easy enough.

“I practice the Sacred Arts,” he said, burning the natural treasures around him for soulfire. “So I will always have a place in this world!”

In the dome of aura where the three young sacred artists practiced dutifully, Mu Shu experienced a divine immolation, all the soulfire in his soulspace erupting over his body, burning away the impurities, the weakness native to his body. In only a single minute, the fire rushed through his core, channels, muscles, bones and tendons, bathing his organs just the same, until there was nothing left for it to touch. The excess soulfire burned away, emptying his soulspace completely before the process ended.

There was a place for him now, without a doubt, in the Empire. Perhaps he could push further after a hundred years of leisure, but leisure was enough for now.

The three younglings looked up at him curiously, and he just smiled. He scanned their spirits and saw that they were all Jade now. After the fortune their Patriarch spent on elixirs to advance them, that was only expected. Even better was that their madra had finally set, and now they were truly on the Path of the Broken Star.

He would capture some high-leveled Remnants of that Path now, and when he did, he’d return the children to Serpent’s Grave and go about his own life.

Was it up to Mu Shu, he would have stayed for a little while longer, if only to fill his pack with as much treasure as he could find in this city, but he’d made a promise to the Patriarch to leave as soon as he could. The defense scripts for the city had already fallen, since the place was beginning to crawl with flying sacred beasts. Sky’s examination had begun in earnest now, and Mu Shu’s presence would only complicate things.

Oh well. Mu Shu supposed there were easier ways to set someone up for death, but he wouldn’t meddle. The kid was on his own now.

000

Starting the fire and keeping it going had taken a surprisingly small amount of effort, simply an uncontrolled spray of my madra from my hand, and the tinder blazed up into a respectable conflagration. Most of the real effort went to plucking the bird, trying not to stare at its face as I cut its head off and threw it over the island, and removed its organs, leaving only the stuff I wanted to eat behind. I washed the blood out as well as I could before cooking. After the most immersive biology lesson in my life, I managed to get what was barely recognizably a whole bird out of it, thighs, wings, breasts and all that jazz.

I cut a ridiculous portion of dark meat off from the bird, literally just one drumstick and thigh that still managed to be almost the size of my forearm despite being proportionally leaner than a chicken.

I did pack a lot of flavourings for cooking, thankfully, and after a thorough seasoning, I began the cooking process, careful not to keep the meat too close to the fire. I didn’t want to accidentally bite into a raw core, and though I was somewhat versed in cooking meat in a stove pan, I wasn’t much of a flame grill person.

By the time the skin was beginning to char, I put out the fire and began to eat, marvelling at how well it turned out, but also thinking about where I would go from here.

Initially, after the dragon’s unexpected visit, I had wanted to meet up with Mu Shu and throw myself at his feet and beg him to take care of the dragon. I wasn’t particularly excited about my willingness to have someone killed for my own safety – I would much rather be strong enough to deal with such threats on my own, but in this situation where it was either kill or be killed, wasn’t it the wisest course of action? Eithan said it best, after all. Everything ends. I also knew I picked Cold Heart for a reason, and this was precisely a situation where this “drawback” would help me.

It was my flagging strength and lack of madra necessary to pilot the cloud that decided it for me, and I returned to the base for some R&R. I wouldn’t make it to his spot either on foot or on cloud, so my only recourse was to leave at the crack of dawn. I had no plans to be some dragon’s personal hunter-gatherer.

I’d see Mu Shu the first chance I got.

For now, I’d just cycle aura for advancement, and then sleep.

I cycled the Eightfold Wheel the moment I woke up, wrestling with my madra and my own anxieties for what felt like an eternity before my spirit gave in and surrendered to my control. I left everything I wouldn’t need back at the base, and took my backpack, empty but for a knife, a single water construct, and the remnants of yesterday’s Cradle Fried Articuno wrapped in large leaves, with a spear in my hand.

Hopping onto the trusty ol’ TMC, I elevated at a sedate pace and flew towards the now-displaced dot of light that signified Mu Shu’s location.

The first thing I noticed when I arrived was that his aura font was ground-level. I was immediately jealous. My minecraft sky base was utterly useless tactically. The only opponents I ever came across could fly, and here was the kicker: I couldn’t. If I had to flee, I had to use the unreliable Cloud construct that could give up on me at any time because my madra was terribly destructive. That wasn’t even mentioning the danger of falling if I wanted to train. Sure, I was an Adrenaline Junkie, but I also wanted to live!

Sure, Mu Shu was in charge of children, so maybe they deserved to enjoy a little safety now and then, but I had passed by other inert aura fonts that were ground level. There was no way Eithan had to give me the one that would put me in danger of dying the most.

Now, the second thing I noticed was that no one was there. The aura font was empty. The spherical holomap was left there. Mu Shu fucking ditched me.

I screamed bloody murder until my throat was raw, and when I was done, I just… sat there.

This just screamed an Eithan plot. This was my Transcendent Ruins arc now, and I was stuck here for three months now.

Why did I expect anything different from Eithan? Why did I buy into his lies that it would be easy?

“The measure of a sacred artist isn’t talent; it’s how you respond to risk.”

Not a thing I heard him say with his own mouth, but something I recalled from reading Soulsmith. I supposed this was a lesson to adapt to changing circumstances bereft of a lifeline.

More from Soulsmith began to rush back to me, how Eithan was fully willing to risk Lindon’s life for his advancement, how his death wouldn’t set him back, and the pregnant fact that I wasn’t vital for the continued good of any of these characters.

Eithan could afford to lose me, so he went ahead and put me in mortal danger after filling my head with lies.

It was a testament to my progress in this hell world that I only cried for a minute.

Fuck.

Agh.

Alright. First on the agenda; feeding the beast. Second, feeding myself. Then, I’d train my techniques, revisiting Mu Shu’s spear training with my eidetic memory and embedding the skills he taught me into my body. Then I’d cycle for everything I was worth until the moon was high.

An elephant-headed gorilla painted in brush-strokes of blue and gray burst out of the treeline and ran towards me on all fours.

I resisted shitting my pants for the greater good, instead turning tail and fleeing, activating Solar Step and high-tailing it so fast I almost crashed into a tree.

I generated a disgusting amount of distance between myself and the ghost of Ganesha Grodd, and in the same vein, leaving my Thousand-Mile Cloud behind for the enemy to peruse, and then subsequently rip apart with ape fury.

I fell on my knees and wheezed, not in exhaustion, but in sheer, mind-numbing horror. Oh my fucking god. I was in mortal danger.

My every instinct was to curl up in a ball and cry. That was the sum total of my life experiences advising me to do one single thing: give up.

And why should I continue to scrape by in a world so utterly inhospitable? I wasn’t a fucking xianxia MC. I was a modern guy doing modern things; better someone who had actually served in the military take my place because at least they’d have a higher likelihood of knowing how to put one foot in front of the other, regardless of life’s misfortunes.

Thinking about Lindon, Yerin or Eithan, surprisingly, didn’t make things better at all. Why should they? Until three months ago, I thought they didn’t exist, that they were just figments of the imagination of a fantasy author. In my mind, they were statuesque, beings so far beyond me that I couldn’t even begin to draw inspiration from their struggles. All I could lend them was my support; that was all I could really offer them. To stand side by side with them was… I scoffed. It was a childish dream.

Ganesha Grodd was done ripping apart my special Thousand Mile Cloud, and now focused on me once again.

The wise thing to do would be to find a way down the island and live the rest of my life a simple Jade. It would be a life fraught with difficulty, but it was better than the lifestyle of a sacred artist, living on the edge of my blade constantly, feeling the rush of adrenaline pump your heart rate to high heavens.

I was an Adrenaline Junkie, but there was a fine line between thrill and terror, and I was squarely in the latter category.

I took my spear in hand, slung my bag on the ground, and slowly rose to face the massive Remnant approaching me. It was easily my height on its shoulders, even when it was standing on all fours, and those tusks were something that would ruin my day if I veered too close.

Why was I standing when I could cower and run away?

I scoffed, and smiled a little. It was nothing special at all. I just didn’t want to live in constant fear is all. I didn’t want to be defeated by something as banal as my own terror when I knew I had the tools to fight it.

Only heroes could rise to the occasion. Everyone else? Well, they fell back on training.

I activated Solar Step and held my spear like a gardener’s scythe, cutting a furrow through the monster’s side as I passed him by. The Remnant howled like an airhorn and it was all I could do to keep my wits about me, backtracking rapidly to get a view of my opponent.

Blue-white essence bled from his wound, a shower of sparks that practically gushed. I looked at the halfsilver tip in shock. It really did its job, huh.

I passed by the Remnant again, cutting into its other side, and cutting into its thigh so deeply that it failed to hold its ethereal weight. It felt like cutting through butter with a warm knife.

I prepared to dash towards it again, and took off. It raised its arms, having prepared for my arrival, and only last-minute thinking prevented it from catching me in its barrel-throwing grasp and peeling me like a fucking banana, or just crushing me like a peanut.

I front-flipped over its arm, and stabbed into the nape of its neck mid-flip.

The Remnant fell dead.

I must have stared at that corpse for five minutes straight, though it wasn’t to make sure that it was dead.

I pinched myself, and yelped in pain.

I was awake.

I really fucking did that.

I wasn’t out of the running just yet.

Chapter 10: Edge of Survival

Chapter Text

After a visit to the ‘autonomous collective’ of Remnant cloud construct smiths for another specially made TMC, I headed back home to figure out my next move. I came across my first hurdle then.

My skybase was being used as a free-for-all thunderdome for a bunch of wild Remnants. The ones that weren’t fighting to the death and ripping each other apart sat huddled next to the aura font. A few of the exceptionally stupid ones hopped into the well, and presumably died a horrible death.

I hoped so, at least. I wasn’t sure what dead matter would do to the scripts, and I was worried they might not dissolve quickly enough to undo whatever clog they would cause.

That was, however, the least of my worries.

I swept my clunky spiritual tentacle-sense over the Remnants in order to gauge their power, and came up short with any valuable information. I tried comparing the feel of my own power to theirs, and found that yes, indeed: we all had madra. Nothing more specific than that.

I was about twenty metres away, watching from my perch. I swung away from the incoming Remnants behind me, and worked my mind furiously for a solution to this shitfest.

If only I had a goddamn striker technique.

Well, the way I saw it, I had one solution; jump in, flail my spear around and hope that the halfsilver did its job, and with lightning-quick reflexes, etch one of those script circles that repelled Remnants. The good news was that I actually knew how to do that . I’d asked Eithan on the ride to this place, and he gave me a basic primer on how scripts worked, as well as an opportunity to test my meager skill.

That was, however, the one upside to this monumental shitfest.

There was another solution, still, but one I hadn’t thought about until now because it was peak desperation. Ask Shenron for help.

That wasn’t even worth considering.

And even if I ended up being able to capture the skybase, I’d have to contend with a wall of starving Remnants penning me inside, and I had shit to do . Shit like feeding Shenron, feeding myself , and exploring these fucked up ruins for clues about hidden powers and cheats to the sacred arts left behind by the ancients, ancients that were so adept at this magic that even the least of them had city-destroying powers.

More of the Remnants threw themselves into the aura well like lemmings, and I saw a spark of hope as the aura density dimmed to my Copper sight.

New plan, then: wait for the idiots to clog the well, and the ones still alive would naturally just leave in order to seek warmer climes. I’d hop in, turtle myself inside the scripts, and once the dead matter clogging the pipes dissolved into essence, I’d be home-set in terms of advancement.

I turned around and flew away.

Just in time, in fact, as I was well out of the scorchingly hot blast that rocketed my cloud forward and almost deafened me. I crash-landed, ears ringing while I tapped myself down for injuries, finding none. I stood up shakily, my balance completely shot as I turned around towards the ground zero. I fell on my butt, nausea gradually building up when I saw the destroyed skybase, and the shaft leading to the aura well spewing up dead matter and random essences in a furious jet. Even in the midday sun, the light show was impressive.

The Remnants that were still alive were in a frenzy, running every which way. One decided to run towards me, and I flailed my spear at it reflexively. It was weak enough that the haphazard movements gouged out its parts so thoroughly that it collapsed on its own weight, a sort of misshapen human that looked like it belonged on a Picasso canvas.

I fell on my knees and threw up. This was too much.

An unaccountable part of me— my soul, now that I knew such a thing even existed — screamed a warning, and I stood up quickly, whirling around, and only by the skin of my teeth, avoiding the thrust of a spike that grew out of the arms of a humanoid Remnant. I activated Solar Step and swung purposefully this time, carving a furrow through its chest, and then thrusting the spear into it all within a few seconds. It was such an automatic response that it felt like I was up against a dummy instead of an actual opponent.

I couldn’t keep being taken by surprise like this. I had to secure the objective. I honed in on the broken aura font, the shaft stretching up to around eight meters or so. It finally expunged the last of the dead matter, and now swirls of four types of aura spewed outwards, Collapsing Star aura. I ran towards it, past the panicking ghosts, and quickly got around to etching the widest, least efficient script circle in the entire world.

When I got done, I had to pour my entire core’s worth of madra on the monstrosity. It wouldn’t have been more effective than a smaller, more compact and better-scribed one. It was just the best I could do in a high-stress situation. I rested my back on the shaft, and immediately regretted it as my back burned . I stumbled forward, almost stepping on the script circle, but stopping just in time.

I needed to top-up, and while the script circle would do nothing to hold the vital aura in, the amount it was spewing made up for that more than enough.

I filtered the destruction aura away as I breathed in the Collapsing Star aura. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as I thought it would, thankfully. I fell into a rhythm, filling my core with the volatile power until I no longer could, though not because I had reached capacity.

The power I accumulated was simply out of my control. I needed to cycle according to the Eightfold Wheel again. The madra I’d expended was the madra I had full control over, not this newly replenished madra.

I groaned, and my groans turned to sobs as I buried my face in my hands and let out my frustrations.

I had to believe that Eithan didn’t do this on purpose. More likely was that he hadn’t accounted for the disrepair of this place. He also wouldn’t have known how dead matter would have interacted with the aura fonts. Or maybe he just hadn’t predicted that the Remnants would have arrived with such force. Or maybe he was just an asshole and wanted to see how I’d react, whether I’d meet his expectations and have the qualifications to join him towards ‘the end’ or just… die.

I almost wanted to die just then, just to spite him. After all, what was the point of being alive in this world if I couldn’t even rely on friends? I latched onto Eithan because I was lonely. I latched onto something familiar, something I knew because I didn’t know how to survive otherwise. Now that I was a Jade, I didn’t have that excuse anymore.

When I hit Lowgold, I’d be faced with the choice of leaving them behind, of knowing my limits and submitting to them, and…

I fully intended to do just that. This wasn’t for me. There was no shame in admitting that. I was a university student that liked to read webnovels, play games and write. I liked animated shows and media of almost every kind, and I lived for art. This just… wasn’t my scene.

Lindon and the others didn’t deserve to be dragged down by me. They knew what they wanted from the get-go, had long-term plans in mind, while I never even bothered to write down a one, five, or ten year plan, in either lifetimes. I was just a leaf blowing in the wind, and now I was veering dangerously close to an incinerator.

I sighed. One thing at a time. If I didn’t cycle according to the torture Wheel, I’d be dead, and then I would no longer have the option of giving up.

That was the plan then; survive until that opportunity arose.

As I stepped into the tortuous cycle, the panic I experienced had never been so real.

000

It was nearing dusk by the time I stopped cycling aura. The Wheel had replenished my control, and the cycling had inched me towards advancement again.

Still, I had to stop. I wasn’t hungry, not by a mile, but I was thirsty, so I quickly downed a full bottle with the water Ruler bottle, intensely concentrating on not thinking about how this day could get any worse.

Hahah! It did , in fact! The bottle made loud popping sounds, and began to eject wisps of water madra, and when I brought madra into the binding, nothing happened.

I tossed it on the ground and howled with monkey rage for a couple of minutes before my thirst reasserted itself. While praying to every god in every pantheon I could imagine, I picked out the other bottle from my sack, the one I hadn’t used. Thankfully, it hadn’t broken. I could bring the broken one to the autonomous collective and see if they were capable of fixing it, but otherwise, I had to assume that I only had two more weeks of water left. In my list of priorities, just below hunting food for Shenron, was finding a viable source of water.

It shouldn’t be too hard. This place was somehow alive despite being shelled up in a construct cocoon for perhaps centuries. Whatever kept the trees alive would work with me as well.

I hoped. If it was soulsmith technology that nourished the trees directly using life madra, I would be screwed . More questions to the autonomous collective.

Wow. That name would never stop being funny.

The Remnants had thinned out around the aura font, so I took this as an opportunity to more effectively carve a larger script circle around the font. I used the butt of the spear this time. I wouldn’t want to exacerbate this fuckawful day by breaking the notoriously brittle halfsilver spearhead, and knowing Eithan, he might have picked an exceptionally low-quality one just to fuck with me more.

Perhaps I should just keep advancing along with them, just so I could stab him in his liver. Just once, though.

Maybe twice.

Okay, I would settle for three times, but any more than that would just be overdoing it.

With that done, I headed out to the forest, walking around aimlessly and looking for prey.

The day was starting to look up since I quite easily located a flock of birds coming my way. They weren’t as large as the ones I found before, but they sure made up for it in numbers.

I took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and when they were close enough, I activated my Solar Step and thought back to my training in the dummy course.

My increased speed, coupled with the adrenaline rushing through my veins made me sharper than ever. I swung once, bringing down three birds in a single passing, retreated a step and swung again. They began to retreat, but the ones that lingered were brought down with the same trivial ease. They all looked like particularly large pigeons, green instead of gray, and thankfully seemed to be on life Paths and not venom or anything.

The rest of the flock retreated quickly, cawing in warning. Thankfully, none of them actually spoke. That’d make me feel terrible.

Well, not really, on account of ‘Cold Heart’. Ugh. I really needed to do something about that. Who knew just how disturbing it would be to have the mental disposition of a merciless, cold-hearted killer?

The sine curve that was my day headed towards a trough when I heard the flapping wings of a monstrosity. I dashed away from the ground where I brought down all those birds to see Shenron landing, his emerald scales now a dark green, the dim light of the setting sun darkening it.

“Mediocre,” he huffed as he began to swallow the birds whole. I watched him all the while, waiting for the offering, but none came. When he was done, he looked up to me. “You can go.”

I weighed the pros and cons of rushing the beast and stabbing it through the eyesocket. My spearhead had a fatal flaw in that it wouldn’t let me practice the only other technique my Path had hitherto: Solar Point. The madra that I channeled to Enforce my spearhead immediately fizzled out, disrupted by the unique properties of halfsilver.

With only brittle metal for a weapon, I didn’t trust in my relatively feeble strength to punch through its body.

I bowed over my fists, pressed together Lindon-style, and turned to leave.

I still had some more articuno breast in my backpack, but the rest of the carcass had been on the skybase when it exploded, so at least I had supper taken care of.

Sleep would have to take the back-seat for now. I needed to advance, and in the morning, find water. I looked towards the spiring central tower of this construct city. If there was anything of value in this blasted city that hadn’t broken down by now, it was in there. Script seals to weaken Remnants, hopefully. Incredible treasures, perhaps.

That all came second to finding a way to get out of this hellrealm.

000

Eithan flipped the jade slip with his fingers, staring at it idly as he manipulated it with deft sleight of hands. Fourteen days since the Broken Star city’s defense mechanisms came down, and Sky was still alive. He knew that if Sky had lasted for this long, then he likely would succeed.

Anything could happen, though, hence why he had requisitioned this curious little construct. Before, it had only been a slip that looked like it was made of iron, but after Sky’s advancement, it had transmuted itself into smooth, white jade.

It was, to put it as uncharitably as possible, Eithan’s one thread of mercy. If the jade slip transmuted into gold, then he would make haste to retrieve Sky. If that happened within the month, then Eithan would know for certain that his sacred arts would never advance since that meant he had likely taken on a Remnant prematurely. If it happened, and then it cracked, then it was likely that he had taken a wildly incompatible Remnant, and that would invariably kill him whether it happened in a month or three.

He sighed. He really should have let him write down his predictions for the future, and perhaps sworn an oath not to look into it if he came back alive. There was no cure for regret, however. All he could do now was just wait for the results to manifest. He had two other disciples to bank his hopes on, so it wasn’t as if all would be lost.

Just one human life.

He tensed his jaw and decided to shove the slip into his void key, out of sight and now out of mind, just as Cassias entered his private study.

“Where is Sky?” He demanded. So much for ‘out of mind’. “You sent back the other disciples, but Mu Shu won’t tell me what happened to Sky. Did you leave him there?”

There was no easy way to answer this, so he might as well just opt for total honesty. “Yes.” Cassias looked at him as though he was a new person, a horrible villain, which Eithan didn’t think was really fair. “He’s not in serious danger, but the risk is an important aspect of his growth. If he can’t make it on his own wits and the training he’s received thus far, then how can we justify spending resources on him like we have done with Lindon or Yerin?”

“Lindon might be dead in another year, and Yerin was trained by a Sage . Why do you have any illusions that she would stay? The way it’s looking, you’ve sunk precious clan resources into a hole . And Sky was nowhere near ready for such a trial the last time I met him. He’s only Iron!”

“Jade,” Eithan corrected. “And after a few months, Lowgold.”

“And in a year? Or five? Or ten? He will destroy himself in his climb, that’s always how it goes, and then he will be of no use to us. More than that, you’ve set a person towards a path of their own destruction for no other reason but to appease your unrealistic standards.”

“That’s just your opinion,” Eithan smiled, leaning back on his chair. “Let things play out, and you will see.”

Cassias groaned and palmed his face. He took a moment to collect himself, before simply nodding. “If anything, the children are sure to become pillars for the family. The elders have even discussed giving one of them the Jai holdings and their territory to guard, in the event that the Jai really do lose their Underlord and fail to raise up a new one.”

An insignificant victory, in the grand scheme of things, but one that Eithan would take regardless. He had already promised Cassias that he wouldn’t meddle in their training, as regrettable as that was, so the three Broken Star artists would have to settle for the mediocrity of Underlord when the time came.

It was a shame, losing Bettina. Although she was deathly terrified of him after the whole two-headed bear incident, she had a drive that rivalled both her siblings-in-craft and would only go farther with some much-needed instruction, but a promise was a promise, and Cassias was pressured into it by the girl’s mother, an older cousin of his.

But even with his instructions, it wasn’t likely that they could advance past Underlord. The Path of the Broken Star was legendary, but severely limited, and hinged on the infrastructure and resources of the city itself for advancement; specialized constructs, space authority, a regimen of elixirs and pills, and esoteric cycling techniques that they would eventually have to adopt if they wanted to advance to Overlord. Not all of this could be found in the city as well, hence why Eithan had written off the entire Path.

The Collapsing Star Path was supposed to be an improvement in every way except one: the extreme amount of mental discipline it demanded of its user in the Gold realm, so much mental discipline that he couldn’t confidently swear to Cassias that the three young disciples were up to the task when he brought the matter up to the council of elders.

Underlord would be the end of their Path, and that idea broke his heart. “I thought I’d earned a level of confidence when I located the city,” Eithan said. “And yet, you all can’t help but doubt me. I smell a mutiny; traitors, the lot of you”

Cassias sighed. “Look at it from our perspective.”

“I have,” Eithan said. “‘Instead of tempting fate, why not just settle for the sure victory’? Because, my brother, it is not a true victory at all. It’s mediocrity. I have found that bad things tend to happen when my counsel is ignored,” he smiled sadly, looking into Cassias’ blue eyes. “I only want what is best for my family, even if you don’t entirely believe that. I always have.”

You could lead a horse to water, but you couldn’t tell it to drink. Any other person would have realized that by now, but one didn’t easily give up on their family, no matter how disappointing they were.

“Then focus on the present,” Cassias said. “You will have to answer to the Emperor for the Blackflame Trials, so prepare for that. Now, I will take my leave. Every moment with my family is precious; you’ve made me waste more than enough of it on pointless games.”

With that, Cassias left the room, and Eithan pulled out the jade slip and sighed. Pointless games, indeed.

000

I jumped down from the tree, my new favorite stick in hand, and coated its edge in the technique for the Solar Point, bringing it down atop the head of the slug Remnant. The point of the stick flared a brilliant, eye-searing orange-white that could even stab through metal like warm butter. I let go of it once it sunk into its soft head of slimy, Forged life madra, rolling away and picking up another stick on the forest floor. It didn’t have the same heft as my dearly departed stick, but I coated it in Solar Point anyway before throwing it at the slug.

The stick caught fire immediately from the technique, and it mercifully held long enough for it to do damage to the Remnant, its heat burrowing a hole through the soft exterior.

My spirit screamed in warning and I dashed away as the Remnant expelled its noxious gas, the surrounding trees wilting immediately as the life poison took hold, shrivelling them up. I could count my lucky stars that it didn’t reabsorb the life aura from the trees to heal itself. It seemed too far gone for that, now.

I picked up more sticks and threw them at the slug as quickly as I could. One caught fire in my hand immediately and I let go, while the rest held on long enough to hit the slug. After minutes of peppering it with projectiles, it finally melted and died.

That was one giant headache finally gone, and was almost enough to lift my mood, but the inexhaustible list of other headaches weighed me down all the same. That fucking slug had destroyed the one water source I had been banking on. Now, it fell upon me to find another one.

Also, I was late on feeding Shenron.

Also, I was late on feeding myself.

Also, my advancement had halted ever since the aura font began spewing out aura uncontrollably, attracting every wild Remnant in these parts to the point that I couldn’t find a spot to carve out a script circle and cultivate in peace.

Oh, also, my halfsilver spear had broken. At first, it just blunted. Then, it broke entirely. Then, the staff itself burned up after I used Solar Point on it one too many times.

Now, I was relying on random sticks for weapons, and the Remnants were only getting stronger.

“I stink like a skunk, too, and I’m talking to myself. Why am I talking to myself. Maybe I should go find the autonomous collective and talk to them. Wait, no. They tend to get pretty antsy when I stick around for too long. Ah, that’s a mistake I won’t make twice. Ugh. ‘Disciple, why are you still here?’” I mimicked their ridiculous, howling falsetto.

Fuck, my head was aching. I needed water. The autonomous collective had told me that all the water they stored was immediately burned for fuel and some of it directed to the underground irrigation system that kept the vegetation alive. The only problem was I wasn't nearly strong enough to punch through the protective scripts that kept the water inside the pipes, and even if I was, that same water likely wouldn't be potable if the pipes hadn't been properly cleaned for centuries.

The trees mostly subsisted on 'batteries' or natural treasures that emitted life aura, replaced by worker Remnants every decade or so. That way, they kept very little actual water around and only needed to rely on the arcane nature of Cradle to keep their garden vitalized.

I looked up at the spiring tower, visible from anywhere in the Broken Star city, and deliberated on my choices. Outside lay certain death, that was for sure. I hadn’t slept in three days, not since that one Underlord Remnant that I was fairly certain was a Broken Star one almost punched through my script circle and ate me. I had to be awake constantly, always on the lookout for food and water.

I could have survived outside for longer if I didn’t have to worry about Shenron’s increasingly weighty dietary needs. At some point, he had just stopped hunting food entirely, relying on me to feed him, and getting angry when I only had a pittance, not even enough to feed myself.

My senses had developed enough for me to get a good sense for his advancement, though. Around Highgold. Not terrible odds. Just really bad ones.

No. I couldn’t survive out here for any longer. My edge was dulling. I needed rest. I didn’t know how far away I was from advancing to Lowgold, but I knew that I came fairly close. The font was helpful, more helpful than was even possible, and my advancement had slowed down significantly in the past few days.

I just needed the vortex in my core to step the fuck up and then I’d be ready to take in a Remnant, and I could do that with the Eightfold Wheel. Con: it meant that I had to voluntarily subject myself to it outside of immediate survival needs.

I still didn’t have any script seals, though, and I was absolutely certain I’d be fucked in the ol’ bum-bum if I didn’t get at least that much before ghostbusting for a Remnant. I needed the script seals to weaken them, quadruply so because the Remnants would be at least Underlord level.

Outside, a slow, certain death. Inside, opportunities to turn my situation around, but otherwise an uncertain death. Even if it was just the latter, I’d bank my hopes on it. Hope was good.

“Hope is poison,” I whispered.

No. Hope was good.

Water. I needed water. Thankfully, I had just the tool.

Without Asuka from Germany, everybody would be lost.
Her country is responsible for the holo—

—graphic map! I pulled the orb out, smiling at the intrusive memory of a shitposty youtube song and looked for blue on the map. Blue meant water, right?

Ah, of course. There was nothing. I had done this before. I remembered it now, with the preternatural clarity of someone with perfect memory would have; someone like me .

What about the sky? The sky tended to leave water sometimes!

I looked up and saw blue. Mocking blue. Not water blue. Blue was only water when it was on the ground: the blue sky meant no water, actually. It was confusing.

Spiring tower of uncertain death it is, then.

I didn’t waste much time activating Solar Step and jogging lightly most of the way. My feeble mastery of the technique pretty much let me cut through vast distances in relatively little time, but the real upside was my lack of exhaustion. I had to deactivate and reactivate it every time the speed was getting too unmanageable, which was no real way to master the technique, but I had already resolved myself to giving up on the sacred arts.

An idea occurred to me only a week before, to call Eithan for help, to tell him point-blank that I was done. It clued me into a wonderful tidbit of knowledge, actually: Eithan, had in fact, left me here to die.

There was no humor or anger in that sentiment. Only crushing disappointment and uncontrollable sadness. I had been betrayed by the only person I trusted in this world.

“You asked for this,” I said. “Leave Eithan alone.”

No. Stop simping. He fucked us .

“Okay, so maybe he just likes to play rough? Is that so bad?”

I will stab you.

I entered the place, expecting to be bogged down by quest markers, but real life wasn’t so kind, and neither was my loopy headspace on account of my imminent dehydration. I should have just come here to begin with, but instead, I was too busy revenging my loss of a viable water source on the vile perpetrator of the crime, a non-sentient ghost that only acted according to its limited, arbitrary nature.

I really usually wasn’t this stupid. I liked to tempt fate, sure, but I never let my emotions get the better of me to such an extent, and I would have to live with that reality for a while now as I looked for anywhere that I could have a wee drink of water.

Elixirs used water as a base invariably. Sometimes, the really freaky ones used oil or some other form of not-water fluid, but it made me hold out on the hope that I could maybe waste precious resources on my thirst. I didn’t care if it fucked up my core composition with weirdo aspects. I just needed some fucking water.

I wandered around the halls, lost, barely batting an eye at the passing Remnant janitors as I looked through room after room for anything that was a vial.

I finally found one, but inside the vial wasn’t water. Oh no, siree, it was a pill that smelled like industrial chemicals. I popped it inside my backpack and kept walking.

Eventually, I found a really weird room. It was covered in these rock-like studs in a strict, grid-like pattern. It looked like the most boring rock-climbing wall in existence. I brushed my hand against one stud and injected my madra into it.

The children were a lost cause. Nine of them had already succumbed to the damage of the space authority injection. They simply did not have enough willpower to overcome the reality-altering properties of the early adoption of authority, and yet if they had taken the domain drop at the Gold or even the Lord stage, it would be wasted on them. They had to have young souls in order to properly adapt, in order to fit the mold of Space Sages.

There were eleven more children. If even one of them was a success, then the project would be a success as well. He hoped for the sake of the younger generation that they all died; at least then, the higher-ups would pour more resources into research rather than accept the half-baked success and doom so many children to an early death.

He steeled his heart and called in the next candidate.

Oh. Wow. Yuck.

I fished out the pill from my backpack, a pill that looked and smelled exactly the same as from the memory. A domain drop.

I consulted what I now knew was a dream tablet, the one right next to it.

The second generation of testing was more of a success, but he had begged on his hands and knees to keep refining the treasure, citing that too many deaths would invariably weaken their faction. The upper echelons, of course, declined his plea. One in ten children becoming Sages was to them the greatest of all trades, even if the remaining nine children died horrible deaths, or lived out fates worse than deaths, their proportions altered as space distorted their very bodies.

One hundred domain drops were requisitioned, beggaring the sect in the process. Ten sages would rise then. And with their backing, they would repeat the process again. Then, they would all see the stars.

I gnashed my teeth at the hope I felt through the refiner that recorded the dream tablet. What a fucking asshole. More infuriating was my lack of disgust regarding the deaths of these children.

I felt the next dream tablet.

Four candidates survived until Sage. The third generation of manufacturing was afoot; this time, one thousand domain drops. Even if the efficacy dropped from ten to just four percent, that would still give them an unprecedented edge; forty Sages. It was a number that beggared belief for a single sect to have. Even the Monarchs of this world could not boast such a number of powerful Vassals.

The next dream tablet after that.

DEATH. DESTRUCTION.

The images flashed before my eyes so quickly that I couldn’t commit enough of them to memory, and my headache had just redoubled. I groaned, trying to focus. A few of them went to space. The other half of the Sages, not even forty this time, sabotaged the others. The refiner was in on it. The survivors built this place instead, as a haven.

I consulted the next dream tablet.

The betrayal was necessary. The Monarchs had issued an ultimatum, and without a Monarch of their own, they were bound by the whims of their betters. Even ten Sages could not compare against a Monarch, especially if not all ten of them had reached Archlord. Still, they did as was requested, culled their numbers, and evaded their notice.

Arakmedes felt joy in his heart, that his secrets would never be used to harm innocent children again. Now, he was an Overlord, a protector and an advisor to his people. They would not go against his counsel when it was him that mentored many of the Sages. Still, the broken Oaths had severely damaged his spirit. Herald was impossible for him now, but perhaps a Sage…

Arakmedes looked over at the courtyard of studious children practicing combat movements. It was no matter what he would become. As long as the children grew happy and strong, he may finally be able to achieve penance.

The next dream tablets didn’t have much of a punch, even when the author was said to be an Overlord or above. Most of it was just his own musings on the path of the Broken Star and graphic images of all the children he had to put down, the children that got the Picasso treatment after the space madra rebounded on them.

Again, it was disconcerting that I couldn’t muster up any emotional outrage. I was rationally aware that killing was bad , but the feeling of revulsion just never came as well.

By the time I was done touching every dream tablet in reach, I was a little familiar with Arakmedes and his horrible sins, and I wasn’t willing to forgive him at all for any of it. He also wasn’t, which was only a single point to his favor. The man had a strange appearance to him, hair like Heihachi, with an enormous bald spot in the middle, but the sides grew like wings: purple, fiery wings. The Broken Star Goldsign seemed to be hair on actual fire.

I could have continued climbing up the room to touch the dream tablets lining the wall for about a dozen meters, but I had a feeling that none of them were all that important. I knew the basic lore of this place now.

Yay.

I needed water.

I was more conscious about the domain drop in my backpack now, but Arakmedes had made it pretty clear in his research that success wasn’t even dependent on willpower or strength of character, but luck . I knew exactly where my luck stat sat, so I didn’t take any chances.

His research on some form of primordial aura that only existed in stars was equally useless to me, as well as his fascination with history and geopolitics.

I left the room and continued my search, and bumped into a dust pile. I accidentally kicked it all over the ground and groaned before continuing, only to stop at the feeling of an air current.

An air current indoors.

I turned around and jumped back to see a ghost-like janitor, wearing a white sheet and everything, gathering wind aura to sweep up the piles of dust again. Precious seconds went by while it ignored me. I cycled my madra furiously, ready for anything.

After a minute, the tension diffused and I slumped forward in exhausted agony. “Water,” I whispered. “Please.” I fell on my knees and clasped my hands together. “I need water.” My eyes burned, but no tears would come. My cracked lips stung as I spoke. “Do you know where… I can find any water?”

For precious seconds I waited. Hope rose as I watched it turn its head towards me. “Potable water is what you want?” It spoke in high-pitched, though distinctly masculine, voice. What passed for a mouth, a hole cut through the sheet in a circle, revealing nothing but a black abyss, didn’t even move.

“Yes!” I wheezed. I pressed my forehead against the ground, my hands still clasped together. “Yes!”

“Do you have a map?”

I threw off my pack and emptied it entirely on the ground before snatching up the holomap before it could even hit the floor.

Hope.

Chapter 11: Out of Your Depth

Chapter Text

“The refinery is where you should go,” the janitor Remnant said. “There, you may find fasting pills that will fulfill all your dietary needs.”

“Even water?” I asked. “Where?”

“The fasting pills reinvigorate your life aura the same way consuming water would.” It said. “To reach the refinery, you must be a Gold. This gives you the credentials to have access to restricted areas.”

Fuck! No, no, no, no. “I’m Jade,” I whispered. “I’m Jade ,” I said louder.

“Jade pupils may gain access to restricted areas by completing Gold trials. This is usually done with up to six pupils of the Jade level working together.”

“No, I can’t,” I shook my head emphatically, ignoring the booming agony in my skull that the movement caused. “I don’t have time. I’ll die if I can’t get any water.”

The Remnant didn’t say anything to that. Instead, the space around it seemed to bulge, and a spike of madra slithered into my spirit somehow. I quashed it with deceptive ease, askance at the Remnant for… attacking me?

“Wait,” the Remnant simply said. Maybe it sent a message to the others?

I stood up and bowed deeply at the Remnant. “Thank you very much for the help.”

Two janitor Remnants turned a corner and soared towards us both with frightening speed. I tried to take a step back, but tripped over my feet, and the Remnants continued flying towards me at full speed and-

Then they stopped. Right before me, like inertia was an afterthought, they stood stock-still, with… items floating next to them.

One was a green orb small enough to swallow, and another a bottle of some sort.

The first Remnant then spoke. “These were the only items of use to you in our current access level.”

“Water,” one said.

“Fasting pill.” The other said. “Unfinished.”

“Unfinished?” I asked as I snatched them right out of the air. “What does that mean? Is it poisonous?”

“It will only last you one week,” the Remnant said. “And it will not sate you. It will merely keep you from deteriorating further.”

I took the bottle and slowly brought the water into my mouth, using every drop of willpower I’d cultivated on Cradle to not upend the contents straight into my mouth and waste precious drops. Once I was done, an agonizingly brief moment barely the blink of an eye, I swallowed the fasting pill with some trepidation.

If an unfinished pill just let me stay at this level of satiation for one week, I probably wouldn’t be able to get much done, but at least I wouldn’t be dead.

I could go out now.

No. Outside was a hungry dragon willing to eat me at the first sign of disappointment. I couldn’t go there.

An idea struck and I rummaged through the pile of my belongings that I’d upended on the floor in search for the holographic map and found the remnants of the broken water ruler constructs. “Is there a Soulsmith foundry nearby that could repair these constructs?”

The autonomous collective had been less than useful in this regard. They knew every little detail about how to make cloud constructs, but only cloud constructs.

“The foundry exists outside your clearance level.”

Fuck me, then.

“Can you…?” I groaned. “If it is not too much trouble, can you insert your own madra into the construct?”

“I require madra in return.”

Well, double fuck me, then. I didn’t have the slightest idea of how to Forge a scale. Hell, even if I did, my madra was somewhere between Blackflame and air itself in terms of how hard it was to turn it into a solid. For now, at least.

“I received madra from this man’s compatriot.” I swung my head towards the Remnant that spoke.

The Remnant that Eithan gave a scale to.

I offered it the water bottles, and in a burst of baby green, the ruler constructs began to feel slightly heavier in my spiritual perception.

I brought one towards my mouth and it sprayed out a pitiful amount of water, the stream possibly two millimeters in diameter. I didn’t stop until the construct popped and smoked in my hand and I’d already gotten in a mouthful.

But it could have been longer if I didn’t use my madra.

I turned back to the Remnant once more. “Can you…?”

Wow. I couldn’t put into words just how humiliating this was.

“Could you activate the construct and spray the water into my mouth?”

There. I said it.

One of the two remaining bottles were yanked from his hand, likely by some form of wind ruler technique. Like I suspected, this one ended up lasting substantially longer.

Ater it smoked and popped, probably now gone forever, I gave it the other and it poured the life-saving holy nectar of life into my mouth.

I was… no longer thirsty.

It felt good.

“The efficacy of your fasting pill has been greatly reduced,” one of the Remnants said. “One week was the estimate for how long it could keep you sated on your current level of nutritional fulfillment, but now that you have introduced more nutrition into your body, that timeframe has been reduced in turn.”

“How long?” I asked. No such thing as a free lunch, but at least I could take solace in the fact that I wouldn’t die right now .

“Three days. Less if you exert yourself.”

Ah, three days? No biggie. I would just have to bust out my inner Xianxia protag skills and suddenly find a way to conquer a challenge meant for six people of my current level of strength.

“Isn’t there a key or something?” I attempted. “How can just any Gold gain entrance?”

“Are you not a student of the Broken Star Path?”

I took a deep breath and considered my next words. “I am,” I decided to lie. “But, asking for a friend here: what if I wasn’t ?”

“We would all be obligated to prevent you from gaining any further access into this complex.”

I nodded. “So it’s only you guys.”

“The Remnants guarding the inner sanctum will scan your madra,” the Remnant said.

Ah. There it was. The other shoe.

Oh well.

I thanked the Remnants for their time and made to leave this pointlessly enormous tower.

I pulled out my holo-map and swept my eyes over all the areas of interest I’d visited. There were a shit -ton of wrecks and dilapidated buildings to sift through over the weeks that I’d arrived, and there was nothing interesting like those paper slips Lindon used to weaken the Sword Sage’s Remnant, allowing Yerin to absorb it.

And there was no way in fuck I was going to approach a bona fide Broken Star ghostie without a spirit seal like that.

Even the janitor ghosts could kick my ass six ways to Sunday. I’d rather not try my luck against the ones renowned for their ability to blow holes through people.

The whole city was filled with trash, except for the one place where I could find something useful. That place was guarded by possible killer Remnants who would take exception at a ‘non-student’ trying to gain entry.

The Autonomous Collective of cloud construct Remnants could tell my Path at a glance, likely through the effect my madra had on the cloud constructs. They still assumed I was a student, albeit one that had deviated from the classical teachings of the Broken Star Path.

I could gamble on the possibility of the Remnants not killing me outright as I tried to gain entry, and giving me a pass at the same time for being close enough to their ideal, or I could just give up on the sacred arts like I’d already planned to do, take a dive off this shit-island, using a cloud construct of course, and make my way to the nearest civilization.

That was the plan, after all: giving up. Why continue fighting?

I made a beeline straight to the misty forest of the Autonomous Collective.

The whole clearing was covered in ghostly entrails. Dead matter fizzled into loose motes of gaseous madra right before my very eyes, bits of purple-decked Remnants splattered every which way.

The Remnant Soulsmiths were dead. Every one of them. I choked back a purely selfish sob, activating my Copper sight in order to glean any new information that I could. There was life aura. Lots of life aura stuck to everything. Shenron. Fucking had to be. I screamed impotently, flailing about like a man possessed.

All the while, I cursed myself for my stubbornness. Had I been just a tad bit more spineless, I’d still have a fucking life ahead of me, but instead I just had to simp for golden hair man and that smile… that damned smile.

That’s where the trouble began.

A part of me, an eminently stupid part of me, thought that I could make something of this insane opportunity to be in another world and have fucking super powers, as if I was just another hero on his way to ultimate power.

A part of me had never accepted that any of this might actually be real , only a pleasant dream. Even during my Iron training, as nightmarish as it was, I knew that I was in good hands at least. Hell! Fucking foxtail Pai Mei was only training me, not actually threatening my life. My sanity , sure, but at the end of the day, he wasn’t gonna kill me.

I’m almost starved to death, thirsty as hell, and I’ve nearly been killed by wandering fuck-off Remnants more times than I can count in the last two weeks alone.

And none of this was enough to take a purple cloud and get the fuck out of the island because I still had this preconception that I was meant for something.

The poison slug Remnant was the last straw, the one that broke my spirit utterly. I wasn’t a sacred artist, I wasn’t anything near to one. I was just another phony, and one in dire need of—

“Breeeeathe, weakling.”

That slithery, slimy voice, I could recognize it anywhere. I turned around slowly to see Shen-fucking-ron coiled around a tree, looking at me like someone would a dancing monkey. Mild amusement.

“You didn’t think I’d let you leave now, did you?” Shenron asked. “My, you truly are weak. One meagre loss of a vital water source necessary for survival, and you would just give up? What sort of sacred artist are you?”

He as playing with me.

He set that poison Remnant on my water, knowing it would break my spirit, and then he killed the autonomous collective so I couldn’t get the fuck out of dodge anymore.

“Did Eithan send you?” I asked. It all made sense now. It had to be an Eithan plot. Otherwise, why else did I have to go through this torture?

“Brother, brother!” I whirled around to see another green dragon, this one markedly smaller, coiled around a tree. “Did the toy go mad?”

“Brother, brother!” To my right, another dragon, a tad larger than the smallest, but still smaller than Shenron. “Did Eithan send us?”

Shenron merely chuckled. “You should be worrying about feeding me and my family, rather than ask pointless questions that will not help you at this time.”

The smallest one felt a little like me in terms of madra density, but the middle one struck me as far stronger, only inferior to the Highgold-ish Shenron. I didn’t know how Sacred Beast ranks worked under the Lord realm, but I was willing to bet the littlest green fuck-off dragon was a Jade, and the middle one was Lowgold.

A Jade, Lowgold and Highgold on a functioning Path, working together. They would trounce me.

I activated my Enforcer technique and booked it. It was by the skin of my teeth that I dodged the trees in my way as I became faster and faster. I burst out of the forest, flying almost, as I continued to run. I snuck a glance behind me, and the dragons were hot on my trail, but were losing me steadily.

My madra was my greatest enemy at this time, raring to go haywire on me, but I kept an ironclad hold on it so it wouldn’t. I headed straight towards an area filled with wrecked buildings, slid underneath one the moment I knew I was out of sight, and used my madra torch technique on my finger to etch a script on the bare metal that was supposed to hide me from Jade senses, once again thanking Historian for my ability to recall such things.

I calmed my beating heart and my wild breathing, since the script circle wouldn’t do shit to silence me to outsiders.

I heard wooshing and swishing above me, the passing voices of sadistic reptiles seeking to rip me apart limb from limb.

The ceiling of my debris shelter buckled, unmistakably because one of said reptiles landed there. “Where did he go?” I recognized its voice as the Lowgold one, and I resisted whimpering as hard as I could.

Tears streaked down my cheeks freely, and I cursed Eithan to nine hells.

I held my breath for as long as my ceiling remained low and bent, hoping beyond hope that the dragon really did lose me, and it wouldn’t just snake its head underneath the little crevice I had crawled in from and say ‘gotcha’.

Precious seconds passed, seconds that shaved off entire years from my lifespan, and finally, finally , the ceiling unbent. The dragon was gone. I didn’t gasp for breath, but instead took in each new lungful slowly, careful not to strain my breathing pattern, but at the cost of my own lucidity.

My brain was starved of precious oxygen, but that didn’t matter. It could complain until the cows came home, but at least it would be alive to.

Fire burned inside my core, the fire of a shitty, shitty Path, made even shittier for reasons I couldn’t even understand as of right now.

Was it really that hard to bridge the gap between Jade and Lowgold with elixirs? Why did I have to get a Broken Star Remnant? Moreover, why did I have to be left on my own? Wasn’t that a little unreasonable?

I’m deflecting blame, but the fact of the matter is, this is what Eithan would do. Eithan left Lindon alone inside a chamber filled with fucking death snakes and death animals and death ghosts while he was just a Copper. His legs had been broken for weeks, and he only managed to survive after tearing the stinger off one death ghost and use it as a weapon.

Eithan obviously saw all of this, and thought the gamble was fair. He even accepted the notion that Lindon could die and that he would have to start over from another blank slate if he did.

This was the Eithan that I already knew. I knew he was capable of doing all of this, but I had so foolishly believed I was too important to risk that way, that maybe Eithan would cut me a little slack because he needed me alive.

Between two things: future information, and another companion on the long road towards the ‘end’ of the sacred arts, I had judged the former to be more important to him than the latter.

I was dead wrong. Eithan wanted a friend that could keep up, and by hook or by crook, he was going to make me one.

Or make me into nothing at all.

He had warned me this would be the case even.

I almost chuckled, but kept that impulse under wraps. Seriously. What kind of a fucking narcissistic piece of shit was I, to play around with Eithan’s conviction of all things?

An idiot. I was an idiot.

But that didn’t mean I deserved to die.

No, no, I definitely deserved to die.

But I didn’t have to die. I managed to hold on through sheer ignorance alone, so I might as well keep at it. Think of an ignorant goal: I will beat all three dragons in a 1v3.

Okay.

Where do I start?

Cycling. I needed to cycle.

And I could cycle for three days straight if the Remnants were to be believed. The fasting pill they gave me could last me that long. Seventy-two-ish hours of cycling. Would that take me to the edge of Jade, or at the very least Lowgold-ready Jade?

Only one way to find out.

Cycling the Eightfold Wheel of Reincarnation was one thing. Cycling it while being just lucid enough to hear yourself groan and moan was another. Trying to suppress those sounds while cycling successfully? Let’s just say Eithan would be proud of me for making this already highly complicated exercise ten times more complicated.

And I would be doing this for the better part of three days.

What could possibly go wrong?

000

Akura Justice, first guardian of the gate, was having a… day. A day like any other of the one hundred thousand or so days he’d seen in his lifetime. The first gate was, as always, guarded successfully by the Pseudo-Herald Remnants, leaving him alone to pursue his many hundreds of different hobbies.

When you had the lifespan of an Archlord, it was unavoidable that you became something of a polymath in order to escape the sheer, mind-rending boredom of immortality. Charity knew that well enough, and her artistic masterpieces could rival that of seasoned masters simply because she’d practiced for so many years to pass the time.

Today, it was tie-dying a robe to create an intricate mandala pattern. He would never wear them, of course. The tie-dye fad ended almost an entire century ago, and nothing screamed ‘stuck in time’ like trying to revive old fads.

He’d seen many a family member laughed at for doing so.

The timeless black and purple of the Akura clan was a fashion that would never die, so he stuck to that, rather than rile himself up by trying to follow the trends of mortals.

To think that their fashion seemed to last only a scant few single-digit years ! How was anyone to keep up with that?

A knock sounded at his door, and someone immediately entered despite not being summoned. It was Akura Charity.

“Oh, thank Our Mother,” he tossed away the robe. “What do you have for me? News? Gossip? A riddle, maybe?”

Akura Charity’s passive expression cracked as she raised an eyebrow. “When was the last time you… left this room?”

He peered over her shoulder to get a glimpse out of the room. “Is it still summer?”

“It is spring.”

Akura Justice nodded. “Then… not since last summer.”

Charity’s face was unreadable, but he could almost detect pity in her features. “I have something much better for you. An assignment.”

Justice immediately jumped to his feet the way a young man would, rather than someone old and grey like him. “Name it.”

“The City of Broken Stars has finally resurfaced, and we predict that there are no more living practitioners of that Path,” Charity began. “The city itself is populated by high-level Remnants, however. Of those Remnants are several with the equivalent madra of an Archlord. We would like for you to collect one or more of them.”

“You can count on me, Sage,” Akura Justice bowed his head. She briefed him on the location, and just as he was about to leave the room, she called to him again.

“After this is over, you can come by my palace for a game of chess. Come every month.”

Justice nodded gratefully. “Thank you, Sage.”

000

At first it was ‘aaah’.

Then it was ‘aaaaaah!’

Then, when I sort of realized how fucked I was, in a metaphysical sense, I went ‘aaaaAAaaah!’

Rain happened! I put my water skin over the rain and let it fill for a bit, but I didn’t drink because I wasn’t thirsty.

Then I went back to the ‘aaah’, the ‘aaaaaah’ and the ‘aaaaAAaaah’.

Cycling-induced psychosis. Never again.

See, limits are there for a reason. Mental as well as physical. Mental limits are real, because your brain is literally real, so why shouldn’t it be? There are consequences for reaching beyond your current level of willpower to a sufficient degree. Sure, a shonen power-up scene where you destroy your former limits and reach beyond it is possible, so long as you only reach a certain length beyond it.

But a limit is there because crossing it is bad for you . Not because the heavens saw fit to limit your awesome abilities, but because the amount of stress pumping through your body will make you see things.

It’s like ALL the world’s coffee suddenly got injected straight into my veins, and I was forced to eat one chonker of an edible.

And now this is the ‘one-hour-later’.

On the bright side, there was no bright side, so if I end up recovering from this hell-state, I’d likely feel a million times better, because right now? I’m not having a good time.

The dragons are here.

Ah, there you are, my new mental tenant: sheer, fucking paranoia.

See, sheer, fucking paranoia is really good friends with me, because by using his sheer, fucking paranoia, I get to ‘erase my presence’.

By that, I mean, not make a single fucking sound. I’ve held my breath for almost ten minutes at a time whenever sheer, fucking paranoia comes over to give the ol’ brain controls a spin. So much fear. So much thrill .

Sheer, fucking paranoia’s a good dude.

CYCLE CYCLE YOU FUCKER CYCLE.

Ah, there’s my personal spin-class coach, always telling me to cycle. I just call him Eithan. He’s like Eithan, but bedraggled and crazy-eyed. He makes me cycle.

The dragons are here.

Yes, yes, I know.

CYCLE FUCKER CYCLE NOW.

Sigh .

They’re a little loud.

I cycle, and let the horrible fear crash over me. Then, I struggle, bringing to bear what meagre willpower I still had left after I burned up most of my stash the first two days. Then, I take control and my madra is placid and dandy.

The dragons are here.

Struggle again. Control comes later. The dragons are here, and I panic again.

The next time I come to, I am parched beyond belief. The dragons are here, sheer fucking paranoia screams at me. CYCLE CYCLE MOTHERFUCKER Eithan calmly advices me.

I, in the meanwhile, reach for my waterskin to have a good old sip of water.

There is no water.

I must have hallucinated the storm of rain.

“Hahah,” I laugh-cried.

THE DRAGONS ARE HERE, Paranoia blasts my brain. This is the loudest he’s ever been, as if his whispering words were always said in such a low volume so he wouldn’t accidentally alert the dragons of our presence.

But it works. I shut the fuck up.

While Eithan kept blaring into my ears to cycle, I simply examined my spirit and tried to judge how much progress I’d made.

My core’s vortex was a crazy whirlpool hungering for more. Its pull seemed substantially greater than I’d ever seen it before, and I hazarded a guess that I was probably ready for that Remnant action.

If this wasn’t Lowgold-ready Jade, then I didn’t know what.

I slipped out of my little hidey-hole that stunk of shit and piss, and used my ears to listen for any threats.

The dragons are not here, my rational brain said. Paranoia begged to differ. I heeded him, of course.

Eithan was panicking because I wasn’t cycling, so I decided to ease his mind by using my Enforcer technique to run towards the sound of chittering animals.

He called me a coward for not cycling while using the Enforcer technique. I did not take him up on that insane challenge, since I was pretty sure not even Eithan would do that.

I ran up the entire length of a tree and dove bodily into this pigeon-like little thing that sat perched on the crown of a tree, wringing its neck before it could accuse me of being an asshole.

Go cry, vegans. I’m a manly man that eats the beautiful children of mother nature.

I am no man! I am a beast. And I am on the prowl.

The dragons are here.

I run away as quickly as I can, pigeon-thing in hand, until I’ve managed to get away far enough to a part of the forest that doesn’t have dragons.

I tossed the pigeon thing down and collected as many sticks and leaves as I could. With my magic hands, I made fire. I giggled to myself, but Paranoia told me to shut the fuck up, so I did.

I plucked the pigeon by the handful and held it over the fire with a stick. It hung by its skin, and I waited like a fisher until most of it was browned well and good.

Then I bit into it and enjoyed its many juices.

Good, good. Good.

The dragons are here.

I left the bird half-eaten, but I was sated. I ran, ran, ran towards a place that the dragons were not.

There, I found berries.

My brain flashed back to a book I had read on my way to this place; a simple survivor’s guide on how to forage and live off the land.

The simple answer was: don’t. Especially if you’re new.

But it did have some useful advice, like easy tells on what berries were poisonous or not.

These were not.

THEY ARE, Paranoia screamed.

I double-checked their stem, leaves, and the berry itself. I opened one up to examine it. No seeds. They were not poisonous.

THEY ARE, YOU ARE CRAZY Paranoia reasoned.

I couldn’t argue with him there.

I checked for a third time. Paranoia hesitated, but he still would not give the go ahead.

Disgruntled, I checked for a fourth time. Still, Paranoia would not give the go-ahead.

The fifth time, I finally saw the animal bones around the bush. The bones of animals that had eaten of the forbidden bush.

I told you, Paranoia said smugly.

“That was a fucking freebie,” I said, pointing towards the bones. “If you’d told me to just look down —”

The dragons are here.

While I ran, I realized one very important fact.

I never read any survivor’s guide for foraging. I should have, but I did not.

Why did I think that I did? A smarter guy probably would have done that.

Can I no longer trust my own memories?

No, my Paranoia told me. It is better you put me in charge, he said.

Right. What if Paranoia was my sanity?

I let him have the controls for real now, and I was immediately compelled to run run run run run run—

I came to on the ground, gasping in agony as my poor abused legs told me of all the horrors they had gone through, not with words but with all the cuts and scrapes. My shoes were looong gone, the soles having been ripped open already and left behind in my mad dash away from everything.

Paranoia was not the answer. Hah. Go figure.

I had to face the facts though. I am unwell. If I keep running around like an idiot, I will die of thirst and starvation.

And out here, the dragons wanted to kill me.

The sky, darkening as the sun approached the horizon, was mercilessly free of clouds.

I ran away from the giant spire, towards the edge of the city, to investigate why exactly there was no rain. I theorized that the likely answer was that we had veered into the Wasteland of Ashwind and we were experiencing desert climates, but the sight that greeted me was far more obviously horrifying.

Clouds. A bed of clouds that looked to be miles and miles beneath us, and the horizon, before my very eyes, seemed to curve just a little. I could see a slope of clouds far into the distance, as if the planet dipped at that point.

This couldn’t be real. This was almost space levels of altitude. Why the fuck— how the fuck could anyone get down from here and survive? I ducked my head over the edge, and immediately gasped at the cold, thin air. I pulled my head back, where the air was nice, warm and thick .

Perhaps this was where the Broken Star city was hiding; in space.

Why the sky was still blue, I could not say. Why the dragons weren’t getting the fuck out of dodge, I did not know.

One thing I did know was that my resources just became extremely limited. If all the birds still in the city were being mowed down by the hunting dragons, that left precious little for little old me to enjoy. I turned around to look at the spire again, that giant spirific spire, the tower of god where all my wishes of having food and not starving to death could come true.

I needed to go back.

I cursed under my breath. Eithan screamed at me to cycle, Paranoia told me to seek shelter away from the dragons that were here, and Shenron swooped overhead to—

SHENRON.

I activated the go-fast mode and ran. My feet dug into the loose soil and threw it up everywhere as I booked it as hard as I could. I appeared at the entrance of the building in mere minutes, and stopped in front of a janitor Remnant.

“The inner sanctum,” I began. “The, uh, refinery. The soulsmith foundry. The-the place with the pills!” I shouted. “Where do I get to the gold trial?”

“Take out your—”

I took out my map and shoved it at its blanket-covered face. It marked the location on the hologram with a dot of madra.

Just then, a dragon flew in.

“That dragon just insulted your mother!” I shouted. It did not move. “It also said you look ugly and the Broken Star path sucks.” It remained unmoving. “It’s an enemy of our sect!”

The dragon was chuckling, and crawled towards me malevolently.

The Remnant did not move still. “I cannot—”

“It’s making a mess on purpose!”

Wind started whipping every which way, blowing the dragon back. I ran the other way, navigating through the labyrinthine paths of the spire’s bottomfloor hallways.

I found a stairway, and ran up with all my flagging strength, finding yet another bunch of fucking hallways. The hallways spun around, shifting about like a living maze, and I had to stop for a moment to remember the fact that I didn’t just have three opponents hot on my tail.

I had four.

I am not well, and I’m very likely going to die here. I choked back a sob and looked at the holomap, for the dot of madra the janitor Remnant had put there.

Right. The entrance to the trials.

They were inside the door right next to me. I opened the door and found nothing but dead script. I activated it with the flex of my madra, and looked around for whatever Remnant was supposed to guard this place.

The room was made of hewn stone, rectangular and featureless except for the etchings of script that covered every surface. I still didn’t know what the scripts did, but I could sense that from my madra, it had been activated.

In that room, I just sat, and pondered to myself what I was supposed to do with myself.

I had cracked. Officially, I was no longer a functional person. The odds of my surviving this ordeal is next to zero.

What I was currently doing was nothing more than the floundering of a fish already pulled out of the water, or the final demented running of a chicken that just had its head cut off.

The wall opposite to me slid down to reveal my death in the form of a Broken Star Remnant. It was, like all Remnants of its type, solid as hell, even moreso than the janitors or the autonomous collective. This motherfucker was a simple skeleton, its bones made of burning white light. Purple flames emanated from this skelly fellow, the flames that billowed above its head acting like particularly edgy anime hair.

Its hands were also missing, and on them were these afterburner jets that constantly spewed white-purple fire.

It teleported in front of me, only inches away as it bent over to examine me. “Disciple, you have deviated from the path.”

Its voice was like molten slag, sonorous, harsh and loud.

“Yes,” I admitted. “I am following my own Path.”

It paused for a moment, likely to decide how painful my death should be. “It does not serve you well.”

Hah. I’ll say. “Once I absorb a Broken Star Remnant, it will.” Come on, hurry up and kill me. “Why don’t you let me absorb you?” I asked, just for good measure.

I didn’t much like the suspense.

“No,” it said. “My duty is to oversee this trial.”

“What about your friends? Can I have them?” I asked.

“I have no friends.”

Tragic. “Can you help me capture a Remnant of the Broken Star and let me absorb it?”

“No. My duty is to oversee this trial.”

“Can you murder me and get this stupid game over and done with?”

“No,” it said. “My duty is to oversee this trial.”

“Can you poo and pee at the same time?”

“No.” Hahah. “My duty is to oversee this trial.”

“Can you do a handstand and spin around with your legs akimbo?” I asked.

“No. My duty is to oversee this trial.”

“Can you pray to J and do the same ol’ same ol’?”

“No. My duty is to oversee this trial.”

“Can you praise the sun and feel like number one?”

“No. My duty is to oversee this trial.”

“Can you—”

And on and on it went, until my voice grew raspy and I realized I would likely die of thirst if I continued.

“Can we start this trial that your duty is to oversee?” I whispered.

“Yes,” it said. “Let us begin.”

The nerve of that Remnant, to make me jump through hoops to die.

The wall to my left slid up, revealing a wide array of weapons. Real, actual weapons. Thirty wooden dummies rose up from the floor behind the Remnant.

I giggled like a school-girl as I lunged for the nearest spear, and brought it closer to my nose. Oh yes. Real fucking metal. None of that halfsilver bullshit . This was some real shit.

I cackled, testing out some simple forms, feeling that reassuring, wonderful heft of a spear in my hand.

“Defeat the dummies in under twenty seconds.”

My madra raged throughout my body, and I was on that bitch . One slash took out five, and another five fell to another slash. I ducked and weaved through a crowd of ten, cutting through vitals along the way, and eviscerated another ten in a circuitous pass. In what had to be less than three seconds flat, I mowed through every dummy, making deep gouges into the wood that disrupted scripts and disabled them one and all.

“First round complete.”

“Throw! As many! Fucking! Rounds! As you have!” I clapped to punctuate my words. “I will fuck severely! Always!”

“Commencing second round. Defeat the dummies in under forty seconds.”

This time, the dummies were running. I remember just then that I had a weapon Enforcer technique, and used it to more easily move from target to target. It had taken me a substantial amount of time to cut through the dummies before, but with the Enforcer technique, my spear was a fucking lightsaber.

It was a success, in ten seconds

Third round, the dummies moved with purpose, testing my range and dipping in and out of my reach, working together to deliver the hurt.

A little harder, but still doable.

Fourth round, the dummies had weapons. Halberds, swords, axes and spears. One even had a fucking bow.

Markedly more difficult, but I managed.

Fifth round had a couple of sacred artist dummies that activated techniques to elude me in the nick of time. I made several ill-advised gambles that could have cost me either the trial or my actual life, but I managed to get out on top at the end.

Sixth round, my madra was beginning to peter into almost nothing, and now every Tom, Dick and Dummy could throw around magic at will. Some even imbued their weapons with madra, allowing them to parry my own flaming spear of death and destruction instead of having their weapons sliced through like the usual.

The dummies had finally forced me to stop playing around like a kid in a schoolyard, and instead adopt my more cautious ways, learned from my days sparring with Mu Shu.

My inability to sustain injury necessitated that I take a chess-like approach to fighting, and thus far, I’d only been Leroy Jenkinsing it. No more.

I pictured every opponent of mine as Mu Shu, and gave Paranoia only half of the brain controls this time.

It took me almost ten minutes, and all of my madra, but I finally managed to kill the last dummy, just in time for me to not get disqualified as well.

I prayed that there wasn’t a seventh round, and waited anxiously as the Broken Star Remnant seemed to just stare at me.

“Claim your prize,” it said. I heard the grinding of stone on stone and turned around to see a block of stone slide away to reveal an alcove on the wall, one that contained a golden badge, Sacred Valley style, with a star icon at its center, an eight-pointed star where the diagonal points were half as long and much thinner than the vertical and horizontal points.

“Alright, alright, alright!” I pumped my fist. “Hey, do I get to keep this?” I raised my spear.

“You can take it.”

“Alright,” I said. “How do I get to the refinery?”

“Take out your map.”

Finally. I could see a light at the end of this shitty, shitty tunnel.

The dragons are here.

I dredged up what little energy remained in my bones and ran out of the room, and towards that place the Remnant had marked on the map.

Chapter 12: Breakdown

Chapter Text

One would think that after going through a semi-difficult trial in order to gain access to this place of science magic and wonder, getting there by brute force was somewhat out of the question.

Take me for example, as the ‘one’ that would ‘think’ that. I lost my actual mind stressing over the idea that I might have been killed if I tried going to the refinery without the necessary credentials. I let those fucking scaly fucking dragons bully the shit out of me because here my dumb ass was, thinking that this was a game with linear progression elements.

No. No, the fuck it wasn’t. This was a wreck of a place, and it was an actual wonder that it was still flying.

There was no ostentatious entrance to this refinery, or any sort of security measure or even a Remnant guard. It was, in essence, a gaping hole in the wall that any motherfucker could have just walked through at any time. In fact, the whole place looked wrecked to shit, with the walls having deep furrows gouged into them.

The place was a mess of broken Refiner appliances and weird stains on the ground, likely where elixirs had spilled and evaporated over time. Whoever came in here to wreck shit, they must have done it the last time this broken death star was open for business.

The important part of all of this? I didn’t have to risk everything when I could simply have walked in here to get what it was that I wanted.

And what I wanted was on the floor right over there, a fucking fasting pill, on a pile of others just like it.

I stuffed them all into my waterskin, and afterwards took one for myself.

The experience was quite frankly insane. I was whole again. My headaches, incessant and ever-present, disappeared in mere moments, and my weight seemed to halve .

I pinched myself to make sure that this wasn’t a dream. It hurt. I was awake, and my stomach was… not full, but I did feel as though it was.

But it didn’t make up for the fact that Paranoia and Eithan now shared a headspace with me.

The dragons are here.

I turned around and dodged in the nick of time as a green blast of fire just passed by my head. Whatever the hell fire and life madra did to a human body when mixed together, I was not interested in finding out. It splashed harmlessly against the stone wall, so it likely meant that it only worked on living things.

Again, I was not keen on seeing just how it worked.

I activated Solar Body and realized that I was still very much dry of madra when the technique fizzled out. I decided to run out the entrance, despite the Lowgold dragon being there. It was a risk, but so was staying in an enclosed area, waiting on a pyromaniac to finish plying their trade.

I ran underneath it, and dodged a raking set of claws. They caught me on my already tattered robes, and finally ripped off the last of it that still clung to my torso, rendering me barechested. All I had on me was my pants and a backpack.

No holo map this time. I had to go by memory to find my way back.

A dragon turned the corner ahead of me: Shenron.

I turned to the left, losing myself in the uncharted hallways. Middle Child ducked out of a corner, and the Littlest Fuck-Off Dragon was nipping at my heels.

An enormous blast of green fire almost struck me head-on and I responded by flattening myself against the wall as tightly as I could, narrowly dodging the worst of it. All that hit me was this unnatural heat that felt like a particularly nasty sunburn. For all I knew, it absolutely was.

I juked under a dragon, ran up the wall to jump over another’s head, and ran right past the third, all of them reacting like they were suspended in mollasses, while I was a persistent fly that they just couldn’t quite catch.

I flew down the stairs, landing on a heap, but got up quickly enough, brushing off that insane fall like it was nothing at all.

Iron bodies really were something else.

From there, I just legged it out of the spire.

And what greeted me outside?

The dragons.

“How?!” I shouted. Was anything even real? Did I get those fasting pills? Did I really slay in that trial? Was the fucking badge I kept in my backpack real? What about the robes that got ripped to shreds?

Why was I wearing them?

I fell on my knees to vomit and sob, and the dragons around me just laughed.

I turned away from them, and three more dragons stood in my way. Behind me, more dragons. Above me, dragons.

The grass I was standing on was in fact the scales of an enormous dragon.

I ran, and received a tail-whip to my abdomen for my troubles. The pain I felt as I fell on my knees and wheezed was all too real to just be another figment.

“You stand before the tribunal of dragons,” a chorus of otherworldly howls said to me, and when I looked up, the dragons were standing in a tight row, on their hind-legs, their serpentine forms towering overhead. “The promises you made were not kept. You failed your mother!”

I screamed at the tribunal. “I didn’t do anything!” I screamed. “I’m innocent!”

“Then defend your thesis or face expulsion.”

A deep hole opened up in my heart at that nightmarish proposition. What thesis? Was I supposed to write one? When was the last time I checked my school portal?

How many tasks had I even missed so far, playing Cradle make-believe?

More nausea bubbled up, and I wanted to be anywhere else than here.

The headmaster whipped his tail on me again, and I fell flat on my stomach, the wind driven out from me again. The lash itself dug a shallow furrow through my back as well, pumping liquid fire through my veins.

“I’m sorry,” I wheezed. “I’m sorry,” I apologized louder, but I knew that my apologies could not reach them, for I was already dead.

The demons at the gates of hell, covered in emerald scales, laughed as they passed judgment. “You violated your soul. Prepare for eternal damnation, you capitalist pig. You worship the boss when you should become a revolutionary.”

Indignation and hatred bubbled up inside of me at the thought that this was actually happening; I was actually going to hell. “What did I do?! Capitalist? I’m not a fucking capitalist!”

They chanted as one, and I shut my ears with my hands, but the chants penetrated through. The chants were condemnations, my sins listed as one, the sins of being imperfect in so many ways, even my internal self-doubt could not dredge up so many bad things about me.

“Your worst you, made manifest!”

“You did this to yourself!”

“You—”

“You—”

“YOU.”

I was, in essence, me. And that was unforgivable.

And then, I saw him. My salvation in the shape of an old and powerful head, exuding a sense of purity and might that I could scarcely even fathom.

I was raised in a faith that prohibited images of the divine, so as a child, when I still believed, I was left only to picture the face of our lord by the traits he possessed. He was fear, he was love. Wise, ancient, all-powerful. Inhuman sternness and a judging countenance.

This head before me was God.

His beard was white and long, and his features were such that they seemed etched in marble itself, so powerful, so beautiful, and so wise. His hands were covered in night itself, juxtaposing the searingly bright whiteness of his beard.

He came to me as a floating head and a pair of hands, and I couldn’t kowtow faster if someone had cut my legs off. “Save me!” I shouted. “God, please, God, save me from this hell! Whatever it is you want from me, I will do it! Please!”

God only smiled, and with a wave of his hand, the smallest demon was tied up in strings of tar that constricted it. With a flex of God’s will, the string cut through the demon, slicing it into disks. The larger demon tried to fly away, but God leashed it with another thread of black, and slammed it into the ground so hard that it actually exploded.

I wailed in relief. I was saved.

000

Akura Justice watched, with rising anger, the young man sob and wail at his feet, hugging them and swearing fealty for the rest of his life.

Whatever those dragons had done to him, it had seriously imbalanced him. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that he was going through a severe psychotic episode, likely exacerbated by the real danger that he was in.

It was so typical of dragons to relish in this level of abuse. They truly were scum.

“The strongest of the three still managed to get away, boy,” Justice said. “Stay vigilant.”

“Of course!” He shouted. “Anything you say, most merciful God, anything at all!”

Akura Justice weighed his options between putting the boy out of his misery or lengthening his torment just a little longer to gain more useful information out of him, but in the end, prudence won out. He was here on an assignment; charity was not something he could afford right now.

Silently, he apologized to the boy, and retrieved some mind medicine from his void key. It would stabilize him temporarily, but nothing short of the healing from a Lord of dream madra could save him now. Except for advancement, of course. That presented a whole different slew of problems, however, chief of them being the mental wherewithal required to advance in the first place, which he lacked.

To advance from Jade to Lowgold without being able to focus one’s will was suicidal. It was a sad state of affairs, but the dragons had already claimed this boy.

The boy took the pill and stared at it reverently before consuming it with a ravenous zeal. Justice handed the boy some blood pills too, to take care of those nasty gashes on his back. They would no-doubt fester, having been inflicted by green dragons after all.

With full trust in him, the boy inhaled everything he gave him. “Thank you, God,” he said, tears streaking down his face. “What do you want from me?”

“Only answers, son,” Justice said. “Have you seen any Remnants of the Broken Star Path?”

The boy’s expression of wide-eyed awe turned to confusion. “Why would God ask that of me?” He muttered. “Is—are you testing my attachment to these grand delusions? I can assure you, Lord, I know that Cradle is not real.”

Did he not give the boy enough? No, he seemed far more lucid now. A little strange that a young Jade would know the name of this world, a name that most Lords didn’t. Perhaps he was from a remnant clan of the Broken Star Path? “I am not God,” Justice said. “My name is Akura Justice.”

The boy’s eyes immediately fell on his tar-gloved hands, and then he stared directly into his violet eyes. “The first guardian of the gate, the chainkeeper, Archlord Justice,” he muttered, as if to confirm the facts to himself. So he was informed. Surprising, from someone this far north of the continent, in such a weak vassal state no less. “First appeared in Skysworn to deliver a message to Eithan in the wake of the Bleeding Phoenix’s rise, and then measured Lindon’s sacred arts metrics to judge if he was worthy to represent the Akura name in the eighteenth Uncrowned Tournament,” those brown eyes stared into Justice’s. “And I am Glassy Sky Arelius of the Blackflame Empire, practitioner on the Path of the Collapsing Star. This is real, is it not?”

Although most of his words were, indeed, nonsensical to the extreme, he seemed lucid enough to communicate. “Yes. Now tell me.”

He pointed behind himself, to the spire at the center of the flying construct island that was the City of Broken Stars. “They can be found in there. They also roam around,” he said. “If you are seeking the strongest, then I cannot help you with that. Even the weakest of them are Underlords. I haven’t dared to get close to any of them for they would destroy me in a single swipe of their afterburning hands. With regards to treasures, I can tell you little, too, for what would the Akura clan be if they could not create fasting pills of their own? But some things, I must keep for myself, for what sacred artist would I be if I did not ensure my own advancement?”

Justice was hardly about to shake down a Jade junior for whatever paltry pills and elixirs he might have found in this dilapidated skeleton of a bygone era, but the boy was lucky that he wasn’t mouthing off to anyone else. Any other Akura would see fit to strike him down at the mere suggestion that he would not give everything to please someone of their stock.

“Any specific locations?” Justice asked. If all he wanted was ‘here and there’, he would have been fine just using his spiritual senses, but for some unknown reason, the Remnants were veiling themselves, making it that much harder to pinpoint those in the Archlord level.

The boy rummaged through the remains of his pack, sliced in two from the whiplashes of the dragons, and held up an orb. Justice took the orb and inserted a trickle of his madra into it. The construct lit up and a three-dimensional image of light burst out from it, a detailed map of the city itself.

The boy reached his hand up to the image and widened it with his fingers, magnifying the image until it appeared at what was likely the main complex’s second floor.

“It’s his duty to oversee the trials of the gold student,” the boy said. “As much as I feel like a piece of shit for throwing him under the bus, you—you can have him if it means you not killing me for anything I might have said, am I still talking? I should stop talking.”

Akura Justice honed in his spiritual senses roughly corresponding to the room that the boy pointed out, and he did locate a Remnant, but it was only an Overlord, and with a subpar cognition at that. “Any other?” Justice sighed. If this boy wasn’t an insane victim of the infinite cruelty of dragons, Justice might have snapped at him. It would do him no good right now, however, as it would likely send him down another psychotic spiral.

“Drawing a blank there, sir,” the boy said. Justice missed the time he thought he was a god. “Maybe they’re higher up the tower? I never got to explore because I was trying to stay alive all this time. Also, speaking of, can you hook me up with a Broken Star Remnant so I can advance? I really need to, and as you can see, it’ll be a cold day in hell when I can do shit to any of them.”

Justice bathed his senses on the rest of the tower and found hundreds of veiled presences roughly corresponding with Broken Star Remnants. Some of them were so deeply veiled that no matter how much he focused, he couldn’t peel back the veil.

“Nevermind, son,” Justice said as a form of dismissal. “You stay safe.” Akura Justice cycled his madra and threw a string of shadow on the wall of one tower, ripping it open. He pulled himself into the hole with his madra, towards the nearest Remnant.

Then the tower screamed . Walls changed colors and the vital aura reacted with the madra and dead matter inside the construct city to do something .

He scanned the nearest Remnant, and when he failed to peel back its veil, he strung it with shadows—

The Remnant burned through his strings, and then it pointed its jets of flame hands directly towards Justice. He Forged chains of shadow to defend himself, but the Striker technique that struck him didn’t care a single wit for any of his meagre protections.

He was blown out from the hole he came in from, and as he flew, he watched as the tower collapsed, covering the city in a new vista. More Remnants appeared, more buildings, this time better preserved. Gold madra emanated from many places of interest, almost as if the previous wreck had been an environment strictly for the students that hadn’t reached Gold yet.

The final layer of the tower peeled away, and the environment became covered in purple vegetation, and spots that emanated aura fit for Lords.

The final trickles of the tower disappeared, and now, the Broken Star Remnants walked the city.

And Archlord Justice would have to beat a hasty retreat to rest and recuperate before making another attempt.

A challenge it would be, the Sage had entrusted her with this task. He would not disappoint.

000

Yes, sir, yes. I had completed both stages one and two, speedrunning through the gamemodes until I was at Stage 3: Revengeance, also known as ‘In Which Everything Can and Will Kill Me’.

“Look alive, boyyo,” Eithan said, dressed like some colonial Brit in a safari as we navigated through the purple, overgrown jungle. “The aura is thick here, can you smell it? Ah, what a beautiful day! Sit down and cycle!”

“No,” the wild-eyed, naked hobo next to me shook his head frantically. “No, no, no, you heard God. The dragons are here.”

“Dra gon ,” I said, reminding him of the singular. Provided Akura Justice wasn’t just another figment of my imagination, then I was two thirds clear of my whole dragon problem.

“There could be more,” the hobo said. “Multiplying inside the bigger one, before bursting out like those tiny fish from that bigger fish, you know the one—” I clamped my hand over his mouth.

“Stop, you’re making me sick, please stop,” I couldn’t help but picture it. The green dragon spewing out more dragons infinitely. They could be anywhere. They could be the blades of grass under my feet, or the leaves. They were all purple now, but if I found something green, what if that was another dragon?

Was anywhere safe?

“No,” Eithan said. “Nowhere is, unless you cycle .”

“For God’s sake!” I shouted at him. “Can you shut the fuck up, the both of you? Can you? I need to fucking—” I groaned. “Please. Just let me concentrate. Shut the fuck up!”

I needed to think of a plan.

“The plan is advance.”

“Run away.”

First thing first: basic needs. I had food from the fasting pills, and I had a spear. All I needed to do was… well, I guess, run away, and then push for advancement.

“Broken clock,” I reminded the smug bastards next to me as they smugly smugged around.

I veiled for all I was worth, picturing how Lindon did it in canon, by obfuscating my core with a layer of madra, and making sure that none of that protective shell diffused any energy that a spiritual scan could pick up. Thankfully, the aura here was so bright that it nearly seared my eyes the last time I activated my aura sight. There was a low chance that anyone could sense through the thick aura and find little old me here.

Once I got far enough away from what used to be the central tower of the city, but was now a giant cathedral of sorts, I sat up against a tree and began to cycle the Eightfold Wheel. Once I reckoned my madra was as still as I could get it, I began to push for advancement by breathing in as much of the aura as I could, cycling it through my body and letting the waves slowly widen my core. The aura in the air was a perfect blend of Broken Star aura: swords, fire and light.

And I sat there, doing just that, repeatedly, all the time. The hobo would keep a look-out, Eithan would continuously encourage me to spin my magic inside my magic veins.

All the while, I wondered; when was I going to wake up from what had started off as a self-indulgent dream, but quickly became a harrowing nightmare that I could scarcely even imagine. Was there a toll I had to pay, for all the wonderful things I saw, and the things I became capable of doing? The Iron body, the magic hands, were these all debts in my balance sheet to be paid for by torment and anguish? At what point would the universe decide that we were, indeed, square?

Night fell, and the purple leaves on the trees began to glow. Natural spirits in the form of purple candlelights danced in the air as the green mushrooms on the ground lit up in rhythmic patterns, beating to an unseen heartbeat, perhaps to the heartbeat of whatever monstrous entity kept this giant city floating.

Perhaps the last leg of my adventure would be to go back to the center of the city and find an old, forgotten Monarch strapped to a chair, their madra draining continuously to keep the city afloat. A braindead Monarch left behind in an era where Monarch was similar to Copper, and the one who had done that to him was a Venerable Soul Emperor of the Nineteenth Realm.

Eithan waved his hands over the thought bubble that contained my imagination, dispersing it. “None of that, now. Cycle.”

I decided to heed the command. In doing so, I noticed a growing sense of irritation in my core. My madra aspects were beginning to unbalance. This much would probably not be enough to cause my aspects to shift indefinitely, but I did not like the feeling it gave me.

A majestic stag breached through the trees, and entered the little clearing I had found myself in. It was white as undriven snow, but the horns were a pitch black that reflected no light, and seemed to emanate this repulsively still and cold sensation. This cessation of all life.

It looked at me, and huffed. I decided to ignore what was obviously some kind of horror figment. To my relief, neither the hobo nor Eithan were anywhere near me to try and influence my thoughts. In this clearing, it was only me, and death.

“Cold,” it whispered to me in an unholy choir of tormented voices, and in the process, losing every bit of the emotional hold it once had on me.

“What do you want?” I asked it. It certainly wasn’t acting very hostile towards me. Might as well get to know its motives.

“You,” it breathed with a gravelly, deep voice. “Are in distress,” it slowly enunciated every word. “Recall… the haughty one’s speech on exquisite flaws.”

Exquisite flaws? Haughty one.

The memory struck me with crystal clarity. Eithan had told us a story in the cloudship, but in the original book, he had given it to Yerin at the very end of Soulsmith.

A sect of Earth Artists would scour mountains looking for the perfect material , and once they find it, they create masterpieces.

They were looking for the most beautiful flaws.

And it followed that a sacred artist with the most beautiful flaw would travel farthest. Lindon’s was that he was born too weak.

One could derive willpower from such a flaw. That was what made Lindon such a good fit for the Purification Wheel, how he could just do it for as long as he could bear without going crazy.

Did I have a flaw? Undoubtedly, they were too many to count. I wasn’t built for the sacred arts. I wasn’t a sacred artist. I was born on Earth, where I only met average expectations, and never truly pushed myself, never truly wrestled with my own inadequacies.

I thought about my surly demeanor before, how I couldn’t help but complain and moan every step of the way, taking all of this as a joke. Even at my best, I still fell short considerably. Still… succumbed .

“I don’t have a good flaw,” I said with a simple shrug, unable to muster any emotion in my words.

The deer’s cheeks curled up into a wide grin. “You have me . Your Cold,” it took a moment to breathe. “Heart.”

Cold Heart?

My drawback?

This was why I couldn’t feel anything right now?

It stomped its hoof suddenly, so violently that it raised some earth beside me, but I didn’t flinch, nor even break eye contact.

“You have unlocked a most powerful ability,” it garbled out at a quick rate. “By pushing your willpower to its limits, you have summoned me.”

“What are you?” I asked it. “Is this real or an illusion?”

“ You have lost all of your fear, boy. Feel the void in your heart.”

I put a hand to my chest, and felt my heart rate, slow and steady. “How long will this last?”

It slowly inched its snout towards my heart, then spoke one word. “Cold,” barely a whisper.

I felt a shock go through me. Suddenly, a bite. The stag backed up, with my frozen heart in its mouth.

“If you do not advance within three days,” it said with a stern, but normal voice. “You will lose your heart forever.”

I tilted my head at that in surprise. “What sort of ability is that? It feels almost entirely with negatives.”

“Heh,” the stag chuckled. “Feel it yourself, the power of a frozen heart. And a lot can be accomplished in three days in this world of sacred arts. Let this be the exquisite flaw that drives you to the heavens.”

I considered his words for a moment. “What happens if I ‘lose my heart forever’. Do I die, or is it just a figurative heart.”

“You die.”

“Oh.”

“But upon advancement, you take with you some of the qualities that allowed you such efficiency with a frozen heart.”

I nodded. “Then, my Frozen Heart should confer some type of bonus to willpower.”

“Yes, along with a plethora of other useful effects. Remember. Three days. On the second .”

“This isn’t real,” I said. “I am literally insane.”

“That is an exquisite flaw! ”

Then it disappeared.

I stood up and looked around my environment. Then looked with my Jade senses. My range has expanded since the last time. Did that prove that my mind was sharper?

Nothing near me.

I sat down and started cycling.

The panic segment of my cycling didn’t ruffle me. My madra flowed smoothly. Too smoothly.

Soon, it became so smooth that I feared I had lost control of the vortex. No. Not feared. I couldn't feel that urgency. The feeling was thrill. The only emotion that remained. My Adrenaline Junkie drawback.

No. I was still in control. Things were just moving too fast for me to perceive. But I could still control it.

I kept pushing, and pushing.

And then suddenly, like thunder, my core felt shinier, bigger. It was only a temporary swell, and once it got down to size, I could almost swear that it had gotten a tiny bit bigger, and a little brighter from its baseline.

But the vortex within was an entirely different beast from what I was used to. A roiling, unstoppable maelstrom pulling everything into its center, where it fed my madra channels with smooth loops and orderly circuits.

I had reached the true potential of the Eightfold Wheel of Reincarnation. If what I was operating on before was a janky car, this was a sports car in comparison. My imbalances cleared away, and the energy flux reduced within minutes of use. By the count of roughly fifteen minutes, I had stilled my soul.

I kept at it. No longer was I bothered by it. Fear was suffering, and suffering was fact. The panic part of the cycling before used to derail me, and while I could still feel the fear pass through me, it had no long-term purchase.

It just slid right off.

It didn’t harm me on the way through, didn’t erode my sanity. I was in control of this fear.

I felt… restful.

This felt better than rest.

I continued cycling well into the night, until I felt the sun kiss my skin.

Then I stood up. I felt a little tired. I would probably have to sleep for a couple of hours. That was important too.

But for now, I had to consider my plan for advancement. All that stood in the way for me currently.

A couple of spirit seal talismans to weaken some Remnants, and all I had to do was wait for my cloudship to Serpent's Grave.

Chapter 13: Tutelage

Chapter Text

“Just get some spirit seals, fivehead,” I said, imitating my past self as I rifled through every last inch of the vault inside an abandoned library I had managed to break through, using no small amount of wit, ingenuity, and a plasma-madra spear. Currently, I was perusing the shelves, searching for anything that could possibly look like paper talismans of the Remnant-containing kind.

I knew enough to look for certain kinds of signs, but there was no telling how much this culture deviated from the one that used ‘the old language’ or modern scripting methods.

The library was a strange mix between futuristic—with polished white, purple, and blue making up most of the materials—and ancient, with most of the books and tomes being in the form of dilapidated scrolls and books that failed to survive the test of time. A highly futuristic museum.

Inside the vault I had broken through, I found nothing. Except for aura. Lots of aura. I cycled my madra instinctively, my spirit understanding how to defend myself better than even I did. But I didn’t feel any urgency to defend myself. Was my spirit more fearful than I was? Hah, cute.

I looked around in the vault and found dream tables arranged on top of podiums. Their aura had a fuzzy quality to it, showing that they were old and breaking down. Their memories would be low quality, with gaps and cuts in them.

I touched one of them, and could surmise from it that it was a scripting guide. Visual memories were spotty, but the comprehension beneath it all was there, like a movie without visuals or sounds, but only subtitles.

But even that failed to convey how much focus and effort it took to read the comprehension raw. That’s why it was usually packaged within memories. Otherwise, it became so minute and slight, like gossamer threads collapsing at the softest touch.

I read it fully on the first try, my mind catching every single stray thought and impression,

I wanted a challenge, but this was pathetic.

What did the Dream Tablet go over again? Ah, right, scripting 101. Fundamentals of the shapes and curves. I matched the terminology used with what Eithan had taught me. In the end, I conceded that Eithan’s tutelage was far more comprehensive, introducing a wider range of fundamental concepts than these did.

I moved onto the next dream tablet, the one whose aura looked sparky and volatile.

Sections of comprehension were missing, but I could guess that this, too, was ancient and obsolete scripting tutorials.

Deeper into the vault, the tablets became sturdier, higher fidelity. And the concepts became more complicated, even with the simple foundation that they had started with.

Of course. The City of Broken Stars was an architectural work of wonder, the very peak of scripting technology millennia ago.

Anything this room had to teach was a treasure trove. One by one, I read all of them. Comprehension flowed in without end at a rate that felt almost disgusting to me, but that emotion couldn’t hold fast.

This was another benefit to Frozen Heart then. Learning quickly. How could it facilitate that? Was there an aspect of nervousness, fear or some emotional cost to learning?

No. It was something else at work.

Historian. But even then, I wasn’t mentally fatigued by all the learning. That had to be some kind of synergy with Frozen Heart.

Soon, the tablets went from theory to practical challenges involving the Great Project: this city. Countless little challenges stood in the way of the city being able to make it in space, and so there were countless scripters all in charge of addressing certain issues. Vacuum sealing, figuring out how to keep the air breathable, how to make sure that the chassis maintained its integrity while being buffeted by unpredictable cosmic aura.

Going to space in Cradle was at least every bit as complicated as doing it on Earth.

“Thinking of—”

I didn’t stand around to listen to the rest of that sentence. All I knew was that I was supposed to be alone, and anyone who could talk was an enemy. I pointed my spear at the man behind me, an elderly man with a tattered cloak and an exhausted aura about him.

That reminded me… earlier, I had met Akura Justice. Was this man somehow related?

I didn’t move to attack, as he hadn’t shown any hostile intent. Or rather, I hadn’t sensed any from my spirit. I focused my Jade sense on him to get a read on his soul: he felt a tier more powerful than me. Lowgold?

“--going to space, are you?”

“Who are you,” I asked him.

“I mean you no harm, boy,” he said. “I merely want to learn your thoughts on the matter. You have been paying attention to the dream tablets, have you?”

“What are you doing here?” I asked him. “And why would someone like you care about that?”

The man moved his hands, and slowly pulled the hood behind his head, revealing his face.

Spiky moustache and beard, and long fiery purple hair like afterburners with a glaring bald-spot in the middle. This man was a dead ringer for the Arakmedes that I had seen in the Dream Tablet, although much older. Even his fiery Goldsign hair was sputtering weakly.

“You’re not a Lowgold,” I said to him.

The man shrugged helplessly. “You can excuse the skulduggery, as I did not intend to frighten you. There is nothing that a Jade like you could offer me, aside from a friendly conversation.” He walked towards me, and I internally debated on whether to continue staying on guard, or just accepting the fact that if an Overlord wanted to kill me, there was nothing I could do.

No. That couldn’t be right. He was an Overlord as of the time after the Great Project collapsed and the City of Broken Stars was forced back down to Cradle once again. If he was still alive, that meant either that he had eaten of the Heartpiercer Fruit or another treasure of the lifespan-lengthening variety, or that he had advanced.

Cradle was very murky on how long each level of Lord had to live, but it was confirmed that by Sage, one would have a lifespan measured in millennia, while a Herald was outright immortal. And Monarchs did not age at all.

Archlords did not have a radically different body constitution from Sages, but to stay alive for two-thousand years as only a Lord… this man had to be formidable in all sorts of ways.

“I have no interest in going to space,” I said, to answer his question. “I’m looking for spirit seals. I need to advance.”

“You won’t manage that with spirit seals. They won’t work against Lord-level Remnants.”

Dang. “Can I ask you to help me?”

“You can ask,” he said.

“Can you help me?”

“What did you think of the Compression Problem? Did you get to that part yet?”

The Compression Problem was one of the many challenges that the artificers of the Broken Star Sect faced in their research. It was a catch-22 sort of problem, and required a precise balance between the number of elements in the scripts for the fuel containers, as well as making sure that the containers had enough fuel to generate lift without interfering with the scripts.

The answer was scripts that moved faster. In programming terms, it was code that used less memory.

“Yes,” I said. “The solution was an elegant one. Triple-stacked movement layers between greater layers of foundation to support the wider structure.”

“How would you have done it?” he asked, then he turned to leave the vault. “Walk with me.”

Begrudgingly, I did. I could only put my trust in this man, as the alternative was far less pleasant.

How would I have done it? “I’m not a scripter.”

“Really? You know nothing about scripting?”

“I have a foundation in it,” I said as I recited what I knew. “Applications and advanced techniques are still beyond me. The only advanced techniques I know are the ones I read from these Dream Tablets. If I were to replicate a solution, it would… be slightly more efficient. Simply because I have more tools. But the form would fully imitate the solution I’ve already read.”

“Tell me,” he said. I rolled my eyes at that command. Frozen though my heart was, I could still feel irritation.

I started drawing my spear in the air in front of him, creating script after script. The light show didn’t last long enough for the beginning of the script to stick around until I finished writing the end, but I trusted that he would remember what I had written.

“You have a keen memory,” he said.

Not that I care, but “How would you do it now, after so many years?”

Arakmedes reached his hand in front of himself, opening up a window-sized hole into another reality. The gateway was void black studded with stars, and his hand disappeared as he reached into it. He pulled his hand out, and the hole closed. In his hand was a smooth, polished riverstone, purple in color. He tossed it to me, and I caught it.

I read the tablet.

The ensuing thoughts were mammoth, crashing into me with the force of falling mountains, and it was all I could do to pay attention.

Until I let go.

The experience was unpleasant, not… deadly. Or particularly harmful either. I could overcome it.

Arakmedes’ new solution was entirely different from what his colleagues had come up with all that time ago. The architecture was entirely different: no triple stacks, no foundation.

Arakmedes explained his thought process and I did my best to seize every word, even if I didn’t understand eighty percent of the terms used. As long as I heard it, I could memorise it, and learn it some other time.

But I could tell at least this much: the foundational concepts used were far more than what Eithan had taught me, and it struck me now that Arakmedes wasn’t just a dabbler like Eithan was, but a genuine craftsman, and one that hadn’t let the passing times get the best of him at that. He still had so much to contribute.

Once I was done with the dream tablet, I looked at Arakmedes. “I can tell this solution is at least ten times more efficient than the former one. Which begs the question: why aren’t you in space?”

“It was never my dream,” Arakmedes said. “Or… it was. For the sheer scientific thrill of it all. Then we had achieved it, with so much loss and destruction. After a while, I realized that it was better if I buried this dream of mine for the greater good.”

That was weird. He was sitting on an amazing piece of technological prowess. What did the greater good matter, this was pure power.

“I don’t understand,” I said.

Arakmedes looked at me. “Ah, I see. You are that type of human. Tell me, how did you get to be the way that you are? Were you born this way?”

“I honestly have no idea what you are referring to.”

“Your total lack of empathy.”

“Ah,” I said. Guess I’d have to lie. Couldn’t tell him that it came from an ability. Well, lie was too puritanical a take on it. I just wasn’t going to tell him the truth. “Well, my culture calls it antisocial personality disorder. It describes a range of mental illnesses that limit a human's emotional range, and yes, their empathy as well. I am reasonably certain that I will gain my emotional range back once I advance, however.”

“You don’t have to lie to gain my favour, boy.”

“I wouldn’t do something that risky,” I said. “And you couldn’t blame me even if I did.”

“Is there some pressure that necessitates your advancement?” he asked.

“Well if you must know, I will die if I don’t advance within two days.”

We walked past bookshelf after bookshelf, but surprisingly, Arakmedes wasn’t taking me out of the library. Instead, we were delving deeper into it.

“As you may know, this is my home,” Arakmedes said. “This entire City. My being here should not be in question. Your presence, however, demands some explanation.”

“I’m here to advance on a path of my mentor’s making,” I said. “And it required this city.” Though I had my doubts.

Surely, there were other ways to create the level of aura necessary to cement my path, that didn’t involve getting myself mixed up with this death trap.

“How are you finding it?”

“Difficult,” I said. “I’ve had to reevaluate a lot of parts of myself while on this quest.”

“What conclusion did you come to?” he asked.

“I need to harden my heart,” I said. “The debate is between living an easy life as myself, or living a life of power and importance as someone else. I could never let go of that latter path. Not until now. And I will say that I am satisfied in my current mental state. This is good for me.”

“Lived a blessed life, have you?” Arakmedes chuckled. “As someone that has already run the gauntlet of the sacred arts, my recommendation is that you simply live an easy life. Power will only invite suffering.”

“If you regret your actions,” I said. And Arakmedes stopped. What? Had I said something wrong?

“Do you know what I have done?” Arakmedes asked. “How many children were put to death on my order?”

“I, for one, don’t intend to kill children,” I said.

Arakmedes sighed. “I needn’t worry about someone like you, anyhow. Your kind cannot feel regret.”

“Once I advance, I may,” I said. As regrettable as that was. I was really beginning to like this cool head of mine.

My one consolation would at least be that I could take with me some of that coolness upon reaching Lowgold, if that reindeer Remnant figment could be trusted.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked him.

“I won’t sugarcoat it, child,” the man said. “My days of seeking Arelia are far behind me.”

I raised an eyebrow at that. “Arelia?”

“It’s an old metaphor for advancement. It’s how the Arelius got their name. Their first Patriarch sought Arelia and found it. A city of legend. Walk one street, and your bottlenecks disappear. Walk further, and you may even advance on the spot. As you can tell, it’s not a real place.”

I nodded. “Then… you want to ascend?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I could if I wanted to, but I know what awaits me on the other side. Judgement. I do not deserve the boon of the heavens, so I will die here.”

Was that a moral choice for him? Not quite. A moral choice would be to surrender himself to judgement. Death felt more like an escape. Oh well, who was I to judge?

“Can I have your Remnant?” I asked him. Arakmedes’ eyes widened as he looked at me, then he just sighed.

“I shouldn’t have expected anything different,” he said. He paused for a long moment. “You may. If you satisfy my conditions: absorbing the sum of my knowledge.”

“Through an Inheritance?” I asked him. “Pardon me, but isn’t it true that you can only absorb one of those in your lifetime?”

“Do you really have the gall to turn down an Archlord’s inheritance?” he asked. I shrugged. He sighed again. “In any case, no, I do not have an Inheritance. My mind is a mess, and I would never seek to impart it upon anyone else. It is only a fraction of my knowledge that is truly useful: the pinnacle of my knowledge on craftsmanship. My specialisation is Refining and Scripting, with some amount of knowledge on Soulsmithing, though it will not be the focus of our lessons.”

We approached a large gate that took us into an auditorium that was remarkably well-preserved. Behind the stage was a large white screen that shimmered with the telltale signs of madra.

“Take a seat, boy,” he said. “We will start our lessons promptly.”

“There’s no way I will absorb centuries of knowledge in three days,” I said.

“You must,” he said. It was as though his core ripped some type of band as it suddenly expanded and grew in luminosity, jumping a grade. Then another, and another, and another, and finally, another. “Or you die. And there is nothing you can do about it, intrepid sacred artist. What will you do?”

“Let’s get on with the lesson,” I said. “I will absorb your knowledge as quickly as you can put it out.”

Arakmedes grinned. “Is that a challenge?”

“Yes,” I said to him. “Let’s get started.”

000

For a spirit, age was not measured in mere years. Some spirits—whose minds functioned at least—could perceive days in minutes and minutes in days. Some had minds that differed drastically from the template of humans: imbalanced, limited in some ways and utterly unbound in others: infinite memory, limited calculation speed, advanced empathetic skills, but a stunted higher-order reasoning.

Astra was the only one whose mind was perfectly balanced, perfectly capable of seizing the complexities of the sacred arts and overcoming each challenge. The only Remnant of the Broken Star Path that had looked at himself and thought that he thought, and therefore he was. No one else came close. It was disgusting.

The Remnant paced around in his throne room in the castle at the center of the city, surrounded by his kin, the most promising ones at least.

But before him were a row of Remnants far too limited for their own good. They had one job, and they failed. They had lived for an eternity in human years and still came no closer to developing minds, and now their limits had cost Astra personally.

An Archlord of a Monarch faction had paid a visit, to capture his people. And perhaps he should have let the pompous sacred artist get his way, just so he could leave. But where would it end? They would take everything before they were satisfied. That was the way of sacred artists.

This had all started after the Remnants before him had allowed someone to locate the city, summon it, and allow bugs to crawl around inside.

Astra’s burning hand jets formed into individual blue burning figures, and he used them to take the Spear of Penance in hand. Then, he stabbed one of the guilty Remnants. The skeletal creature wreathed in purple fire, and burning jets for hands, immediately started shaking and spasming uncontrollably. Its will was crushed under Astra’s, and the Hunger binding inside the spear obliterated the integrity of the Remnant, turning it into gaseous madra for Astra to absorb.

This was not a barbaric act, but a recognized practice of the Broken Star Sect. All those who failed the greatest elders in the worst way would be deemed as less worthy of their madra than their betters. It was a steep punishment, but the situation called for it.

One by one, he stabbed and absorbed the guilty Remnants, some of them so limited that they were unable even to muster the proper amount of fear.

Should Astra simply do this to all in his court? Perhaps then he would be able to seize the final hint so that he could ascend to Herald and finally have a voice in this world?

No. That would be inhuman. A human depended on others like them to keep them stable, and Astra was no different. Limited as they were, they were his people.

None of them praised him or condemned him for what he had done. This act transcended all such things, and deserved only to be tolerated. Astra felt a stab of guilt in his heart, and seized that feeling for all he was worth, relishing in the beauty of it.

A human emotion. Those were always so rare. And such an exquisitely sharp emotion as well. He truly was fortunate.

…Maybe he should continue summoning this emotion. Clear out his court, become one, and feel pain and heartache such that his human heart could finally manifest?

If the pain of solitude was all it took to shoulder, Astra would do it.

Before he acted, he felt a pulse of madra from a distance. Shadow madra. A familiar one at that.

The Akura Archlord was back.

He flew towards the entrance of his castle, and approached from the ground slowly, likely a gesture of good faith. He was blocked by some of his guardsmen on his way into the throne room. Astra released a pulse of madra to let them know to let him in.

They did.

Tall doors opened and the Archlord strode in, head held high. “Are you the one in charge here?” the Archlord asked him. Astra raised his spear.

“Yes, I am Astra.”

“I represent the Akura clan.”

“We know,” Astra said. Well, the truth was that he knew. And he’d told all his other subordinates of this fact. Very few of them knew how to form original thoughts. “What is your purpose.”

“We only wish to recruit some of you to our cause. You will be well-rewarded.”

“Can you make me a Herald in truth?” Astra asked.

The Archlord hummed. “That can be arranged,” he said. “Though it will take a considerable amount of effort on your part, and it will also require your undivided loyalty.”

“Tell me the secret,” Astra demanded. “I have absorbed so much madra that it feels like my body can no longer contain more. I have heard whispers that the secret is to form a fleshly body. I absorbed blood aura afterwards, and it has done nothing for me. What do I need to do?”

“You will learn,” the Archlord said. “Once you’ve transferred dominion over your Remnants to us, then you will be instructed personally by a Sage, and possibly even a Herald.”

“What if I…” Astra paused for a moment. “What if I want to do and be things on my own? Without having to answer to anyone?”

“That… would be difficult to arrange. You must pay what is owed.”

“What if I said no to your proposal?”

“I would ask that you consider the ramifications of such a thing,” the Akura Archlord said stiffly. “As you are now, you are merely untapped potential for the clan. Act in opposition to us, and you will become an enemy. And we do not entertain the presence of enemies within our borders.”

“I have no choice?” Astra asked. He couldn’t deny the bloom of pain in his heart at that.

“You do. You only need to get around to accepting the choice.”

Astra’s heart felt heavier and sourer. All his years, he had never had to answer to anyone. No one had ever even proposed such a paradigm in the first place. Astra had been free all his life. And now, for more power, he needed to be bound? That was unfair. And it hurt.

And it hurt just enough that he could feel his human heart taking form in his skeletal ribcage. His absorbed blood aura resonated, and he could sense his path forward now.

He needed more pain. His vision swept his underlings, and he knew what he had to do. The problem was doing it without the Archlord acting.

Ah. There was a simple fix to that. Take out the Archlord, then he could proceed with the massacre.

“I feel…” Astra muttered. “I feel hatred. So much hatred. At my own existence. At my own ambition. I truly hate this.”

“It must have been hard for you,” the Archlord said. “Surrounded by lesser minds all these years. Eternity is difficult on the soul. I know that very well. If you ally with us, I can at least promise that I will be seeing you on a regular basis. We can brave eternity together.”

The proposal was so tempting.

But it wouldn’t allow him to cultivate the pain necessary to form a body.

“I know the next step,” Astra said. “I know that now after having spoken to you. My heart needs unbridled pain for my body to form. And I want to advance more than I want to not be in pain.”

The Archlord cycled his madra, and Astra released an aggressive pulse, causing all of his Remnant underlings to go on the attack.

The Akura disappeared in a flash of smoke, and Astra could feel that he had employed some Sage working to get away. Perhaps a Gatestone?

That was good. It bought them some days. No. It bought him some days.

“Am I your king?!” Astra roared.

The Remnants confirmed. “Yes!” in a loud chorus.

“Will you die for my advancement?”

It crushed Astra to see none of them flinch or back away. “Yes!” they repeated.

Astra gritted his teeth, a uniquely human reaction. That was promising. That only meant he was on the right path.

Astra’s people formed a line to get slaughtered, and Astra accepted the grim responsibility.

Chapter 14: Death, Destroyer of Worlds

Chapter Text

Arakmedes’ lessons were littered with pain. It was simultaneously obnoxious as well as pathetic to see all of the agony that suffused his constant warnings to consider the ramifications of such advanced sciences, when all along, what lay beneath was… energy. Power.

Ways to trick madra into generating more power than one would expect. Ways to interact with aura that could spark enormous reactions. Splitting Uranium 235 and getting an absurdly powerful reaction, but instead of atoms, it was pure energy given form: madra. The stuff of souls. Who cared about the ethics?

Despite my lack of intuitive empathy, my more deliberate attempts to understand his feelings told me everything that I needed to know. Human death disturbed him. Simple as that. And the knowledge he was teaching me could very well kill many humans.

Still, I couldn’t deny sensing the zeal and excitement when he focused on the science without bothering with the pesky ethics.

“Let us take a break from scripting theory for a moment and move onto something more fundamental. Mathematics. I have invented quite a few fields to help explain the workings of madra. Do not let your attention slip, this is important.”

Of course it was. I didn’t bother to respond, simply observing and committing as much of it to memory as I could, all the while comprehending it.

This was another thing that Arakmedes did. He didn’t just teach all the different disciplines he was proficient at separately. He weaved them into this expansive tapestry, an ongoing process of discovery and understanding. He wasn’t teaching me like a teacher would a student, but was showing me his work, all the way to some grand conclusion, one that I genuinely couldn’t wait to see.

While he did, I contemplated the concept of ‘genius’. Was I a genius for being able to follow along what he was saying? Well, I had genius qualities such as my memory, but surely that wasn’t all it took. I understood very quickly what I was missing when the hard part came: calculations.

My process was slow, but sound. I made it slow on purpose in order to not mess up any single step, but even then Arakmedes was forced to slow down just to accommodate me. I couldn’t feel fear for my life at wasting time, but I could feel a thrill as I was pushing myself to my limits with my life on the line.

Adrenaline junkie .

It didn’t take long for me to relish the calculation parts, simply because of how much risk it put me in. My survival hinged on my ability to compute problems. It was such a thrill.

Arakmedes took us to different places while continuing his research, drawing in the air using aura and madra when he didn’t have a convenient place to write. I hung my legs off the ledge of the city, far up in the sky. It was the dead of night, and his scribbles almost blended with the starry night sky.

Then we would go to a museum showing components and portions of the great machine keeping us aloft, its progress during development, and how science had helped shape it to its current level.

And then Arakmedes started pushing those limits, drawing designs, sketching scripts, and creating formulae that were better. Then he iterated on those and created better ones.

He didn’t even get into the whole Domain Drop research, even though I was dying to learn more about it. He had completely disavowed that entire branch of science, and would rather die with his secrets than ever propagate them. And yet, his lessons were no less interesting. He was a machine of advancement, pushing the limits of human understanding, climbing that inexorable ladder towards Arelia, going to the same place that Albert Einstein, Stephen Hawking, Oppenheimer had.

Until finally… he hesitated.

We were back in the auditorium, and before me, there was barely an inch in the madra whiteboard that hadn’t been traversed with shadowy ink madra. Not a portion of it uncovered by theorems, symbols and numbers.

It struck me, then, that during our whirlwind of learning, I had not only absorbed the old language that Arakmedes primarily used, but also the new language, the one he used to introduce newer concepts. Numbers, too. And script symbols, notation.

I could read it all, and when I stepped back from it, I could feel that we were on the verge of something powerful.

“Go on,” I said. “What comes next?”

Arakmedes sighed. “You’ve… kept up. Pushed me to my limits. But what good will teaching you all of this do?”

I had spent almost all of my remaining three days paying keen attention to him. We weren’t about to end things now. My heart swelled with adrenaline, beating just a tiny bit faster. “Once I advance, I will know to use this power responsibly and according to your values. This I swear on my soul.”

“I don’t need your assurances made in desperation,” Arakmedes said, and the soul oath never took hold. Nice. I preferred the freedom, honestly. “I need a reason ! Why should you know any of this? Why can’t this knowledge just die along with me?!” he roared.

I frowned. I had no idea how to answer such an impassioned question. My Frozen Heart failed to pierce through the veil of his frustrations. What burdened him so?

Human life?

A pity.

“The answer is simple,” I said. “It’s because you love it.” I said. “It’s your passion. It’s science. And you love it. You need no other reason, no other constraint. You wish to seize the stars, don’t you? Harness them. Become them. And you passing on your work is just the natural conclusion to your feelings.”

“It’s that simple,” he growled.

“If you really wanted to be punished for your actions, you would surrender yourself to the higher realms,” I said. “You would rather flee in death than take responsibility in life. That is inconsistent with your current guilt. My advice is to decide now, whether to be repentant or whether to walk on ahead. Be honest with yourself.”

Arakmedes opened his mouth, but no words came out. Then an incredulous chuckle. “I am damned ,” he said. Then he laughed. “I. Am. Damned !” He began to cackle.

I stayed still. No use beating myself up over it if he was going to suddenly kill me, now that he finally realized there was nothing he could do to escape his guilt. I did my best, given my current limitations. Frozen Heart had been a boon, no matter how I sliced it. My only regret was not being able to experience a life while this cold and hollow. To take from others without feeling grief or guilt. To unleash myself on the world without an ounce of regret.

Oh, how pleasurable that would be.

Alas .

“Very well!” Arakmedes roared. “Observe!”

He added a single equation, barely twenty characters long.

And my mind unlocked. All the theorems, all the scribbles came together to form an image in my mind’s eye.

An energy reaction so powerful, so mindbogglingly intense that it bent space and time and littered the firmament with glowing spots.

Stars .

The fundamental forces of madra in this universe differed from the physical laws of mine in so many ways. Cradle’s foundation was indescribably different from where I had started, but it all came together to shape a similar reality to Earth’s, albeit one with superpowers.

Madra was governed by four forces. Fusion, fission, friction and ignition. Gravity was a form of fusion, and the greatest gravity of all was the greatest form of fusion: Resonance of auras.

Resonance could create a cannon whose output was greater than the sum of its constituent parts. Likewise, Resonance was responsible for the greatest natural reaction in the universe: the power of suns.

But the theorems were lacking in rigor. Too many edge cases where the math fell apart and produced hair-raising results: universe-ending singularities, and a cascading error of the fundamental forces that would disperse everything in the universe into nothingness.

I walked up to the board on my own accord and examined the results. They held a kernel of truth, but from what Arakmedes had taught me thus far, something is missing.

“You can see it?” Arakmedes asked. “The thing that is not there?”

I nodded.

“It is yours to figure out,” he said. “I… refuse to continue.”

I nodded.

Arakmedes stared at me for a long while. “I have calculated the madra type you will inherit upon taking in my Remnant. You are a very good match for continuing my research of finding it.”

It ? “What is it?”

“The answer,” Arakmedes said.

Before he could continue, the door to the auditorium smashed open, and in strode a spear-wielding Broken Star Remnant. Its form was that of a skeleton covered in purple fire, the same color as Arakmedes’ remaining Goldsign hair. Growing in patches around the body of fire were black crystals, an out of place feature for the normal Remnants. Usually, they didn’t have that. And its hands were not jets of fire, but the fire seemed to converge to form fingers.

And while most Remnants were either slightly see-through through my sight alone or my Jade sense, this one was solid and opaque, both in appearance and madra.

“ Architect!” the Broken Star Remnant cried.

“Astra,” Arakmedes replied. “You’ve… evolved.”

He looked like a student in university late to a lecture as he looked around in the auditorium, then back at the professor.

“You’re dying,” Astra said. “You’ve finally reached the end.”

“Yes,” Arakmedes said. “And you are stepping into a new realm. Herald is not far away, and then your new life can begin.”

“I found the answer!” Astra cried joyously, raising his spear. “I need pain! I loved my brethren, yet I absorbed them all! I am alone and hurting. And I love you. I am only inches away from advancing! Give me your spirit upon your death!”

Wait, what? Hold on, bitch. He’s mine.

I looked at Arakmedes expectantly. “Can you do something about this, or am I dead?”

“Quiet, boy,” Arakmedes muttered. “Astra, you have more than enough raw power to advance. I can see a vast collection of blood aura inside you as well. You have all you need to advance.”

“No, I need more!” Astra roared. “If not more power, then more pain. Ripping your spirit apart and eating it will be very traumatic!”

“That isn’t how it works, Astra,” Arakmedes said gently. “Do not put yourself through such anguish just for advancement. There are far more peaceful ways to advance for your kind.”

“Nobody wants my kind,” Astra bit out. “I’m too strong for normal humans. And the powerful factions force me to flee, because they want to capture me and use me. I belong nowhere!”

“You belong with me,” Arakmedes said.

“I don’t believe you!”

They were both quiet for a while. Alright then, so he was definitely powerful enough to completely destroy Arakmedes. I could sense Astra’s massive power. It felt like I was in a burning hot furnace as it was. I’d probably have fainted by now if it wasn’t for my Iron body.

That wasn’t mentioning the sheer tumble dryer my spirit currently was. It was terrified .

My spirit was such a fucking pussy. Jesus Christ. Thank fuck I’m the one in charge.

"Say something, Architect!" Astra pleaded, but Arakmedes kept quiet. Astra continued. "You abandoned us all! I have no place with you. And now you are being greedy by clinging to a spirit that will leave you soon! Why won't you give me your spirit?"

Arakmedes didn't say anything to that either, and I was beginning to feel like he didn't have any words. Should I shut the fuck up, as was the reasonable thing to do, or take matters into my own hands, considering we couldboth probably get cooked by this guy?

I had to at leasttry, if Arakmedes had thrown in the towel already.

How could one reason with a spirit? Bar absolutely none, every spirit I had conversed with in this fucked up island were half braindead wageslaves that couldn’t imagine a life outside their work.

But what about Astra? What was Astra’s work?

“Astra,” I said. “You are a star.”

“What is this tiny spirit I’m seeing?” Astra asked. “A weak human? The one that has been crawling about my fief all this time? I mistook you for a rogue Remnant.”

Remnants didn’t have blood or life aura, what the heck was he talking about? “Your work is not to gather more pain, but to overcome it. It is a willpower challenge. That is what holds you back from advancement.” A completely unfounded lie, but one that I was going with. Stroke its nascent ego a little and get it the fuck away from my prized Remnant.

“I am a king!” Astra said. “Of all my kind!”

“That is why you can overcome your pain,” I continued arguing. “Why not give it a try right now? Let go of your guilt and sorrow.”

Astra closed its skeletal eyeholes and meditated for a moment. “The guilt and sorrow does not seem to move. It is impossible to resolve it.”

Damn. This would be way easier if I had any empathy at all.

Arakmedes gave a sigh. Ah. That whole killing kids thing probably weighed heavily in his mind all the time. He never learned to get over that.

Well, the dream tablets were pretty vivid and gorey. Those kids looked more like surreal art projects after Arakmedes was done with them.

So he, too, never learned to let go of his guilt and sorrow.

“It’s an ongoing process of very hard work,” I said, bullshitting on the spot. “You must first overcome three major roadblocks: your instinctive self, your conscious self, and your moral and ethical self. You must define these things, and then you will have the tools necessary to—

And then, mid-shpiel, the entire world flashed white. I felt a hand grab me suddenly, throwing me into a canvas of stars, and then I was in a walk-in closet sized room decked in weapons, objects and what looked like food items.

Then I was yanked out from that space, and back into the real world, to take in a vast vista of pure and utter destruction surrounding us dozens of meters. The library that we were in had been leveled .

“Astra did not like that,” Arakmedes was behind me, standing tall, spirit roiling. Before him, in the sky, was the skeleton Remnant Astra, his form now almost fully covered in black crystalline, jagged and spiky.

“Or maybe he did,” I said. “Seems stronger.”

I can’t believe that worked. That Freud worked.

And then I realized that I had used the psychology concepts from a dude who had given his niece cocaine at a Christmas party. Maybe that wasn’t the best foundation to mould a new mind.

Ah well.

“Astra!” Arakmedes roared. “You have advanced one step further towards becoming a Herald! Congratulations!”

“I am Astra,” Astra said. Classic Remnant response. Just total idiots, the lot of them. “My instinctual self is carnage. My conscious self is evil. My morality and ethics… are absent.”

I almost burst into laughter right then. His words, combined with the fact that he looked like the fucking Skull Knight, almost tipped me over the edge of hysterics. That, and the fact that I was now in more danger than ever before.

I have thoroughly shit the bed.

“That is not true!” Arakmedes shouted. “You have the opportunity to mould yourself into a truly good being! You should strive to become a peaceful and helpful person, not a killer!”

“What is killing, but the end of just another mortal?” Astra asked. “There are so many of you. And you die all the time ! How can I find it in myself to care about killing?”

“It’s not fun?” I tried. “Killing will only make you feel worse.” Him , at least. I personally couldn’t imagine giving a shit.

Astra focused on me. “You’re making me feel worse by making me think about it .”

Jesus Christ, then don’t . He’s such a crybaby. I didn’t want to encourage him, however. “Okay then, how about this? Do you value your existence? Because those who kill indiscriminately are hunted down by the rest of us. A peaceful path will in fact help you live longer. And if you hated it in Cradle, then ascend. Things are way better up there. No one will persecute you.”

“Is that true?” Astra asked, his voice brimming with hope.

“Yes,” now leave us the fuck alone, please .

And then the midday sky suddenly turned black, and down from it, a black sun slowly descended.

Mother fucker .

“Were you the one beating on little Justice?!” the voice boomed, shaking the earth.

Oh god, what did he do ?

I took a moment to consider: was this really happening? Was I still insane? Even if I was, there was nothing I could do. Might as well play along.

“I have no idea who that is!” Astra boomed back. “I am Astra. My instinctual self is carnage—”

“I don’t give a damn who you are!” the man replied. “Fight me!”

Astra bit the bait immediately, hurling himself at what I was reasonably certain was Akura Fury, in the spirit-fused flesh .

The ensuing shockwave blast of both colliding leveled the island, uprooted trees, shattered buildings, scattering them with the wind. Arakmedes kept us in a dome of purple to avoid the worst of it, but my craven spirit couldn’t help but do flips as I bore witness to the monumental clash of powers.

“Confound it all!” Arakmedes yelled, sounding more annoyed than terrified. That was a good sign.

Astra summoned an enormous ball of energy from his spirit, large enough to engulf the entire city, and compressed it into a single eye-searing point in space that warped light around it.

Then he threw it at Fury.

I could barely keep up with Fury as he flew across the sky. I lost sight of him under a single second, and I calculated from his angle, trajectory and the speed of his movements that he had most likely reached escape velocity several times over.

Arakmedes roared. “Activate Master Control! Shield!”

A purple dome shimmered into existence above us all. That caught the Remnant’s attention. He looked down at us, and almost instantaneously appeared before us.

“Stand down, Astra,” Arakmedes said. “The Herald will not be gone for long. Leave us! By order of the Architect, you are to obey!”

Astra’s expression, skeletal as his face was, seemed bent into this strange mockery of human sadness. “I need more power to fight him. I need your spirit, or I will die!”

Arakmedes sighed. He summoned his void key, and out from it, he pulled out a spear, white as snow.

“So it has come to this,” he said. “The Herald will not leave you be. Better that you die than bring doom upon us all. For what it is worth, I am sorry. Prepare to be assimilated.”

The Remnant hefted his spear and I only now understood it to be some kind of an Ancestor’s Spear.

It made sense. They were the ancestors of the Stellar Spear sect.

I couldn’t call the ensuing clash a fight, certainly not one that I was familiar with. Instead, Arakmedes just muttered words. Nonsense words that made no sense in context, but they all had a visible effect on the Remnant. Code words, likely from prior conditioning. Made sense. In a full-on battle, Arakmedes probably wouldn't stand a chance, not if Fury got yeeted to space.

Finally, Arakmedes thrusted.

His spear caught the monster in its core, and it started shaking and vibrating. Arakmedes roared during the ensuing willpower battle. The earth shook, winds blew, and the natural world bent as Arakmedes’ soulfire worked without his input.

And my spirit was going nuts, begging me to supplicate.

I kept standing. My spirit was experiencing weird phantom pains, like it was anticipating harm, but I could sense that this was only an unpleasant experience, not something that could kill me.

So I ignored it and kept watching with both my eyes and my Jade senses, feeling firsthand the power and skill of such high-level sacred arts. This was what it took to reach the top: a willpower so strong that it manipulated reality.

Eventually, the Broken Star Remnant finally fizzled out.

And Arakmedes, in my Jade sense, was a glowing beacon, bloated with new madra, looking like he had just chugged ten liters of water in one sitting from a spiritual perspective. I would feel uncomfortable watching him if I cared about him. Instead, I was very curious about how long he could just stand there like that.

Arakmedes chucked his Ancestor’s Spear into his void key with an errant throw, and sighed deeply. “I’m sensing he was the last one. The last Remnant of the Broken Star Path that remains in this city. And he had named himself Astra. Star in our sect’s old language. His existence was wracked with pain and solitude. I never should have left him alone for so long.”

I nodded, not sure what else to say or do in this situation. Except…

“That was an Akura,” I said.

“Yes, their Herald.”

“Fury,” I muttered. “That was really him, then.”

“Yes,” Arakmedes said. “The War God himself, the Sword of Malice. Little known fact: he has the attention span of an overexcited child, and lives only for his one special interest: seeking out and battling strong sacred artists.” He looked around, and the entire island was like a wasteland. Broken trees and buildings everywhere, and if my eyes weren’t deceiving me, then the dome’s shimmer wasn’t just for show, but akin to a lightbulb’s last flashes. “He will be back soon. I don’t intend on being there to face him. Let’s get this over with.”

Overwith? “Do you have more to teach?”

“No,” Arakmedes said with a smile. “I am done learning, so I have nothing more to teach. You can continue my research if you want. You need to advance, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I said. “Are you planning on dying right now? It has to be today.”

Arakmedes smiled. “I suppose right now is fine. I will begin on the scripts to make my Remnant more docile. It will be quite a riot after the meal I just had.”

Great. That was a relief. The part where he was finally going to die and give me his Remnant, not the part about it maybe turning out to be a monster.

That being said… once I advanced, I’d lose my Frozen Heart. Then what? Would I feel bad for Arakmedes dying? Probably. Probably very bad actually. Or maybe not bad at all. After all, my Cold Heart perk would still extend to when I had my full range of emotion back.

I didn’t have to care.

But maybe a part of me wanted to. The part that knew what my normal self wanted?

Eh. Didn’t hurt to entertain that part of me, if only to prevent useless wastes of time like regret and guilt. If this would lessen any feelings of guilt, no matter how slight, that was good enough for me.

“You dying is regrettable,” I announced. “I would like to honour your life by knowing it. By knowing your years, I can understand the loss of you much better.”

Arakmedes gave a weird smile at that. “Do you really want that? To know me?”

“Yes,” I lied, because it was a stupid question in the first place, and didn’t deserve an honest reply. “Well, it depends on whether we can get into it before the Herald returns.”

Arakmedes looked at the sky, and suddenly it became blanketed in blackness. The darkness disappeared, but Arakmedes kept looking.

Then I felt something heavy smother my spirit, something powerful and just like what I felt in the Desolate Wilds when Eithan had scanned me.

Then the feeling disappeared.

“Akura Fury is withdrawing,” Arakmedes said. “He has probably sensed that there is no fight for him here. The shields will hold against an Archlord’s assault, so we needn’t worry about them. A Sage, however… Oh well. I will get started on the story of my life while I work. I was born to a family of six…”

Arakmedes didn’t waste any time yapping away ‘til the sun went down. With his soulfire, he pulled materials out from the earth. Goldsteel was something he was hoarding as well. With it all, he created a large circle: a script circle, using Goldsteel as its base. Powerful stuff.

Arakmedes was thankfully quick with it—at least, in comparison to his three-day long lecture on the nature of stars. The most amount of detail was spent in his first twenty years, his formative years as he called them. Things jumped by decades afterwards. He became a chief engineer for his sect, and then an architect. He continued getting stronger and smarter, and his crowning achievement was the Domain Drop, even though it was the worst thing he had ever invented. His years of research had taught him that there was simply no way to reliably inject an affinity for the Way in a being without putting them at risk of unpredictable effects.

Talent didn’t matter. Skill and diligence didn’t matter. It truly was a spin of the old lucky wheel, and even the trashiest disciple could perfectly process a Domain Drop while the star of their generation would end up malformed and fucked up by it.

It was no wonder that they only let their worst disciples try their luck with the Domain Drop after a certain amount of time. Better to lose wastrels than stars that could rise on their own merit.

Soon, his story started jumping centuries. After the fall of the Broken Star Sect, he became an ascetic, giving up a life of science and power for a simpler living. Then he got tired of that, and started visiting cities and countries as a wandering expert, trying to spread his sciences. He created schools and institutions, but never seemed to have the nerve to stick around. Occasionally, he would check back on his schools to learn their research and share with them his own, but over time, he stopped establishing schools fast enough for them to not eventually collapse due to the passage of time. Then the Dread War happened and reset almost everything to zero, so he went out in force to try and repair what was broken in humanity’s sum knowledge of the sciences that he so loved.

He was largely successful in that regard, received acclaim from Sages and Heralds, and even had the good fortune of meeting Emriss Silentborn, getting a personal commendation from her.

That was the interesting stuff. I tried not to dwell so much on the worse parts: his problems with his surviving family, his disconnection from humanity, all those weird things that followed being immortal and having no peers at the same time, or an interest in forging connections with other Monarch factions.

Arakmedes preferred a life of solitude to atone for his mistakes: he had promised to himself that he would never be made to perpetrate evils for the sake of his governing faction. Night was closing in by the time Arakmedes finished up his tale, sitting opposite to me, cross-legged and within this script circle of goldsteel, now finished.

“That’s about it,” Arakmedes said with a contented smile. “All my life, in a five-hour long conversation. And as always, you were a keen student ‘til the very end.”

“Thank you,” I said, not really feeling any gratitude, but I knew that was the right thing to say. I couldn’t fuck up this close to the finish line. Just fucking die already, old man. “How will we do this?”

“Can I bother you to do it for me?” he asked politely. “I would rather… spend my time thinking about something nice, than gathering the will to end things. I will veil myself down to Iron.”

I nodded. I stood up with my spear, and could feel as Arakmedes’ enormous soul pulled back until nearly all of it was in his core, leaving his body utterly undefended, except for its natural durability, having been thrice-forged in Soulfire. Even the Soulfire had been pulled back. He would still be harder than any Iron in existence, but I could just barely be able to get the job done with my Jade madra. At least, that was my best guess. I had a better handle on the properties of my madra thanks to Arakmedes’ lectures, and my mental math was rushed but it gave me a positive.

“What should I think about?” Arakmedes asked me. “Having now heard my whole story, if I want comfort, what should I think about? My family? My accomplishments post-Dread War?”

“Think about your stars,” I said, the obvious answer. That was far more interesting. “Think about what is missing, focus on that real hard. It’s what you loved. Nobody had to tell you to love it, the way it’s expected that you love your family or sect mates or fellow man. You’ll be dead in a moment. Might as well do it no longer lying to yourself. You owe yourself that much pleasure”

Arakmedes pursed his lips and nodded minutely. “Perhaps I did lie… pretending to be human all these years. Maybe I should have been more like you. It would have spared me the pain.” That was a fact, but I could tell it didn’t quite sit right with him, so instead I tried another tack.

“Think about the stars, Arakmedes,” I said as softly as I could. A softer approach was better, I could easily tell. “Think about their greatness.” He closed his eyes, and his expression eased up into tranquillity. His veil still held. I walked up behind him, and cycled my madra.

Then I stopped. No. This wasn’t the way to activate Solar Step. It was clumsy, and stupid. Arakmedes’ scripting had taught me the movements of madra that best worked for our kind, and even though mine was different from the Broken Star Path, it shared enough similarities that I could go at things differently.

I activated the technique in a new way, and instantly felt my body move at an insane rate. No build-up required. It was nonsensical from the get-go that I needed to compound my madra to get the best results when I could just figure out a way to widen the nozzle so to speak, figure out a way to pour more of it into my body. It used up more of it within a given period of time, but that was a small price to pay for instantaneous start-up.

I swung my spear, hard and fast. It sheared straight through the back of Arakmedes’ neck, still giving a surprising amount of resistance despite my insane speed.

I could barely hold fast to my spear by the time I completed the arc. It almost flew out of my hand.

But it was a success. He was dead. A Broken Star Remnant began to peel itself off from his bleeding corpse. The script circle immediately activated.

I stabbed my spear on the ground and approached the titanic Remnant, easily twice my height, and put both arms on its stomach area—a spine wreathed in purple fire—while I cycled my spirit, awakening the vortex within. The Remnant looked wrong: misshapen, the bones were wrongly sized and asymmetrical, and cracks ran through its entire body. It was unstable, I immediately noticed.

No matter. It didn’t need to exist for long.

Perhaps it was due to its instability, but the Remnant lost its shape far faster than I expected, flowing into me through my hands and my channels, flowing into my core. When nothing remained of it, I immediately plopped my ass down and started to cycle.

My core sucked greedily off the spirit’s ‘corpse’ swelling and swelling. I began cycling the Wheel of Reincarnation to take back control over the rampant, energetic and unstable mix of madra. My time under Arakmedes’ tutelage had paid off immensely, and I understood how to handle this energy more than I ever did before.

Understood, too, that hadn’t it been for his timely intervention, this advancement would have never worked. Even up against the weakest Remnant I could find, it would still tear my entire spirit apart before I could ever make use of it.

Now, it only felt like I was dancing on a tightrope. My adrenaline surged, bringing with it a thrill of pleasure! Bring it the fuck on , Remnant!

How well I did in this advancement would forever set the tone for my sacred arts.

I had to do this perfectly. No burned channels. No spiritual injury. My ascension to Gold had to be pure.

The Wheel of Reincarnation gave me all the controls that I needed, let me seize my spirit with all my mind. Then, I felt a resonance with the world’s vital aura, an ignition that set fire to the air around me that contained Broken Star aura. Fire erupted all around me, covering a thin layer of the surrounding ground with char. The flux in my spirit abated, and my mind exploded into every color of the rainbow. Emotions. Once again. I was too exhilarated to feel anger or regret at that, too addled by euphoria to hate this new development.

Happiness, sadness, anger, gratitude, fear.

And underneath it all, a snowy layer of cold, a shield insulating me from all that would threaten my power of reason. The reward for my having activated Frozen Heart. My exquisite flaw, which would lead me to the ends of the sacred arts.

I stood up, opened my eyes, and howled into the sky. “Fucking finally! Gold, bitches!”

Then I took notice of the headless corpse on the ground. Right. Arakmedes.

The adorable old man, wracked with guilt and pain. The man who couldn’t go on any longer. A man that I had encouraged to die for my own selfish gain. A man that had so much to offer to the world, and I just took all of that potential away.

A man… I couldn’t mourn.

There wasn’t a shred of guilt in me. Not a shred of remorse.

And yet I could feel my attachment to him. Admiration. This man was brilliant, kind . Better than me, despite everything. I fucking liked him.

I would fight to protect his life if given a chance. But feel guilt upon his passing? Cold Heart stopped that sentiment dead in its tracks.

Every time. I felt angry at that. “Fucking stupid drawback.” I thought about that accursed stag and felt another sensation of revulsion bubbling up. That was one of the most classic deals with the devil there were.

Frozen Heart? Never again. No matter how easy it made things, I could never let myself fall into that hole again. I could recall with crystal clarity a moment where I yearned for a time where I could have a Frozen Heart around others, to exploit humanity for my own pleasure. Take, hurt, kill, none of it would matter to me.

I wrinkled my nose in disgust. I would never let myself fall like that.

I started digging a hole in the ground with my bare hands. It was surprisingly easy, as my Iron body let me scoop up the dirt without any issues. Once I hit a harder layer, I used Solar Step to get things done quickly. Once my fingertips began to feel sore, I started to use the shaft of my spear to loosen the dirt, and then I kicked the loose dirt over the hole.

Finally, I had a six-foot-deep hole for my erstwhile mentor’s body and head. I examined his corpse and found his void key.

I felt… dirty.

But not remorseful enough to stop myself from fishing the star-shaped necklace off from the stump around his neck. I patted him down for anything else, still feeling dirty, but still not really caring. I found nothing too valuable on him.

Think about the stars.

Callous and cold-hearted of me to imply that the best thing he could think about was what he loved, rather than his human connections.

But I hoped that it did give him comfort in his last moments.

I cleaned the blood off the necklace until it dried and put it on. Then I dragged the man’s corpse into the hole. He didn’t fit right. His posture was contorted. It didn’t look very restful to him.

I couldn’t help chuckling at that. I tried feeling guilty, but couldn’t. Then I felt guilty at that.

I tossed in his head, and then felt guilty that I didn’t feel guilty.

Excellent way to circumvent Cold Heart. If I couldn’t feel guilty at a bad act, then I could feel guilty at that lack of guilt. Maybe then, I’d eventually learn to be human, even while being saddled with this sleeper-psychopath drawback.

I felt a trickle of fear at the notion of going home to see Eithan and the others. Or what my future would await.

Would this truly set the tone for my future advancement, to kill and maim without thought or regard only to grow my power?

“No!” I said. I stomped my foot. “No! ”

No, then.

Cold Heart aside, this was my decision. I wouldn’t let this change who I was.

If I could once again be reunited with my mother, I didn’t want her to know that her son was a monster. I wanted her to know that I tried my hardest to be a good man that she could be proud of, that she could love guiltlessly. And that I had succeeded. They would sing my name with praise for my benevolence and kind heart. All would love me, not because I made them, but because I acted contrary to my nature, like the old dragon from one of my favourite video games did: overcome evil through great effort. Even if it was in one’s nature. This wasn’t a question of nature, then, but simple hard work.

And I could work hard to be good.

That’s when I felt something tickle my spirit. Something green and hot and scaly .

My eyes widened, my chest cooled, and I walked up to where I had planted my spear. I hadn’t even buried Arakmedes yet, but that could wait.

After all, Shenron had come to play.

Chapter 15: Spirit as Pure as Gold

Chapter Text

Something had changed, and it wasn’t good.

Ameinamun of the Green Bloodline had lost both his siblings in this accursed city, to an Akura Archlord no less! And things had only gotten worse from there on out.

Power, so much power, unleashed indiscriminately over everything in sight. A cataclysm unlike anything he had witnessed in his decades of living.

After surviving the massive clash of energy that had occurred above the city, Ameinamun was decently certain that he was the last living being left, whether spirit or flesh.

And then he had felt it. That potent and powerful madra signature of the Jade that he had been bullying. Ameinamun rushed towards the place, intent on having one last snack before figuring out a way to get down from the city once and for all.

Then he saw him, the Jade.

His skin was brown and covered in smudges of dirt and grime, but his head no longer held a large shock of black hair. Now, it, and his eyebrows as well, was light.

Every strand was a fine and thin cord of solid light, weightless and dancing in the air, almost like he was submerged in water, but still slightly different. It shimmered and sparkled as he held a steel spear behind him, preparing his spirit for action.

“You’ve changed,” Amenaimun hissed. “Your… hair. Is that… are you Gold now?”

The man’s eyes rose to look at his hair, then back at him. “Why don’t you use your senses to find out?”

Amenaimun growled at that. As he was a sacred beast, the vast majority of his fighting prowess lay in his body, not his spirit. His senses, likewise, were not the most finely attuned to what humans considered ‘advancement’. Amenaimun scanned him anyway, and found that the former Jade’s soul shone unlike anything he had displayed before, burning with raw power and potential.

Amenaimun huffed in amusement. “You think the power of a fledgling Gold will be enough to stand up to me?”

The man just shrugged. “I don’t know. But here’s the thing,” his lips curled up into a small grin. “I don’t care.” His eyebrows furrowed and he looked at the ground pensively. “I don’t care. Why? I’m not… afraid?” He barked out a laugh and looked back at Amenaimun. “I’m not afraid !”

The little Gold cycled his madra, and for a moment, Amenaimun felt the briefest hint of pressure pushing against his own spirit. Impossible. He was only a Lowgold, and no matter how much stronger a human’s spirit was compared to a dragon’s, at least in their current level of advancement, a dragon’s body would always remain supreme.

“I think it’s time I finally test out some techniques. Be a dear and hold still, Shenron!” He pointed his spear forward. “ Solar Flare!”

The human cried out the name of his Striker technique, but Amenaimun was already on the move. The technique bloomed out from the tip of his spear like a flower, producing twin tendrils of white fire flaring out towards him. Amenaimun dodged.

Then the flare detached at its tip, sending twin whips hurling to each side, sweeping the ruined forest horizontally, scoring an agonizing burn on Amenaimun’s arm.

He roared . “You’ve done it now, you monkey !”

000

Monkey ? What the fuck did this vomit lizard think it was? Jesus Christ.

In any other case, I’d be above petty racism, but this dragon had made an extremely good case against its species. The fact that it wasn’t human made it all the easier in my mind to come to a sound decision, one that didn’t make my heart waver a single bit.

Killing this monster would have as many emotional consequences to me as eating a burger.

And like eating a burger, I might even like it .

Hmm, firstly, the Solar Flare. I did not have a good handle on its power, but powerful it very much was. It only reached about forty, or fifty metres in total distance before the ‘tip’ broke and the flare just became two lawnmower whips that swept at each side before fizzling out.

It wasn’t good for a Striker technique to do that, but hey, I still ended up landing a hit.

And now Shenron was little pissed off. Plan, run away. Method, use Solar Step.

Hmmm. Nah. First of all, Solar Step… I hated that. Stupid name. It sucked. It was a Full-Body technique, not a Movement technique, yet the name gave it a misleading association.

Also, it was way too generic.

It needed to be short, but also striking . Putting ‘Solar’ in front of all my technique names felt lame. Not flashy , just repetitive and boring.

I was on the Path of the Collapsing Star. I could do with a little bit of grandiosity.

Starfire Surge.

Hmmm… I liked that.

My entire body surged with madra, white bands making their way across my body, holding madra in my muscles, altering reality to fit my desire. This was the true magical property of madra, the fact that it could alter reality in my sphere of authority, something Arakmedes had taught me.

And currently, my sphere of authority extended only to my body, and my range of authority extended only to what my natural body could already do, now made better . My body could exert force through muscles. My madra could make that better . And the stronger my madra became, the more intense this reality-altering property became.

Shenron swam through the air to attack me at a sedate pace, raw anger etched on its reptilian features. Its antlers hung high, promising a goring that would reduce me into meat paste. That was the thing with sacred beasts, wasn’t it? They specced into body, not spirit. Only in the Lord realm would they be able to cheat, having the best of both worlds: the madra potential of a human, and the bodily potential of an animal.

For now, my spirit held the higher ground.

I ran a circle around Shenron. It could barely follow my movements with its head, and couldn’t adjust its course nearly quickly enough to prevent me from cycling my madra in preparation for another Solar Flare.

Hmmm… Solar Flare could stay the way it was. It was catchy, and held a strong resemblance to its real-life counterpart.

Cycling my madra while it was still busy Enforcing me was… tricky. It was like trying to walk through a narrow corridor without touching a group of people already walking through it. I had to divide my madra into two separate streams that did not touch or interfere. I doubted I’d have had the ability to weave my madra so deftly if it wasn’t for all the gains from the Wheel of Reincarnation, or the incredibly taxing task that was surviving my Gold transformation unscathed.

I let a blast of Solar Flare on its undefended side. Shenron’s mouth opened, revealing a growing ball of green fire. It was intent on a collision of Striker techniques.

Should I risk it?

Why look at it in terms of ‘risk’ when I could look at it in terms of madra science? I could sense the beast’s path. Fire and Life. Maybe one other aspect, but I doubted it. For now, that was my basic assumption. A lack of experience prevented me from arriving at a more insightful take, but it was enough nonetheless.

Secondly, I could sense the intensity of the beast’s path. That madra, in such a combination, promised a production of energy that I could easily spitball was lower than mine, a simple Fermi estimation with an approximate result, though nothing concrete. At the absolute worst, it was slightly lower than my first ‘failed’ Solar Flare.

But this second one wouldn’t be a failure. I knew where I had fucked up, knew what to do. Two point oh would deliver for sure, despite my most conservative estimates.

Tighten the arc. Lead the impetus of the technique not with its two bases, but the very tip, let that fly it to its target.

My Solar Flare erupted, a narrow ribbon. Shenron’s Dragon’s Breath made contact, but it failed to destabilise it before it could reach the dragon’s side.

The force caused it to fly dozens of metres away. The full power of the Solar Flare had been interrupted by the Dragon’s Breath, but the power that remained was still enough to do so much.

This was the power of a Collapsing Star path in perfect harmony. Well, as harmonious as this path could really be.

Arakmedes’ life’s work boiled down to one question: what created stars? Like all things in the universe, it was matter. And from matter, aura emerged. Star aura. And according to Arakmedes’ research, my current blend of madra was not far from what it took to create star aura, which was… bonkers.

While I was still a psychopath, I could look at all of this through a dispassionate lens, but now… holy hell.

The ‘Solution’ would undoubtedly boil down to one or two different kinds of madra, of a weird and esoteric quality, mixed together with my current blend—which brought with it a whole host of other implications, chief of them being that Eithan had accidentally gone down the same path as Arakmedes ’ research. In any case, the mystery madra was not necessarily powerful, but definitely exotic. I could figure all of that out later, though, but to put things into perspective: The giant fire-breathing dragon I was fighting didn’t scare me one bit, even though I knew that one false move would have me gutted.

But the ‘Solution’? Yeah. Hard pass. I was fine as I was. Didn’t need all of that happening inside my spirit, no siree.

Shenron crawled back towards me, eyes burning with hatred. You know, in a past life, I’d think the beast a marvel of nature. Sleek, shiny scales positively sparkling with light, a body corded with muscles, black claws that gleamed with light, and long, perfect, and pointed hook-shaped teeth. Then there were its eyes: golden orbs slitted with black. A Pale green pair of whiskers completed its visage, giving it a mockery of wisdom and tranquility.

The west saw them as portents of evil and destruction: villains to be destroyed. The east saw them as auspicious symbols to be revered for the blessings that they could bring.

But hey, I was a make-love-not-war type of guy. I couldn’t lend my heart to so much ceaseless hatred. I couldn’t lend my heart to war of all things. A political shitstorm of another person’s making, that I had to suffer through for some reason? I had better shit to do .

This was just man versus nature. Nothing special or political about it.

Shenron’s wounds sizzled, but the flesh moved eerily. Almost like it was knitting itself together in slow motion. It looked oddly fascinating.

But that gave me an idea.

This didn’t need to be a grudge match. After all, I had better shit to do.

Shit like learning my path.

And what better sparring partner than a dummy that refused to break?

I smiled. What an enlightened approach.

Now, for technique names.

What about Solar Point? "Star's Edge" was really good, not going to lie. The Stellar Spear guys were spitting fire with that one. But it was a technique that turned a weapon into a light sabre. Star's Edge wasn’t the only cool collection of words that could describe something as monumentally awesome as that.

Nova Blade. That worked.

000

Akura Charity had dismissed Justice after receiving his report, a slightly disquieting one at that. Justice had bungled the operation, underestimated the aggression of his quarries, causing a bigger mess than perfectly necessary.

Thus costing the Akura clan some Archlord-level assets for the future.

The aging Archlord was lucky that this had all just been a personal project of Charity’s and not an order from on high. And Charity had always been known for the quality that pertained to her name. She had acquitted Justice by viewing the memory of his failure, coming to the conclusion that he had been outmanned and in danger from the get-go, a failure not on the Archlord’s part, but on Charity’s.

If the Broken Star Remnants could not be adopted, then they had to be exterminated, lest they be adopted by enemies, or become enemies.

The Sect of the Broken Star had been a legend, even in her grandmother’s younger days. They were a faction that boasted an incredible number of Sages, all practising the same path, in defiance of the common interpretation of Sagehood, that a path was only a person wide, and all those who dog the steps of a Sage were forever fated to fall short of true power.

Most of them had ascended by now, taking with them friends and family of note, and the greatest of their secrets. It was the most noble end a sect on Cradle could aspire to: one that saw most of its members finally reach the heavens, or the stars as these fellows had so desperately craved.

This operation would be the sect’s final nail in their coffin, an absolute and immutable end to their millennia-spanning legacy, for the safety of the future of humanity.

One of Charity’s owls soared in the sky, where the air was scarce, but it was far enough away for it to witness her father Fury’s might.

And also the inexplicable might of his quarry.

That Remnant was unskilled, but it had the raw potential to match a Herald for power, perhaps even become one in time. But unfortunately, its heart was in flux. It was undergoing a mental adolescence, an innocent process if observed without context. But context mattered, and the context of this creature was its incredible stores of madra.

A weaker being could have its temper reigned in by someone stronger, make it so that they could process their feelings in a healthy way, observed and guided by a wise individual, such as Charity. But absolute power mattered before any such attempt could be made, and the only person that could exert absolute pressure to submit was her grandmother, whom Charity would not bother for such a small matter.

Fury could come close, but even then—

A shield of madra formed in a dome-shape all around the city, locking the Remnant in along with two other creatures of note: humans.

There was also a green dragon caught inside, hiding at the opposite side of the city from where all the commotion was happening, but that didn’t matter compared to what she was seeing.

A living Broken Star practitioner. The living Broken Star practitioner in fact: a hero of many eras. The Wandering Scientist Arakmedes, the Architect .

On his last legs at that. And yet, all it needed to do to pacify the Remnant was mention some code words that froze it in place, interrupting its actions, until finally, they clashed wills as Arakmedes sought to devour the Remnant via a Hunger madra artifact.

Charity knew she couldn’t stop it in time, nor did she want to. She had already written off this endeavor as a waste of time and clan resources, and would rather not take up any more of either Fury or the Archlords’ time.

Right now, she just wanted a decisive end.

Arakmedes prevailed, reducing the Remnant to nothing more than additional power, although much of it could not be absorbed properly. Nor did he seem to want to, either.

Finally, he announced to his companion, a lowly Jade, that it was time for him to die. And Charity understood what would happen. It was a lucky encounter for him, one that would see him through to maybe even the ends of the sacred arts if he was diligent. And doubly fortunate for him, the Architect’s spirit had been put through so much abuse and damage that it would probably not be able to stay stable for very long, at least long enough for the Akura clan to make proper use of it.

Sure, they could turn it into a sacred instrument of some kind, even if the material used was subpar, but once again, Charity’s most famed quality prevailed, and she resigned herself to watching.

Well, watching after the old man had recited his entire life story for no other reason than for the child to be able to honour him in death. A touching sentiment, but she could feel that the child had no true understanding of sentiment to begin with.

He was one of those people, it seemed.

He would either come very, very far, or would die to some nation’s law enforcement, for crimes against humanity.

Perhaps it would be best to cut his life short prematurely? Or maybe take him into the Akura clan, raise him as they would an adopted member of the family?

That would have to wait: this advancement still carried much risk, even with Arakmedes’ many graceful measures to make it as sedate as possible.

And yet the boy survived. Not only survived, but thrived . Charity could sense with her connection to her Icon that the part of his mind that remained dull to emotion was now in the minority. He had became like any other being of sound mind. Curious.

Charity knew she had to come to a decision eventually on whether or not to take the boy in, at least before he got killed by the sacred beast still prowling around in the city. The debate boiled down to whether or not such an impressive start to his sacred arts career truly meant anything in the grand scheme of things, and Charity knew the truth of that: there was no guarantee that the boy had the talent to harness his abilities to the standards of the Akura clan.

Nor was there a need to force the issue. Things were as still in the world of Monarchs as they could be. Sure, the world had lost two entire Monarchs in only a scant few decades, but those matters were far from Ashwind, and did not move Malice to any special action. Perhaps if the boy could reach Truegold in under five years, Charity would be impressed, but even then she couldn’t justify keeping tabs on him for that long. Powerful as she may be, that much surveillance would take up a percentage of her power that she couldn’t imagine wasting on a mere Lowgold.

In the end, she decided on one last scan over the city to make sure that no other remnants of the Broken Star’s legacy remained, and then she dispelled her owl, washing her hands of this mess. Nothing remained in that city that the Akura clan couldn’t already replicate or make better. Perhaps it had value as a historical artefact, but if there was one thing Cradle had no shortage of, it was those.

000

It turned out that despite the fact that the monster could smear me across the rubble of this city if it could, one fact remained: that it simply couldn’t. I was faster. I couldthink faster. And it couldn't hit me even if it wanted to. It simply lacked the techniques to do so.And therefore I wasn’t scared.

It sounded borderline nonsensical putting it that way, but that was simply the truth of the matter. I could see things from such a perspective that it almost frightened me.

Fear was no longer irrational to me. Fear no longer held me back. Where fear once blanketed me in phantasms of ill futures, mocking me like a chorus of time-displaced demons that knew exactly what horrors awaited me, fear now was… well, it was how I imagined normal people felt fear.

Don’t do that, or you’ll definitely die.

You can do this, however. You might die, but at least you won’t fuck up because you were scared.

Or maybe the chorus of demons was normal fear, and this was Fear+. Fear that kept me from straight up killing myself, but didn’t stop me from doing something that could be considered ‘risky’ because such a fear would make a worse outcome all the more likely.

My Nova Blade sang just by staying active. It wasn’t a ‘wub wub’ like how the light sabres sounded in Star Wars. More of a soft hiss, like a ‘sh’ sound.

Shenron knew that song well , though.

One of its forelegs was missing. Both its wings were gone, its stumps charred back. Its torso bled from several deep holes and gouges that revealed internal organs.

And that was just the tip of the ice-berg. Shenron had sported all of that and still put up a fight. It wasn’t until I had cut its limbs to ribbons, stabbed its face so many times that I had created a cave system, and cut off its entire tail behind its back using a well-timed Solar Flare that it finally stopped fighting, probably so it could put its little healing factor to good use before it eventually expired.

But that was good. I was starting to get tired, too. Not bodily at least, but my channels were beginning to feel all burny and uncomfortable, like a heartburn but for most of my body. And it was very difficult to ignore, though I could still thug it out.

I sat about ten metres away from it and started humming an old song.

Ah.

Well.

That was… a little too easy.

All of that build up, all of that foreplay , and for this?!

“Oh yeah, look at ya!” I shouted. “You was talking all that good shit a second ago, and then you got kicked in yo chest !” I cackled at the stupid reference. I miss Boondocks. “You had me running scared too, not gonna lie!”

It started cycling its exhausted spirit, and I grabbed my spear and readied to fight, only to find that it was pulling life aura towards itself in small streams in order to save its life. Aw. It was trying not to die.

Ah well.

I decided to get up and leave it behind so I could cycle somewhere in relative safety, though I knew that no place would truly still be safe from it.

How many techniques had I tested out today? Starfire Surge, Nova Blade and Solar Flare. I still had ‘Solar Anvil’ and ‘Solar Spear’ left, my two Forger techniques that my former blend of madra would never have allowed me to create.

For now, I still needed to recover a little bit.

After finding a relatively flat place in the rubble and broken trees, I sat down to cycle the Eightfold Wheel of Reincarnation.

The first thing that I noticed was that the effortless speed and efficiency that I had reached before? Yeah, that was a one-time thing, a Frozen Heart exclusive.

Before, my mind had been a windsock for fear, allowing everything through without pooling any of it. Now, when I felt the panic portion of my cycling, it truly did affect me, contrary to my expectations.

I cycled for as long as I could, and fortunately, learned more about my limits and how to push them without reaching past them and hurting myself. Simply put, the Wheel was like a sun pushing against my brain, which in this metaphor was made of wax. It could only take so much heat before it melted, in regular scenarios.

In my case, however, there was a layer beneath all my emotions that shielded my ‘true self’ from the sun, a layer of ice. I knew where it came from. It was a remnant of my Frozen Heart perk.

The amount of time I needed to reach optimal spiritual control had lessened significantly, I could readily tell. And the amount of time I needed before that layer of ice melted was several times longer. But unlike Lindon, whom I guess could push past whatever barrier he had in his cycling, I knew that once that layer of ice fully melted, I needed to stop cycling, else take another trip to Arkham Asylum.

Why was it so much more different for me? Lindon cycled until ‘he had enough’, as the books liked to say. That never implied that Lindon could face the same psychological backlash as I could. Or did it?

Brains were different. Mine was different from Lindon’s, and that was the end of that.

I wasn’t complaining, though. Without an external source threatening my life, I doubt I’d ever skirt around the limit of how much cycling my sanity could take. The amount of willpower it took for me to sit still and subject myself to this hell was already so much that it made me doubt whether I was truly in control of myself, or if some badass ghost had possessed me and forced me to work that much harder.

My cycling was effective, but it seemed that I still couldn’t get it up to the same speed that I did when my Heart was Frozen. It had taken me only fifteen minutes to reach stability, and the rest of the time, I had just grinded my madra control stat for an entire night without stopping. If it hadn’t been for Arakmedes’ crash course, I’d have spent way more hours just grinding my control like some Korean RPG gamer.

Instead, I received unfathomable lore on the nature of madra. Even tradeoff.

Opportunity costs were a bitch like that. Always made you focus on them above what you already have.

After all that cycling, my spirit felt well enough that I decided to practise one more technique, just to see how it worked: Solar Anvil.

Wait. What about the name? Well, I actually liked Solar Anvil, but mostly the anvil part. How about… Celestial Anvil. That worked.

I recalled how Eithan wanted me to cycle in order to get the technique to work, and thanks to all of my new scripting knowledge, I could finally begin to understand just how Eithan could deduce such a thing in the first place. The answer was science, plain and simple. Eithan knew the properties and laws that governed the interactions of my madra blend, and made sensible deductions from them.

Celestial Anvil was a wall in appearance. One side was stable and could be touched without burning yourself. The other side was a hair-trigger explosive.

In theory .

Needless to say, once I summoned the wall, a one-by-one metre object of blazingly bright starlight—no different in color from my newfound Goldsign—I ran the fuck away until I was about fifty meters away.

From there, I threw a rock to hit the ‘active’ side. It missed.

I cursed under my breath and continued throwing rocks until one of them finally hit.

The ensuing explosion was impressive, and it left behind a very circular crater, meaning that the force did in fact push backwards as well.

That wasn’t ideal considering it was meant to be a defensive technique, in the Skyrim guard sense: Best offence is a good defence, am I right?

Yes, nothing could ‘offence’ me if we were all dead. Good defence indeed.

Obviously, Eithan’s technique activation formula was all wrong. And that was after I had tweaked it with Arakmedes’ teachings. If I hadn’t done that, I doubted the anvil would be nearly as stable as it had been just now.

I tried again, with a different technique. I drew the dimensions of the wall with my spear, and from its edges, it filled in the centre by itself.

I stood behind to a safe distance and threw more rocks at it.

The ensuing blast was still quite impressive, and to my happiness, I had managed to create a tiny angle, perhaps ten degrees wide, where the blast hadn’t been reached.

Ten down. A hundred and seventy to go.

000

The next day, I ended up running into Shenron once again, crippled and confused. It had healed back to stability, but the lopped off parts remained stubbornly unregenerated. Still, it was an incredible thing that it had gotten far enough that it would survive. What was that, a property of its Iron body, or perhaps that was a boon of the Green dragon Bloodline?

I tilted my head at him. “Hey, can you hear me?”

It swung its head towards me in shock. It tried to talk, but all the words came out in growls and snarls.

Hmmm…

I had an idea.

A stupid idea that just might work.

“Hey, Shenron,” I put a finger in my pocket and fished out a small pill. “Fancy a Senzu bean?”

I flicked it toward it. All my practice testing my Celestial Anvils had ended up sharpening my aim well enough that the fasting pill managed to get into its snarling mouth.

It swallowed, and I waited to see if it had any effects. I figured that a dragon on a Life path could draw a lot of benefits out from a pill that supposedly had many interactions with Life aura.

It did. A moment later, I saw flesh regrowing before my eyes, first sealing wounds, then draping scales over them. Its face regrew particularly quickly compared to its legs, wings or tail, and its torso healed quickly as well.

It laughed. “You will regret that, you monkey !”

It charged towards me.

I swung my spear around in a circle, summoning a Celestial Anvil.

Old boy crashed face-first . If it had gone faster, maybe its snout would have crumpled against the madra construct cartoonishly, but I doubted it had done anything more than bop its nose on my little wall before setting it off.

The safe angle was still a little narrow for my tastes, but it was enough to prevent my body from experiencing whatever the fuck Shenron was experiencing. Actually, what was going on with it?

The answer was… deconstructed Looney Tunes shit.

Bomb goes off in your face, oh no, suddenly you’re a blackface character. But it’s just soot you can wipe off at any time, and get back to chasing that bird or mouse or whatever.

Shenron, though? Nah. His head and parts of his body was charred black , and most of its mouth was gone . It turned around and scuttled away, but its sense of balance was so bad that it ended up tilting one way, and then running in a circle, before falling over and running again and again, never getting too far away from me.

Would this be enough to just kill it outright?

Actually, this did bring up a very important point about my playstyle and how it coincided with my newly refound morals. Obviously, this thing that Shenron had become was unacceptable. If it were a human, I doubted it’d cling to life so stubbornly. They would undoubtedly have died.

I needed to control my intensity. Thankfully, I already knew enough about Nova Blade to use it as safely as it could be used, which was: not at all. In the end, Nova Blade was a fucking light sabre. There really wasn’t much you could do with it except separate things from other things. There were nonlethal uses for that, but nothing that included contact with other humans.

Solar Flare could be less destructive if it hit . Starfire Surge was the only option I really had in terms of safety.

But if I needed to defend myself in a standing position without doing this to my opponent, then I needed better control.

Less volatility. Less energy.

I sighed as I watched Shenron continue to run around. It would take a while before it exhausted itself, so I could finally heal it and begin anew. That is, if it didn’t just simply drop dead yet.

000

It turned out that Shenron didn’t quite want to play after my little Looney Tunes prank. It had been a struggle getting it to eat another fasting pill, and I had even waited for it to regenerate its tail, but I clipped its wings before it could try something dumb with it, like flying away and leaving me alone. No way I’d lose out on my favourite sparring partner in the world so soon.

Eventually, I managed to wrangle its consent. Well, it agreed to attempt murder on me, not become my science experiment, but that worked well enough for me.

Unfortunately, it started wising up to my Celestial Anvil shenanigans, and I had to get really creative to get it to bop my explosive shield again.

The next time it did… I genuinely thought I’d killed it.

It was lying in a smoking heap, utterly unmoving. I pushed a fasting pill down what was left of its exploded face and ran away to watch it regenerate. And it did!

Happy days.

Three more attempts after that, and my poor Anvil just continued to be overly deadly.

I threw my hands up in frustration at the third attempt, still seeing Shenron so hurt.

“Sorry!” I hissed. At this point, it wanted nothing to do with me, so I had to booby trap its surroundings in order to get my scientific results.

I settled that enough, though: don’t use Celestial Anvil unless I wanted the thing on the other side to not exist anymore.

Might as well go full throttle if I couldn’t make it less deadly. Isn’t that what all the best weapon makers say?

I tried creating the biggest Celestial Anvil that I could, active side not pointed at my practice dummy because that would make me the dummy.

It was a five by five or so metre long and wide semi-circle cross-section, an absolute chonker. And I hadn’t held back on firepower, either. Thankfully, my technique was refined enough that the ‘safe’ angle had widened considerably since the early days.

I stayed back over a hundred metres and hurled rocks from the higher ground that I stood on, so that I could see the beauty of my creation.

The rock hit on my first try, a record in fact, and the devastation was strong enough that it reached me, washing me with hot air, and setting some strips of my tattered robes alight.

Goddamn .

The field around the Anvil was blackened to an almost twenty-meter long radius, and that was just where the heat had reached. The pressure would prove an effective weapon from even twice or thrice that distance, if the rearranged rubble was any indication.

A nifty thing was that the char on the ground nearest to the Anvil painted a clear picture of the ‘safe’ angle. It was a solid ninety degrees and nothing more, a step backward from my usual record of a hundred and twenty degrees in that ballpark. That made sense. Now that I had changed the parameters of the technique to ‘kiddie gloves off’, other variables would change accordingly as well.

That being said, I still hadn’t practised my last technique yet. Solar Spear Echo, a technique that would allow me to create copies of my spear, only made of Collapsing Star madra.

Definitely needed a new name, though.

Rain of a Thousand Stellar Spears.

A little derivative, and too long.

Actually, the derivative part wasn’t even the problem. Fuck Jai Daishou, fuck Jai Long, and fuck the Stellar Spear, as a sect, a clan, and as a motherfucking crew. I’ll steal their entire bag and do it better than they ever could. In fact, I already am . I’d get the Spear Icon too someday, don’t play with me. Then we’d see who really deserves to have ‘spear’ in their name.

Rain of Stellar Spears.

Eh. Good enough. A little long, but it’s not like I’d ever say the shit out loud mid-fight. First time I did it with Shenron didn’t count: I was still high from having freshly advanced.

Starfire Surge. Nova Blade. Solar Flare. Celestial Anvil. Rain of Stellar Spears. A good enough line-up as any. Five techniques. I still had room for more.

For now, I’d master what I did have before getting creative. My Final Sword technique could wait until I knew what the fuck I was doing.

I definitely needed some practice with Rain of Stellar Spears.

I cycled my madra in accordance with Arakmedes’ teachings and thrust my spear towards one of the last still-standing trees in the vicinity. The spear made a thunk as it entered the tree. Followed by its energy companion, an ethereal and flimsy construct. It dug a hole in the tree wider than its shaft, and the tip exploded, breaking the tree in half.

Not good. The damage was decent, even if I only managed to produce one for now, but the entire length of the Stellar Spear had given off heat. It really should only be the tip at any rate. Control, control, control. Thankfully, I’d learned enough from the Celestial Anvil experiments that I hadn’t just killed myself right now.

Trusting a Collapsing Star construct was crazy. Lindon’s Pure madra was ideal for Soulsmithing because no madra was incompatible with Pure, but trying to Forge with my madra would be like trying to build a house using glass tanks of nitroglycerin.

Also important was determining the effects that my technique had on living flesh, just to prevent any mishaps down the line.

Needed to find Shenron again.

For science.

000

Eventually, I started getting low on fasting pills, which necessitated that I stop my experiments. I didn’t have enough to continuously pull Shenron tail-first out of death’s maw, and I figured I had learned enough about what my madra could do to prevent any accidents in the future.

The answer was ‘stick to spearplay’. Literally the least deadliest thing I could do to someone was run them through with six feet of sharpened steel. Go figure.

In any case, I had about thirteen days left living comfortably without hunger, or twenty-six skipping a fasting pill every other day, leaving me at half strength. Shenron would have to sort itself out, I truly didn’t give a shit.

Maybe I should feel bad, but I had to admit: this had nothing to do with Cold Heart. Sure, maybe hurting it was easier now that I had that drawback, but that didn’t explain the positive emotions I felt.

Well, one thing could: I was learning. It was science.

Was I maybe deep down a monster? Probably as monstrous as any other human was when they no longer felt bad about hurting others. And those were pretty much almost all of them. Those crying for the death penalty and blood on the streets from some injustice, that thirst for war when a country had acted aggressively in the past, the way a military uniform could make a man’s dick hard because it gave them the power of an entire nation.

The reason why fascism was so fucking popular every now and then. Humans were monsters too.

I wasn’t much different, being that I also was a human, but at least I was fucking aware of it. In the end, I would never do this to another human, and that was the important takeaway.

But now that my thirst for knowledge regarding my path had finally abated and I could think clearly, what was my path now?

Without any misgivings or doubts left in my heart, I could clearly say that my path stretched towards power. That was what I was after. Power, to never be dominated, to be free. I could already picture my Underlord revelation: I practise the sacred arts for freedom. That truth resonated with me.

I felt a twinge of hunger, and made to reach for another fasting pill. Suddenly, I realised… I had a void key .

I directed some madra at it, and felt an option to manifest a gateway near me. I also felt the option to cloud the entrance with some kind of illusion, or edit the dimensions of the doorway.

I decided to just make it doorshaped and transparent so I could go inside and take a look.

The one really interesting part of the walk-in closet-sized void key—and what an amazing find that was!—was a rack of weapons on one wall that gave off no pressure at all, despite clearly being made of madra. All the weapons were pole weapons. There was a long hammer, several different spears and poleswords, and even a black-metal scythe .

One spear caught my eye in particular, mostly for its aesthetic. Its shaft was a pristine ivory-white, reflecting light in a dazzling array of colors, while intricate patterns of shimmering sapphire and azure adorned its surface. At its apex, a blade of radiant gold gleamed, adorned with arcane runes that seemed to dance with otherworldly energy. This blade, with edges sharp as the keenest of stars, promised a celestial force capable of cutting through the very fabric of reality itself.

In time, at least. For now, it would be the construct I lugged around, too powerful for me to activate its main power, but at least I'd be secure in the knowledge that it would never break on me before I reached Overlord, maybe. Despite the beauty of it, I could sense absolutely nothing. That meant that ithadto be Underlord-level at the very lowest. That was good. For now, it was best to leave it inside.

Should I name it?

"Star's End". Cool name, though I'd probably never use it. I was never one for naming objects, even the ones that I cherished. It always felt so corny to me. Eh. 'Spear' would always suffice.

I looked around for other things and found doodads and thingamajigs meant to be used for refining and scripting. I could use that stuff once I decided to flex my newfound knowledge. And what an impressive repository of knowledge that was.

Dreadfully boring stuff though, and I can’t believe I sat through all of that without my attention wavering even once. Frozen Heart was an insane learning buff, full blown psychopathy aside.

There was a trio of suspicious elixirs on one shelf. They wouldn't do me any good at this juncture, seeing as I had no idea what they did. When I focused my senses on them, I got a strange jumble of impressions I couldn't quite make out. As for edible things, there were, however, packets of tea leaves, pots and pans I could use for cooking, and dried meats.

I didn’t waste any time snacking on the stuff. Maybe I should share some with Shenron? Hah.

I walked out from the void key, meats in hand, and made to go to the edge of the city. It had been slowly sinking for quite some time now, probably Arakmedes’ doing, and it had only been a few days ago when I could perceive some mountains at the edge of the horizon, now unbroken by trees or buildings due to Fury’s kerfuffle.

Man, I’d been close to death that time. Crazy stuff.

My eyeball estimate was that I was about ten to fifteen kilometers from the ground. I’d definitely get injured if I jumped, but I believed I could at least survive . Thankfully, terminal velocity was still a thing in this world, so a fifteen kilometre drop was really no different from a one kilometre drop. It would only last longer.

I could generate some lift by expelling my madra, a self-made little technique that I doubted would go anywhere, but it was fun to practise at times. Perhaps eventually I’d figure out if there was a way to buff Starfire Surge with flight, or if that usage of madra was even worth it, but for now, like I had already accepted before, I needed to stick to the basic five and get creative later.

000

The moment Eithan had spotted his tracking construct keyed to Sky’s advancement transmuting into Gold, he hadn’t wasted any time setting after Sky.

He had done it . The madman had done it! Still, it remained to be seen that he hadn’t just given up and absorbed the wrong type of Remnant. Or given up on pursuing a partnership with Eithan.

Or if he hated Eithan. He wouldn’t blame the boy, after everything that had happened.

The City of Broken Stars was hovering a couple of kilometres above the ground, and from where Eithan stood, he could just barely see Sky.

And he was swinging his spear, his edge trailing starlight that looked like his pure white luminescent hair. A pretty Goldsign, Eithan knew he appreciated it.

The purity of his madra and the ease of his techniques assuaged Eithan’s worries. Sky was not out of the game yet.

In fact, he seemed to have found some drive to better himself, survive in his environment, and what an environment it was. Everything was a mess, barely anything was left alive, except for him, and… a green dragon.

A green dragon gibbering to itself, whimpering and crawling around like it was lost.

Strange. Eithan genuinely didn’t know that dragons could crack like that. He had always assumed that their animal instincts prevented them from doing so.

Well, he knew that some dragons could go crazy from stress, but all of the cases he knew were beings that had already taken on human form. Maybe this green dragon was cognizant enough to lose its mind?

Or maybe he simply didn’t remember? That was also an option.

Eithan didn’t envy whatever Sky might have experienced if it had brought a dragon to such depths.

Eventually, Sky caught sight of the cloudship, and started jumping up and down, firing nasty striker techniques into the sky, almost triggering the cloudship’s automatic defence systems. It was entirely unnecessary. Why did Sky always forget that Eithan could see everything?

The cloudship lowered and finally touched the ground. Eithan was first to exit the manor, only to get tackled by Sky’s hug. He had seen it coming, of course, and before he could reach him, Eithan summoned a gale of wind to blow him away.

The boy was positively disgusting to look at, much less touch . Still, he laughed in delight despite the rejection of physical affection.

“I did it!” the smelly and dirty man squealed. “I’m Gold !”

Sky gave Eithan a wide smile, though some of it… didn’t quite reach his eyes . He probably had too many conflicting emotions to feel one-hundred percent honest joy, and Eithan couldn’t blame him.

“I’m proud of you, Sky! You’ve truly exceeded my expectations,” he said. He gave Sky a full scan with his senses, and found something truly amazing on him. A void key attached to a pendant shaped like an eight-pointed star, with four of the diagonal points being half the length of the other four. Huh… wasn’t that a dead ringer to the star-variety of the sun Icon? Interesting. The badge was made of Wintersteel too at that. Either he had lifted it from an old-school Sage or just an Archlord with overly high hopes. “And found yourself something truly irreplaceable as well. Any goodies?”

“That depends, will you take them from me?” he asked. “You know what, I’m just not going to tell you anything about what I found. You deserve to not know certain things.”

“Is this about my dumping you in this place—”

“Eithan, I will kill you if you keep talking,” he said. “All I need is a bath and then we can get going. Do you have any water constructs? A change of clothes? Sorry about the robes—”

“Remind me never to spend on you,” Eithan said with a huff. “Those robes were expensive, I’ll have you know.”

“I need to take a shower, Eithan,” Sky said. “Cut the crap and give me some water.”

“Certainly, that can be arranged, my stinky, nasty friend,” Eithan said, pinching his nostrils. “That aside, there seems to be a soul in trouble in this island.”

“Wait, really?” Sky asked. “There’s someone else here? Who?!”

“A green dragon.”

“Shenron,” Sky said. Then he chuckled. “Yeah, don’t… don’t worry about Shenron. He’ll find a way out, I guess, I don’t care.”

Sky’s demeanor shifted as he talked. His eyes became glassy, hollow, and his heart beat slowed, calmed down. Eithan furrowed his eyebrows.

“Is his madness your doing?”

“What do you mean by that?” I asked.

“Did you torture it ?” Eithan asked, feeling a tightness in his jaw that he didn’t quite like.

“ No ,” Sky said. “I used it as a sparring partner. Enthusiastically.” Sky sighed and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, Eithan. It’s an enemy. And thanks to its generous donation of its body to science, I have learned more about my path than ever before.”

This was beginning to sound too familiar to Eithan. Far too familiar. And not in a good way. It almost felt like he was looking at a younger version of himself.

“Why didn’t you end his life?” Eithan asked patiently.

“I didn’t need to,” Sky said. “Figured I’d be nice enough to pay it back with its life, despite all the shit it put me through. And wouldn’t killing it have been worse, anyway? You know… I killed someone already,” Sky said. “Someone who shouldn’t have died. His death can’t be taken back. Killing is a permanent solution and leaves no room for regret. And I don’t intend to continue killing, even if it’s so much easier.”

Eithan stretched his Arelius and Jade senses all throughout his range, and found something truly interesting: the corpse of a decapitated Lord, his soulfire-forged body now slowly rotting to the elements. He was an old, old man. Around him was a masterwork of a script circle etched in Goldsteel, one that could contain and pacify a most powerful Remnant. Sky couldn’t have made such a thing. It was the old expert’s doing.

Sky had been lucky indeed, coming across an ancient expert on their last legs, willing to give up their Remnant to a Jade passing by.

And while Sky’s words suggested a level of guilt, Eithan could tell that that wasn’t the entire story. There was far more to it than what Eithan could see. What a fun little mystery that was.

“In any case,” Eithan said. “ Not killing him is the crueller option.”

“Let’s not go there, Eithan,” Sky said, his voice as dead as his eyes. “Not killing is the one rule I’ve made for myself that I think I can uphold. Any more complex, and I can't trust myself to bother going by any code.” he touched his chest, his heart. “A consequence of my arrival in this world. Leave me with my minor cruelties. And be grateful that I leave it only at minor . The dragon’s mind will heal in time, even if it never forgets the pain. But Arakmedes, my benefactor, is dead, and that is truly the greater injustice.”

Oh boy, Eithan’s little mentee had entered a phase . Well, it was nothing too terrible. He still seemed to have a concrete sense of right and wrong, even if he used it mostly as an excuse to enact his sick fantasies.

He would mature in time. Eithan believed that wholeheartedly. And belief aside, he would make it so. Eithan had once been in Sky’s place, filled with an indescribably hot rage at all those who would endanger himself and his loved ones. Eithan could sympathise, but not condone.

Now was not the time for chastisement anyhow. Sky had achieved something monumental!

“Get cleaned up and changed, and we’ll have dinner while you tell me all about your exploits!”

Chapter 16: Dinner and Tales

Chapter Text

Eithan spread his senses outwards, towards the city where so much had occurred. He would find out in time, of course, but for now, there was the matter of enriching his clan’s coffers.

A convenient ring of bent goldsteel etched with scripts would do wonders all by itself, and that was ignoring all the soulsmithing equipment, also made of precious metals, and refining machinery. The blueprints, at least, for most of the components had eroded by this point, like so much of this city.

And now the last of the Broken Star artists was dead, leaving it all behind for the vultures.

Eithan wasted no time scavenging the place for all he could find.

After an hour of work, he had amassed a pile of things, mostly precious metals that would no-doubt cause a delay in their travels, as it would weigh their cloudship down.

Had he wanted to, Eithan could have truly ripped every ounce of value from this object, but doing so would necessitate a fleet of cloudships to transport the things. Leaving the city to the mercy of the world was not an option that he wanted to consider either.

After all…

Eithan looked up at the sky, specifically at the moon. Even to his Underlord eyes, he could hardly make out with detail what he was looking at, even though he knew what it was.

An adventure.

For another time.

After making the necessary arrangements, the city would once again return to where it had always stayed, in orbit around Cradle, living out a microcosm of its purpose, to touch the stars.

For now, it was time to leave.

000

An unexpected, yet most welcome, boon following Eithan’s arrival was my newfound access to mirrors.

My hair… looked fucking amazing .

It was silky, glossy, smooth, yet it still kept the same curl pattern I was used to. When I pulled my fingers through it, there wasn’t a tangle in reach. I could run even the finest comb through it and it wouldn’t catch, whereas before, even my fingers could easily get snagged on a tangle.

It seemed to defy gravity, and always seemed to undulate with this calming rhythm. If I stood still for almost a minute staring at it, I would end up falling into this hypnotized trance.

And it was so bright ! Would it form sunspots in the eyes of a normal person looking at it? I couldn’t tell myself, as my body was shielded from the ill effects of my madra. No tiny bedroom-sized space could ever be fully dark for me. And if I put a Nova Blade over my finger, everywhere turned into day around me.

I couldn’t imagine fighting that without being able to look through searingly bright light like I was. I could stare into the fucking sun now without getting sunspots. Light aura was collecting in my hair in droves .

I was too amazed to be horrified by the implications.

But it was so hilarious , too! I couldn’t help but laugh. Talk about fucking subtle. I’m a human torch now. I needed to grow this as obnoxiously long as I could, so no one would ever be able to fight me head-on without getting blinded by my Goldsign’s radiance.

It was amazing.

After a couple of hours spent showering, scrubbing my skin raw of all the built-up grossness, and staring at myself in the mirror, I finally joined Eithan for a succulent meal, regaling him with tales of my exploits, as well as some good old ‘Glassy Sky’ flavoured tangents here and there.

The cloudship was manned by a skeleton crew of two pilots and five servants, two of which were full-time chefs, and the other three were Arelius cleaners, all blond and eager to make sure that not an inch of their environment was out of sorts.

It truly was something, watching them work. Their passion for cleanliness bordered on obsessiveness, as well as their sense of decor. The dining room was rife with details and decorations: table-cloths that were works of art, ornate golden chandeliers, a candelabra in the middle of the round table casting a perfect glow over the table and our empty plates—we’d finished our meal already—and the walls were covered in paintings, some sections left bare to reveal the beauty of the interior design. An old-money billionaire from Earth would likely be impressed with this environment. What else could you expect from Eithan. The man was insane, yes, but he had an eye for style.

“Anyway, crop top armour is really bad,” I completed my tangent. “I’m glad I haven’t seen any thus far. It looks borderline psychotic, and is the epitome of ‘male gaze’. And if that was its only sin, I wouldn’t even be this heated , but the fact is it looks ugly too!”

“I see, I see,” Eithan said with a smile that told me he was just humouring me. Two could play that game. I would have continued pushing my strong thoughts on female fantasy armour, but I’d gotten a little tired of the ramble as well. Maybe that was Eithan’s game all along: let myself get bored before I could bore and annoy him with an unhinged rant, which was my initial intention?

There really was no ruffling this guy, was there?

“By the way, let us talk about something that’s not ugly,” Eithan abruptly switched the topic. “Your hair. It is… radiant ,” he said with what I had to assume was a sarcastic grin. It was so hard to read the man. He reminded me of this weird satirist youtuber I sometimes watched, called Jreg. Eithan’s smile was just that insincere, but in a clearly mocking way. He never fell into overacting or overemoting. No, he left just enough plausible deniability to leave you guessing: is he serious, or is he just taking the piss?

Was it a part of my Gold awakening? Because I had never truly noticed this weirdness to him until now. I was starting to empathise with how Lindon and Yerin always seemed to wonder whether they could truly trust Eithan, how it had taken them almost all the way to the Uncrowned Tournament to really put their trust in Eithan.

“Thank you,” I said. “I can’t really tell how bright it is, but—”

“It is very bright,” Eithan said. “Actually, it is too bright.”

Shit, really? “...Can I unbrighten it?”

“Yes,” Eithan said, handing me a smooth oblong dream tablet without missing a beat. Okay, point taken. I read it, feeling out what the memory inside said was a ‘ruler technique of light’. I tried using it, and suddenly felt a weird amount of resonance in something out there. Some things . Many things.

I could feel a lot of it on my head. I slowly pushed it out, so many gossamer threads of pure light following. It wasn’t my hair. No, it was aura . Light aura, radiant white-yellow.

I couldn’t do much else with the technique than slowly move the aura, but otherwise it barely really felt like a technique to my channels. I felt like I could keep this up forever, which I assumed to be the point. As I slowly dispersed the light aura around my surroundings, I asked Eithan: “So how bright was it, then?”

“Bright enough to probably blind a Copper if they stared directly at it for a minute or two,” Eithan said. So like, halogen light levels? What the fuck? “Bright enough to give the average Gold sunspots in their eyes as well. Incredibly distracting, you understand. I imagine that what is attracting the aura the most like flies is the proverbial cadaver, your Remnant, digesting slowly within your spirit.”

I smiled proudly. “It’s a pretty big Remnant, isn’t it? Can you sense it? If I really focus, it feels like there’s this… egg inside of me.” A trans allegory, perhaps? Maybe my Highgold awakening would come with a desire to become a girl? I chuckled briefly at the private joke. Or maybe I’d become a Mu Enkai, revering the EGG for its power! “That’s where the rest of the madra is, right?”

Eithan nodded. “Yes, that is the madra that survived the absorption process. Not all of it did, of course. Otherwise, it would be all too easy for a Jade to make it all the way to Archlord in under a day. As you may know, no Monarch faction can facilitate such a thing—”

I raised a finger. “Ninecloud Court can.”

Eithan’s smile flickered to sincere for a moment. “Yes, but as you may know, the absorption process is entirely different. For an enormous Remnant such as yours, it is like an equally enormous elixir, and the user can only drink what they can before the rest spills on the ground, lost to you forever. The best way to use all that you can from it is to wait until you are a Lord. It may very well bridge the gap between the beginning of Underlord and the peak of Underlord, quite a substantial gap, yet even that would be a waste. The truth is you cannot expect to make true use of the Remnant, so you might as well use it to bridge your path through Gold.”

“Why aren’t you telling that to Yerin?” I asked.

“And give her a reason to continue clinging to her master spiritual corpse?” Eithan seemed uncharacteristically sincere right now. “No, such a thing would irreparably damage her growth,” Eithan shook his head. “As someone now responsible for her advancement, I can’t in good conscience condone the Remnant’s will continuing to whisper to her. It does not have rationality. As such, it will only lead her astray.” I couldn’t blame his sincerity. He was right, and he also needed me to understand him so that I wouldn’t do anything to screw over Yerin. As such, he couldn’t afford to keep being the jokey asshole.

I had identified the first weakness of Eithan’s facade: the sacred arts tutelage of all those under him. He wouldn’t fuck around with that. Good to know for future reference.

In any case, I believed him. I could recall how it fed Yerin really bad advice, and always seemed to mess her up.

In contrast, mine had said zilch thus far. Perks of having a low-willpower Remnant. No, low-willpower wasn’t right. Arakmedes had lived for a long time, and had defeated that crazy powerful Remnant in a battle of wills.

I didn’t blame the Remnant for its silence. It was born of a master that only wanted to die.

I felt an impression coming from my core, one of raw curiosity and a hunger to reach the stars. It was a powerful impulse. Thankfully, it had nothing to do with the sacred arts. He and I used techniques that were radically different in principle. Essentially, the Broken Star techniques were more about harnessing ‘space’: quick movements, long reach, terrain control and short-range faux teleportation. Mine was all about actual stars, but more specifically, high-powered attacks, and high intensity madra. The only reason my Ruler technique made me faster moreso than it made mepowerfulwas because my channels and my body literally couldn't handle the upper bounds of strength that my madra could give it. It had something to do with the current principle of madra that I most employed in my techniques, 'ignition' as opposed to 'fission', which was more up the Blackflame Path's wheelhouse.

In any case, Arakmedes' Remnant's advice wouldn’t have helped unless he adapted his advice to fit my new path, but I couldn’t expect that much sophistication from the remnant of a Remnant, now waiting to be digested by me.

All he wanted was what he wanted in life. The Sacred Arts was never his true passion. I could definitely work with that. Hopefully, more of that Remnant instinct and memories would help me during my research process.

“My Remnant isn’t giving me a hard time,” I said. “How did you know that?”

“Because you turned my barebones experimental path into a true one!” Eithan said. “I had resigned myself to spending weeks drilling you with spiritual movements that are more optimised to your path’s technique. Instead, I find that you had done all this yourself! Was it the Remnant?”

“No, it was the old man,” I said. “Well, not directly. Arakmedes only taught me the theory. Application followed, sure, but it really wasn’t that hard to follow along with what I remembered from him.”

“He was a great teacher!” Eithan said. “He did not just impart you with lots of madra, but also good advice that will help you design your path to the best of your ability!”

“I’m curious, though,” I said. “Arakmedes worked on finding out the type of aura that stars contained, not what they radiated, but the aura within . Where he stopped is some steps shy of that madra. And you seemed to have independently come to that conclusion yourself with my Collapsing Star madra.”

Eithan’s eyes widened. “You mean to tell me that Arakmedes had figured out a way to turn your madra even more powerful?”

There it was again. I couldn’t tell how serious he was. Did he actually believe what he said, or was he hiding some other fact? “Not really. He was still stuck in the theory stage, still missing some pieces, but he came close. You, too, came close,” I said. “As close as he did, almost. A little further behind since his scripting lessons actually made more sense than the dream tablets you used to record my techniques. In that metric, you were perhaps a few years of dedicated research behind him.”

“Then I am flattered to have shared the thoughts of such a lauded genius,” the fashionable Underlord beamed. “I’ve read of him before, though not of this specific research. I’m afraid that was just a coincidence. He’s quite the famous figure actually. Fell out of relevance quite a few centuries ago, but still his work cannot be understated.”

Arakmedes, the Architect, the Wandering Scholar, the Star Comet Immortal Venerable, 'Stargazer' Arakmedes, 'Wayshower Scholar'. All the days of Arakmedes were two-thousand and eighty-four years, and then he died.

At the hands of me.

It was... impossible to say how I felt about it. On the one hand, I felt absolutely nothing, but on the other hand, I... I idolized the man. Not in a particularly emotional way, but in the same way that I idolized Albert Einstein.

His end was an important event, and though I felt no guilt for it, I did feel shame for not encouraging greater gifts to mankind's collective knowledge, and all the other ways in which the man had value.

“I know,” I said. “It’s why it’s sad that he’s gone. He gave me this… tragic impression, honestly. I don’t know if I could have talked him out of his ledge even if I wanted to at the time.” I had explained to him the circumstances of my mentality, something Eithan found beyond interesting. No surprise about that. I still couldn’t quite ascertain if Frozen Heart was actually real, or just a manifestation of my psychosis.

I didn’t want to test it, however. Not unless my death was imminent, or I had the power to advance within three days. All I knew was that my lack of emotions were real, and I had walked away with some material benefits from it.

“He gave me the impression of another tortured scientist of my world,” I paused for a moment. “His name was Oppenheimer. You know how I told you we don’t have madra there? We are all foundation level until our deaths. And Oppenheimer was a guy that spearheaded a very interesting project, based on a quirk of science that someone else had discovered at the time: once you split an indivisible piece of matter, a very specific type at that, the ensuing reaction is enormous. Add enough of that type of matter until you reach critical mass, and the ensuing explosion would be enough to level cities. Lord level destruction.”

“From foundation-level researchers,” Eithan said. “Fascinating. The power of your homeworld is interesting indeed.”

“It’s just science,” I said.

“Madra is also just science,” Eithan said. “There is nothing unscientific about it, you know. It’s just another phenomenon of the universe, although one responsive to willpower. Something I gather you don’t have.”

“Yes, well our science is boring that way.”

“On the contrary, I find it interesting ,” Eithan insisted. “Anyway, I presume this figure you speak of also felt guilty for the technology that he enabled.”

“Yeah, but,” I shrugged. “I mean, I get it, but I also don’t. He worked really hard, knowing exactly the kind of application his discoveries would have. Even if it was taken out of his hands eventually, he knew what would happen.”

“So did Arakmedes. That doesn’t make it any less tragic. Like you told me, he slaughtered children for his sect’s agenda.”

“He shouldn’t have died,” I settled on that. “Maybe I would feel the same about Oppenheimer if I knew him, but all he ended up doing was give the power to end the world to every imperialistic nation of the world. He truly doomed us. I have no idea why we still exist as a human race to be honest.” Hell, there was probably an argument to be made about the existence of God for the fact that I was still alive to view the Cold War as history.

“It’s good that you feel bad.”

“I said everything in my power that I could to get him to give up on life,” I said. “I killed him. Literally and figuratively. I buried every ounce of his will to live.”

“You were a Jade talking to an ancient Archlord. I can promise you that he would not care a single whit for anything you say that wouldn’t support his agenda to die.”

“I didn’t have to hurry him up,” I said. “Even if I was scared of dying.” ‘Scared’ wasn’t the word. At that point, I couldn’t feel any fear. I simply didn’t wish to die.

“He derailed your advancement and put you in danger. This was the least he could do.”

“It doesn’t feel good,” I lied. Well, not really. It doesn’t feel good that I don’t care. That was true, at least. “It doesn’t feel good,” I repeated, now more sure of my words.

“There is indeed a way to not feel good genuinely,” Eithan said, striking at the heart of the matter like he always knew how to do. “Instead of making it an issue of empathy, make it one of code. Your word . Make it a point of pride.”

“And inflate my pride in the process?” I asked. “I don’t know. Feel like I’ll become an asshole if I do.”

Eithan’s shoulders slumped at me for some reason. “Please don’t try to import your curses in this language. It sounds way too awkward! If you truly wanted to say something rude, say moron.”

“Yeah, no, that sounds way too mild,” I said. It also didn’t quite hit the spot for me, meaning-wise. “Do you not have any stronger curses? Ones that invoke sex or genitals or eternal damnation.”

“Your culture sounds positively wretched,” Eithan said with a grimace so deep that it couldn’t have been faked. “I am eating !” he enunciated every word. Yes, he was definitely fucking with me. “If you really want to do it, curse a Monarch’s name.”

I laughed at that, but Eithan just looked at me like I was weird. “I mean, if you do that, you die,” I said. “ Right ?”

Eithan cleared his throat. “Ehem. Seshethkunaaz has eaten off my pit latrine on many an occasion.”

My eyes boggled at that. Wait, what ? And Sesh at that? Smoke Sesh himself? The Murderous Rampage Sesh ?

I looked around, then at Eithan, and raised my eyebrow. I wanted to say something, but I waited a beat, to see if the punishment was only delayed. “Okay, so that was just a myth all along?”

“They can hear their names. But only their names, and spoken with intention,” Eithan said. “And if a Monarch were to smite every single person that spoke their name negatively, they would never have any time for anything else.”

You know what? He made a pretty good point. I felt stupid for ever having believed in that myth to begin with. It truly didn’t make any logical sense.

Then, did that mean that Eithan only feigned shock and horror when he spoke to Mercy that time in the books? Of course he did. The man knows how Monarchs work, and wouldn’t fuck around with them in a way that put himself at risk. Overgrown cats aside.

He was probably only nervous about hiding his reactions from the Lion because Eithan suspected that he was under direct surveillance through other means than just a Monarch’s mythical senses.

In the end, wasn’t all of that the domain of the Arelius detection web? If all Monarchs could fake such a skill, wouldn’t more Monarch-descendants be running around with it? I can’t imagine Malice would purposefully choose crystal armor over fucking omniscience.

The Arelius web was easily the strongest Bloodline legacy of them all, and wasn’t something that could just be faked by any old trifling Monarch. It was an invention of Ozriel after all!

“There’s just games within games with you,” I said to him.

“Are you recalling a memory of me?” Eithan asked, and I frowned in disgust at him.

“Why would you assume that, you narcissistic moron .”

I swear, I needed to find a book of curses soon. My common language, and Rosegoldian for that matter, was painfully bare. And despite Eithan’s little mythbusting stunt just now, it’d be a cold day in hell before I ever badmouthed the Monarchs as a Gold.

Facts aside, I just… didn’t want that smoke.

“How exactly do you know me?” Eithan asked.

“Well, you taught me the sacred arts—”

“I mean before ,” Eithan said. “ If you don’t mind me asking. I’d hate to pry, but I am just so curious. How well do you know me? Emotionally, if not literally. It seems you have a fondness for me that I can’t quite understand.” Me neither, holy fuck. I should hate his guts after what he put me through.

Pretty people get a pass, I suppose. And dammit if Eithan wasn’t the prettiest girl at the ball.

“I do mind,” I said. “I’m not scared of you pressing it out of me or anything. I just don’t know how to say it. It’s a pretty big thing.”

“Are you scared of my reaction?” Eithan asked. “I can assure you, I will keep the straightest face imaginable.”

Eh, fuck it. I didn’t go through all of that just to be scared of some disapproval.

I’d come far enough as it was. Might as well put my cards on the table. Or die. But I’d rather die unburdened by a secret like this than continue to live deceitfully. It was… tiring.

Besides, I highly doubted he’d actually kill me for this. The risk was acceptable. To me, at least.

“I read your life in a book.”

Eithan’s stone-faced expression couldn’t resist but to widen his eyes and blink.

“Several books, actually. Pretty good books, they were,” I said. “Didn’t focus so much on you, though. Your past is still very much a mystery.”

Eithan’s eyes narrowed. “I’m… an open book , as it were. Ask away.”

I looked at his face. “You don’t believe me, right?”

“Of course I do!” Eithan said. I couldn’t help but feel sad for him at that. I couldn’t imagine what he was currently thinking. “It’s just… a little difficult to comprehend. So I’ve shelved it for later consideration, when I have more time to think. Currently, I simply have no opinion of what you have said, other than that it’s… difficult to comprehend.”

Oh wow. “Okay. That’s weird, but okay. Okay, so… why are you such a super genius of sacred arts? How did you ‘start off with the requisite Lord revelations’ ? Can one meditate on their revelation before even hitting the Lord realms?”

“Oh now,” Eithan laughed. “Don’t you want to ask about my childhood? What my favorite songs and books are? My favorite pastimes as a child?”

“I mean. No. Just answer the questions.”

“I don’t know what to say!” Eithan shrugged. “I’m just always looking for a way to advance! It’s not my fault I’m labeled a ‘super genius’ when all I did came naturally to me.”

“Always Seeking Arelia,” I muttered. Eithan froze. “Ah, something Arakmedes said to me. That’s the origin of your clan’s name. Did you know that?”

“Ah, yes,” Eithan said. “The Arelius Patriarch sought Arelia and named the clan after the old tales as a blessing.”

Hmmm. “So you’re just a genius, then. So why slow down and try picking up friends? Won’t you have an easier time just befriending the Monarchs once you advance?”

“Heavens no!” Eithan said. “I wouldn’t dare approach one of the venerable Monarchs for friendship!”

I rolled my eyes at him. “Be serious.”

“Well, if you must know,” Eithan said, and his voice felt deeper, graver. “It’s because I have no faith that the Monarchs will keep up with me. That has always been my story. Too fast to ever make friends. I was barely into my teens when I first rapped my knuckles against the door to Underlord, and by then, I could see the writing on the wall: I would never make friends in the sacred arts if all I ever did was advance so fast.”

“Suffering from success,” I said, withholding a small chuckle. “So you’re just gifted, then. What was your exquisite flaw?”

“Hope,” Eithan said with a small smile. “Hope is my exquisite flaw.”

Nice. Mine’s pure psychopathy, nice to meet you.

“And what about the Lord revelations?” I asked him. “How could you know them beforehand? Did you run a statistical analysis on the most common ones in your clan or something? I know that Cladia must apparently have had a similar one to your Overlord one. You thought so yourself in one of the books I read.”

“Ah, yes, that is because…” he cleared his throat. Then he threw his plate of food at my face. I barely dodged in time, and by the time I looked, he was just gone .

He couldn’t have made a more dramatic exit if he wanted to.

“What the fuck, Eithan?!” I screamed after him in English.

000

Eventually, he just conceded it to be an Arelius secret that couldn’t be shared to those outside the main branch.

Terrible. Branchism was really out of control in the Arelius clan. I feel so oppressed.

Though it actually was a little wild to me that I shared a family name with a bunch of Scandinavians. I guess my hair gave me enough whiteness to pass.

Ugh, Emriss should invent Twitter already, so I could complain about the persecution I was facing right now. Whatever. Eithan’s secrets aside, I couldn’t complain much honestly. I was Lowgold, finally . I had human rights , after months upon months of living in seclusion, training daily, and then being made to survive . It was no wonder I went batshit, I literally had no time to do anything human and normal.

I couldn’t wait to see Lindon and Yerin again, even if they were at this point just acquaintances and ‘teammates’ if not outright friends. I couldn’t wait to sleep in a proper bed. And most of all, I couldn’t wait to get drunk.

I continued going through my usual training without slacking—I couldn’t imagine spending my training time doing anything else but training, if I was honest. While my only other reprieve was in reading random assorted books or talking to Eithan until I got sick of it, I couldn’t say that I was feeling restless or ill at ease, which was surprising to me.

There was no way that I could properly put it into words, but it just felt like all the space that surrounded me was mine now. If not outright, at the very least I held a share or some sense of entitlement to it. I didn’t feel slightly unwelcome going anywhere, even if there were other people there. And why did I usually feel that way? My weakness during my time in Cradle aside, this was just a natural feeling for me; this constant, unerring pressure other living beings exerted in my presence that prevented me from breathing easily, forcing me to sequester myself in my bedroom most of the time to avoid dealing with that sensation. I had always been somewhatawareof this feeling, but I never had a concept of its scale.

Not until all of that anxiety...disappeared.

Just the fact that that constant feeling of baseline unease and insecurity was no longer there, I could finally notice that it had been at some point, and in abundance as well. Was it because of my cultivated willpower? Or Cold Heart? Could be both.

Awful that it could be both. I didn’t want to lean further into that drawback than I already had.

In any case, I was enjoying nothing but benefits right now. Confidence and an ease of breathing and moving. My entire body felt right: stronger, but also pliable. I hadn’t done many stretches to increase my flexibility, yet I felt slightly more flexible than usual.

And my coordination had improved. My balance, too. Not overly so, but enough that I could notice.

Or maybe this was just the consequences of a body healed from malnourishment.

Of course I’d feel good.

It’s just… I’d felt bad for so long, I didn’t know how else to feel.

My emotions started weighing on me as the days continued to pass, still not out of stress or restlessness, but out of this compounding sense of feeling in my chest, swelling larger and larger as time passed like a water balloon. What filled it was tiny moments of happiness and satisfaction from having a supernaturally powerful body--the ease of which I could push myself up to my feet, stretch farther than I ever could before, or feeling likenothingwas too heavy for me. I also couldn't ignore the feeling of power growing inside my stomach bit by bit, radiating out from my head, literally .

Until all at once, the bubble of feeling burst, and revealed its nature: gratitude. I cried after I came out of cycling that time, wept like a baby in gratitude for my spirit, my body and this world. The promise of immortality and the assurance that I was already a superhuman.

I had lost so much . But I had this at the very least. My one and only true comfort, inextricably linked to my being and belonging to me and me alone: power.

And who knew? Maybe Serpent’s Grave had an array of fun recreational drugs I could add to that list of comforts?

Whatever the case, I knew nothing could ever compare to the liberating sensation of power.

That evening, when I had dinner with Eithan--placidly smiling as always--, he gently put a bottle of what looked like some very fancy wine on the table. It was made of crystal glass, covered in gold and silver filigree, and the label was exclusively in the Old Language. Pretty classy stuff then. I couldn't make out the characters, as Arakmedes' teachings had never intersected with anything unscientific, but I could appreciate the calligraphy, and my sharp sacred artist eyes could faintly make out a texture that betrayed that the label had been handwritten.

Really classy stuff.

“I saw you crying today,” he said, chin resting on his palm, wearing a friendly smile. Asincere smile. I tried not to squirm at the questions he was about to ask me, instead focusing on the booze.

I leaned over the table to reach for it, but Eithan just used soulfire and wind aura to lift it to me, along with a chalice, also a masterwork of glassware bound in gleaming silver. He poured into the glass without moving an inch himself, which was just trippy to see. I felt like I was in a movie for a moment, or that I was still stuck in the throes of a psychotic episode. The memory of that time could never leave me. Not with my trusty old Historian perk. Yay.

I took the glass and gave it a sip. The taste was comically sweet. It was like that juice you got when you mixed some water and powdered juice or some type of fruit syrup. It was the kind of flavour you would ascribe an entire colour to. Like how grape juice really just tasted like ‘purple’ and had almost nothing in common taste-wise to real grapes.

But it did have the slightest alcoholic aftertaste that told me I should probably want to drink slowly or risk having to vomit later on in the evening.

Okay Eithan, thanks for your high school graduation vodka and soda blend.

“This is meant to be pricey, right?” I asked him, trying my best not to laugh my ass off.

Eithan’s placid smile fell by a fraction. Dang, did I really manage to score a hit to his ego? Fucking kudos, Glassy Sky.

“Does it not live up to her majesty’s standards?”

I snorted. “I don’t know what pricey stuff tastes like,” I said. “This tastes like candy in liquid form. It tastes like what I imagine health potions to taste like.” I looked at the liquid and swirled it in the glass. It was a dark pink colour, and bubbled lightly.

“Well, that’s what passes for pricey in these parts, unfortunately,” Eithan said with a sigh. “Back in the main branch, wine was dark and rich and acidic . It paired well with bread and olives as well.”

“Never been much of a wine person, to be honest,” I said. “Honestly, I kind of hate drinking alcohol. I just like getting drunk. Well, liked . When I was a more carefree man.” I sighed. “But that man is long-dead.”

I smelled the glass, swirled it, and took an ostentatious sniff off its bouquet. “The new me shall like to drink, but hate getting drunk.”

“Nothing changes, then?” Eithan said with an awkward smile meant to put me on the spot. Too bad I was all out of fucks to give. “It’s a daring resolution, I say!”

“What is the occasion for this?” I asked. “Right, my crying. Uh,” I shrugged. “I’m fine. I’m just grateful for getting this far. I’m… honestly surprised I’m still alive. It boggles my mind actually. And I’m thankful for being stronger now in so many different ways. Smarter. Better .”

“Is better right?” Eithan asked. I raised an eyebrow, and he took a sip of his wine. “How do you measure the worth of a person?”

I rolled my eyes at that. “By how big of a fireball they can throw.”

“Don’t be too quick to denigrate your past self on account of personal power.”

“It’s impossible not to,” I said. “My past self was okay, but this isn’t just about how Cradle measures my worth… I am stronger now. I can do whatever I want. Train for hours on end. Sit still and cycle, learning more about my madra. Thanks to Arakmedes, I’m basically a scholar. And putting all of that aside, I feel better . I can do me better than I ever could before. Like every action I take is perfect and leaves no room for doubt. I’m more confident, self-assured, and independent. Better.”

Eithan’s smile seemed more honest now. “That’s good to hear, Sky.”

I took a longer gulp of the wine. It was far too easy to chug this. I had to ask what the ABV on this thing was. “Eithan, I don’t think you fully realize what this means for me. I came from a world with none of this. Nothing. All the power one could accrue was social in nature. Money, acclaim, fame, charisma. The powerful live a shortlived myth. The best of us can get assassinated at any time, betrayed by our sworn brothers. Only a blessed few truly manage to retain a status of invincibility to their deaths, and even then their deaths seem far too premature.” Yi Sun-Shin died from a stray bullet. Alexander the Great drank himself to death! And yet their stories lived on despite the millennia or centuries that passed. Supermen, yet still so fragile like any one of us. “The power that Cradle offers is true . And I’m not even looking at it from a social perspective. Just the fact that I’m free of all that held me down and plagued me in my past life, a mentality that was quite frankly weak… it’s made all the difference. Thing is, I don't think I'm supreme or anything. I don't think I'm better than others. I'm just grateful that I'm better than I used to be, even if there are parts of me that I've lost getting this far, parts of me I can never reclaim. All in all, I think the effort was worth it, if this is the payoff. I just... thank you, Eithan. Really. All the horror aside, I'm not resentful one bit.”

Eithan took a moment to consider that, but before he could talk, I continued. “And also, putting all cards on the table, I’m a crybaby. I cry at times. Don’t look into it too hard.”

“Most people do cry,” Eithan said. “And I ignore them, because they are not my responsibility. But you are. Therefore, it behoves me to always ask.”

“Aw, that’s mighty cute of you,” I said, chuckling. Huh, why did I say that? Was I already at the point of flirting with anyone with a pulse? “Hey, how much alcohol is in this? In my world, we usually measure it as alcohol by volume. We also multiply it by two and call it a ‘proof’, but I prefer a simple percentage of alcohol by volume to be honest. I mean, I guess you would do the same thing, although you wouldn’t use the word ‘percent’, would you?” In literal terms, I had translated it to ‘per one hundred parts’, though from the conventions that Arakmedes had used, the scale could increase to even one hundred thousand parts because decimals were apparently for pussies. According to the old man at least.

Wait, why did I even explain that anyway? Surely I wasn't dumb enough to think ABV was such a high concept that it could only come from Earth? If they could make fancy wine, they could definitely measure alcohol content. I should have just said 'alcohol by volume'. Whatever. At least now there wouldn't be an ambiguity of scale, since I had explained exactlyhowwe measured it back on Earth. It could be different here. Maybe they measured the non-alcoholic volume instead? Or maybe they rated it on a scale of how likely it was to get the average person drunk? Eh, whatever.

“Not to worry,” Eithan smiled confidently. “This super genius understands the concept,” ah, he’d never let me live that down, huh? “This drink is around fifty percent alcohol by volume.”

I furrowed my eyebrows at him in shock, then at the glass.

What the fuck. Was this because of my Iron body? Because there was no way that my past self could have imbibed half a glass of one hundred proof liquor in ten minutes without feeling the tiniest bit of nausea.

“This wine is demonic,” I said. “Is that average for Lowgolds? Wait, can Underlords get drunk?”

“Yes, an entire bottle would probably be enough to get you drunk, though not destructively so, so I would say this percentage is around average for a Lowgold. As for your second question, we can, but it’s extremely expensive and I wouldn’t waste the expenditure of such an act on this occasion,” Eithan said. “Also, I don’t get drunk.”

Ah, he was one of those guys. “Okay, Pope Pius Arelius. Whatever. So I guess that’s what makes it so pricey. That I can barely taste the alcohol?”

“That and its intense fruity flavour,” he said. “It takes a company of Truegolds an entire month to refine and purify such a flavour, I’ll have you know.”

“Back where I’m from, we sell this kind of flavour by the boatload,” I said. “It’s known for being a really inauthentic and cheap flavour. Real fruits are more preferable than this.”

“Huh,” Eithan said. “Weak in some areas, exceedingly powerful in others. Your world is a curious one.” I shrugged. It was his world that was weird. “I remember you said something about a genre of fiction about heroism. I would like to hear the imagination of those that are powerless. How do they picture true power to be like?”

Um.

Okay.

Where did I start?

I guess… where it started . Iron Man 1. “Strap in, Eithan,” I said as I filled my glass. “It all starts in a desert, pan to a convoy of trucks . Er, trucks are—”

000

Contrary to my expectations, we didn’t get past Iron Man’s first movie before Eithan had called it a night. He just kept stopping me and asking me for clarification on some reference or Earthian way of living or other. He had a keen mind, and asked good questions, but it did get in the way of things.

Who knew that to convey a story so entrenched in another culture, a story as complex and interconnected as a movie was, would take such a long time?

Eithan seemed genuinely fascinated, but I couldn’t tell if it was in the story or how radically different my world was compared to anything he had experienced in his life.

I still had an entire library of random shit to talk to him about, now perfectly recalled, courtesy of Historian perk. Telling him about the MCU felt like such a waste, honestly. Sure, it was mainstream and universally beloved (the Thanos arc at least), but it was as revolutionary and innovative as anything an overly commercialized piece of art could be created in the United States: that is, utterly tame.

I should have told him about One Piece. Now there's a story that's not afraid to go 'the world order is fucking corrupt and everyone involved in it deserves to get their shit kicked'. In the MCU, such a character would be considered a villain, a terrorist.

Hmm, I wonder, was Eithan down for anarchy? Well, he was all for killing the Dreadgods, and changing Cradle's world order, which for some reason involved getting Reigan Shen to ascend. No, it was doubtless that Eithan was down for tearing the establishment to the ground. What he wanted to replace it with, I had no fucking idea. That wasn't even getting into his ambitions post-Cradle. Joining up with Ozzy to save doomed worlds, sure.

And who knew? Maybe Ozzy would try to train us up to overthrow the current Abidan court, which seemed to be firmly in Makiel's pocket?

Eh, who gave a fuck, to be honest? Words like 'anarchy' and 'revolution' were just... so annoying to use. At the end of the day, they were states of affairs and actions, not identities. I couldn't shoehorn everyone I met into slots where I could rank them based on their revolutionary potential.

I'd rather just make friends for now, while the stakes were still low.

Eh, there was always another day.

I closed my eyes and slowly went to sleep.

And then I had a dream.

Chapter 17: Fate Realignment

Chapter Text

The cavernous, dark halls of clan Soma’s archives extended farther than the eye could see.

And within them, I was alone on top of my platformed ladder, picking out the next book. I would read it, input its most valuable core truth into the Algorithm—a tablet with two handprint indents that I had to press my hands into in order to operate—and move on.

There were others around me, doing the same. I couldn’t see them, however. That was by design. They didn’t want us working together, after all.

I read book after book. They were about anything a human could conceivably imagine: A quick DIY guide to making a treehouse from trees made of solid gold with leaves of diamonds.

The annals of Nobleman Haust, the life and times of a Vitruvian aristocrat during the Great Shakeup.

The Ten Commandments of Joy and Death.

Necronic Science 101.

Sensing Lifewind: An Instructional Account.

The History of the Common Spacecraft.

Spot Goes To School.

All of it was… all of it. Nonsense, reality, I couldn’t tell. All of it was different, and very few had anything in common with each other.

My previous working theory was that every book did its best to isolate one facet of reality, foregoing any mentions of whatever facets exist in other books.

That didn’t explain how one problem in one book could be solved by a solution written in another.

My current working theory, as such, was that each book detailed a reality isolated from the others. All these realities existed parallel to one another. Why I had access to all of it, I didn’t know. All I did know was that the rest of reality seemed not to. Otherwise, the young monk named Tripitaka, in his quest to receive some esoteric texts, could have just received them digitally in an e-mail, or via crystallink, instead of going through such a journey.

That brought up other points as well: Were these accounts necessarily real? Some went out of their way to narrate that no, they were not. Others did no such thing. And some got far too deeply into instruction that I could not believe it to be anything else but real.

This was what I did to pass the time between readings: speculation. It was my one and only fulfilling enrichment.

As I continued down the empty archive, flying books flapped their hardcover wings, switching places in the titanic bookshelves. My extendable ladder shifted by fractions as I moved on. I knew that I only needed to do this for a couple more hours before it was over, before I could finally go to sleep and truly consider whatever I had learned. Not of the books, no. The knowledge remained within me, but it had no use, other than to be input into the Algorithm.

It was knowledge of what the books suggested about the nature of reality, beyond my simple role in it: to read, and input my knowledge into the Algorithm.

It was the truth of all reality. And I was starving to find it.

The only light at the end of the tunnel was that dream. That burning ambition to understand all of existence.

And then I woke up, feeling… not well-rested at all.

I need to get back to reading.

Reading what? What—who was I?

Glassy Sky Arelius. From the Soma clan.

No, fuck. The Arelius clan.

“What the fuck ?” I whispered, sitting up on my bed to get my head on straight. What the actual fuck was that dream? It felt so… vivid .

Too vivid, in fact. And uncomfortable.

Profoundly, deeply, and unimaginably uncomfortable. That singular emotion felt more substantial to me than any cheap nightmare with obvious horror elements could. My worst nightmares had never been the fantastical kinds, where horrible beasts hunted me down, or monsters and ghosts terrorized me. It was sleeping in and missing exams, being the only one in class who hadn’t done the homework and being singled out for it, it was disciplinary action for some fuckup or other like a late submission or tardiness.

Actually, on that note, high school had clearly left a deep gash in my psyche. I should probably have talked to somebody about it. Huh. Eh, whatever. School couldn’t hurt me in Cradle.

I would also have dreams of death. Death in the family, exclusively.

My nightmares were feasible , which made them all the more terrifying.

But this was… this hardly felt feasible at all, and yet all I could sense of my emotions was a bone-deep dread and spiritual agony, like my ego was being chipped away at by a pickaxe, for no other reason than to pulverize it, make it as shapeless as sand, so that it could serve some other entity’s desires, fit some other creature’s mould and design.

Slavery.

In that dream, I was a slave. Isolated. Broken. And dutiful.

My distaste was so profound that I couldn’t imagine going back to sleep. Not yet, not until I had conquered this feeling that went beyond fear.

It was just a dream.

It wasn’t real.

Relax.

I breathed calmly, etching the facts deeply into my being. I was doing good. I had a lot to rejoice over, as long as I didn’t consider how I’d lost my old life. My new one was… I couldn’t compare the two, but the sacred arts certainly hadn’t let me down as of yet.

I was good. Beyond that, I wasn’t a slave.

I didn’t go back to sleep. Instead, I just did my morning cycling. With the help of Eithan, I had timed the duration until I achieved maximum stability in my core. It was forty-five minutes. That was an amazing upgrade from my Jade days.

I had also measured how long it took until I ended up risking my sanity. That now took seven hours. An impractically long amount of time to be cycling anyway, since it barely left any time in the day to do other training drills, like spear play or technique practice. Plus, the whole exercise left me mentally exhausted for that entire day, making it so that what little other practice I put in wasn’t nearly as effective as the usual.

Two hours was a good amount of time to go through a continuous cycle between sheer panic, struggling back for control, and steeling your mind for the next bout of sheer panic.

A forty-five minute session of cycling felt like a vacation, to be honest. I knew I already only needed four hours of sleep a day, which according to Eithan was because of my Ethereal Iron body. It didn’t hurt to pad in two more hours every day. I’d still be leaving more than enough time in the day for other pursuits.

And two hours of cycling left me feeling… a certain kind of way. It was like a shower of the mind. Not during the cycling, oh no. But right after it. The feeling of mental replenishment felt like a long and hot shower, the temperature barely on the verge of uncomfortable.

It felt like a drug. Made me feel more confident. More present.

Even if I could get away with forty-five minutes of cycling, I straight up preferred two hours.

Currently, advancement-wise, Eithan had told me that I only needed to cycle my madra and practise my techniques. I was too ‘weak’ to break through the egg inside my spirit that contained the last of the Remnant’s power and will. This would eventually change as the Remnant ‘cooked’ inside my spirit for a while, and the best way to help this cooking process was to practise my Path as much as possible.

That, and the Remnant’s madra was not my current blend of madra. For one, it lacked the same concentration of Light madra as mine had, and was wholly lacking in Force as well.

It had helped when my madra was purposefully lopsided as a Jade, but now that I was Lowgold, any further absorption of the Remnant’s madra could run the risk of unbalancing my Collapsing Star madra. As such, I had to be careful. Before cracking into my Remnant, I needed to unbalance my Collapsing Star madra with additional Force, so that the Remnant would correct the disparity upon my absorption of it.

Thankfully, the amounts didn’t have to line up exactly , since my Collapsing Star madra at its current iteration was very stable. All I needed to do was continue building up a foundation of this madra. Eithan would feed me more elixirs to get me more combat ready as a Lowgold, and then while preparing to make the jump to Highgold, I’d have to cram down as many Force madra scales and elixirs as I could.

It wouldn’t be a pleasant experience, Eithan had promised.

It was a headache and a half, but nothing I couldn’t tough out when the day came.

After I finished cycling, I went downstairs to the practice room that was the ground floor of the manor. It was wide enough to prove adequate for the purposes of my training, and there was nobody there usually.

I took one of the many spears racked on one wall and started going through motions. Until very recently, I’d never been taught anything as ostentatious as forms. Just thrusts and sweeps, the two main things one could do with a spear. And just a drop in the bucket of all the combinations that followed. It was the way of thinking that Eithan and Mu Shu had focused on, not my ability to perfect my movements or maximize force. They taught me how to use the spear to better win .

That was my foundation, but it was no true foundation at all. A proper foundation included proper forms. Eithan knew that I’d be going at this backward, and didn’t care. His opinion was that my increased fighting experience will allow me to better grasp the fundamental movements. Because I knew, from real experience, what was useful in a fight and what wasn’t.

I didn’t believe that at all, but Eithan seemed to. And the knowledge I was able to demonstrate was enough for him, somehow. He really believed I had a baseline level of proficiency. I could believe him if I tried really hard, but really all I could think about was Mu Shu and how far the distance between us was. And if I thought hard enough about it, I could picture that distance.

And he was just a Truegold. What about Arakmedes. No, forget him. What about the Sword Sage ?

I could hardly wrap my head around the sheer genius it took to reach an Icon if Mu Shu’s skill boggled my mind.

It would be a long climb, but I had advantages of my own that would make that climb quicker.

Eithan walked into the training room, with the two Arelius servants in tow. “Ah, Sky!” he said, acting surprised that I was here even though he must have seen it from the moment he woke up, or when I woke up to come down here. “Glad to see you still doing your training.”

“What else is there to do?” I asked him.

“You tell me,” Eithan said. “You never struck me as the disciplined type when I first met you. Glad to see that has thoroughly changed.”

A shift in priorities will do that to ya. “Thank you. Continue stroking my ego if you would. This is only the first compliment to my brilliance I have heard today.”

“Hmm, no,” Eithan said. “Today, we are going to do something different. Hand to hand combat against Marius and Octavius here using only your Iron body,” he said, gesturing to each of them. Marius was a tall and skinny blond, a typical Arelian, while Octavius was also tall, but just a hair more pudgy. And instead of the long hair that Eithan seemed to have popularized, Octavius wore a spartan buzzcut that made him seem a little too tough to just be a cleaner.

I reached my senses to their spirits, just enough to get a feel for their advancement. I tried to make the scan as light as possible, knowing how people in Cradle felt about being scanned. The best I could make out was that their madra was a similar level to mine: Lowgold.

“Hello,” I said to them. They gave me polite nods back. I turned to the weapon rack and walked up to it to return my spear, then lightly jogged back to them. “I’m really inexperienced with fists,” I said with what I hoped was a warm smile. “Go easy on me.”

“No,” Eithan said. “Absolutely crush him,” he said. “Give it your best!”

Both of them stepped forward and I took a step back. “Wait, hold on, both of them?” What the fuck?

Eithan giggled. “You need this much to make it a worthwhile training session. Remember: only Iron bodies. You can do it.”

Wait, really?

…Was I that strong? I thought my Iron body was weak .

Alright then.

Here goes nothing.

The closest was Marius, and rather than wait for them to pen me in, I decided to dart into his guard with a very textbook jab. Marius dodged it with ease even though his movements were slower than mine, and then it dawned on me: he was a fucking Arelius.

Oh god. Okay. Faster. Needed to be fast—

Octavius ended up catching my arm. I tried to pull back. His hold was ironclad.

Then he threw my entire body above his head, and at the top of the arc, the entire world was upside down, until it very suddenly, and very loudly wasn’t.

I landed back first against the hardwood floor, all the air driven out of my lungs at once. My head was filled with static noise and I couldn’t see anything. The hell happened to my eyes?

They were closed.

I opened them to find Marius and Octavius looking at me from above, Octavius wearing a sheepish smile.

I took a moment to collect myself so I could hear what Eithan was going on about.

“...undoubtedly too weak.”

What the fuck?

Then why send both of them after me?

Okay, let’s go over what I knew about my Iron body, from what Eithan had already told me. He said that speed would be my only friend. I would indeed get a strength bonus, but it couldn’t compare to the average Iron body, at least in its baseline form.

Eithan’s bluff had filled me with a measure of overconfidence, and I wouldn’t deny that, but having this difference in strength shoved into my face like that was… something else.

I stood up shakily, with labored breaths.

“In my defence, honored Patriarch,” Octavius said, his voice gentler than his outward appearance would suggest. “I did not expect him to be so light.”

“And that makes me weaker,” I said. “Because force is mass times acceleration.” That was still true even in Cradle. “Also, fuck you,” I said to Eithan, using the English words because Cradleian was too pussy for curses. “What was this supposed to prove?”

“That you’re weak,” Eithan said. “Not only are you weak. You are helplessly weak. Your Iron body at this point is a disadvantage. Your techniques are your only savior. That is, unless you play smarter.”

“If I had a spear—”

“And if you didn’t?” Eithan interrupted, but he didn’t finish his sentence. I understood.

“Alright then,” I said. “What am I supposed to do? Because these two are a bad matchup if the answer is ‘guile’ or ‘cunning’. They will see everything I try to pull.”

“That’s exactly why they’re a good matchup!” Eithan said. “Because it’s hard for you. Today, this will be your training. Try to last as long as you can against either one of them. A round ends when you fall on the floor.”

An evidently, from what the next four hours would suggest, only Eithan could decide when training time was over. Marius and Octavius beat the shit out of me. And not in a soft , kiddie-gloves way either. I felt like the skinniest guy in a free-for-all that included Baki characters. Their strength trivialized whatever force I could directly exert, and the only strategy I had going for me was my speed. Since I was lighter, I was equally fucked when it came to head-on collisions. My only recourse was to hit and not get hit. And the ‘not get hit’ part was of paramount significance.

That was me. A scorpion lashing its tail and getting the fuck out of dodge before the bigger animal could stomp me.

On the bright side, that total lack of options aside from ‘hit and don’t get hit’ made my playstyle easier to wrap my head around. In the end, it wasn’t so far from what I was already doing with my spear. It was just harder because the spear gave me extra reach. With only my fists, I was forced to take far more risks.

After four hours of practice, Eithan finally announced an end to the agony. By that point, my body was bruised and battered, my nose bleeding and my eye swelling up.

“You guys,” I panted on the floor. “Are good . You really,” I panted. “Just servants?”

“Yes,” Marius replied simply, a man of few words.

Was he also just fucking with me? Can’t ever trust a damn Arelius, can you?

Seriously, he was dogwalking me, and he’s not even that special. Sure, I didn’t have access to my Path, but the difference was just way too stark.

“The young master’s path is strong,” Octavius said. “And makes up for his deficiencies.”

I chuckled. “I’m… not a young master. You don’t have to refer to me as that. I’m not even a blood member of the clan.”

“Yes,” Octavius conceded. “But you have been adopted as the disciple of the Patriarch, who himself has bequeathed unto you membership of the clan. You are a young master. Hence why you are allowed to behave in the way that you are.”

I sat up. “Wait, behave how?”

Octavius shrugged. “Well, your… irreverent speech and informality, for one. Many would see this as rude, but it befits your station.”

Wait, fuck. “Uh… are you talking about my language skills? I’m a beginner, so I didn’t really pay the… formality parts any mind.” Oh god. Now that I really thought about it, it was true that there were levels to Cradle’s language. There was ‘I am a worm’ level, ‘I am a respected subordinate’ level, ‘I’m just like you’, ‘I am better than you’ and finally, ‘ You are a worm’.

I knew this, but my brain just defaulted to the ‘I’m just like you’ speech, which I always just thought was the safest bet, and I never thought to ask questions about it.

Wait a fucking second, didn’t I speak that way to Daishou? ‘Hey, Underlord, I’m a Copper and just like you .’ Yeah, no wonder he wanted my head. Sheesh.

“Wait,” I said. “My speech holds you in higher regard then,” I said. “Why is that so wrong?”

“That is a misrepresentation of my station, and can be considered rude,” Octavius said. Wait, oh… oh .

Eithan just laughed. “Ah, I see now. Mu Shu told me that he found you far too arrogant and rude. Even someone as laidback as him took exception to your way of speaking.”

“Why didn’t you ?”

“ I don’t care,” Eithan said with a genuine laugh.

“No,” I muttered. “ No ,” I said a little louder. This couldn’t be . Goddamn it, say it ain’t so.

Am I expected to switch up my speech to accommodate every hierarchy I will come across? Expected to put others down in my head?

“No,” I said again, and stood up. “I’m keeping at it,” I said. “Octavius, Marius, apologies for seeming rude, but… quite frankly, the conventions of this language offends me. I would rather maintain neutral speech against everyone than put others beneath me for the sake of propriety.”

Eithan laughed. “ Hoh ! Why, I must introduce you to high society as soon as I can!”

Yeah, that sounded like a recipe for disaster.

But also fun. Maybe I should hold him to that promise. A little bit of chaos never hurt nobody. Besides, wasn’t this an opportunity to accidentally offend old monsters? Why, I’d be a real xianxia protagonist at this rate!

“That being said,” I said, and gave both servants a bow. “Thank you for taking the time to be my sparring partners, even if Eithan was the one that asked. And I know that thanking someone for doing their duty can also be considered rude, but it’s a relic of my culture, so don’t look much into it. I just hold your time and effort in the same esteem as I hold my own.”

Octavius grimaced, but his expression slowly morphed into an awkward smile. “Thank you, I suppose.”

“Thank you,” Marius said, clearly not as outwardly conflicted. I liked him. He clearly wasn’t paid enough to care. Good on him for living unaffected by this world’s bullshit like that.

“Is this the way you will talk to people from now on?” Eithan asked. “Constantly explaining yourself in order to not come off as rude?”

“No, I’ll just be the worst foreigner stereotype imaginable, forcing my own conventions on others and expecting them to accept it,” I said, then smiled cutely to reduce the sting. “Or, you know, I’ll just die. Seems preferable at this point.”

All of that being said, maybe I should make an effort to shift formality levels instead of being headstrong about it. The foreigner card can only take one so far after all, and it would be easier on all parties if I just capitulated. I’d gain nothing from being the ignorant foreigner.

That sounded like hard work, though.

Being an immigrant was hard work. That was coming from someone who’d already learned the language. Two, in fact. All that was just adding the ability to communicate. Now I was expected to change my whole vibe to fit the mould.

I couldn’t help the fact that I considered it rude to enforce hierarchy in speech, but I could get over it in time.

Eithan patted my shoulder comfortingly, and then presented me with a tiny box. I opened it, and found a pill inside, likely medicinal. “You will learn in time,” Eithan said as I swallowed the pill and instantly felt relief as my swellings reduced.

Onto less painful topics. “When can I next expect to be brutalized?”

“At this rate, I should give it another week,” Eithan replied. “You’re catching on to the main principles of your most effective fighting style. All that remains is to perfect it.”

Cradle was a mistake.

000

I’ve read on many occasion a concept known as suicide. Basically, it’s the forced cessation of life functions against a being, perpetrated by that very same being, usually through violent means. Sometimes, gravity is involved. Other times, it’s poison, or medicine in such high amounts that it becomes poison.

Projectiles released at a sufficient velocity to cause bodily damage is one such method as well, among many others.

Usually, it’s done so that the being can escape a long-lasting predicament, or maybe their emotions were so shaken that they lose all rationality and refuse to consider a life as things currently are.

I never really understood this subject, even comparing my own situation to theirs . I still felt no need to ever destroy myself, even though I should objectively also be experiencing this thing called despair. It soon became apparent that either the feeling known as despair was fictional, I was incapable of feeling it, or perhaps I was incapable of identifying the feeling.

To feel despair, I needed its antithesis, joy, which I also didn’t think existed. I had felt amusement before, but joy eluded me every time I tried to claw for it.

Still, I never felt sad about that.

Why?

I couldn’t dwell too long on that question. I still had work to do after all.

Then suddenly, my surroundings, the infinite corridor of books, my ladder which I used to scale the bookshelf’s heights, and the book in my hand, all disappeared. And I was in a room with another person.

My supervisor, wearing gray robes. Different from my white robes. A step above in the hierarchy.

I always felt a weird way when I looked at him. Something in my heart bubbled, and I had no idea what it was, but it made it hard for me to speak right. I never picked the exact words I wanted, when I was off-script at least. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, however. I yearned for it. Was this a desire for human contact? Was I a social animal? Then why was I always denied socialization? Seemed strange to me, but I wouldn't ask any questions.

For now, I would be on-script until I was ordered otherwise.

I gave my name number, my progress, and my algorithm feedback. The gray-robed man, dark-skinned with heavy wrinkles, blackened lips and coiling gray hair, waited patiently while I recited the script.

“You’ve done well, 49054561294506,” the supervisor said with his weathered old voice. “Better than most. Now, I wish to test you. Your mission is to endure chaos, inuring yourself to it, such that your view of the future becomes unparalleled. That is what we cultivate here. True future sight.”

Ah. That was news to me.

Okay, then.

“Do you want me to read something?” I asked.

From under his wooden desk, he pulled out a pitch black book with pages white as could be, and slid it towards me. “Yes. Read this.”

I picked up the weird book, opened it, and read.

And for a pregnant moment, my mind became infinite, all-knowing, all-seeing, every mystery of every particle in every universe revealed to me all at once.

Quickly, my sight constrained itself to only this universe. And then not even that. I lost memories as my sight reduced, but eventually, it stopped.

Then I started reading.

About Wei Shi Lindon. Then Yerin. Then Wei Shi Lindon Arelius, Yerin Arelius, Eithan Arelius.

A duel to the death.

Entry into a vaunted military power.

The exploration of a research facility in ruins.

Contact with the world’s foremost powers, becoming their representatives.

But that... that story was framed within a larger context that I could hardly fathom. A mother and a father bringing me into this world, doting on me, nagging at me. We were at odds at times, none of us were perfect, but we were a family, and we never turned away from each other despite our myriad differences.

They spawned my siblings, companions in life whose bonds we forged together went deeper than anything I could imagine.

I went toschool.

I heardsongs. Songs that I knew from what I had read already in the archives. Were these dreams, then? What part of this was real, and what part was false?

I was a bit of an oddball. Never friendless or outcast. Just odd. Nothing was wrong with that. I appreciated other humans. How could I not? My soul thirsted for them. I was never the best at impressing them or taming the wilder ones, turning them docile in my presence. Sometimes, they would hurt me. Sometimes, I would hurt them, too.

It was an existence like any of the billions in that world, but it meant the world to me.

An identity.

Not a name number. Aname. Love. Hatred. Indifference.

In this unimaginably vast dream of an entire life, I was once again reading Cradle.

Yerin won the Uncrowned King Tournament, subverting my every expectation of the crew going on the run, advancing in secret away from the ravages of the dragons. I expected they would become avengers, not heroes. And when the time came, they would become heroes in truth, saving the world from the Dreadgods.

But Yerin's victory spared my heart to the darker turn that this story could have taken, and I was grateful for this turn of events.

Without having noticed precisely when that feeling started, I could plainly say that I was currently feeling it. I could finally feel that emotion that had eluded me all of my life.

Joy.

At the end of the eighth volume, the black book became too much to bear for my exhausted mind, and I fell to my knees panting.

My joy lingered for a moment.

Then it washed away.

And then, finally, I could feel it.

My despair.

For only once I had seen the light could I truly understand the profundity of the darkness that had enshrouded me for all these years.

Why was I here? Why couldn’t I be anywhere else?

I was forced to do this. I had no other choice. Not even the information that I had another choice, any other lifepath.

This couldn’t be it, though, could it? All of existence? This companionless, empty existence? No parents or siblings or other humans to impress or disappoint?

“What did you see?” the supervisor asked me.

“Can I go away from here?” I asked. “And live with people?”

The supervisor clicked his tongue. “This always happens,” he muttered. “ No ,” he said. “The life you saw was false. It was not even pulled from a true iteration, but a possible future, a branch of time that will never see the light of day. None of the people you encountered within your visions were real. And if you continue to insist, I will not kill you. I will inflict unimaginable pain upon you. Death will be a mercy that you will be denied time and time again.”

Aw.

“Putting that aside, you have crossed a most important threshold today,” he said. “Your reading gives you the right to become a gray robe, and you may become a supervisor of your own.”

Oh, okay. Sounds… good, I guess? No, not really, but it was something.Maybe I'd get to talk to other Gray Robes?

I stood up and thought for a moment. “What did I see? Well, I saw this guy—”

And then the world itself shifted, yet again.

I was in an unimaginably tall and wide dome-shaped room, metal gray and shiny. And around me were countless people dressed exactly the same as me, in white, featureless robes. The supervisor was ahead of me, with a bunch of people that looked to be his age, wearing their gray uniforms. And before them was yet another crowd of black robed elders.

And before all of us, floating in the middle of the room, was a man with an eggshell white armor and a rodent-like face.

“Clan Soma of the Everwood continent of Cradle. The charges brought against you are as follows,” the man pronounced clearly. “Conspiracy to deviate the fate of Iteration 110: Cradle. Conspiracy to incite chaotic incursions. Conspiracy to connect Cradle to another iteration.” And on the man went, citing nineteen more charges before he was done. “Make no mistake: your criminality is certain, for the eyes of the Hound sees all. That being said, we recognize that there are those among you who are innocent and exploited laborers. Those who don’t wear gray or black robes: you are free to return to your home iteration and try your best to survive the coming challenges. You will be granted an allotment of local currency as reparation.

“Those who wear gray and black, however, are to answer for their crimes. Whatever is to eventually occur during this trial period, your return to Cradle is out of the question. If you walk free, you are to be given citizenship in Threshold, where you will be further processed.”

Ah, but what about me, who was still a white-robe, but had just been promoted to supervisor?

The man—wait, didn’t his description almost totally match Kiuran of the Hounds from volume seven? Was he perhaps assigned to Cradle on a full-time basis?

Well anyway, he clapped his hands, and for the fourth time today, my perspective shifted, and my question, too, was answered in one go.

I was… somewhere. Weird. There were thin and long green things under my feet.

Grass, I presumed.

Up was… blue. Way too blue. It hurt my eye. In the corner of my vision, I spotted a… thing.

I tried to look at it.

Ouch. That hurt. Wow, that really hurt. Maybe I should look away.

It was the sun , wasn’t it?

Yes, it all made sense now! That was the sun !

I laughed. My despair was gone. Joy was there now. Lots of it. This felt nice. I looked around and saw big brown logs called trees , with grass on their tops called leaves . Was the ground one big tree, and all the grass were leaves? No. There was soil beneath my feet, wasn’t there?

I was starting to get the concept. This world was reminiscent of a specific subset of worlds that I had read of. My head was a massive whirl of worlds of all kinds and shapes and laws, but many of those worlds shared similarities.

And while this particular type of world wasn’t the majority, it did make up a plurality of the kinds of worlds that existed. The most easily classifiable kinds at least.

What else was notable? Humans. People like me. Animals. Dogs, deer, pigs, lions, elephants, manatees. Among many others. Plants, fungus.

So many things ! So much to ponder !

I pondered more as I walked, just happy to finally experience knowledge instead of just reading it. This was truly the best way to learn.

Learn… and do what?

Accumulate currency, power and acclaim and acquire female or male companionship.

That was what people in these worlds usually did, didn’t they?

And what I was doing all along would be considered slavery in such worlds. And slavery was bad.

But I was no longer a slave.

And what did that make me?

My name number?

People in these worlds did not have name numbers unless they were slaves or prisoners. And didn’t Kiuran reveal to me that this world was truly where I came from?

Maybe I should try and investigate exactly what place the Soma clan had in this world?

Or maybe I should put as much distance between me and this particular area as humanly possible, to get as far away from the Soma clan as I could? Yes, that sounded a lot better.

There was a weird bulge in my pocket, which usually never contained anything. I put my hand in it, took the object out, and saw that it was a pouch. Inside the pouch, there were… scales . Currency.

What were they good for again? Goods and services, right.

Okay. I needed to find someone that could tell me where to find someone that could get me away from here.

000

I woke up once again in a cold sweat.

Once again, I felt relieved that all of that was just a dream. It took a more optimistic turn this time around, but—

I kept walking until I found civilization.

No, not me . Dream-me. And why was I still dreaming? Still thinking?

No, this wasn’t thinking. This wasn’t imagination. This couldn’t be anything else but exactly one thing: recollection.

He stumbled upon civilization. He talked with strangers and gained directions to a cloudship port. And he paid a hefty sum to get taken as far as the cloudship would carry him.

And then, he said something he shouldn’t have said, offended the wrong guy, and received a slap to his head from a guy with an Iron body. A dope-slap, nothing more. Just a 'hush, boy' and an annoyed wave of his hands that happened to hit his head. To anyone else with an Iron body, it would have only stung slightly.

It knocked him out cold.

And then…

Dessicated trees in a dead forest. Sounds of war in the far distance. Death in the air, a thick, cloying, putrid stench.

The desolate wilds.

And unlike a dream, the memory would not leave me.

Not on account of Historian this time around. Even that wasn’t very good for helping me recall dreams. And that made sense. The normal part of your brain in charge of remembering shit wasn’t exactly operating 100% when you were asleep. Same with being blackout drunk. Your brain could only really record memories in certain circumstances.

But I could remember this with crystal clarity.

And my life in Soma. And the million books that I read.

A couple of them were… about Earth.

“Why?” I asked.

Why the fuck was I 49054561294506 of Clan Soma’s white robe department, and also me , some guy from Earth who lived a normal life and never did anything crazy?

It was bullshit.

I wasn’t 49054561294506. Wasn’t possible. That would imply that he read so many Earth books that he was able to patch together an incredibly detailed tapestry of a guy’s 20 years of life on another planet.

How the fuck would one such as he know the names of so many different schools, districts, cities, countries ? What about cultural references and languages?

The black book. The black book had seemed to draw together every tidbit of information I had on Earth, or Earth-like planets, and it created... my life in a vision. A vision that I had experienced while gaining knowledge of Cradle's future.

And in an explosion of mental fireworks, it dawned on me.

Fate realignment.

Fate will realign and reality will alter to accommodate your presence, protecting you from Abidan reprisal

The entity that had sent me here? It had factored me into the lore of Cradle.

In the single-most psychosis-inducing method too, nonetheless.

I held my stomach, taking deep breaths to calm my growing nausea and disorientation. I had… I remembered too much right now.

Occam’s Razor, motherfucker. Hold onto that.

What was more likely? That fucking… whatever that was? Or the simpler explanation of a bastard random omnipotent being playing a game?

How could that backstory explain how my drawback, Frozen Heart, literally spoke to me? Where did that come from? And Historian as well. Where did that--

Training. 49054561294506 had received training as a young child. I remembered men with scalpels approaching my tied up self. The cuts on my head. Then I felt nothing at the top of my skull, but they were still poking around, shuffling things, making mefeel things,think things against my will.

And from then on, I could remember everything all the time.

The Gray Robes gave me Historian, to remember everything that I could, to help feed the Algorithm to create a perfect map of the future.

They gave me Mind Reborn too, a yearly procedure to prevent myself from falling into despair, though they had claimed it would help me rebalance my priorities.

Wait, then what about 'Good Looking'? Why in the fuck would they give me that?Did they give me that? I think by now I should just accept that that particular perk was a scam. I didn't look particularly drop-dead handsome either, I think. I just liked the way that I looked. Nothing more to it.

And the Monarch Butterflies? Encounter of the Smug Kind? The former bent reality to accommodate my vision of the future, while the latter put me at exactly the right starting spot to enter Cradle's plot.

49054561294506's journey had been a specific one, upon further recollection. He hadn't just gone anywhere. His destination was specifically as near to Northern Ashwind and the Desolate Wilds as possible. He'd ran his scales out taking every cloudship that would take him to this wasteland.

But the timing couldn't be easily explained. I still made itjust in time.

That could be a coincidence. And the Butterflies perk that helped stabilize the timeline, so things happened approximately the same as they did in the books, could also be just as much of a scam as the 'Good Looking' perk. I couldn't trust either of them, couldn't trust all my memories of the Black Book.

If my supervisor was truly not lying, then... all of Earth was not even a real iteration, but a possible timeline that would likely never see the light of day.

No, forget that. Moving on. Adrenaline junkie. That wasn't necessarily an ability more than it was a trait. And it made sense for a person that had lived such a repressed life to be so affected by adrenaline.

Finally... Cold Heart. Why do I have that, and why would they give me that? I was never expected to do anything as violent as hurt someone.

Was this... a prerequisite to being a Gray Robe? My supervisor had threatened to torture me for wanting to leave. And those assholes who had operated on me as a child to give me Historian hadn't particularly cared at how much pain I was in.

Or maybe my total lack of socialization for the twenty years I had been alive had taken an unimaginable toll on my psyche, and the black book that gave me my identity could only reverseso much.

But how did that explainFrozen Heart? This ability wasn't just mental illness. It was supernatural, and it came with conditions too.

Conditions told to me by a hallucination.

The only way to confirm the condition would be to test it, and seeing as my life was on the line, that was out of the question. There was an equal chance that Frozen Heart could just be a mental switch that turned me back to that joyless, empty vessel that I was back in Clan Soma, before the Black Book could expose me to a normal existence. And perhaps this turning back could only be rectified through advancement.

Was Frozen Hearttruly supernatural? Psychopathy existed in real life. Switching to and from it was the more supernatural aspect, but even that could be explained by science. The brain was still largely a black box after all.

I snorted.

Maybe it could all be explained by my Black Book vision?

Maybe I wasn't real?

I pinched my eyes shut and shook my head, pulling myself out from this pit of thought as hard as I humanly could.

No. I reject it. I reject it all. It was bullshit, all of it.

I grunted, tears pushing through my eyes as I forced myself to forget and center myself, no matter how much sense it made that my entire life on Earth was a lie.

I am not 49054561294506.

And frankly, as much as it sucks to finally come to terms with it, I am also not my Earth self. Not since the City of Broken Stars.

Number-Man got eaten by my Earth self after reading the Black Book, then especially after receiving retrograde amnesia and turning up in the Desolate Wilds. Thenhe got crushed into a powder and snorted by Sky when he reached Gold.

And that’s me now.

“Glassy Sky Arelius.”

Nothing had to change after this. All this meant was that I had an identity in terms of the Way. I wasn’t just an interloper. I was in fact a native. A native with an unimaginably tragic backstory, and probably a little bit of residual trauma that I now had to shake off, which was total bullshit. But it was a backstory nonetheless.

One that was eerily similar to the bullshit I fed Lindon about growing up in a library.

Okay then, that one was on me, BROB.

Because let's be honest, this was all just a mind game of some sadistic entity.

It was a lie. All of it. None of it had anything to do with my true identity. I was Glassy Sky Arelius and no one else anymore. And to dwell more on my identity crisis would only slow me down. Maybe I could talk about it to somebody? Maybe Eithan would give me some good advice, or perhaps I’d freak the poor Underlord out even more?

I’d know what to do after I finished my daily cycling.

Chapter 18: Revelations and Ambitions

Chapter Text

I cycled for around three hours after that dream, which left me feeling a lot more energized, but also slightly anxious and uncomfortable for the day. That was the consequence that too much cycling had on my mind. Too little, and I’d feel too worry-free and undriven. Too much, and I’d get too anxious.

Three hours was overcorrecting on my mental turmoil, and it didn’t do me much good joy-wise. It did help me focus more on my current task, even if the stress from the night before hadn’t completely disappeared.

Round two against Octavius and Marius was predictably very painful, but I was inching closer to my META. Both of them could take a hit, which meant that I had to take a lot more risks to hit them, dancing away from their blows, watching their entire bodies for signs of an imminent attack, and praying to my lucky stars that whatever hit I let slip past my guard wouldn’t debilitate me. Every loss was a lesson learned.

I elected to extend our training for another two hours just to eke out every benefit that I could. After that, I did hours of technique training and spear forms, enough that my channels and muscles became sore from overuse.

At the end of the day, my one and only solace was that I could look back on a long day of productive training.

Predictably, I wasn’t my usual chatterbox self in my dinner with Eithan.

I had no illusions that my silence would continue for very long. I was just waiting for him to ask me about it, because he knew everything after all.

After a particularly long and awkward pause, Eithan raised the topic with the finesse of an elephant stacking plastic cups. “So you won’t tell me what is bothering you? Or are you merely waiting for me to ask?”

I heaved a long sigh. I opened my mouth to say something, and then I considered my words, and found them to be so fucking funny that I laughed.

Not a healthy chuckle or a knee-slapping laugh, but a full-on howler-monkey laughter. What the fuck was I about to say, anyway? ‘The bastard random omnipotent being that sent me here to fuck with me decided to give me a fucked up backstory that I just now ‘remembered’ last night while I was sleeping’?

After I finally calmed down, I decided… what was wrong with that? It basically gave him the gist of it.

“The bastard random omnipotent being that sent me here—ah, yes, that’s how I’m here, by the way, because some all-powerful creature I have no real knowledge or understanding of saw me fill out a form for what I wanted to be if I was to ever transmigrate to my favorite fictional novel series, that is, this place—gave me a backstory for the last two nights. Any bits you need elaboration on?”

“What was the backstory?” Eithan asked, attempting his best to remain unruffled. Thank you for not asking about BROB, though. I really didn’t want to talk about that.

“During my filling out of this little form, which I did as a joke with a friend of mine, there was a line that stated that ‘fate will realign to accommodate my presence’. Basically, I’m a part of Cradle’s future now. Meaning my shenanigans shouldn’t be too disruptive or problematic.”

Eithan raised an eyebrow at that. “I would hope so. You now have memories of a Cradle native?”

“Barely,” I said. “Not really, even. That guy’s situation was weird. In order to factor in my lack of sacred arts, I was raised to perform this really menial labor that did not require any sacred arts whatsoever. That’s not important though, since it’s all a fabrication. That man did not exist until two nights ago.”

“I can sense that you don’t wish to delve into these memories,” Eithan said. “Though I must ask, because I have no other choice: but are you certain those memories are a fabrication?”

I sighed. And then I told him the entire story of Number Boy the prescient librarian.

“Ah,” Eithan said at the end of that. “Alright.”

“ Alright ?” I asked.

“Yes,” Eithan said. Then he smiled his smug smile, to annoy me. Which was, strictly speaking, astounding of him to do considering how legitimately distraught I was. I was currently trying my best not to cry after having to tell him this, and I had no idea whether or not he believed the BROB explanation, or that I really was just Number Boy and was confused about my own identity due to the Black Book.

He was lucky he was cute. Maybe that was what he was doing, distracting me from my despair by injecting a bit of irritation? Well, it worked. Kind of.

“Nothing more to say to that?” I asked.

“No,” Eithan replied, shaking his head with a slight furrow in his eyebrows. Then he went back to that same smile. Okay, fuck you, then.

But I was grateful, to be honest. I really didn’t want him to poke at the story. I wasn’t ready for even the slightest possibility that I really was Number Boy.

“Anyway, this… sort of leads into… a thing I wanted to discuss with you for a while now, but I was…” Too pussy? I took a deep breath then started rambling. “Well, I thought you’d kill me for this, but I’m out of shits to give at this point, so I’m just going to go ahead and say it, after I give some backstory.” Eithan’s expression didn’t change, but I tried not to read him. If my death was inevitable, I’d rather not anticipate it. Seemed less stressful that way.

Besides, I didn’t think he’d really kill me. He wasn’t the type.

I hoped.

But if he was the type, then I wouldn’t want to associate with him anyway. I considered ‘killing me’ to be quite a big red flag.

In any case, this had to come out at least right about now, while we could still save as many lives as we could in the Blackflame Empire from the impending disaster. “You know your great-great-great-great-great-probably-more-greats-grandfather, Ozzy, right? Well, he’s… kind of a runaway. He gave up on his duty to reap worlds afflicted by chaos, and is currently nowhere to be found. It was one of the great mysteries of the books, you see. You’re aware of the gist of his personal project and what he requires of us, but in the meanwhile, he’s literally nowhere to be found, and this is causing some issues heavenside, though it’s probably nothing that will end up affecting Cradle,” Eithan nodded along. “And then Suriel—a person on par with Ozriel rank-wise—descended and caused some ripples of her own in the form of Lindon. She was the one that saved his life from an extradimensional incursion and showed him a way to saving his valley from a Dreadgod attack in thirty years. Neither Ozriel nor Suriel did anything strictly illegal in terms of heavenly law. They are restricted from interfering with the fate of a world, but individuals, they can influence. At the end of the day, their effect is negligible compared to the momentum of fate. Or whatever. I don’t really understand it myself. I have a different understanding of causality, and I think even the slightest interference can cause ripples that will deviate possible futures, but I guess it works differently here. Anyway.” I took a break to breathe and get back on topic. “Suriel influenced Lindon. Ozriel influenced you. And then you met . And that, my friend, has created issues .”

“Really, now?” Eithan asked. “If I recall correctly, you pointed me to him.”

See, that’s the issue.

“Quick tangent,” I said. “If I really was Number Boy, I wouldn’t be able to have predicted the actions of Abidan judges, so it’s safe to say that the story is a fabrication. It only makes sense.”

“The alternative—that this world, including my entire life, exists in novel-form and is entirely fictional—is equally disconcerting, to me at least,” Eithan said. Ouch. I forgot about that. As mindfucked as I had been getting for the past two days, Eithan was getting his fair share of the same as well. “But do go on about those heavenly matters. I’m curious how that relates to our situation. I would especially like to know why you pointed me to Lindon, knowing whatever ill fate our meeting would cause.”

Not getting out of that one very easily, was I?

“You would have gone to him without my interference,” I said. “Or I could have told you this before you met Lindon, and you never would have crossed paths, but then the future I know would never happen, and trust me. It’s… it’s a good future! Lindon becomes a Sage and Yerin becomes a Herald, the first ever to become a Herald at Overlord as well, and all that happens in two, maybe three years!”

“And why should I kill you for this?” Eithan asked.

“So one of the guys up-top hates Ozriel’s guts,” I said. “I don’t know if I should even say his name, to be honest, since he might actually notice. In any case, in around a couple of weeks, he and Suriel should have a meeting discussing Ozriel’s whereabouts and what to do with Cradle’s deviated fate situation. Suriel argues against excising Lindon and you, and they come to a compromise. They will alter fate in order to create circumstances that will naturally pressure you to ascend from Cradle.”

“What do they do?” Eithan asked, perfectly pleasantly, but I didn’t fall for that facade for one second.

Well, here goes nothing.

“Around the point when Lindon and Jai Long duel, the Bleeding Phoenix awakens, first among the rest of her kind. Eventually we’ll have to contend with the Wandering Titan as well. But yes, Cradle is in for some redecoration.”

No other way to put it than to be as blunt as possible. I had pussyfooted long enough. Time to face the music.

Eithan didn’t react, his face still frozen in a contemplative smile. Oh god, he was going to make me wait for it, wasn’t he?

I took a deep breath to speak—

I held my tongue as I felt my spirit being pushed down and squeezed . I could identify this same feeling from the Broken Star City, when my spirit was doing flips every time the people around me got ready to fight, and back then I didn’t have the capacity to feel fear.

Now, I could finally get around to the fact that maybe my then-Jade spirit wasn’t such a pussy after all?

My expression was locked in a wide-mouthed grin, eyes widened in terror. I let out a nervous chuckle, but failed to produce any coherent words.

Wow .

Well, this was better than the alternative I imagined, of Eithan jumping over the table to choke me out.

The pressure disappeared suddenly, and I gasped for breath.

“Yes,” Eithan said. “I am beginning to understand why you suspected such a brutal outcome as me killing you for this. Suffice it to say, I am not happy to learn that I am the cause of an impending disaster, one that you helped orchestrate no less.” Man, if I didn’t have Cold Heart, I’d really feel like shit right about now. Thankfully, I could still think things through rationally, without getting bogged down by an inefficient conscience.

I threw my hands up to my side. “For what it’s worth, I made this gamble because I believe in us. This bull excrement makes it so that the Uncrowned Tournament happens early. Before that even, we get to go to Ghostwater and become Truegolds. And who is to say that this wouldn’t happen with just you and me in the equation? I might have gotten factored into Cradle’s fate, but I still have a ton of chaotic potential. I literally know the future. Things might have turned out similarly. And if I did absolutely nothing, you would have met Lindon anyway. In the end, I can’t see how this could be avoided. And besides, I would hate to rob Lindon of these opportunities.”

“Not even to spare billions of lives?” Eithan asked, disapproval radiating off of him.

“That, we will,” I said, with certainty in my voice. “In the future . Listen. I don’t know what you said that caused all of that drama back in Rosegold, but I know one thing. The Dreadgods need to go , and if this is what it takes to make sure we have enough Monarchs on the ground, on our side, to make a difference, then what else can we do? And for what it’s worth, this wasn’t your fault. This was the fault of a gerontocracy that refuses to mind individual lives, and is obsessed with this ‘big picture’ myth that they don’t care how many lives they destroy. They are the system that both you and your first patriarch are fighting to destroy.”

Eithan nodded in silence and contemplated my words for a moment. He was more serious than I had ever seen him before. And in that seriousness, he looked… different. Like his face had changed or something. That wasn’t the case, though. His face just never made such an expression, so it only looked like it was different. Like it belonged on a different man. One that had seen far more. The destruction of his home. The death of all he held dear.

Then I remembered something, and I cursed myself for holding out on him for so long.

“Some good news you might appreciate: Cladia is still alive.”

Eithan’s eyes widened. Then he smiled a little. “That is good to hear.”

I mirrored his grin.

“Also,” I continued. “It could be that pointing you to Lindon and Yerin was the last time I was ever right about the future. If I’m really… from the Soma clan, a clan of dream readers from Cradle , then there is no guarantee that any of my predictions will ever be accurate henceforth. Even the Dreadgod thing might never actually happen. I don’t… know,” I said.

I couldn’t know. The ‘Monarch Butterflies’ perk was such a Hail Mary to rely on that it sounded stupid to even do so.

The Bleeding Phoenix’s path might deviate and never even hit Ghostwater’s world anchor. The Monarchs might not announce a tournament for several years yet. And the Bleeding Phoenix might never even awaken at all.

All of it was at the mercy of a prediction made by a Foundation nobody meddling with powers beyond his comprehension.

Me .

Eithan cleared his voice with a polite cough, and then he bowed his head. “Glassy Sky, I apologize for my conduct.” Ah thank fucking God, I wasn’t going to die today. That was such a relief.

I waved my hand. “I didn’t take it very personally.” It was just my spirit, after all. Kind of a new addition to my identity. Wouldn’t care much if he spat on it even, at least not yet.

“For whatever it’s worth,” Eithan said. “I believe that your predictions, grand and improbable as they are, are frighteningly accurate.”

“Thus far,” I said.

“Simply trust me on this one,” Eithan said. “I believe in you. Now. That being said, I would like for you to tell me everything you know,” Eithan braided his fingers together. “Or at the very least, a general rundown of things that are most relevant to me. I believe that your knowledge can only be fully utilized if I participate in the planning process. And besides, I held up my end of the bargain: you have power. Worst case scenario, you will end up a Truegold. Now I want more information. What do you say?”

“You have already fulfilled the terms of our bargain,” I said. “To allow me a place to follow you and your ancestor’s dream. And you helped empower me as well. More information is definitely in order now.”

There was the Bleeding Phoenix, the Skysworn entrance exams, Akura Mercy’s introduction, Ghostwater, Eithan going Skysworn just to keep an eye on us, then finally the book Underlord, which was basically just UKT prep. I told him everything that I could, that also wasn’t a massive breach of privacy.

“With me in the mix, the tournament might get a little weird. If we spare Harmony, which I personally think is the smartest choice to make all things considered, Lindon might not get kidnapped by the Akura, which would leave only three slots for us all. You would take one because Malice herself wills it. And I mean it, she wants you in that tournament, so don’t try to advance just for my sake. With Lindon and Yerin in the mix, I’d have to compete with the two of them. I could ask Mercy for help. Maybe I could get good enough to displace one of her teammates, or maybe Lindon could, but my safest bet would be to try my luck with the Beast King who is sponsored by Northstrider, who by the way is alive. He seals Harmony’s fate in Ghostwater by refusing to rescue him from certain death.”

“Yes, let us gloss over that tidbit, I obviously would not care about that,” Eithan said with an exaggerated tone of sarcasm. “We shall work something out in time, and yes, that could include joining the Beast King’s team. Malice and Northstrider have something of a coalition that the Beast King conveniently falls into, and besides, he’s only about ten to fifteen thousand kilometers away. It should only take you two or so months by cloudship.”

For only fifteen thousand kilometers tops?

Cradle transport really fucking sucks. Hell, this cloudship I was in was probably not going much faster than a bicycle at top-speed.

Two months travelling a distance equivalent from South Africa to Norway was insane. I might as well just run at that point.

“Alright,” I said. “We’ll figure something out in time for sure. I don’t see why either Lindon or Yerin couldn’t displace someone on the main Akura team. There’s also the matter of Orthos. He ends up leaving after the tournament teams are announced. Goes to Sacred Valley to get in touch with Lindon’s family, who are experiencing some issues . Ah, by the way, here’s my plan for that.” And then I told him.

“It’s a little shaky,” Eithan said. “I can help to make it more certain, but I admire your level of forethought nonetheless.” And then he gave me some advice, and a promise of more direct help.

“Much appreciated,” I said. And then I continued going on about books seven and eight, giving my retelling as much detail as the situation warranted.

“Good,” he said. “Conning the cat sounds like mighty fun.”

“It was fun to read,” I said. “I really hate that asshole,” I said. Fucking Calvin Candie with the wine meme. “Things might go a little differently, but I doubt it. If Yerin or Lindon gets knocked out, Eithan you have to get serious. If the dragons win,” I started chuckling. “Sandy Sesh and his bastard Herald will literally kill us. They have zero qualms about punching downwards. That’s literally Sesh’s backstory, and the reason why he rebels against civilized society. Because Underlords destroying Lowgolds for being assholes in the playground is apparently bad form.”

“You know his backstory?” Eithan asked with a raised eyebrows, and I told him about the Presence report. In the end, Eithan just laughed. “That explains so much .”

I snapped my fingers to regain his attention. “Hey, hey . I’m serious about this. Do not throw matches until you’re certain the dragons won’t win. You can however, promise Shen Penance. That’s totally fine. He will never get his hands on it,” I was on the edge of bursting into laughter. “See, the thing is, the Abidan dipshit that comes down won’t even let anyone but the winner use it, and only for a single instance. Now that’s a con for the ages, don’t you think?”

Eithan laughed .

Truly laughed. This was the first time I had ever gotten him this excited. “Ah. My regrets at associating with you are disappearing by the minute,” Eithan said. “That sounds wonderful.”

“Just an idea,” I said with a self-satisfied head-shrug.

We continued scheming for longer, two co-conspirators to the fate of an entire planet. All that allowed me confidence in this conversation was my unfortunate but total disregard for human death, but if there was one thing I could trust, it was that Eithan had a better head on his shoulders than I did. Maybe that was naive of me. Maybe he was secretly the great betrayer at book twelve or whatever the fuck, but I didn’t allow those fears to control me. I trusted him.

000

Over the weeks we spent flying, I was constantly doing some form of training. If it wasn’t hand-to-hand, technique, spear-form or even madra control, it was whatever weird exercise Eithan had in mind for me to hone my mind. Most of them involved ‘cross-correlation exercises’.

It was already established that my memory was perfect. All Eithan wanted to do was make it so that I could pull up relevant information quickly, and be able to cross correlate it quickly as well, analysing them and producing meaningful conclusions and deductions to further increase my knowledge.

Essentially, I was learning how to learn, and learn fast at that. Close fights were decided by how much you could learn from your opponent, how quickly you can take advantage of that knowledge, so the skill was absolutely imperative.

And that shit was hard . And really unpleasant, because the man would beat me with a stick if I wasn’t fast enough.

I felt like I was sixteen again, back in madrasa, getting my hands caned for not reciting scripture perfectly. At least during this training, I actually cared more.

There was a cruel irony to be known that if I was the current me, and back on Earth, I’d be able to memorize the scripture in an evening tops. Sad.

If Earth was even real. No. None of that. Stop thinking about that.

I was grateful for Historian while I was learning here. It made the prospect of learning how to script and refine that much less daunting. Had to love it.

And I knew that the training mattered, which is why I paid so much attention to it. I didn’t take the physical pain as badly as I took the simple fact that I failed . That pain hurt way more.

Cradle willpower.

Had to love it.

“Uh,” I said, sitting cross-legged on the ground of our training room while Eithan walked circles around me for whatever reason, probably to set a rhythm for the training. “Once I get Ghostwater, this will be redundant.”

Eithan laughed. “Once you get Ghostwater, this training will truly show its merits. You want to become a Sage before Archlord, this is how you do it.”

I shut the fuck up and nodded eagerly at that.

“Now,” Eithan said. “Between the four dreamstones before you, identify one key moment on each stone that relates to themes of maturation seen in a pessimistic light.”

At first, Eithan had tried to do this with mathematics, but I had admitted to him straight up that the only form of excellence I had achieved in my entire life was a perfect grade in my English language and literature course in high school, so we had decided to instead use literary analysis as a basis for my cross-correlation exercise.

Essentially, writing a book report between four books on several different themes at the same time, and each book was a different type of ‘medium’. Sure, they were all dreamstones, but there was a ton of variation between the different genres. Some were more visual, others more comprehensive, and then there were the poetic and subliminal ones. It was very varied.

And very complicated. My only weapon was my perfect recall. And all I needed to do was produce a report within a given time.

Easy .

I felt a nasty sting on my back from Eithan’s switch, telling me that I had screwed up on meeting the first deadline, which was five minutes. The second deadline, ten minutes, would confer two hits if I missed it. Thankfully, I produced something of value before then. Still, while it was of value, according to Eithan the super genius, it wasn’t perfect . He demanded better. Always.

And on it went.

Eventually, we moved on to historical analysis, then philosophy, and only after that did we get to mathematics.

Eithan was very miserly with compliments, and I could only assume that I fell well below the standard that he expected of me. That wasn’t a surprise, nor was it particularly depressing either, but I did take it as a challenge. I didn’t want to simply impress him. I wanted to become a person that was worthy of impressing Eithan Arelius. The former had more to do with my value of his opinion of me, and the latter denoted my selfish and borderline narcissistic desire to be great.

Greatness was still a fair bit of distance away for now, but that didn’t mean I’d relax. No. I had to move forward, gain power, fame, money, and reach Arelia .

And there wasn’t a minute of my day that I wouldn’t hesitate to spend on this goal.

Because my name was Glassy Sky Arelius, and my glass has been filled with the sweet nectar called ambition. There was Number Boy’s ambition to understand the truth of reality beyond just a single iteration of it such as Cradle or Earth—if it existed—, my Earth identity’s ambition to survive and thrive in a new environment, and Sky’s ambition to reach ultimate power .

Nothing would stop me.

Chapter 19: The Serpent

Chapter Text

Octavius raised his hands in surrender before my fifteenth strike landed, his bloodied and bruised face ugly to behold. Marius had surrendered minutes before, leaving me unsure of what to do, unscathed and still ready for action as I was.

I had pondered today for hours before going to bed, knowing exactly what to do to gain a win after coming to the realisation that I had already downloaded the two servants. Every defeat had taught me something new, until finally all that was left was application. And apply I did.

No hits on me. Perfect victory.

Still, I couldn’t believe that the universe bent so readily to my plans. They never used to before.

Then again, I never worked this hard on anything in my life before either.

Eithan rushed to hand the two men their medicinal pills, all the while I stood still and watched.

Yeah, they got a little roughed up, but hell, I couldn’t deny how good it felt to do it.

“Congratulations, Sky!” Eithan said. “Right on time, as well, for we have just about arrived!”

I ran up to the outer door of the cloudship and opened it, keeping a hard grip on the wall to not get sucked in by the air current as I took a good look at Serpent’s Grave in the distance. Skulls and towering ribcages dotted with houses and tenements were braced against an enormous mountain range that served to give the sight some much-needed perspective. These were remains of once-living creatures, and that was still insane to consider.

Insane, but not impossible, for this was Cradle, and if this world had one thing it had no shortage of, it was wonders .

I closed the door and started shouting “YES! FINALLY!”

I was so done with closed-door cultivation bullshit. I needed to go see the sights, unattended and unprotected. I was a Lowgold now, and it was only fair that I go out and explore on my own.

“Just in time as well for a high society event involving all the movers and shakers of the magnificent Serpent’s Grave!”

“Oh, have fun,” I said off-handedly, not sure what else to say. I really wanted to get started on exploring. “Hey, by the way, is there any place you’d recommend I go to in the city?”

“I know of one place: the high society event involving all the movers and shakers of Serpent’s Grave!”

Ah.

He was serious.

I walked past him, to Marius and Octavius who were still recovering. The meds they took had reversed their budding inflammation, and they seemed to be rubbing their faces with cloths to get rid of every last bit of blood on them. “Are there any books on etiquette in this manor?”

Octavius finished cleaning his face—it looked as good as new—and bowed to me. “Right this way, young master.”

“Bah,” Eithan cried. “I was hoping that you would at least decide to come totally unprepared and ready to offend everyone in sight and create blood feuds lasting generations. The rivalries made would spur you on in your journey.”

“Wrong book, wrong character,” I said. “I don’t know what game you want me to play, but I’m going to be strictly neutral. I have zero desire to be your source of entertainment, especially at my own expense.”

Eithan smiled. “Yes, if you prepare well enough, no one will take exception to your presence.”

…

Okay , but the way he said it made that sound like total bullshit. “Eithan, what did you do?”

“Remember when you ran your mouth to Jai Daishou?”

Octavius and Marius both cringed at that.

“He can’t just kill me for that!” I yelled. “What the fuck?!” I cursed in English.

“He won’t kill you for that,” Eithan said with a comforting laugh. “No, he’ll just… ah, you should just wait and see.”

I could tell a smokescreen when I saw one. Daishou was one thing, but Eithan did something . And he wouldn’t tell me.

I turned to Octavius once more. “Octavius. The books on etiquette . My life depends on this.”

000

The landing zone to Sky’s Mercy was a platform of pure white bone, flattened artificially no-doubt. It was adjacent to the Arelius headquarters, which stood atop one of the five dragon skulls of Serpent’s Grave, prime real-estate no-doubt. As always, there was a procession of humans on the ground, each standing on two rows, creating a wide corridor that pointed towards the headquarters.

Like always, I was dressed in the bog standard fashion of sacred artists everywhere: inner and outer ‘sacred arts robes’, which really reminded me of ‘hanfu’. They were pretty, comfy, and I liked them, but I figured I could use today as an opportunity to try on different styles, especially in preparation for tonight.

While Eithan and I stood atop the staircase to the cloudship, the gathered top cleaners of Arelius gave their report by whispering it to the crier in charge of announcing it, as if Eithan couldn’t hear them the first time around. Why he entertained this circus, I had no idea, but I guess even he wasn’t powerful enough to stand in the way of tradition. At least this time, the report was markedly more optimistic. Eithan had played his cards well, earning the family lots of money now that he had taken the threat against his clan seriously.

Once the reporting session ended, the gathered cleaners dispersed in an instant, nearly jogging all the way to the headquarters to continue on with their work of keeping the city clean, leaving Eithan and I alone with the ship-crew and Cassias. The short-haired Arelius gave his own report, and he and Eithan had a discussion while they made their way away from the main headquarters. I was waiting for my chance to butt in until Eithan stopped to look at me. “Ah, we’re taking care of grown-up business. Run along,” he gestured to the main building. “And explore the city now or whatever you wanted to do. I will summon you in time. Alternatively, you can go to your room and get some rest.”

“First,” I said, to Cassias. I handed him a box that contained two letters and dreamstones, and then made sure to use ‘I am a respected subordinate’ level of formality. “Would you be so kind as to hand these over to Yerin and Lindon the first chance you get? Eithan has already informed me that I’m not going to be a part of their training, since that would make things far easier on the two, but I’d still like to keep in touch.”

“Yes, your presence would simplify things to a dangerous amount,” Eithan said.

“It would make things doable ,” Cassias groused to his Patriarch. “Rather than outright impossible.” Cassias looked at me for a moment. “I noticed your… several advancements. Congratulations. Your Goldsign is very beautiful. I’m sure it will help your aesthetic rank.” How very Blackflame of him.

“Thank you,” I said with a modest chuckle, but I really did appreciate the compliment. “All it cost me was my sanity, but I never needed that to begin with.” And it continues to cost me, too! “You look well,” I said. “If you ever have the time, I’d like to spar with you someday. There’s a lot I could learn from the number two Highgold in the empire, and I’m eager to learn as much as I can. If you would allow me.”

“Perhaps someday,” Cassias said as he took the parcel. “I will see to it that these are delivered as soon as their training begins.”

“Gratitude,” I said with a bow and both fists pressed together.

Cassias looked at me for a moment longer. “Your language has improved. That is good. Though you are a foreigner, there are few in the Blackflame Empire that would allow that to excuse perceived impropriety.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I am not used to formal speech since my first language did not include it in such a structured way as this one does.”

Not even the language I spoke back in Clan Soma, which was once again available to me due to the fate realignment. It was close to Cradle’s common language, but it was missing a lot of the details that pertained to the social aspects of communication, stripped down for only the essentials. That didn’t matter as much as the ability to ‘read’ the archive books and translate their ‘core truth’ to the Algorithm.

All of those books spoke to me through meaning and comprehension, and occasionally, if I found a book with a similar language to a book that I had already processed, I could read the book without needing it translated through whatever hidden mechanism that the archive possessed.

I never really questioned how I was able to read all those books. I didn’t have an autotranslation ability, so clearly it was either in each book, or in the library.

I blinked and got rid of that train of thought. I really needed to stop remembering. The crisp detail of my memory was such that I could almost travel back in time and enter the skin of that lonely White Robe transcribing away towards an unknown goal and a dream of higher comprehension.

And remembering the books was another headache. They were so many , and most of them meant nothing to my situation. Just pure chaos in knowledge form.

“Your improvements are notable and many,” Cassias said with a smile. “I am glad to see that you are alive and well.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. That was improper, but the ‘well’ part deserved as much ridicule. “I am as well as a puddle,” I said, and then realized how poorly that shitty pun translated. “No, Cassias, I’m not well, but I’m getting there.” I know he didn’t ask, but I still needed to let it be said.

“I would not expect any different from someone who has suffered our Patriarch’s brand of love,” Cassias said. “I hope you make a quick recovery.”

“I do as well.”

As well as a puddle. I’ll probably remember that again trying to fall asleep and kick myself. Goddammit, I’m so cringe.

And I could never forget it either. Thanks, Historian.

“Alright, now do go on, shoo, off with you,” Eithan said. “I know you can’t get enough of my magnificent smile and radiant presence, but I really need to get some work done and you’re slowing things down.”

“Fuck you,” I said in English, because I had all but given up on Cradle curses. “Fine. I’m gonna head out.”

“Then wait here,” Eithan said. “I will assign you a bodyguard.”

Fuck, do I really need that? “Really?”

“Yes, really. At least until the event,” Eithan said. “It’s complicated, simply trust me.” And then he power-walked away from me, Cassias following along belatedly.

Trust him? I wish I didn’t have to.

000

It took around five minutes for my bodyguard to appear, riding down on an emerald thousand-mile cloud to join me in the now-abandoned landing area. All the Arelius here had scrambled to get back to work within moments after the report meeting that could have been an e-mail had convened. The Arelius worked like they were ants , unerringly, but also with the efficiency that only a human mind could bring about. It was fascinating to watch.

The newcomer, a woman, was tall, only a tiny bit shorter than me. She had slicked back black hair that reached the middle of her neck and carried an easy-going smile. She looked like a blend of Asian and Arelius, but leaning more towards Asian with her almond-shaped eyes that gave her a knowing look of sorts. That could have been a trick of her expression, though, because her black hair was really throwing me off, and I had never been really that good with faces. Definitely Arelius, though, as those eyes were sky-blue and deep as the ocean. Her aquiline nose and sharp chin proved as much. She was really pretty, though. A handsome and sharp jawline contoured her slim face, and her high cheekbones accentuated it further. She looked like she was in her twenties at the very least.

And come to think of it, she was the first woman I had the opportunity to talk to in… in too long, honestly. I hope I didn’t make things weird by accident.

As for clothes, her get-up was decidedly atypical. She wore pants, for one, vividly green and baggy around her ankles, and wore a bright yellow haori-like jacket with voluminous sleeves, open to reveal a green tunic embroidered with floral patterns on each lapels, and they reached her mid thigh.

Strapped to her back was a wide and long broadsword, not quite Final Fantasy, but definitely Zweihander-level. It was the only thing that suggested she was a combatant, though I couldn’t find any trace of her Goldsign.

“Are you my bodyguard?” I asked her, addressing her as a superior. She folded her arms and tilted her head, still smiling as she analyzed me. I spread my arms and did a little twirl to give her a better look, not really sure what else to do than default to my goofier tendencies. “So, is my body worthy of being guarded?”

She furrowed her eyebrows at that, smiling in bemusement. “Was that supposed to be a joke?” Her formality was neutral. Ah, that was a relief. That meant I could do it too, despite our difference in rank. I assumed there was a difference, at least in strength, as she was my bodyguard for a reason. Or maybe she wasn’t? She still hadn’t answered that question.

“Tough crowd,” I muttered, though in her defence, that pun didn’t exist in this language. “Anyway, it’s nice to meet you. My name is Glassy Sky Arelius. You can call me Sky if you want.”

“Pleasure, Glassy,” she said. “I’m Chiara.” Pretty name. “Yes, I am to be your bodyguard, for whatever reason, though I didn’t really see fit to ask. All I know is that the Patriarch called, and I had nothing better to do.”

“I assume it has to do with Jai Daishou,” I said. “I may have… said some things. In my defence, I didn’t expect him to want to kill me for that.” Stupid as that was. Of him . I was being perfectly reasonable! He was killing janitors because they were doing their job too well. In what world was he right?

She tilted her head to the other side. “What did you say?”

“I don’t know, something about him being a coward and a piece of human excrement for his blatant attacks on our clan, nothing too harsh,” I said. “Blackflame inhabitants are really quite sensitive. Ah, whatever. In any case, sorry to burden you with the responsibility of my continued living, but this is the first opportunity I’ve had to explore Serpent’s Grave, and I won’t let anything as trifling as mortal peril get in the way of that. What do people here do for fun anyway?”

I had gotten Eithan to produce for me several of his scales, which was worth a metric fuckton. Enough to open any door, at least, in his own words. All I needed now was the opportunity.

And… I might need to find a way to get change as well. They were worth like ten thousand basic scales each. Perhaps we should go to a bank first?

She shrugged. “Cloudship-riding to see the sights is a popular one, but I doubt you’d be interested in that.” Ugh, yeah, fuck cloudships. They were too fucking slow. And besides, I’d already seen enough of Serpent’s Grave in aerial view. And while I always appreciated the magnificence of it, I was far more eager to see it from a frog’s eye view for a change. “Besides, I already have my own Thousand Mile Cloud, so we will be doing that anyway. The Museum of Regimes Past details the history of the Blackflame Empire back when it was interesting.”

“Like, before the Naru clan took over?” I suggested.

“Precisely. The Blackflame dynasty, and before them, the dragons that now make up this fine city. There are many other museums besides that. The artisan district is also a popular place for young people.”

I sighed. “Which one has alcohol?”

“I know of a place in the artisan district,” she said. “Though I won’t be able to partake, as your life rests in my hands.”

“Naturally,” I said. I didn’t want to drink alone, though. “I changed my mind. Let’s go to the museum,” I said. She gestured towards her cloud and I hopped on. Then she sat in front of me.

“Hold on tight,” she said. “This cloud is faster than normal.”

I gingerly held around her waist. Our proximity allowed me a whiff of her, a cross of citrus, apple and something else, though I couldn't for the life of me place what that last thing was. And from here I could quite easily tell the potent madra in her core was a tier of purity above my own. Highgold, most probably. I couldn’t quite make out the Path though. It just felt like ‘power’ to me.

She was right about the cloud, though. It was fast. Its acceleration was really high, and by the time it stopped speeding up, we had to be going at least sixty or eighty kilometers an hour. This felt really good!

I got up on my feet and held Chiara by her shoulders to get a better look at the city as we sped on by. Chiara looked up at me with a wide grin and I matched it.

“This is great!” I shouted over the wind. Chiara nodded and replied, but I couldn’t hear her. Probably wasn’t anything important.

And then we plummeted downwards, so fast that I flew off my feet. I lost my grip on Chiara’s shoulders too, and was in freefall with her and her cloud. She looked at me with a shiteating grin while I floated above her, taking in the feeling of freefalling for the first time in my life with a wide, gaping mouth and even wider eyes.

Then she slowed down and caught me in her arms in a bridal carry, decelerating our fall until we came to a stop mere inches from the ground.

We landed in the middle of a busy thoroughfare. The people around us—insanely diverse in appearance and Goldsign, so much so that I failed to categorize any of them, aside from the few Goldsigns that I recognized—parted around us without batting an eye.

“Holy fuck !” I shouted, throwing my hands in the air. “That was awesome ! Do it again, please!” Even my yelling didn’t disturb the bustle of pedestrians making their way around the city. From down here, Serpent’s Grave felt like I was in the belly of a skeletal beast, building-sized ribs piercing the sky, almost blotting out the mountains that the city was braced against.

Chiara laughed. She was still holding me in her arms, and I only now became a little self-conscious about our contact, what with all the people walking around. “This is the first time anyone has been anything but horrified at me for doing that.”

“Are you kidding? My head is buzzing ! I never even knew I’ve always wanted to freefall until now.”

“I’m starting to understand why the Patriarch took such an interest in you,” Chiara said. “You might just be crazy enough to survive his training.”

Chiara threw me gently up in the air and I landed neatly on my feet. “There were some close calls during ‘training’,” I said. “None of them really were as fun as what we just did.”

“I would do it again, but I need to take it a little easier on the binding in the cloud, since freefalling speeds create a lot of wear and tear on it. I can’t wreck it after only having it for one week. I need to wait at least two weeks before I can get a replacement, or my captain would tan my hide.”

“Aw,” I sighed. “It’s no worries, then.”

“You know what?” she asked. “I think I know exactly what you would love to do. Hop on. We can go to the museum afterwards.”

I jumped up behind her on her emerald cloud and sat. She didn’t wait for me to get comfortable before pulling up and away. “Excellent bodyguarding!” I said. “I feel so safe!” I shouted over the wind that was picking up as I tried to get myself to a comfortable position in spite of her jerky and irregular driving, which seemed almost designed to prevent me from getting comfortable. Was this just some light trolling or did she actually want to kill me?

“I have Arelius eyes!” she shouted. “You couldn’t die on my watch even if you wanted to!”

Now would be a great time to do something immensely funny, but also very stupid.

“Stake your life on it?” I shouted.

“Of course!”

I looked down at the ground that was slowly gaining distance from us. “Or my life, as it were!”

I let go of her bent over backwards to fall off the cloud.

Holy shit !

Fuck, fuck, fuck, why did I do that?

The smile on my face and my racing heartbeat told me exactly why.

Because it was fun !

Alright, now for survival in case things go pear-shaped. I plotted some madra movements in my head, centered around the idea of propulsion . I had already achieved a limited form of flight while I fucked around and experimented in the Broken Star City, trying to figure out a way to supplement Starfire Surge with flight. At least I didn’t have to reinvent the wheel for this.

Before I could continue progressing on my high stakes puzzle, Chiara swooped in from below, grabbing me in a bridal carry once more. Her knowing smile had become far less knowing, but far more impressed as well. I took that as a total win. She leaned closer to my head so I could hear her shout. “You’re crazy!”

I laughed as I lounged in her ironclad grip, feeling like I was in the best seat in the house. My back rested against her lap while her arms kept my body bent slightly, like I was sitting on a reclining chair.

Honestly, I was enjoying this way too much.

“I need to save the binding!” she yelled. “Don’t do that again!”

“I promise I won’t!”

“I don’t trust you,” she said with a wide grin. “So you’ll sit here and think about what you’ve done!”

“Aw, curses!” I snapped my fingers, feigning outrage at this… absolute marvel of a woman.

Wait, shit, am I in love?

No.

It’s only been like five minutes.

Five fun minutes.

I’d give it five more, then I’d see.

“Where are we going anyway?”

Chiara leaned in to tell me. “It’s a surprise!”

“That’s very Eithan of you!”

She threw her head back and laughed. “I admire the Patriarch very much! Might as well emulate him!”

“Must be lonely feeling that way!” I said. “The clan practically despises him!”

“The clan respects his strength, but dislikes his attitude!” Chiara corrected. “But he’s a fair and just leader, and the Arelius clan has become better off under his watch! Soon, we may even become one of the great three clans!”

Right. But that was the problem, wasn’t it?

At least, that was the Jai clan’s problem with us. And soon, they would paint the streets red with the blood of Arelius clansmen.

“There are those who don’t take kindly to that,” I said, my smile having disappeared. “Stay vigilant in the coming months, Chiara. The Jai—”

She let go of my legs to put two fingers on my lips. “Weep not for my safety, my prince. I’m your knight for a reason.” An Anibius reference, too? Could she get any better?

Yeah, she absolutely knew the effect she had on me. She’s just toying with me at this point.

“You’re a Highgold,” I said dumbly, trying to forget… that, and also affirm the fact that she's got things handled.

“Correct!” Chiara said. “And I’m also Skysworn!”

My eyes widened. No way!

“What’s your rank?” I asked.

“As a Highgold of the Empire, fifteen. As a Highgold Skysworn, five!”

Wha-holy shit. She’s strong , too!

She was taking me to the outskirts of the city atop the mountains. I could spot a bunch of buildings built right next to a sheer cliff face, and over that cliff were a bunch of massive differently colored sacred beasts flying about in feathered wings that matched their colors. “Ever ridden on winged snakes before?”

“No!” I yelled. That’s what those things were?

“The first thing you need to know is, nobody will save you, so try your best not to fall!”

“I’m daring, not crazy! But point taken!”

Chiara swooped toward the ground, coming to an abrupt stop that threw me off her grip. I spun in the air uncontrollably and considered using Starfire Surge to regain balance, but instead I just barely ended up landing on my feet. I still spun and almost fell over, but one good thing about my Iron body was that it seemed a lot more capable of cool shit than my conscious self was.

We were at an eatery decked in tables where people dined merrily. On one side of the grounds away from the building next to the cliff were rows of stalls where food was being cooked by busy chefs, some of whom were using their sacred arts. Fire to cook the food, sword madra to cut pieces efficiently, or water aura to mix drinks. It was all very visually impressive, and I was certain that was the point. The Blackflame Empire ranked everything , so a spectacle probably went a long way in aiding their ranking.

And their rankings were displayed proudly on their signboards. Number ninety in chicken soup, number forty-six in rice bowls, number five in fruit juices. I doubted their overall rank was as high as those singular food items, but I appreciated that they made it easier to pick and choose what to order. Or perhaps that was all they served, and that truly was their overall ranking?

“I could tell you were enjoying that too much,” Chiara’s arms were folded, a mocking grin playing on her lips. Her words shook me from my staring at the stalls, and I refocused on her with a mischievous grin.

“I did feel quite safe and well-guarded. You did your job well!” She rolled her eyes and shook her head, although still smiling.

“Well, in any case, this is the Eagle Snake course,” she said. “We can ride Eagle Snakes here. There are game-modes too, such as an obstacle course, dive-bombing and even racing.”

“ Dive-bombing ?” I asked. “Like, going straight down, and the first to give up loses?”

“It’s more about getting the highest recorded speed. It takes control to do so.” Okay, that sounded fun .

I clapped my hands. “Let’s get started, then!”

000

“Last time I saw him, he was an Iron ,” Cassias said as he dogged the steps of his taller cousin, making their way past the rush of human bodies in the headquarters running every which way to fulfil the daily cleaning tasks of the clan, on their way to scour the bones of the Grave clean. “And I know you can see that he… he doesn’t look right. Not the same. He’s changed.”

“Hm,” Eithan hummed. “Now that you mentioned it, he’s gotten quite a bit more handsome. Perhaps it’s the hair, or maybe his newfound confidence. It’s almost uncanny.”

“ You know what I mean ,” Cassias bit out. “He doesn’t talk the same or act the same. If I didn’t know any better, I would say that he was a different person now.”

“If only you knew,” Eithan muttered, his voice slightly hollow. Cassias stopped for a moment. Eithan did as well.

“So you’re finally bothered by your methods,” Cassias said. “Now that you’ve seen first-hand how destructive they are.”

Eithan grinned, though Cassias could only see it through his detection web he was still a few steps behind. They proceeded towards the door to the Patriarch’s office, the insides scripted to prevent Areliuses from listening in. Once they were both in, doors closed behind them, he finally spoke while he looked out the window behind his desk, showing a view of the Third East Dragon’s ribcage. “Let’s just say that I… have some regrets. But they have nothing to do with that.”

“Then what?” Cassias asked. “You sound… you sound uncertain . How ? Him ?” How in the world could Sky possibly inspire uncertainty in Eithan Arelius himself, who had never had a unconfident moment in his life?

“He’s taken to my training excellently,” Eithan said. “He falls short in many ways, but he doesn’t lack the determination to follow my instructions through. One thing that I especially like about him is how he seems to have this baseline assumption that I know everything that is good for him. I expected him to try and throttle me when I first saw him, but instead he was just happy. And then when he told me his story… well,” Eithan gestured to the box that Cassias was holding. “You can see for yourself. Suffice it to say, I’m even more surprised he doesn’t hate me.”

“I don’t read private letters,” Cassias said.

“Is that what they teach in this branch?” Eithan asked. “Back in Rosegold, we accepted our abilities wholeheartedly. Privacy is only a concept we learned to understand outsiders, but even then we never shied away from invading everything. But you know what made those acts innocent, my dear brother?”

“I’m not your brother, and no, nothing could possibly make such acts innocent.”

“Empathy, and kindness,” Eithan said. “We acted with responsibility. Our rivals and allies knew what we were capable of, but trusted us to act in the right way. Of course, overwhelming power didn’t hurt much. But here, our rivals have found a way to intimidate us. Intimidate you . Hence why you will not read those letters, because of the accusations—and the risks that follow—that it would bring to you.”

Cassias hated it when Eithan started talking like this. It always came with an uncomfortable reminder of what they had lost, and also what they currently stood to lose. Like the Jai clan’s impending attack, for example. They were still planning and plotting, they had confirmed as much once they knew what to look for.

Creating a counterplot to fully neutralize the impending massacre before it would happen became a trivial matter after that. A costly matter, but cost was trivial with an Arelius Underlord on your side.

But to know that one of the strongest clans in the Empire were plotting a genocide right under their noses… well, that was frightening .

Perhaps it was better to know everything then, than to die ignorant of the unseen dagger in the night for fear of acting with ‘impropriety’. Why should Cassias care about manners at that point, when his wife and child could have been put in danger because he didn’t know everything?

Deciding not to continue engaging Eithan, he read the letters in search of answers, silently apologising to the dark-skinned foreigner all the while.

Cassias’ eyebrows furrowed at those words. Not the retelling of his adventures—though those nearly suspended his belief—but… what came next. Sky had faith in his fellow disciples. Faith that they had the potential for ultimate goodness, and to truly become great, doing justice to not only those who believed in them and helped them grow, but everyone on Cradle —He had even used the celestial name for this world, which wasn’t a well-known fact.

And he seemed to have this faith because he knew exactly what was going to happen. And he knew Lindon’s pasts too, information that he had never shared, if the letters were to be believed, and why wouldn’t they? It was about Sacred Valley, his upbringing as an ‘unsouled’—which helped explain to Cassias many things regarding the queer boy—and… a brush that the boy had with one of the greatest heavenly messengers in all of existence, the one that had given the boy his little orb relic, one that Cassias had noticed time and time again its contents being resistant to his Arelius perception.

A similar relic to the one that Eithan always carried, too. Was that something similar ?

“... What ?” Cassias muttered. There was too much going on. Had Eithan met with a celestial messenger?

“The truth is,” Eithan said. “Nobody knows what Sky is. Not even him. What a beautiful mystery that is. And if I am being fully honest, his presence carries implications that frighten me. And that is a good sign ! If the old guard is frightened by the new, that can only mean that change is afoot, and change is desperately needed.”

“You’re hardly the old guard,” Cassias muttered, Arelius eyes still racing through each line. The words he had put down brimmed with something both amazing and truly terrible .

Sky knew things he had no business knowing, and to make matters even more confusing, the awesomeness of his power seemed entirely focused on three people and their successes: Eithan, Lindon and finally Yerin.

“You cannot even accuse me of kicking the beehive this time around, for I did not even look for him. He found me !” Eithan said with a laugh. “He knew where I would be, came there, and relied on the knowledge of my detection web to bait me to come to him! From then on, he has been revealing disturbing truths to me left and right, things that would catch me off-guard. The Jai clan’s attack? That was him !” Eithan looked at Cassias with a maddened grin. “ I didn’t see that. Me ! That petty Underlord would have gotten one over on me if Sky hadn’t warned me!”

Cassias had underestimated the level of turmoil in Eithan’s heart. It was like he was looking at another man entirely.

Cassias clenched his jaws and asked gently. “Why is he still alive, then?”

Eithan chuckled. “Yes, all you people ever think about is how dangerous the unknown can be—”

“That’s not it,” Cassias said. “It was a simple question. You’ve kept him alive because you have faith in your way of doing things. You have faith that the new can overcome the old. That the fear you feel is a good sign. I can’t tell you to do anything, I know this better than most in the clan. What I want you to do is regain faith in yourself, and in your direction, to not have your heart split two ways. I…” Cassias sighed. “I can’t comprehend any of your new disciples, much less Sky. But I know one thing. It’s much better for you to hope for a better future than to let your fear and apprehension create a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

Eithan nodded. “Uncharacteristically wise of you.”

Cassias frowned, but didn’t say anything else.

Really, nothing could be said. All that could be done in this situation was to share the comforting warmth of mutual hope that things wouldn’t break irrevocably, that the Arelius clan may yet survive another generation, in spite of recent setbacks and curious developments—both massive understatements, but it gave Cassias a headache to think about it more intensely.

In the end, hope was all they had.

A Sage or two would have been nice.

Chapter 20: Eventful Day

Chapter Text

Lindon narrated his letters loudly for Yerin’s benefit, even though these were ostensibly addressed to him, while the dream tablets were addressed to her.

The implication hence was clear: Sky knew that Yerin was illiterate.

Like he knew his every movement since he left Sacred Valley. Before that, even. The Orus fruit that started it all, all the way to the Jade elder of Heaven’s Glory’s execution and their subsequent flight.

The Jade elder was apparently an old man who had mutated his own body by using himself as a ‘laboratory rat’ for his Refiner products. The phrase was unfamiliar, but Lindon understood its meaning. Evidently, Sky had been worried that the death may have stained Lindon’s conscience.

Which it definitely did do, and it was a relief to learn that the nasty little sacred artist was an old man all along, and not a preternaturally talented young boy.

Well, preternaturally talented in Sacred Valley. His advancement would have been standard in the outside world. Especially since Lindon had learned that some sacred artists could reach Lowgold as early as six years old.

Despite Lindon’s narration, Yerin was hardly paying attention to him at all, just staring into space with the dreamstones in her lap.

“The reason why I believe in you so much is because I know your ability for a fact,” Lindon continued. “And I am eager to see it with my own eyes. For the time being, I myself will do my best to get up to speed. I cannot wait for our reunion, and I wish you the best of luck in your Blackflame trials. Kind regards, Glassy Sky Arelius.”

“I don’t believe it,” Yerin said. “I heard him prattle on about his future knowledge quite a couple of times, but this…” she shook her head. “He might as well have flipped a mountain on its summit and slapped some Monarchs around.”

“It is that unusual?” Lindon asked. Yerin gave him a look that Lindon knew well at this point: the one she usually gave him when he managed to astound her with his ignorance.

“It’s impossible is what. He knows my past. Knows… personal things, about my master. Explained to me what he was doing in Sacred Valley… explained how a bunch of Jades could even touch the hem of a Sage, much less kill him. No matter the tricks, the poison, the halfsilver— anything ! I knew it was impossible, I knew it!” Yerin squeezed her eyes shut. Tears pressed through them regardless. “His last thoughts were of keeping me safe.”

Lindon said nothing. Instead, he walked over and sat next to Yerin.

Yerin dried her tears away. “It’s a damn shame he was too late to stop it, but no use crying over spilled elixirs.”

Lindon was burning with curiosity regarding how Yerin’s master could die to a sect of Jade elders, but he didn’t want her to revisit those memories any more than necessary.

Yerin stood up with a quick movement, launching herself up almost a foot before landing with a slight thud. “On the bright and shiny side of it, we have an advantage to the sacred arts that most would bleed for. Sky knows the past, and he knows the future. He knows where we should go then, too. He used his knowledge to get to Gold already from Copper. That’s proof enough that he knows what he’s doing.”

Difficult as it was to believe. Sky shared many similarities with Eithan in this way. Remarkably powerful despite the… lacklustre attitude.

“Only thing that burns me about this whole thing is that he might try and get stronger than me,” Yerin said. “Whatever he has going for him, I’d bleed before letting that clown get ahead of me.”

Lindon could not help but relate to that sentiment. He had been Iron when he met Sky as only a Copper, and now their roles were reversed, with Sky having an advancement over Lindon.

That wouldn’t last. Lindon would make sure of it. He had no pride as a sacred artist, and was only beginning to catch up to his peers in terms of having a Path to himself—something he would be eternally grateful to Eithan for—but this… loss (for there was no better word to use) was like kindling for his inner flame. Not the flame that burned with a desire to not be worthless, but something else.

Conceit.

The reality that Sky had advanced, after all, was not nearly as grating as some of the contents of the letter. Condescension expertly weaved into words of encouragement, and a general air of rudeness.

“Say what you will about the man,” Lindon said. “But he does know how to infuriate people into action.”

“Hah,” Yerin chuckled. Her eyes were icy as she looked over at the tunnel that would lead to the trials. “We’ll get it done next time, Lindon.”

Words she had repeated dozens of times before already, but Lindon believed them this time around.

000

A bank trip ended up being a necessity after I busted out a supreme-grade scale in the Eagle Snake race course. Everyone in the establishment honed in on the tiny bit of riches like it was a movie macguffin, and it probably didn’t do much good for my safety, which if Eithan was to be believed, was compromised.

Chiara even had to bust out her sword and give people looks . A sharp smile and a manic glint in her eyes warded off all takers, though I couldn’t for the life of me understand why. That look was so inviting. I didn’t know if I wanted to fight her or do something else with her.

Was that normal to think?

Eh, who cared anyway. I wasn’t going to get anywhere interesting being ‘normal’.

The bank Chiara took me to looked like a castle on the outside, and once I was ushered in, I was given quite the royal treatment. A servant honed in on me immediately , probably having noticed my scripted bag. Still, it was just scripted. He couldn’t sense what was inside, could he? That was the point of the script: to make sure the spiritual signature of the big bucks was confined inside, so as to not alert thieves and pickpockets. Practically everyone carried one of those, it was a really simple script to make.

Curious. Did they know who I was? A disciple, an outsider as foreign-looking as me, who also received so much personal attention from the patriarch himself, must have become big news in the Arelius clan.

He led us both through magnificent halls of white walls and gold pillars, tastefully dotted with a couple of priceless paintings here and there depicting naturalistic and pastoral settings.

He took me deeper into the building, helping me avoid the mass of normal people trying to do normal people things in the bank. I didn’t have much experience in that regard, honestly.

I looked to Chiara and asked her. “Why am I getting special treatment?”

She gave a condescending grin. “I told them to when we arrived,” she said. “Or I signalled it at least. An Arelius servant’s trick to make things more seamless for your master.”

“Thanks, though I’m not your master.”

“Certainly not, but I did want things to go faster. I would never say no to Eagle Snake racing on someone else’s scales,” she grinned mischievously at me and I chuckled.

“Here I thought I was just famous,” I said.

“You definitely are,” she said. “Just not for very good reasons,” I raised an eyebrow at that, but she just shrugged. “Ah, I guess we shall see. I wouldn’t want to worry you unduly.”

“Is it because the Stellar Spear Underlord wants me,” I dragged a finger across my throat made a ‘dead’ face, eyes rolled upwards and my tongue sticking out.

“Ah, no,” she said. “I still only half-believe that such a thing—you mouthing off to an Underlord—could happen with you still keeping all four of your limbs,” she said.

She’d be surprised just how many Underlords I had mouthed off to in my life.

“We shall talk later,” she said. “After we finish up your financial matters.”

Eventually, the bank worker led me to an office, ushering me in. Inside was an old, but opulently dressed man—voluminous and extravagant robes that made him look like he was ready to host a festival or gala. He had a stern countenance and a generally difficult aura about him that I usually associated with baby boomers. He had a pair of feathered, emerald wings on his back, too, marking him as a Naru, but it couldn’t distract from the expression he paid me when we first saw each other. It felt like I was on the verge of being scolded, which was weird considering he was supposed to be dealing with rich people.

Did he not think I was rich?

“Greetings,” I said, using a neutral formality because I wasn’t sure if his status as an old man, banker, or perhaps a Highgold superseded my young master status. Or maybe I was meant to be his superior as I was his client and he answered to me? Might as well go neutral until someone told me otherwise. “My name is Glassy Sky Arelius. I’m here to open up an account I suppose, but more importantly, I want change for some supreme-grade scales.”

The old man’s stern gaze cracked almost. “...How many?” he asked, his voice raspy and heavy, and also in a neutral register.

“Six,” I said. I hadn’t just begged Eithan for them. I had bullied him into giving me as much. Suffice it to say, I had gone above and beyond shamelessness, claiming that my service to the clan demanded more than just sacred arts, but cold, hard cash as well.

And Eithan had paid me handsomely. And then again and again as I upped the ante until he flat-out refused to pay me more, stating that he had to produce scales for the clan as well.

From then on, he would constantly avoid me in the cloudship, which was impressive considering how little space there was for him to just do that. At that point, I felt like an asshole and stopped asking, as I expected that a lecture on the needs of the clan outweighing my needs of impractical amounts of wealth was soon to follow if I continued my shamelessness.

Besides, he was Eithan Arelius. He could get his lazy ass up and truly work hard , and he’d probably amass enough riches in one month to dwarf even the Imperial family’s coffers.

But that would involve honest effort , which he was allergic to. And there was probably the chance that he might be hiding from the attention of a Monarch that had a vested interest in his death. Didn’t pay to become a rapidly rising superstar if the goal was to avoid notice, and hopefully stay unnoticed until Ascension, which I assume was his backup plan if he never found any disciples that could follow him into a great future. A world without Dreadgods.

Maybe I should cut him and his sandbagging more slack. He was a smart guy. He had good reasons for how he acted. Most of the time.

My musings almost caused me to miss as the man’s expression changed like a lightbulb switching on. His cheeks pulled up, his eyes narrowed pleasantly, and before I knew it, he had gone from the fancy grinch to Santa Claus himself, smiling genially at me like I was his favourite grandson.

“The young master has come to the right place,” Naru Tobi spoke with subservience.

Okay then .

The old man, Naru Tobi as he introduced himself as, went on and on and on about the benefits of partnering up with the Gold Wing Bank, the foremost bank for the affluent in the Blackflame Empire, much less Serpent’s Grave. If that was true, then I owed Chiara for taking me here.

The main issue was that they didn’t have change for six of my scales on hand. They had enough for two at the very most, and only then the change would still have to be a higher denomination than ‘basic’. For the remaining, they would hold onto it and pay me for the trouble in benefits. Interestingly enough, interest rates still applied even though scales didn’t really inflate. They were created by sacred artists, and they were destroyed just as quickly as well, meaning the supply of them was stable at any given point.

When I asked why I would be getting interest, Tobi explained that the bank would use my money to buy stakes in businesses, and those dividends would be mine to claim. It was kind of like profit sharing in Islamic banking, I supposed.

In any case, the banks paid back their creditors in other benefits as well besides just dividends, such as free or discounted services in their partnered businesses, and their partners were also quite luxurious. Clothing stores, transport services, leisure clubs and whatnot. By maintaining an investment of five Eithan scales in the bank at all times, I would gain Wintersteel membership of the bank, and that status would follow me wherever I went in high society.

And the interest on my deposit was 6.5 percent yearly, compounded monthly. I had no idea if that was high or not. Besides my education, I had no real-life experience with this sort of stuff, to my absolute detriment.

Only problem was… I was getting way too much out of this. To the point that it could distract me from the sacred arts. And besides, did I really want to be some nouveau riche guy trying and failing to integrate with rich people?

I asked if there were penalties for pulling my investment out, and there was, at least before the first three months of membership were done. 15% of my investment would be theirs. I would get back 4.25 scales. Not a terrible loss but one I didn’t want to risk.

Membership would mean that I would be down five scales for three months, relying only on my one scale for everything that I wanted, and what good was discounts if I ran out of money?

I turned to Chiara and asked her some questions. “How much would the average outfit of a high society individual cost? And also really good food ?”

“Around one thousand basic scales,” she said. “As for the best dinner you could pay for in Serpent’s Grave, that can vary between one hundred hundred and one thousand basic scales depending on whether you opt for expensive vintage wines.”

Damn.

I need more scales.

“No Wintersteel membership,” I said. “I just want you guys to hold my scales and give them back to me when I need it. We can start by giving me change for the first supreme-grade scale, and go from there once I inevitably run out in a week.”

Naru Tobi’s expression went from jolly to neutral in an instant—still far better than the dubious look he had given me at the start—, but we finalised the deal without much fuss.

Finally, I got to walk away with my change of a hundred high-grade, each worth a hundred basic scales. It was for easier carrying, and I could expect most, if not all prosperous businesses to be able to return change for this denomination.

Finally , it was time to have some fucking fun !

As Chiara drove me back to the Eagle Snake cliff, she mused to me. “The Wintersteel membership is an incredibly sought-after privilege.”

“I doubt I would be able to derive as much joy from it as most people!”

In the end, the question wasn’t ‘what did society want’ but ‘what did I want’? I doubted that if I had made billions back on Earth, I’d derive so much joy from buying insanely high-price clothing and crap like that. Or maybe I would? I’d just have to wait and see.

In any case, I doubted I could go wrong with just having a bunch of money and seeing where that took me. Once I ran out, I’d have Eithan to press scales out of.

We landed back in the Eagle Snake cliff, only to see something strange. Nobody was seated at the eating places, the food stalls had closed, and the only people in the vicinity where a bunch of spear-and-sword wielding ruffians.

Ah, I see.

There’s a bounty out on me.

I had figured out something fun with my void key, and it was a way to open up a hole inside of it at practically any surface, even one that was underneath an existing object.

“We have company,” Chiara said. “Stay out of this while I take care of things.”

“Are you sure they’re enemies?” I asked her, just in case.

“Absolutely sure. Rest easy.”

Hah. Fuck that.

By the time I was low enough that I felt I could safely make a landing, around eight meters above the ground, I opened my void key in front of my hand, and out fell Star’s End.

I activated Starfire Surge, and the world slowed down.

I jumped off the cloud and dashed for the nearest asshole. I flipped the spear so the butt would strike him on his head. My body was weak, but my sacred art-enhanced speed afforded me force that I otherwise could not exert. The man went flying in a spray of blood, and for a moment, I worried if I had killed him.

My spirit warned me of incoming attacks, and I danced away from a barrage of striker techniques that would have taken my life had I been even a tenth of a second slower.

My chest bloomed , terror and elation ringing loudly in my head. I was getting high on this danger. That was fine. Couldn’t let it distract me, though, or I’d really die.

One guy ran up to me, arm charging with some Enforcer technique. In a panic, I used the sharp edge of my spear to stab him on his shoulder, taking a quick step forward to widen my reach.

I wasn’t using Nova Blade, as that would have been overkill, but it seemed that my spear’s natural sharpness didn’t need something like a Lowgold’s enhancement.

His arm hung to his shoulder by threads of flesh by the time I pulled back, and I searched for somebody else to hit.

I flew across the battlefield like a wraith, staying at a distance and giving grazes and cuts, moving all the while to prevent them from going into formation. My adrenaline dimmed as I finished downloading my opponents, understanding their patterns and figuring out how to best eke out a win without getting hurt. Superior speed was fucking broken in a fight.

I wondered… did this make me tougher than Yerin at the start of Soulsmith? No, of course not. Those lowlife Sandvipers that almost got the better of her were probably way stronger than these chucklefucks, being survivors of the Desolate Wilds and all. They used venom madra , too. While I had just been reading about it, I didn’t give that idea much thought, but Jesus Christ if I didn’t find the concept downright sociopathic now. Fighting with poison was just pure villainry to me.

My opponents were a disparate bunch, dressed like common people without frills or decorations, and their abilities were equally mundane. Fire paths, earth paths, and water paths. Really basic stuff, and none of them kept to a theme. And if my spirit was telling me the truth, only one of them shone more intensely than Lowgold would suggest.

And just as he prepared to unleash an attack that I had only narrowly predicted—an Anvil would probably take care of the worst of it—a surge of foam that feltcoldto my sensessnaked around the man, pushing him forcefully down to the ground.

I looked around and saw that the Lowgolds I had wounded were either on the ground, trying to crawl away, or were running far away as it was.

“All done!” Chiara said with a sunny smile. Then her expression dimmed into an inquisitive glare. “Though I must say, your actions wound me. Do you not have faith in my ability to guard you?”

“Of course,” I said. “I just really wanted to hurt these guys.”

“Oh,” she said. “Well, it would make my job easier if you stopped endangering yourself so often.”

True, but I couldn’t help that it was so fun to do so. I walked up to the bound Highgold and crouched before him. “So what gives, buddy?”

“I’ll never tell you anything!”

“Fair, have a good day,” I looked up at Chiara. “Uh, what are we supposed to do about the other guys? I think one of them is bleeding really bad,” I looked over at the guy I had stabbed in his shoulder. Should I maybe cauterize the wound? Uh… probably. I jogged up to him, activated Nova Blade, and carefully stabbed him in the same place. His screams were pretty insane. They sounded almost comical. Like a Tom and Jerry howl. I tried not to smile, as that would make me come off as a psychopath.

After I was done with that grisly task, I examined the wound. He wasn’t bleeding as much as before, though I wondered what would become of his arm. Or if incinerating his cut did anything or made things worse. Didn’t bleed as much, though. No, I’d say there was no blood at all beyond what was already smeared everywhere or pooling on the floor. I pulled the man away from the blood pool to confirm.

In the end, I could confirm that although he was a little leaky, he probably wouldn’t die before help arrived. Couldn’t he just… cycle or something? Wouldn’t that help his condition? It would, but his breathing was all raspy, quick and uniform now, signalling that he had lost all control over his madra. Eh, whatever.

Not my problem.

“You know, you could have just killed most of these people,” Chiara said. “Assaulting a Skysworn and a civilian would be grounds for as much, especially one with your status.”

“And cheat the hangman?” I asked. “I would never dream of that. The executioner’s gotta eat.”

She raised an eyebrow at that. “More Skysworn will arrive to pick up the wounded and the stragglers,” Chiara said. “In the meanwhile, I’ve determined that there most likely is a bounty placed on you, judging from the fact that there’s a group of mercenaries making their way towards us about seven-hundred paces that way,” she pointed down the mountain. “They won’t get here before my reinforcements do, though I do have some grave news for you,” Chiara sighed. “The Eagle Snake race course has closed for the day, on account of the impending violence.”

“Ugh,” I stomped my foot on the ground. “This sucks.”

“Sucks ?” she asked.

“This is a bad situation,” I elaborated. “I was really excited for those Eagle Snakes too. Also, call me stupid for forgetting for so long, but back at Gold Wing, you mentioned that I was famous for not very good reasons.”

Chiara reached into her pocket and pulled out a scroll of paper. She tossed it at me, and the moment I unfurled it, I was bombarded with lines of unbelievably small text. What the hell was this, a document for ants?

…I could actually make out the words, though. Enough to read every letter clearly. It was just… small. My Earth eyes would only see blurry lines, but I guess Iron had upgraded me in more ways than I could imagine.

The text were names, and next to them, rankings. The heading of this scroll is ‘Lowgold combat rating under 25 - Top 100,000’.

There was at least one meter of length on this scroll all-said.

“Look at 1003,” she said, and my eyes travelled upwards to the top right of the document to find the number, and the name next to it. It was mine.

Glassy Sky Arelius - 19 years old - #1003

Hold on, nineteen ? I don’t remember ever telling Eithan my age, but I’m twenty. Did he lie for my sake?

Well, I could remember me telling him about the Skysworn tryouts. Lowgolds could only qualify under twenty years of age.

At the time, I just thought I’d simply advance to Highgold in order to avoid a rejection, but I guess Eithan had taken care of things early. He wouldn’t have known about the Skysworn tryouts by the time he had entered my name in the city’s registry, so I really couldn’t fathom the discrepancy.

Maybe it just generally looked better for a talented Lowgold to be below 20, as that was the Skysworn’s standard. And I needed to battle all the allegations of weakness that I could, considering the fact that I hadn’t even been a Copper four months ago.

And my rank was… green . It was in green text, unlike the vast majority which was black.

“Why is my rank green?” I asked. “Actually, how am I even ranked ?”

“Both questions can be satisfied by the same answer,” Chiara said. “Our dearest patriarch has seeded you personally. With the recommendation of an Underlord, himself, he has bought you a position at the top one-thousand. Your movement down to one-thousand and three was simply due to other people shifting in rank around you. Naturally, this rapid rise has upset many people.”

“Ninety-nine thousand people to be exact,” I said. Jesus, okay Eithan. This is why people are going to hate me? “Okay, well, the solution seems simple. How do I remove the green text so it doesn’t signify that I was seeded? Who do I have to beat?”

“Anyone within one hundred ranks below you, or anyone above you in rank, though they need not accept if they are not within one hundred ranks of you. If you lose, you experience a drastic drop in ranking. If you win, you may move a little bit upwards depending on the difference in rank between you and your opponent.”

Uh, okay. So the plan was to look for motherfucker number nine-hundred and three, call him out, beat his ass, and prove to the Empire that I wasn’t just cookies and rainbows.

“And who are these lowlives?” I asked, waving Star’s End around at said wounded lowlives. They were dressed like shit, which really said something in an Empire like this, and weren’t particularly strong or cohesive.

“Literally just some lowlives,” Chiara said. “Desperate people trying to make a scale off us before the real fighting force lays in on us.”

“The mercenaries?” I asked. Also, damn. So I was just destroying a bunch of desperate hobos? Probably shouldn’t feel so good about my win, then. Oh well, at least it boosted my ego.

“Yes, them, though they have turned around,” Chiara pointed at the sky. “You understand why.” Right where she was pointing, a fleet of green clouds made their way towards us. In moments, they were on the ground, a crew of sacred artists wearing metallic green armor, panelled with motifs of green leaves at the breastplates and thighs, green plate feathers on the arms, and faceted, gem-like pauldrons like cut emeralds.

They rapidly rounded up the belligerents and took off towards the ones that flew far, all without addressing any of us.

Chiara took me by the shoulder, shaking me from the sight, and pointed at the cloud.

“The mercenaries aren’t likely to ambush us if we go to well-protected locales, preferably away from the mountains, and those are the only ones we shall be visiting for today,” she said. “The museum is one of them. Are you still in the mood?”

Eh, it wasn’t extreme sports, but it would do. Besides, there were plenty of other ways to burn money in this city. And Chiara seemed to have an interest in Blackflame history. It seemed like as good a plan as any!

“Sounds like it’ll be fun,” I fibbed. I walked up to sit on the cloud. “By the way, do you carry around a ranking list that contains your own entry?”

Chiara answered me while she leaned on her sword, which was resting point first on the ground. “I grabbed this one so I could show it to you, in case you wanted to know. Eithan Arelius has never seeded anyone’s rank before, but a few months ago, he did it with three outer family disciples whose faces we never saw again after a certain point, yet Eithan insisted you were all still alive. I wanted to ask you what you did to make Eithan dote on you so.”

“I know the future,” I said. “The Dreadgods will soon rise, within less than a handful of years, and I know the path to ultimate power. Eithan values my prescience.”

Honesty was the best policy, especially when you knew that no one would believe it. Then it was just lying by telling the truth.

She rolled her eyes and chuckled dryly. “Humorous, but your joke went on for a tad too long. Brevity is the soul of wit, you know.”

“It was a brief summary,” I said. “And it was the truth, not wit. I really am that special. Hang out with me for long enough and you’ll see.” After all… I have plot armour.

Wasn’t worth much, though. I was death-proof, not trauma-proof. Cold Heart was meant to help me deal with that. Well, specifically it was meant to help me not get hung up about whatever lives I took while on Cradle. Instead, it turned out to be its own source of trauma. Thanks Obama.

“You know, I didn’t expect you to tell me the truth, but I am certainly entertained by the lie you came up with,” she said. “A lack of brevity notwithstanding. Next, I would like to ask you about your path. Your Enforcer technique shares similarities with the Flowing Starlight technique of the Stellar Spear path. Any relations?”

“We share a common ancestor,” I said. “The legendary Path of the Broken Star. Mine is just another divergence. Or a convergence as it were. By my estimations, it is an upgrade. I would like to explain to you exactly how if you had seventy-two hours to spare on my ramblings.”

“Fine,” she said with a shark-like grin. “Keep your secrets.”

“I’m telling you the truth, but okay,” I said. “One thing you need to know about Eithan Arelius is that it takes at least this much for him to fixate on someone. My friend Lindon, one of the others that were seeded, received an audience with a heavenly messenger before he was even a Copper, around seven to eight months ago. He was raised without the sacred arts, you see, as a consequence of a madra deficiency that was detected in him when he was six years old. My other friend, Yerin, was the sole disciple of the Sage of the Endless Sword, who died in Lindon’s homeland. That is how they met.” Chiara’s smile faltered a little, and I could tell from her subtle shifts in expression that she was debating on whether or not to believe anything I was saying. I couldn’t blame her. Maybe I should stop, just in case she were to take me seriously. “Wow, I started boring myself near the end there. Excuse me.”

“Why did you wish to see my entry,” she asked. “Do you not believe me?”

“I do,” I said. “You have no reason to lie. I just wanted to see how old someone as talented as you were without having to ask.”

Chiara chuckled. “Well, now you did ask.”

“I’m gonna hazard an ‘eighteen’,” I said. Always the safest bet, or so the stereotypes said.

“ I’m twenty-four,” she said. “And you’re a bit of a fool.”

Oh absolutely. I should stop talking. “Where do you want to end up?” I kept talking. “Sacred Arts wise. Do you have a dream destination?”

She raised an eyebrow. “A little too personal for a first meeting, don’t you think?”

“Apologies,” I said, bowing my head. I really should consider that ‘stop talking’ thing I decided on earlier. “We do things differently where I’m from.”

“I would have asked where that is, but I’m wise to your ways now,” she said. “Bold of you, however, to lie bold facedly to an Arelius. You do realize I will eventually find out, yes?”

“Good luck,” I said with a chuckle. Lady, I’m as lost as anyone else regarding the question of what the fuck I was. The only reason my ego hadn’t collapsed as of yet was because I was making a conscious effort to not fixate on the past. All the time .

Instead, I would rather fixate on Chiara and her pretty face and manic ways and magic gaze.

Imagine days spent in a lovesick daze as I contemplate her and me atop a dais.

I’d rather be the mental equivalent of a squirrel. It helped.

“Enough about me,” I said. “I’m not that interesting anyway. What about you ? You’re an Arelius Skysworn. I don’t imagine there are many of you in the force, considering our usual vocation.”

“I clean up the streets, too,” she said. “Of crime . For the Empire!” She nodded solemnly.

I gave her an inquisitive grin. “I didn’t take you for the jingoistic type. I assumed you were more of a rebel, going your own way to spite your parents.” Maybe that was a crazy thing to say to a nationalist with superpowers, but I knew she was just fucking with me. Call it an Arelius sense.

“I was being sarcastic,” she said. “I practise the sacred arts to the extent that I have because I don’t wish to be a cleaner. Being a Skysworn affords me more freedom, but doesn't quite hit the spot, either. The truth is I’m just going with the flow at this point.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” I said. “Plus you’re young. You’ll figure things out eventually.”

Eventually, I would become immortal. Then I would have all the time in the world. Then lifespan would not be the natural measure of my life. I could take as much time as I wanted on everything that I wanted to do.

The consequences sounded downright disastrous, if I thought about it. Forget about ‘all your loved ones dying’ because I never quite saw the sense in why that was such a disaster. It wasn’t as though the universe had a limit on how many loved ones you could accrue in a lifetime.

But if I had a million years to write a book, and spent a hundred years procrastinating because I could afford it, then what the hell would my life even become? Glacial. Inhumanly glacial.

I’d need to put a pin on this train of thought and revisit it in the future. Surely there must be some psychological studies on immortality and its effects on the mind, and also how it affected concepts such as progress.

What I feared now was becoming glacial.

"It's more complicated than that," she said, in a tone that suggested I probably shouldn't interrogate it further. "As Arelius, we serve," she said. "One way or the other."

I nodded, not quite understanding, but... there was a melancholy to her statement, one that I knew mere platitudes couldn't resolve.

“Want to get going?” I asked, gesturing at the cloud I was sitting on.

She took a step and jumped neatly onto the cloud. I grabbed around her waist and she sped off without giving me an opportunity to get comfortable.

000

The museum, to my disappointment, was a museum.

It had cool exhibits every now and then, nice-looking graphics of lineages and dynasties, portraits with wildly varying art-styles, from photorealistic to more abstract styles that emphasized other aspects of reality that earlier cultures were more attached to. It wasn’t about the skill of early artists. Far from. ‘Poorly drawn’ was a value judgment made from the position of being in a culture that vastly preferred one thing over another. My culture preferred realism, and so paintings of Baby Jesus and whatnot were always seen by my generation as ugly and uncanny, but that wasn’t because earlier artists didn’t know any better.

And Cradle’s history was so vast and in some isolated cases in time, so well documented, that one could clearly see the shift in the sliding scale between abstraction and realism. Plenty of times did realism take the backseat in favor of trippier artstyles, too.

One reason why I didn’t love museums, however, was because they sort of left you thirsting for more. It was hard for me to gain an interest in certain topics to begin with, but once I did, it became clear that the museum only gave you a taste test of the knowledge you wanted, and sometimes that knowledge wasn’t quite what would sate your curiosity.

Still, for the sake of not being a graceless guest to Chiara’s outing suggestions, I absorbed as much of what was given as I could. I paid a guide to lead us through the exhibits, starting from the Naru clan, going back in time to the Blackflames, and then the Black Dragons that ruled Ashwind pre-Dread War. The guide weaved a tapestry that read like a coherent storyline, but in reverse, which I knew to be slightly dramatized due to common sense. No history occurred in perfect order and reason. Sometimes random shit happened. Sometimes one guy got too much credit when really, the times that the guy lived in contributed to his ideas just as much, if not more. Great Man theory of history was one of my least favorite things, because it made history too fanciful.

Kill Baby Hitler and some dude called Strauss would have started the Third Reich probably. Nothing was cut and clear about history, least of all the actions of one person.

Cradle could be different, though. It made sense that one person could change the course of history, completely by themselves, without the input of the society they existed in. Vanishingly rare still, as Malice and Northstrider were still products of their upbringing. Even they could be swayed by the circumstances that gave rise to them.

It was all determinism in the end. Effects had a cause. Map every event of a human’s life and their path forward will be predictable. What then called the shots: the great man or their background? Chicken and egg.

When I called to question the guide’s attachment to history’s Great Men, she got… a little snippy . So I stopped. You’d assume someone passionate about a subject could welcome someone else poking holes in your beliefs. At the very least, it’d give you an opportunity to defend your passion. She took it personally , though. Went straight for the ad hominem ‘the young master is ill informed by his tutors’. Eh, whatever.

But it was good that I hired her, because while the museum blurbs and text blocks could give me a summary of what I wanted to know, she was actually quite learned in the subjects displayed. I could just ask her anything, and she’d give me an answer. All I needed to do was not try to argue with her, even if not doing so left me thoroughly unconvinced about most of the stuff I learned.

By the time the three-hour tour through the expansive museum complex ended, I felt quite hungry, so I had Chiara use her detection web to find me the nearest place to eat, a food stall in a wide boulevard outside that sold rice bowls that contained braised meat. I bought her a bowl as well.

In between bites, I made smalltalk with my bodyguard. I didn’t want to go as far as to impress her with the magnitude of knowledge I had memorized due to my perk, because that would be way too obvious. Instead, I just wanted to know her thoughts. “Still can’t get over the fact that the Seven Great Skeletons of Serpent’s Grave were all Overlords at the lowest . That’s how big even an Overlord Sacred Beast can get.”

“Oh yeah,” she said. “Interesting. Not really my thing, however. History, that is.”

Huh? “I assumed you did find this stuff interesting,” I said.

“When did I imply that?” she asked. “Museums are where young masters like you go,” she said. “I took you here so you could have fun. Did you not? Fighting with the guide?” She giggled a little at that. “My, you sure are passionate.”

Wait, fuck. “You said this place showed the points of history back when the empire was ‘ interesting ’.”

“Yes, but that is a relative statement. Most of history is quite boring, to me at least. Besides, I’m not too fond of museums either,” she said. Then her eyes widened and she gaped mockingly at me. “You decided to come here to oblige my perceived interest, didn’t you? Admit it.”

I laughed. “I can’t believe you at all.”

“I’m here to bodyguard you, Glassy,” she said. “We’re not on a date. Don’t think about me .”

Were I a lesser man, I would crawl under a hole and die of starvation in there. “I love museums,” I said. “Of course I do.”

“Mhm,” she hummed, grinning with a closed mouth. “I believe you. Eat your food, young master.”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—

000

I took myself shopping afterwards.

The idea was simple: move away from Eithan’s aesthetic. He was the hanfu-guy. I wanted something else. The sacred arts robes were beautiful, but I wanted something that showed more shape.

I ended up visiting a stylist whose entire job was to figure that stuff out; the aesthetic that I wanted.

I did want to wear pants. Baggy pants, to pay homage to my days spent out of shape. Plus, they felt better. Not as free as the robes, but too much freedom was also a bad thing. The pants at least introduced an element of structure that my legs direly needed, sensory-wise.

I left my arms bare, because that too felt better, sensory-wise.

The final get-up was a sort of white and electric blue vest that covered my torso, left open sleeves around my shoulders to create this trapezium shape from my chest and up, and it hung slightly loose around my waist area. This garment then turned into a cape around my lower back, all the way to my ankles. It didn’t cover any of my arms, which were covered in bands of gleaming white platinum—a pair around my biceps, forearms and wrists. My pants were baggy and white silk that gave it an Arabian feeling to it, and my ankles were also enclosed by white bangles. My shoes were actually constructs , white with blue accents and soles, modified for color post-production by some scripts. They were made for comfort , not substance, but that was substance all on its own.

I couldn’t understate how good they felt. Every step felt like an orgasm.

I looked at myself in the mirror, twirling around and glazing my mortal form, until the stylist lost patience and asked “I trust that this is to the young master’s liking.”

“Pretty much,” I said with a smile. “Only question, is there anything rude or disagreeable about it? I’m a foreigner, as you can clearly tell, and I’m not yet wise to the ways of the Empire.”

“Foreign dress would not inspire disgust in our populace. The Empire is vast, and our tastes diverse,” she said.

“Yes, but are you just saying that to sell this to me, or because it’s the truth?” I mostly just provoked her to see if she would drop her saleswoman facade. I had this… natural distaste for salespeople. This wasn’t to say that they were bad people at all. They were incentivized to make me part with my money, and would say a lot of things to achieve those ends, but holy fuck if it didn’t always make me feel like shit leaving a store with a paid warranty that I would never use.

“I trust that the young master can receive constructive feedback,” she said. “And I would never outfit you with something that I might find to be disagreeable. A thousand apologies for reminding the young master, but this is my job.”

“Apologies for the doubt,” I said as I still looked at myself. “Yeah, I’ll take it,” I said. “Let’s come up with derivations. I really like this style. And some other things, too.”

We worked out the budget and she was quick to get to work, walking me through the process. It had been rocky talking with her at first, but her style of communication suited me better right now and I honestly couldn’t say that I was having a bad time, as far as her being a saleswoman went.

Maybe I just really fucking hated parting with my own hard-earned money?

Eithan’s, not so much.

By the time I was done shopping, I walked out of the shop with several bags of clothing. Chiara flew me up into the sky where I opened up my void key and shoved all of my crap inside, away from prying eyes.

“May I ask?” Chiara said, clearly meaning to address the whole extra dimensional storage business. “Without you lying to me.”

“Lifted it off a two-thousand-year-old practitioner of the Path of the Broken Star. He was pretty suicidal, and I needed his Remnant to complete my ascension to Lowgold. So we entered into an agreement. He would teach me everything, impart upon me all his knowledge, and then I would execute him and take his Remnant.”

“Okay, I will bite: Why you?” she asked.

“I was the closest person there, and actually in need of his Remnant,” I said. “So… luck. Pure luck, really.”

“So the Broken Star thing,” she said. “That’s real?”

“You’ll figure that out eventually,” I said. “There are several Arelius disciples on that path currently, thanks to Eithan.”

“Huh,” she said. “Well, I didn’t—” she paused then. “Eithan has called us back,” she said, and then made an abrupt turn towards a different destination. The sun was beginning to set over the horizon, exactly towards the point where we were headed, and I began to feel sad that today would end.

I shook the sadness away. There was no cause for sadness or longing. Today was a fine day, spent in the presence of a fine woman as well. No need to taint that with pesky craving.

I opened my mouth to say ‘I had a lot of fun today’ but I couldn’t bring myself to abide by such a cliche, and especially also give her more cause to accuse me of misrepresenting today as some kind of date. She was at work trying to save my useless ass. No need to make it more fanciful than that.

We dropped off near the Arelius stronghold, in front of Sky's Mercy.

Once we landed, I opened my mouth, and said things that would a moment later make me regret not saying ‘I had a lot of fun today’.

“I assume my infectious personality has given you cause to consider another time where we could be together, on a more social basis.”

Yeah, excuse me, what the fuck?

Chiara turned to me and gave me another one of her million impenetrable smiles, and shook her head. “I would, but…” Then she pouted. “You’re too weak .”

The answer took a second to compute. Too weak, what did that mean? Weak of mind? Weak in body? Did I need to hit the gym? Why did ‘weak’ matter at all in this situation anyway?

Then I remembered. We are in Cradle.

This is the way.

Yet, I couldn’t help but find this way absolutely hilarious.

“Hahahahahaha!”

Okay, that was funny. Damn. Get absolutely dunked on, easy pickings. I simply wasn’t swole enough. Oh, the humanity.

“Okay,” I said once I calmed down. “I suppose we’ll talk once I’ve cleared Lowgold, then?”

“As long as I’m still a Highgold,” she said. “And… sure. We can find something to do together.”

I couldn’t quite tell if she didn’t believe in me, if she wanted to encourage me, or if she was just saying things to get me to leave, but goddammit if I wouldn’t take all of this as a total win.

“Don’t say something you’ll regret in a couple of months,” I said. “I’ll hold you to that.”

She took a step towards me, regained her smile, and pierced me with her narrowed gaze. “ Please do.”

Okay, I didn’t expect that answer.

Why was it that she could just say things that would damn-near knock me unconscious? Was this what they called a ‘man-eater’? What my momma always warned me about? Conqueror’s Haki, maybe?

Eithan opened the door to the nearest house to us abruptly, saw me, and gave me a friendly old Eithan smile, meaning it raised my skin somewhat. “Come, we need to get you fitted,” he said.

“I, uh, I got my own clothes,” I said.

“I saw them. They need adjustments.”

I would never get over that power of his.

I walked up, turned to Chiara and flashed her a smile and a wave. She gave a chaste nod in return and flashed a brief smile. Then she turned and left. I walked up to Eithan inside the cloudship.

Once the doors closed, he immediately spoke. “So you’ve met someone you fancy already, eh?”

“Get fucked, Eithan,” I said.

“I only understood my name,” he said.

“It means ‘you are a valued member of my family and I love you.”

“Ah, okay. Get fucked ,” Eithan said, with only the slightest of accents. I burst into laughter. “Was that good?”

“Perfect,” I said.

That utterance didn’t stop Eithan from continue to yap about how my heart had already been stolen, alerting Chiara to all of his talk in the meanwhile.

Mother fucking Areliuses. Eithan certainly made me rethink my stance on averting the coming massacre.

Chapter 21: Sky's Big Break

Chapter Text

“One thing I never got over when it came to Cradle was that the villains were so… universally one-note,” I said as I held a T-pose while Eithan did Gods knew what with my clothes, a pair of fabric scissors in one hand, and a needle and thread in another. He had snipped bits out, sewn bits together, tightened the waist, and was barely stopping to even listen to my rambling. Why he had to do this personally was apparently because we were cutting it close to the hour of the event. “According to my own highly arbitrary estimation, villains come in three flavors. There’s the virtuous villain, whose methods might be deplorable, but their goals are noble. Sometimes, their goals are so noble that you start to wonder who is the real villain, and why the heroes would even stop this plot if what it promises is so noble. Then there are the evil villains, who don’t want peace. They want problems, always !” I chuckled at the meme. “They’re mighty fun, too. And they’re realistic. Evil people exist in real life whose main priority is to hurt others. No moral ambiguity in defeating them, but that doesn’t mean that the struggle isn’t entertaining. Finally, there’s the neutral villain, heroes unto themselves, and villains unto everyone they don’t view as a part of their people. The narcissists, the delusional, they pose a threat of course, and are entertaining to read about too, but that seems to be all that our story has in store for us. The neutrals. Ancient monsters out of touch with humanity, lacking in perspective, delusional and self-interested to an obscene amount. Lindon met several Jades like that back in Sacred Valley. Jai Daishou was one. Several are to come. And in the end, none of them are virtuous enough to make the fight nuanced or ambiguous, or evil enough to warrant true hatred and vitriol. They’re just… exasperating.” All of them seemed to be motivated either by pride or revenge. Or they were mindless monsters of mass destruction. None were virtuous. Kiro came close, but he was just a puppet to his father’s whims.

“Exasperation is a powerful emotion,” Eithan said. “It might not be as focused as malice, but it can be a valid motivator for taking action. Indeed, it is better to fight while exasperated than to wait longer and engender true hatred in oneself. Hesitation is the enemy, and hatred muddles things.”

“Yeah, but I won’t learn anything from these people,” I said. “Sure, I’ll gain an unwanted deep-dive into their twisted psychologies and learn more about what makes an ancient monster’s mind rot so severely that they turn out like that white-haired old spearman that damn-near killed me. That won’t help me except for if I wanted to learn how to interact with his kind on a friendlier basis. And I really couldn’t care less about doing that.”

“You wouldn’t learn anything from a pure evil archetype,” Eithan noted. “And more people would get hurt by them.”

“I guess so,” I said. “From a reader’s perspective, things are easier to swallow, but I guess just having idiotic and insane old people as your enemies should suffice if there are real stakes to it.”

“If it helps,” Eithan said. “Think of high-leveled sacred artists not as people, but as nations. They are bound by the behaviours that nations exhibit. This includes inflated pride. And like nations, they can also be irrational and inspired to enormous bursts of rage and fury. You don’t make friends with nations. You form alliances. And once the need for one has depleted, you may break them at will as well to seek better opportunities. This is how men like Daishou think.”

“A pox on his house,” I said. Ugh. That didn’t hit as hard as a ‘fuck him’ would. Maybe I should just exclusively curse in English? Like how French people in movies sometimes went ‘sacre bleu’ and ‘merde’. It would give me this exotic vibe, wouldn’t it?

“Something tells me that you have a personal distaste for him beyond just the massacre he had planned,” Eithan said. “You don’t let go of insults very easily, you know. One would think that someone with your general irreverence wouldn’t be so prickly.”

My eyes widened at that frank observation of myself. I never thought about it much but Eithan did have a point. To an extent.

“I can let insults slide,” I said. “I’m not a cruel idiot. What I can’t let go is an attack.” Punch me in the face during training and I’d shake it off eventually. Especially now as the sacred arts and my journey have done wonders for my pain tolerance.

Try to kill me… yeah, we’d have some fucking problems. Crazy, right?

“There is being wary of an enemy, and then there is being constantly angry at the mere thought of them. This isn’t atypical. Just unexpected of you. And being honest, I would rather you find a way to overcome this than lean further into it. Especially considering your… psychological deficiencies.”

Yeah, I’ll admit the occasional murder and torture fantasies I had of Daishou had gotten a tiny bit distracting, but I liked that they kept me focused during more difficult parts of my training. I really fucking hated that guy.

But I had room in my heart for more than just hatred, so it didn’t really dominate all of my thoughts.

“I won’t lunge for his throat next time I see him,” I said. “Thanks for the valuable advice.”

“This does not sound like my advice is being taken into consideration,” Eithan said.

“I’ll sleep on it,” I said. “Right now, I don’t really think it matters much. Hence my earlier sarcasm.”

Eithan took a step back and gave me a once-over with his human eyes, and I took a look at myself in the mirror.

Okay, Eithan’s tweaks had done some fun stuff. My top was tighter around my waist, my shoulder sleeves hung a little lower on my shoulders, and he had given me a belt with a goldsteel buckle to tie the piece together, opening up my brain to the fact that I am now become manslut, destroyer of sexualities.

“I’d fuck me,” I said.

“I’m beginning to hone in on exactly what that word means, and I do not like it,” Eithan said. “It puts too many things you’ve said in the past into perspective.”

I smirked. “Eithan, my life’s mission is to horrify you more than you can horrify me. I hope that also puts things into perspective.”

“I knew that of course, though you’ll never succeed,” Eithan said. “I can be quite mind-meltingly horrifying if I want to. Ah, we should be arriving soon. Follow me,” Eithan said as he walked out of the dressing room of the cloudship and towards the front door.

“Remind me why we’re running late?” I asked. “Or, if you had told me before, I would have remembered, so actually, why are we running late?”

“We’re not running late,” Eithan said. “We are late. We just have to make sure that we arrive on the precipice before it is considered rude and not fashionable and ditzy.”

“You’re a dick, Eithan,” I said, using the English word for the curse. “Never change.”

“Thank you, you’re a dick, too!”

“I try to be,” I said. “Your robes are ugly.”

“Alas, if only I took advice from morons,” Eithan said.

“Funny, your robes did give me that impression,” I chuckled. “Oh, by the way, can I have another scale?”

Eithan groaned. “You’re more irritating than I am at my best , and that is saying something.”

We arrived at the doorway to the exit of the cloudship and stood still there. From the adjacent windows, I could see that we were just beginning to touch down in this expansive cloudship parking lot that looked like a celestial neighbourhood, with houses of all shapes and sizes sat atop beds of cloud madra.

“Why don’t you challenge me to something, for your scales,” I said. “You want me to crash out, or be entertaining for you or whatever, then pay me.”

“I’m decently sure I could make you ‘crash out’ even without the financial incentive. You would do that on your own the moment a person looked at you wrong.”

“I’m not like that,” I denied instantly. Jesus, why was that his estimation of me? Where was the precedent for that?

“Yes, you are indeed my most well-mannered disciple.” There was a kernel of truth to that, though. Would he dare bring Yerin to this place? Lindon would be easy. The poor boy oozed politeness.

I could do a decent approximation.

I gave him a polite bow and switched my formality levels. “The Underlord is wise beyond his years. All wills bend before his mighty word, even this lowly one’s.”

Eithan looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “That act will not help you once we are inside, you know.”

“The honoured Underlord is of course correct. This lowly one can only ask for his guidance and protection.”

“No, do keep going,” Eithan said. “I’m curious to see how long you’ll maintain self-control.”

“Is tonight a test from the young Underlord?” I asked. “To test this lowly one’s temper?”

“Among other things, but that will be a good way to prove to you that your hot temper is probably not something that’s growth you should encourage.”

I was already getting tired of this, actually. “Will the young Underlord converse with the Jai Underlord at this time?”

“Yes, he’ll be there,” Eithan said. “The main gist is that Serpent’s Grave’s most important people will be in attendance. The event was orchestrated by the Naru and Kotai clans, who are more eager to see the great clans cooperate than shed blood on the streets. Daishou’s manoeuvring, albeit legal and above-board, has been vastly unprofitable for him and his partners, especially after I started actively working to thwart him. They are now hoping that we can bury the hatchet. Daishou wants to lower my guard. I will pretend like my guard is lowered and hope he buys the act. Then we will go our separate ways. As for you, uh, find some rivals or something. I don’t care.”

Yeah, this was gonna be another Broken Star, wasn’t it? He wasn’t telling me his real game, and was desperate to see me flail.

“Any chance this one’s ‘seeded’ status won’t cause him trouble once we’re inside?”

Eithan smiled knowingly, perhaps surprised that I had learned of that already. “No, the young masters of Serpent’s Grave are notoriously tolerant.”

Meaning, there would definitely be a fight tonight.

“You know, you can’t claim to be this enigmatic and all-knowing figure and still blatantly lie when asked questions.”

Eithan shrugged. “Yes, true, but you’re entirely at my mercy, and I love seeing you squirm.”

There will come a day where I will kick this motherfucker into the stratosphere.

But not today.

I sighed.

The cloudship touched down with a slight rumble in the house, and Eithan kicked the door open and strode forth and towards a magnificent castle straight out of a fairy tale. It even had a single central spire and was made predominantly out of white stone with multi-colored roof tiles and pillars.

Eithan’s walking speed was clearly exaggerated through the use of his Underlord body. It could probably match a normal human at a full-on sprint. Since I couldn’t move my legs in that way while still walking, I had to maintain a slight jog to keep up with him.

On a whim, I used Starfire Surge and found that my power walking indeed surpassed his in speed.

“Say, which one of us is faster in a straight line?”

Eithan laughed mockingly at that. “It is infinitely amusing to me that you would even pose such a question. As a sacred artist, I am baffled and amused. As a teacher, I’m disappointed. The answer is ‘me’, as I doubt that the implication registered considering how dense you had to be to even ask.”

“A simple ‘me’ would have sufficed,” I said. “Did I brush a nerve or something? Jesus Christ.” Was ‘I am stronger than you’ somehow a trigger for him?

“No more talk,” Eithan said. “It is time to get serious and pretend that we are both normal, rational human beings. Can you do that?”

“Bitch, can you? Also, how dare you lump me in with you? I was plenty normal before I met you! ”

“You cannot, it seems,” he said. I withheld a growl and just kept walking.

“The young Underlord is great, and may his word always be heeded,” I said. “May his lineage reach to the stars. May his—” and on it went, because I was petty like that, and this was the most innocuous way to annoy him.

By the time we arrived at the gates, I prayed that his nursery rhymes would reach every corner of the planet. Then a halberd-wielding guard in golden plate armor and a concealed face helmet unceremoniously interrupted me with a cry that managed to glaze Eithan Arelius harder than I could ever imagine.

“Eithan Arelius, Eleventh Ranked Underlord, Thirteenth Ranked Sacred Artist in The Blackflame Empire And Its Conquered Territories, Protector of Lost Children, Guardian of the Blood Pits—” wait, that was real? “First Signatory of the Treaty of Nautilus, Governor of Anis, Catcher of the Queen Eel, Patriarch of the Arelius Clan of the Blackflame Empire.”

I whispered. “He forgot ‘ugly’.”

Eithan elbowed me so hard that my arm went numb. Damn, okay. We’re going physical now? How was I supposed to retaliate?

I guess I wasn’t supposed to.

I did crack a smile though, because getting him to react like that was wildly gratifying. Eithan’s strained smile told me that not only had I hit a nerve, but even his reaction was an impulse that he regretted.

I can’t believe I made him lose control.

I looked up at the sky, wondering if I had manifested the irritation icon, represented by an orange with a face.

“Welcome. You may enter Castle Saint Haven, along with your guest.”

Eithan didn’t say a word and continued through, wearing his trademark smile that had allowed him to fool everyone into thinking he was a non-entity.

The halls inside were wide enough to allow five cars to drive side-by-side. Servants were posted at equal intervals, and two of them rushed towards us to lead us to the ballroom. A few twists and turns through the impractically large habitation and we were met with a pair of open twin-doors that reached almost four meters in height, revealing an expansive circular room that I recognized as what I had seen of the building from the outside: one enormous dome from which the central spire grew out of.

In the very center were people doing movements that I would hazard were dances judging by the weird music that played, though it seemed choreographed to be organic. Surrounding them were tables, each arranged at certain elevations that gave the dome this amphitheatrical air of stepped seating arrangements. As you rose each level, the people became less and less populous, until at the very top, there were only three people seated on a particularly ornate and showy table, impractically bejeweled and plated in irresponsible amounts of gold. But besides them on that entire level was no one, except for rows of servants standing at attention, almost blending into the pillars they were standing in front of.

Among the guests of honor at the top level, two of them, I didn’t recognize. Well, I did from the books. Kotai Shou, if my memory didn’t fail me. Stone skin and an enormous stone Remnant arm. He had a pair of braids dangling before each ear, but was otherwise completely bald. Pretty bold fashion statement, but I guess when you were a sailor and an Underlord at the same time, things like style fell in the wayside.

The other guy looked very old and had a head of matted gray hair that hung loosely over his face, wore green plate armor that looked exactly like what the Skysworn wore, and was chewing on a plant stalk. Naru Gwei.

And of course, the third guy was someone I had seen before. Long braided hair of white steel, a clean-shaven face, and of course his trademark sneer.

“That’s me,” Eithan said with an excited smile. “You’re… somewhere down there. Go on and have a seat somewhere. Choose wisely.”

Ah, I see what the game is. The shit-tiers were down at the bottom, and the Underlords were at the top. There were five separate levels of elevation in this stupidly-designed ballroom, and they couldn’t all correspond to power. They definitely did correspond to something, and depending on what I picked, I could get shit for it.

I had to be careful, to prove Eithan wrong.

Then I saw this woman seated on the third tier, and my plans went out the window.

Where did I even start? Her face was flawless, skin hardly marred by a spot of discoloration, much less a blemish. Her eyes were shadowed, and their colour was that of a dark sea. Her dark hair fell straight down her shoulders like a perennial waterfall. She wore a skintight dress of sapphire scales that blended into her skin in ocean hues and loosened further down her body, revealing a slit at the legs.

Everything on her face seemed so put-on-right that I could scarcely believe she was real.

It wasn’t even lust that inspired this fixation that I currently had on her. I was certain she was leagues beyond me.

I just couldn’t quite accept that she was real.

She obviously was, of course, and I should probably do anything else than what my body was currently in the process of doing: walking down towards her. She was on the third level from the bottom, only two levels away from the Underlords, and if I had tried to stick more with the plan, I would have probably chosen the level below hers just to stay safe.

But where was the fun in that?

My heart thundered in my chest, setting fresh waves of adrenaline through me, waking me up for the first time today. I was going to make a fool of myself. Worst case scenario, I might even gross her out. I wouldn’t blame her: I was practically floating towards her like a cartoon character smelling pie on some window sill.

I approached her table, and finally noticed that she had other people sitting with her, all of whom were engaged in conversation that immediately ceased once I arrived.

“Apologies for the intrusion,” I said. “But I could not help but notice that this seat was not taken,” I looked at the one right next to It-Girl. “May I have it?”

“Preposterous!” One of her friends, some snarling guy with dark slicked back hair said. He had delicate and soft features, almost girlish, though his furrowed eyebrows lent him an atmosphere of rigidity. “You—”

“I know him,” a curly haired dirty blonde man that had this Arelius look to him spoke. “You’re that seeded individual from the Arelius clan. I saw you arrive with our Underlord.”

The dark-haired guy who had yelled at me immediately donned a look of surprise.

“That’s me,” I said. “I trust that won’t be a problem. I’m a newly adopted member of the Arelius clan, and I would just like to get to know more people.”

I heard stomps behind me and turned to look at a person trying to push past me. Thankfully, my senses weren’t so dull that I would have just let him. I neatly stepped out of the way.

“Out of the way,” he said as he sat down next to It-Girl and put a hand over hers. He had dark hair that was parted at the side and a pair of black horns jutting out from it, a jawline that could cut diamonds, and had a great physique beneath his tang suit-like clothing. “What did I miss? Who is this clown?” he looked up at me. “Hey, clown, what’s up with your hair? Are you trying to blind me?”

“Apologies,” I said, wincing slightly at having let go of the Ruler technique ever since I caught sight of the woman. “I’m still getting used to it.” I activated the technique and dispersed the light aura into my surroundings, dimming the luminosity of my hair.

“Get used to it elsewhere, you fool,” he sneered. “You look like a human torch!”

A couple of the women at the table—though not the sapphire-eyed woman—tittered, and I laughed too, because that was exactly what I had thought once before.

“What’s so funny?” he asked me.

I frowned. “Well, the joke obviously. Did you forget what you just said? Are you confused, sir?”

He hammered his fists on the table. Oh God, this was really happening then.

“Remove yourself,” he said through gritted teeth. “Or I will remove you .”

The one who had recognized me spoke up. “He is position one-thousand and three in Lowgold under twenty-five,” he said. “Seeded.”

The ill-mannered piece of shit’s eyes widened as he took me in in a new light. “He’s that punk that everyone made such a fuss about?”

“Wait, just, forget about all that for a moment. I came here to grab a seat and socialize,” I said. “But I do know when I’m not wanted.” I turned around to leave.

“Hold it, punk!”

Ah. Oh no. Woe is me.

Here I go beating the shit out of some asshole again. Man, I hate when these opportunities fall into my lap.

I turned around and contained my excitement as I looked at him questioningly. “Was there anything else, young master?”

“You think you’re tough?”

My heart sped up. “Of course not,” I said. “My Patriarch bought my rank for me. I’m as weak as they come. Even now, I’m shivering in my boots at your continued scrutiny.” And beneath everyone else’s notice, I whispered a few words meant only for one person. “Three of your scales and I’ll beat this guy up on the spot.” I glanced at Eithan, who wasn’t looking at me.

“No deal,” Eithan’s voice sounded in my ears, somehow, like he had spoken close to my ear. Ah well.

I’d still do it.

The asshole smirked, but the chuckles around the table threw him off, and a moment later, he noticed my sarcasm.

I had read somewhere that Eastern cultures didn’t put much stock in it as a form of wit, but I really appreciated that Cradle did. It was one of my favourite forms of wit, even if it was the ‘lowest’ one there was.

“Do you want to get hurt, you overly-bright clown?”

“Quick question,” I addressed the knowledgeable probably-Arelius at the table. “What position is he?”

“Nine-hundred and five.”

My eyes widened at that. Damn, even if he wasn’t an asshole, I’d still try to fight him. He was almost exactly the rank I was going for.

“Scared yet?” He smirked.

“Very,” I said. “Uhm, am I supposed to challenge you to a duel? You can’t say no if you’re within a hundred ranks of me,” I said.

“I have no reason to decline a duel from an insignificant nobody such as you! Let us fight now!”

I held a proverbial finger on the trigger, already cycling my madra. “ Here and now?”

He tilted his head towards the center of the dome. “Down at the circle. We can get it cleared up and I can show you the error of your ways.”

“Where did I err?” I asked.

“You met me .”

“Please, you’ll make me cry,” I said, trying to pretend like my shiteating grin was triggered by sadness. I covered my mouth.

The asshole laughed.

“Wait,” I said. “On the off chance that I win,” I said. And then I looked at the beautiful woman who had stolen my heart. “Would you give me the honor of allowing me to sit with you for the duration of this event? Pardon my directness, but I could not—”

I activated Starfire Surge to do a backward roll away from the asshole’s fist, which had in a mere moment replaced the position of my head. Okay, that was dicey. I jumped from my back to my feet and gave away the game with an easy grin.

“I could not help but notice you from across the room, and I felt compelled to approach. Well?” I asked her.

Her expression was neutral. She gave me a shrug. “If you win.”

“He won’t!” the guy bit out. “I’ll break your legs for talking to my lover, mark my words!”

“Okay,” I said clapping my hands. “Let’s not waste any time, then. I really want to get started on hurting you as well.”

I jogged down to the center of the dancing floor and started yelling “Fight incoming!” People cleared out quickly after that, but the music still played—some strange combination of swing music of all things, with Eastern string instruments combined with brass instruments as well.

Honestly, it wasn’t bad. And they were still playing! I’d love to kick the shit out of someone with musical accompaniment!

Soon the Guy walked down the stairs all dramatic-like, with the exaggerated swagger of a bully from a dark romance. The musicians improvised, increasing tension as he came down, giving him a fucking intro. Hey, no fair! I guess it was that bad-boy charisma. No wonder that beautiful woman was with him. Assholry notwithstanding, he was a pretty attractive fella.

“Weapons or no weapons?” I called out.

“You bring whatever you have. I’m going with no weapons.”

“So you can claim superiority when I beat you in three seconds flat?” I asked him. “No chance.” I started skipping in place, cracking joints and twisting my neck as my heart soared with anticipation for a fight.

No. Not a fight.

For an opportunity to hurt an asshole that had attacked me.

“Somebody count down!” I yelled. The bottom floor’s walls shimmered with madra that rose up like a forcefield, likely to protect spectators from any stray attacks.

A servant standing a tier above us counted down, and I cycled my madra, preparing to activate Starfire Surge as I felt my opponents spirit whirring, giving me a feeling that he was going to lob a Striker technique at me. That was a pretty basic starter.

The count ended. Starfire Surge’s madra markings snaked around my body in a near instant, and I dodged several arrows of solid steel. Earth path. He was way stronger than me. That wasn’t in question. Without my spear, Starfire Surge was more of an evasive technique than anything else.

I sent a Solar Flare at him. He Forged a shield made from a wide and tall steel arrow, and I had to keep moving to dodge the increased barrage. Old boy had been holding back until now, thinking he could get an easy win on me.

Alright then, try this on for size.

I ran up to him as fast as I could, dodging the arrows, and once I was only a couple of meters away, I created a Celestial Anvil where I knew he would strike.

Unfortunately, the technique finished too slowly to create a proper explosion. Fortunately, it wasn’t a backfire. It did blow the Guy back a little, but he wasn’t burned like I had wanted.

I took advantage of his stunned state to land a kick powered by the full weight of my body and the full speed of Starfire Surge. It hit him dead-center on his chest, and blew him back, as well as me.

I recovered easily and saw that he had landed on his feet, smoke rising from his chest in wisps, but otherwise he looked almost entirely unharmed.

Boy was beefy, I’d give him that.

Status update. My madra was still good. Channels were good. Everything was good. No need to asspull more on this fight. Celestial Anvil was already overkill enough.

How about Nova Blade?

I could coat it around my fingers. It hurt when I hit things with them, but a couple of scratches would definitely put the kid out of commission. I’d burn my fingertips, but it would be worth it to see his face squeeze up in agony.

I formulated a plan, one that only someone with an increased perception of time could achieve. Solar Flare went first, to crash into his shield and create a flash of light. I chased the Solar Flare with Starfire Surge, coated all my fingers in Nova Blade—

Narrowly dodged an arrow flying at me down from above, the asshole having somehow snuck that past me.

I jumped over his shield. Time stopped as I floated above him, several steel arrows pointed towards me. Only Celestial Anvil would save me now, but the startup time took too long. Solar Flare? Hell no. Holding Starfire Surge and Nova Blade at the same time was difficult enough.

I’d have to anime this shit.

The arrows, thin, but many, flew towards me, and I used my Nova Blade fingers to deflect or destroy them, swiping at the air like an enraged cat. That fucking stung , but it wouldn’t be enough to take me out. I minded my landing, sensed my opponent, and felt a breath of relief escape me. This time, I would have enough time.

I Forged a tall and wide Solar Flare just in time for the guy to not only attack me, but to do so in melee mode.

Ah shit. Hopefully he wouldn’t die.

The Anvil exploded like God had struck the world with a hammer, and the asshole went flying.

I looked over at him, his body smoking, but otherwise he didn’t look too severely burned. Mostly, it was the concussive force that had done him in. And he was breathing, so he wasn’t exactly done in, either. Total win.

I gave the guy an ostentatious bow, and waved at the crowd. Then I realized that my fingers were burned at the tips and bleeding too. Between that and my aching arm, elbowed by Eithan, those were about the only injuries I had sustained.

000

“You certainly are adept at collecting these dark-skinned humans, Arelius,” Jai Daishou frowned as he looked at Sky. “It’s the second one I’ve seen attached to you. Any relations with that insolent Copper you refused to let me execute?”

“They’re the same person!” Eithan said with a flashing smile. “His name is Glassy Sky Arelius, and he is number one-thousand and three in combat for Lowgolds under twenty-five!”

Daishou’s eyes widened dramatically at that. “ He is Glassy Sky Arelius? A Lowgold already?”

Jai Daishou knew of Sky’s existence. That alone had been enough to have him target the young man by way of placing a bounty on him, one that none in this table would address during this farcical little intervention, headed by a man that despised him, and a man that was quite frankly not the sharpest tool in the box.

“Do you mean to mock me, Arelius?” Daishou asked.

“Explain that,” the Kotai Underlord said as he chewed on a chicken leg with his one human hand, his Remnant arm so large that his knuckles touched the ground from where he sat. “What enmity do you have with a Lowgold?”

You could rely on dim specimens to ask insightful questions every now and then. Like this one, for example.

“Yes, Daishou,” Eithan assented. “I can’t for the life of me imagine why you would possibly have a grudge with young Sky.”

“You know why,” Daishou growled. “His insolent Copper tongue dared cast aspersions on my character.”

“Copper? He’s clearly a Lowgold,” Eithan said. “Or was that a figure of speech?”

Naru Gwei growled. “What is the meaning of this, Arelius? And speak straight.”

“Daishou can explain if he feels so sufficiently bothered,” Eithan gestured towards the elderly Underlord—so elderly that he was secretly on his last legs.

“Months ago, this Lowgold was a Copper , and Eithan incited him into insulting me.”

“A thousand apologies for my bluntness, but I did no such thing,” Eithan said. “And I am prepared to swear a soul oath to confirm this.”

“Be that as it may, I require reparations.”

“Ah, yes,” Eithan nodded. “The matter of reparations.” He smiled at Daishou. “No. We did nothing wrong. What should any of us apologise for?”

“Breaking rank is a crime,” Gwei growled. “A Lowgold cannot insult an Underlord, especially one of Patriarch status.”

“A Copper !” Daishou seethed.

“The punishment for said crime must be personally meted by the offended party,” Eithan said. “I could give you face by doing it myself if I were so inclined, so you would not need to get your hands stained, but,” Eithan smiled awkwardly. “Unfortunately for you, I am not so inclined. You may go ahead and slaughter him in front of all these dinner guests, however. I give you my full permission.” Eithan gave an encouraging nod.

Daishou looked absolutely livid.

“You know that is not how things are done,” Daishou growled. Yes, now that Sky was a Lowgold of such a high ranking, and thus of value , Daishou could not just slaughter him out of hand without his reputation taking a dive. A promising Lowgold getting snuffed out by a vengeful Underlord that already had a one-sided and inexplicable feud with said Lowgold’s clan? Even the emperor might have to step in at that point. It set a terrible precedent to let old monsters kill young talents out of hand.

Alternatively, Eithan was free to do whatever he wanted with a clansman, and no one would judge him.

“I don’t see the problem,” Kotai Shou said, still focused on his meal. Eithan couldn’t tell if that statement was a lie or just provocation. Surely, Shou could not be this ignorant? “You’ve permission to sate your bloodthirst. Do so or forever keep your peace about the matter.” Perhaps the grizzled sailor just wanted a change in topic? That was equally likely.

Naru Gwei tapped on the table loudly. “Any chance you can’t just kill the boy?” Gwei asked Eithan. “Will make things easier for you in the long run.”

Contrary to Naru Gwei’s own ideas about their relationship, the disdain was not one-sided. Eithan would go as far as to posit that it was Eithan that disliked the grumpy fool more than the other way around.

For these reasons exactly.

Was Naru Gwei aware of the incoming massacre? Sky had stated that it came as a surprise to everyone, but even Gwei? His network consisted of some of the most advanced sacred artists in the entire empire. He had dream readers on payroll. Surely, an issue such as genocide of a major clan would figure into many different visions, and not come as a complete surprise.

It was possible that no single dream reader could correctly discern the shadows of the future. That job went to only a select few people who would collate the data and extrapolate something useful out from the noise. The fact that those people were few made a conspiracy that much more possible. And the fact that Gwei was among those select few… well, that changed the conspiracy from just possible to perhaps even likely .

Eithan always knew that Naru Gwei’s antipathy extended far, but to the point of dereliction of duty? To the point that Gwei would look the other way as Eithan’s clansmen— not even him —were slaughtered en masse?

Sky had holes in his knowledge, and Eithan was cautiously certain that this was one of them.

Of course, he couldn’t show any of that, or everything they had prepared for the big day would go to waste.

“I’ve invested resources into the boy,” Eithan said. “Such that I practically cannot do it, even if I wanted to. The waste would be immense. I’m afraid you’ll have to kill him while I’m not looking.” He smiled at the joke. Kotai Shou barked a laugh at it.

Eithan may have to revise his opinion on the old nautical Underlord. He may be blunt, but perhaps it wasn’t something as ugly as stupidity or ignorance that inspired it, but simply the fact that he felt himself above the web of trifles that Daishou had found himself terminally entangled within? It was to such an extent that Daishou would cast out his most promising family member in over a hundred years simply for having an unsightly Goldsign and a slightly deviated path.

Even in the face of death, a sacred artist’s pride would not bend.

“Enough about the boy, then,” Kotai Shou said. “What I want to talk about is Serpent’s Grave’s Arelius branch experiencing setbacks and providing inconsistent public service. The city has reduced quantifiably in aesthetic. Gwei can attest that crime is high. Why am I meant to sit back and ignore this when it affects my clan?”

“Agreed,” Daishou said, a favourite tactic of his: confuse and muddy the terms of discussion. Anything could be anything if one twisted their words sufficiently, and Daishou was an old hand at this silly game called politics. “If the Arelius clan did not overreach so often, and if Eithan Arelius himself did not encourage this overreach, the custodial clan would be better able to serve the people. Instead, Eithan has lost himself in grand ambitions, lost sight of what is truly important, and found himself at the tip of many a sword.”

“Or spears, as it were,” Eithan quipped.

Daishou just scoffed.

“Any thoughts on this, Gwei?” Eithan looked to the gruff Skysworn. He simply shrugged.

“The great clans are held up by personal might,” Naru Gwei said. “Overreach at your own peril. If you cannot fight off your enemies, then you do not deserve to have what you took.” And what he took were things that he had bought by his own means as well as by being clever—none of his clan’s newfound wealth could be owed to plunder. Eithan had practically designed the artisan district, encouraged the proliferation of art and culture, given rise to so many things of beauty. Only a scant few years in Serpent’s Grave, and Eithan had reshaped the face of it.

None of that mattered compared to what it meant for the Jai clan: the Arelius clan had more scales than them, and had already supplanted them in raw net worth. That was their sin, in the eyes of Jai Daishou.

In the eyes of Naru Gwei, the sin was having those scales and not being able to defend them. And being Eithan.

The Blackflame Empire was in this way no better than a lawless hive of brigands and bandits, but a country headed by sacred artists would almost always form this sort of paradigm. This was one of Cradle’s nastiest curses. You could not be just rich without also being powerful, or the powerful would take your riches and no one would question this.

All the while as he spoke to his colleagues, he kept one eye and ear on Sky, who was already finding himself embroiled in a nonsensical conflict that even he didn’t believe in. No, he just… relished the opportunity to hurt someone. Eithan gave a brief sigh of exasperation.

“Three of your scales and I’ll beat this guy up on the spot,” Sky whispered.

Eithan activated a construct in his inner pocket that would help him throw his voice, and said to Sky “No deal.”

After all, he would do that by himself. Eithan was—as always—right. He did not need to encourage Sky to ‘crash out’ as he put it, not when he was so willing to do so at will.

“True, very true,” Eithan said as he clapped Naru Gwei on his back. The Underlord glared at him. “I could not have said it better myself. And would you look at that!” Eithan gestured to his outer family disciple as he did a quick backward roll from an incoming fist, his form covered by snaking tattoos of white light for a brief moment. “My prospect has found himself an opponent to fight!”

“What was that ?” Daishou hissed. “That technique!”

“It’s called Starfire Surge,” Eithan said with a smile. “A Full-Body Enforcer technique on the Path of the Collapsing Star.”

“That technique, and a hair-based Goldsign! You dare ?!” Daishou almost yelled. “You’ve plagiarized the Path of the Stellar Spear! How in the world did you imagine you could ever get away with this?!”

“Oh, I never did, because I didn’t,” Eithan said. “This is the Path of the Collapsing Star, not the Stellar Spear. I know that the years may have worn on you, but surely your ears should still have a few months left of functionality in them.”

Daishou’s eyes widened. He probably didn’t expect Eithan to drop such a hint to his waning longevity. Eithan gave a sharp smile to dig in the fact that his word choice was no accident.

The two fighters went down to the bottom tier to begin their fighting, but unfortunately Sky wouldn’t use his spear. That was a shame. Eithan had wanted to show off.

“I guess we shall see if his rank means anything,” Gwei said. He tapped on a purple wristband construct, throwing up a list of names that quickly rushed upwards until it came at a stop next to the number nine-hundred and five. “The other boy is ranked nine-hundred in the same category. And your Lowgold was ranked based on your estimation, Eithan. Perhaps your jokes have gone too far this time.”

“Oh, this isn’t the joke,” Eithan said. The fight started, and Sky sent out a Striker technique, the Solar Flare. A narrow ribbon of gold-white power shot out from his hand, crashing into his opponent’s defensive Forger construct, melting through it at an admirable pace.

A pace that far outstripped what the Star Lance—the Stellar Spear’s Striker technique—was capable of, even at the Highgold level. Perhaps only the Truegold iteration of Star Lance could compare to what Sky was already capable of at this level.

And that was all before he had even developed a binding for the technique.

“ That’s the joke,” Eithan said. “Funny, isn’t it?” Eithan laughed briefly. “That didn’t look like the Star Lance to me. It looked quite a bit stronger, didn’t it? Certainly far faster and more intense. You call this plagiarism, I call it an upgrade. There is no comparing the two Paths.”

Kotai Shou raised an eyebrow at Eithan, but said nothing. Naru Gwei fixed him with a gimlet eye.

Daishou? Well, he looked downright furious. “I will not forget this, Eithan.”

“You shouldn’t, and you’re welcome!” Eithan said. “This is only a taste test of what your Path could really be if you were more keen on experimentation. Of course, your stance on that is quite famous, and is currently ripping his way through the ranks of your fighters last I heard. Perhaps there was wisdom in your assessment of the young man, or perhaps you created this fiasco? All good questions!”

“Was that your intent?” Gwei asked. “To raise up a disciple and spend heavens-knows how much just to spite Daishou? And you wonder why your cleaners are getting slaughtered in the streets, Arelius? When you say and do everything in your power to infuriate your peers?”

“No, actually, I wonder why the supposedly strongest military force in the Empire would sit back and let it happen,” Eithan said. “You would think a couple of good investments and a solid track record for excellent service would buy one clemency, especially considering how we never raised a hand to harm or insult any of the great clans, but I suppose greed can be excused when it’s the powerful that possess it. Violence and slaughter is the more legitimate language of the Blackflame Empire. Hence, this,” Eithan gestured at Sky, who was just finishing up with his opponent, but revealing an unnecessary array of his techniques in the meanwhile. “You wanted me to defend my holdings better, Daishou, Gwei. That’s what it looks like.” And if I get to spit on your faces at the same time for the absolute travesty you’ve allowed thus far, then all the better.

“Arelius is right,” Kotai Shou said, digging into another chicken leg. “We either play by the rules of the wild or not at all, and Arelius has chosen this game. But in the meanwhile , I want not a single Arelius connected to the service of clan Kotai harmed. Not a single one , Daishou. This slaughter is senseless and reeks of cowardice. And worst of all, it disrupts my businesses. ”

A fully selfish stance to take, and one that Eithan was not grateful for at all. After all, it did leave Daishou with an opening to exploit: if business was Shou’s concern, then being remunerated with plunder from the Arelius family would more than suffice for his purposes.

“I don’t speak for the imperial family,” Naru Gwei said. “Except to transmit our general stance on the matter: essential services are not to be disrupted,” then Gwei sent Eithan a nasty glare. “If, however, the perpetrators of these disruptions end up running away before they can be apprehended, there is nothing we can do.”

And in the end, neither arbitrators had even come close to solving this problem.

Kill them all , an older part of his mind suggested simply. That was a solution, but obviously a suboptimal one. Naturally, he wouldn’t heed that senseless call to slaughter.

Well, it wasn’t the slaughter that bothered him. Just the fact that it would ruin his plans.

“That’s a tragedy,” Eithan conceded. “Especially knowing how hard the Skysworn fight for the protection of its people.”

“Watch your words, Arelius,” Gwei spat, madra cycling slightly, though not enough to give the guests of the party a fright. “Harm the pride of the Skysworn and I will hold you responsible. And that’s a promise.”

No thank you, the Skysworn has that covered already.

One wrong word and Eithan would have his bloodshed. And then what? Nothing would change. The same steps would be retread. He would be set back, and in the worst case scenario, he might even attract that cat’s attention. Sky had already confirmed that Reigan Shen remembered him. And according to Sky, Reigan Shen didn’t have any more grievances with the Arelius family, but that too could be a hole in his knowledge, or a classic case of an unreliable narrator. After all, it was Reigan Shen that had stated it to Eithan during a negotiation that they would have during the Uncrowned Tournament.

That monster would say anything to get what he wanted. There was no trusting him.

He and Daishou were both cut from the same cloth, and the only difference between them was audacity, of which Daishou had almost none. Case in point:

“Daishou,” Eithan said. “You still don’t want to go down there and kill Sky?”

Never. Not in a million years. Daishou would rather take his own life than stoop to such a level. His power meant nothing compared to the weight he placed on his reputation.

There was only one reason why that was: because he was terminally insecure. No amount of amassed power would erase this. This was the primary issue with the Monarchs and the ‘villains of Cradle’ as Sky so succinctly put it. They were victims of their own warped psychologies.

But seeing Daishou’s face go through so many emotions before eventually settling on resignation… well, that mental torture would never make up for the lives he had claimed in his misguided campaign, but it did serve to lift Eithan’s spirits.

There was no need to ever heed such a feeble adversary. Daishou would meet his end soon. An absolute and all-encompassing end, at the hands of a true destroyer. Why else was Eithan so comfortable taunting the twisted old man?

In only two weeks, things would kick off, and Eithan would teach the doddering old fool the true meaning of regret.

000

I didn’t really consider the ‘what next’, to be honest. It-Girl, awful as it was, was a prize to be won. Asshole was an asshole I wanted to hurt. They weren’t humans in my estimation, and I preferred this way as well because it made things simpler to justify in my head.

I could correctly deduce and accept that I was in the wrong for stirring shit and acting in a way to inflate my ego. That wasn’t hard.

What I couldn’t quite wrap my head around was… what did I do now? Say sorry?

Or, perhaps, let go of the dumb act and just… suffer through the consequences of my actions, as was deserved?

I walked up to It-Girl— no, the beautiful woman’s table and fell on a heap down on her boyfriend’s chair. “Someone should check on him,” I said off-handedly. I had taken some med pills that I had stashed in my pocket for a scenario like this one, so my finger tips had stopped bleeding, even if they were still slightly burned. “What was his name, anyway?”

“Yuraban Shinichi,” the serious guy said. “Practitioner on the Path of the Steel Arrow, sole disciple to the Steel Arrow Demon of the Steel Arrow sect.”

“From the Steel Arrow country of Steel Arrow continent, yes, I’ve heard of it.”

Dead silence. Tough crowd.

I raised a hand and gave the table a wave. “My name is Glassy Sky Arelius, nice to meet you. I’m on the Path of the Collapsing Star. I use a spear. Apologies for my… disruption. I allowed my impulses to get the better of my rationality, and committed violence on one of you. That’s… not really me,” I said. “So, yes, sorry.”

The black-haired guy then spoke. “You were challenged by Shinichi. Even if you hadn’t pretended to be weak, he would have probably fought you at some point. There is nothing you should apologize for.”

Ah, well okay. I mean, I still felt apologetic.

“Senzin Nora,” said the sapphire-eyed woman. “Daughter of Senzin Hyushu.”

“The Senzin Hyushu?” I asked, mouth open.

“The very one,” she said. I felt a little bad for the trickery, as I had no idea who he was, but I couldn’t resist bullshitting for the thrill of it. “Excuse that oaf Shinichi. If only his sacred arts matched his mouth, he would not have tempted fate and challenged you.”

Well, she was the one dating him. Unless I completely misunderstood their dynamic. “You don’t get anywhere without tempting fate,” I said. “Honestly, I appreciated his challenge.”

“Perhaps we should take another table?” she offered. “For some privacy?”

Wait, huh? Oh no. This was an unexpected development.

I stood up, along with everyone else in the table except for Nora, all of whom scurried away to give us privacy. Slowly, I sat back down.

“What’s the privacy for?” I asked her.

“I will be honest with you, Shinichi is a fool,” she said. “But you … you’re competent.”

Where the hell was this going? “Bold of you to assume, but go on.”

“There is nothing bold about this proclamation. You made short work of a capable combatant, earning your spot at the top one thousand of the Empire in your age bracket and advancement.” Those were a lot of asterisks, but I got the picture.

The fight hadn’t been as easy as I had wanted it to be. My physical frailty made hand-to-hand combat really fucking annoying, and anything more than that could prove terrible for my health. The wuxia proverb ‘swords and spears don’t have eyes’ came to mind.

Despite the win, I did feel humbled. Even a mook like him gave me trouble. I was bad against strength builds, it seemed.

Still acquitted myself well, but it could have been better. I wasn’t aiming to become the best in this Blackflame corner of nowhere, as Yerin had so succinctly put it.

“Thank you,” I said, choosing to accept the compliment. “I work hard for my sacred arts, yet everyone gets hung up on my pretty face.”

Nora looked at my face, eyes racing past my features. “You need better skincare, but your bone structure is good. Not perfect , but we can’t all be me.”

The fuck? Hahah. She’s got a few screws loose. I didn’t hate that. Normal people were boring. “I have to ask, though, were you born like that or is your beauty a Goldsign?” Come to think of it, I couldn’t really find any Goldsign on her. I couldn’t sense any specific aspect of her madra either. All it felt like was ‘power’.

“Genetics,” she said. “I cannot help being blessed, though I have made the best of my natural gifts.”

Was this really what I sounded like when I admired myself?

“I can see that,” I said as I gave her a smile and a nod. “Good job. You look almost celestial.”

“Thank you.”

“However, you didn’t answer my question to my satisfaction,” I said. “Why the privacy?”

“What would you say about replacing Shinichi?”

I blinked. Then I blinked really hard and kept blinking. What… what did she say? “Apologies, I’m not sure if I heard you right.”

“Replacing Shinichi. Staying by my side, as my lover?”

I opened my mouth, but kept it hanging as I failed to produce the right words.

Finally, I thought ‘fuck it’ and just talked. “You want me to be your lover instead of Shinichi, the guy I just beat to an inch of his life, your former lover.”

“Yes.”

“And what if I get beaten to an inch of my life?” I asked her.

“Don’t get beaten.”

Oh boy.

“What exactly… does lover mean?”

“We will do lover activities, of course. Spending quality time together, eating together, appearing in society together, and occasionally pillowing when the mood strikes me.”

I didn’t recognize the term, but I knew it to be a verbification of the term ‘pillow’ and from there the implication wasn’t lost on me.

Okay.

What the fuck was happening?

I… wasn’t one-hundred percent sure that I even liked this arrangement. At all.

Was this a trap?

“Nora, I’m flattered,” I said.

“Naturally.”

“Though I can’t quite wrap my head around the… you know…”

“The contract of our relationship?” she asked with a tilted head.

“Not exactly, but… yeah,” I conceded. The ‘contract’. A good enough word as any to describe… this .

“Naturally, we will be faithful to one another, open up to each other regarding sensitive secrets, be emotional support, and you will of course not have to support my lifestyle as I am more than capable of doing so myself. This is a hard boundary of mine. I get what I pay for. I expect something similar from you.”

Okay, sure, but I didn’t see why that had to be such a boundary. I wouldn’t question it, but I couldn’t help but fixate a little on the vehemence of her words.

I heard Eithan’s voice in my ear. “Two scales if you say yes.”

Then Nora piped up. “What do you say?”

And then a singular moment of madness overtook me.

“Okay,” I said. “I guess we’re together now.”

Wait fuck, why did I just say that? Dammit, I did not mean to say yes. Eithan had influenced my brain while I was still processing things, nudged me towards an answer before I could even formulate a coherent thought. The scales meant nothing to me as well.

Backtrack. Say ‘I changed my mind’.

“It was a pleasure negotiating with you,” Nora said. Then she took my hand in hers, the warmth of it jolting me out of my constant state of confusion. She didn’t take my hand to shake it, but to hold it, which was… bizarre. The suddeness of the intimacy nearly drove the wind out of my chest. All thoughts left me as I stared into her crystalline blue eyes.

“We shall dine together, have modest conversation, and then,” she pulled my hand towards her gently, leaning her head closer to mine. Like her entire body was a magnet, mine obeyed, taken in by the sway of her pouting lips and ocean blue eyes. For a moment that felt like an eternity, we sat like that, faces inches away from each other, my lips going numb at the mere thought of a kiss from her. “Suffice it to say, the mood has struck me.”

Fuck it.

Guess I’m hers, now.

000

I had ended up taking Senzin Nora to my lodgings on the same manic flight of fancy that had made me enter into a contract with her, and also because I was eager to confirm if this really was just a trick to get back at me for beating up her boyfriend, or if she really was playing for keeps.

Evidently, she was.

Once I saw her off on the nearest cloudship port, Eithan had appeared from behind me, not saying a word, just smiling like a lunatic. He handed me a pouch. “Your dowry, consort.” Did he just call me a whore? “I threw in an extra, because you managed to be especially entertaining tonight. Daishou has zero intentions of quitting his attack, and your circus routine ensured that. You’ve earned your pay, my blackhearted mercenary. To go as far as to bed a maiden at my behest, too!”

“I didn’t do that because of you,” I said. “Don’t even think that. I’m being serious.” I frowned. “Honestly, that’s so gross of you to assume. You had nothing to do with this.”

“Yes, your motivations were entirely innate. That is without doubt.”

“No!” I yelled. “I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m riding on a tiger and it’s not stopping . Your idiotic whispers nudged me while I was vulnerable.”

“You can just leave her, you know,” he said.

“No!” I yelled. “That would be extremely uncouth. Right after what happened, too?”

I’d leave her eventually . Yeah. Eventually .

Maybe give it a few weeks first, so it wouldn’t look like I was using her.

“In any case, she is the top one Lowgold under 25 in the aesthetic rankings. The reason why I wanted you with her was because of what it means for your future: An endless barrage of increasingly powerful challengers seeking to take her notoriously picky hand in theirs. Luckily for you, the only people she accepts as her partners must meet a certain standard of looks, so your opponents will not be too powerful as looks and sacred arts don’t always intersect—, except for in my case. They will still be challenging, however.” Okay, explained why Shinichi was such a looker.

“Oh.”

“I’ve fielded four separate requests thus far. The highest ranked one is eight-hundred and twenty-five. If we take that one, we can knock your ranking up to the point that you are no longer obliged to accept the challenges of those lower-ranked.”

Sigh .

“You can of course break up with her whenever you desire, if you’re afraid.”

All things considered, I was at a disadvantage.

Still, it was…

It was worth it.

I may be a human in need of things like ‘continued living’ and having my blood be ‘inside my body’, but I am also a man.

The mythical Greeks fought wars over a woman. I could shed blood for one, too. I’m whipped, and I’m proud of it! I have a girlfriend now!

“At the risk of sounding like a pig, I’d rake myself over hot coals and broken glass—”

“I’ve heard enough,” Eithan said. “In any case, I’m starting to sense that you’re forming a delusion around your personal might. You really should be more worried. I would even go as far as to say that you should be feeling how Lindon is feeling right now.”

“Lindon’s facing certain defeat and dismemberment if things go well,” I said. “I’m doing this because I’m batshit and proud of it. We’re not the same. And besides, if I get hurt too bad, I can just advance, right?”

Eithan shook his head. “Not if you’re dead, no.”

“Then I won’t die.”

“Make sure you work hard to ensure this is the case. I cannot worry for you.”

Perhaps once I woke up tomorrow, I would truly appreciate the peril my life was under, but right now I was still bathing in that afterglow. I could still smell the scent of her hair, even now.

My attraction was profound , crossing dimensions I never even knew existed, and made me wonder if I had ever truly felt attraction until now.

I was already living the dream, already connecting and immersing myself in the height of beauty and riches that this world could afford, imbibing the chalice of lust, greed and gluttony: Hunger in short.

But one thing kept me sharp: knowledge of the cost of this life. I was addicted to all that I could take from high society. I just had to make sure I could fork up the required currency: power.

I walked past Eithan, heading straight home for some additional training. I really needed to figure out a better way to beat strength builds.

Chapter 22: The Cost of Love

Chapter Text

A trip to Gold Wing Bank was in order.

I sighed all the way as I deposited more Eithan scales and said yes to the Wintersteel membership, as my foreseeable future would be rife with rich people activities and I needed the discount. I sighed harder as Naru Tobi’s expression lit up in a Santa-Clausian glee as he bowed his head repeatedly, delighted to see me walk away with this bullshit country club-ass membership thing.

He gave me a dreamstone with a list of partnered and highly rated establishments and services, and to my surprise, the discounts were substantial . You’d pay twice at the minimum doing any of this crap without being a member of Gold Wing Bank.

I was finished just in time to get to Nora, who was lounging in a ‘Sky Club’, one of the establishments that were partnered with Gold Wing. They existed at the zenith of several different ribs in the city, and the view was unmatched, though I’ve had my fair share of unmatched views as it was.

She was waiting inside a pavilion, which was like an ornate gazebo in a garden that sometimes had ponds or lawns or other esoteric garden styles like rock or sand gardens. This one was a bone-colored rock garden with jagged, wavy lines, depicting dragons and humanity’s struggle against them. It was meant to honour the memory of the first great regime change, the one that happened between the black dragons and the Blackflame family post-Dread War according to the Museum of Regimes Past.

Nora was the picture of composure as I approached her, giving her a friendly smile and a wave. She smiled back. “Greetings, Sky.”

“Hi,” I said as I sat down opposite to her. “No need to be so formal, you know. We’re… lovers.” I hardly believed that myself.

Look at her .

She was so pretty that it was almost boring . I felt like a toad lusting after swan flesh.

“Of course,” she said.

“Did you wait long?” I asked.

“Not really,” she said. “The tea here is good.”

“Okay,” I said. “Um, I want to talk about something. Some things .”

“Do go on,” she said, head tilted in curiosity as she batted her eyelashes at me.

I just had to come out and say it. “I have no idea what we are, but I doubt it’s anything as pedestrian as ‘love’,” I said.

“No,” she shook her head to reject my statement. “You’re complicating things. We are a good match. You are a rapidly rising star, and one that I have staked my faith on. And I am me . Just because we do not have the deepest levels of affection for each other does not mean that we cannot get there in time.”

“Okay,” I said. “Then… let’s work to reach those levels.” I wanted to continue by talking about the fact that her prettiness was slated to put me at actual risk, but that felt gross to do. She couldn’t help being this pretty. Well, she definitely could , but… yeah. I didn’t see how to bring it up without sounding like an asshole.

We talked about normal things from there. Where we came from, our backgrounds and our stories.

For this part, I just… made some shit up. Nora was pretty but… what the hell were we doing? This didn’t feel sustainable at all, and I knew that she would eventually lose interest, so I gave her a cover story. Still with the library in Everwood thing, but drastically different from there on out. I was a child of a destroyed clan that made his way here and acquitted himself as a worthy disciple to the Arelius Patriarch.

If only Eithan ever did something cool, and maybe that title would mean something .

It did, but the man was widely regarded to be the weakest Underlord, only stronger than the last two Underlords of the Empire because they were getting up there in years and hadn’t truly fought for a while.

Senzin Nora was a gold spoon trust fund baby whose life story was ‘perfection’, ‘excellence’ and ‘magnificence’. She excelled in her classes, did well in every aspect that involved being a rich heiress, and was slated to inherit a business worth millions of scales. The Senzin corporation was apparently a bigger deal than I had initially imagined it to be. It was like Amazon for the Blackflame Empire.

She was a dime piece, and the dime was made of gold. Lucky, not that I stood to gain anything materially from her. She was pretty adamant that we go Dutch on everything.

Personality-wise, she was… interesting . She wasn’t boring , and that was her main saving grace. She wasn’t annoying either, which was also good. She was just weird, but entertaining to talk to and listen to. Her opinions were so off-the-wall and vain that she sounded almost satirical, though she never went as far as to deliberately try to hurt my feelings. No, her passive way of being was plenty disrespectful on its own, though I didn’t pay it any mind. Her disrespect wasn’t deliberate or meant to offend anyone after all.

“I do not know if you have heard,” Nora said. “But my ranking is—”

“Number one looks-wise,” I said. I guess since she brought it up, it was fine to talk about it. “And I’m going to be fielding a lot of duels from now on. My Patriarch is already on top of things. I should have my next fight in two days.”

Nora blinked. Then she nodded. “Good. I hope that you prepare yourself. I would hate to switch from you.”

“I would hate to lose you,” I said. Damn, I felt like an asshole, but holy fuck she started it! We already knew that the terms of our relationship were entirely materialistic. We didn’t strictly need to lie to ourselves.

“As would I, were I in your position,” she said.

I couldn’t help but laugh at that.

She didn’t. “I was being serious.”

“I know,” I said. “That’s what is so funny.”

“Why?”

“Well, because it’s considered rude in my culture to be so openly vain, not that I mind,” I said. “That’s just how things were back home. I wouldn’t ask you to change, but I would ask you to not mind it if I react in this way.”

“How is it rude to acknowledge reality?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Ugly people exist and don’t want it rubbed in their faces?” Wow, her awfulness was just downright infectious.

My awfulness now. Couldn’t put my own vanity on her account.

Nora made an unpleasant expression. “I wish you did not tell me that fact about your culture. It puts me ill at ease.”

Was she… trying to apologize? Or was she complaining that her urge to apologize was making her feel bad? Holy fuck. I tried my best not to laugh. “Don’t apologize at all. Cultures are strange, and the best one can do is adapt to them when it is relevant. You don’t have to adapt to my culture at all, you know.”

“I did not seek to apologise,” she said snippily. “Do not imply that again.”

My eyes widened and I nodded. “Okay. Apologies. My bad for putting words in your mouth.”

Finally, her expression eased.

“Where can I get some tea for myself?” I asked, looking around and hailing a servant.

“Tea? You’re a man, aren’t you? It is proper for men to drink wine at this hour of the day.” The hour being fucking noon.

I mean, okay . Yeah, I was definitely game to get drunk in the middle of the day in Deathworld Cradle, while a crazy Underlord was gunning for me.

I mean…

I didn’t have to get drunk drunk. My Iron body was pretty tolerant.

“Does it have to be expensive?”

Nora clicked her tongue. “What does expense matter? It is about the year and orchard , not a silly little price point made to trick the newly rich into parting with their money.” Dang, I had really annoyed her already.

“Okay,” I said. I had around thirty-five thousand basic scales left. “Whatever you suggest, I’ll go with.”

000

Thankfully, her wine suggestion didn’t run me out of house and home, but it was a cool five hundred. I did get to keep the bottle. It was also the same juice crap that Eithan had foisted on me on Sky’s Mercy.

Also thankfully, how to drink wine politely was included in the instructional manual on etiquette that I found on Sky’s Mercy with the help of Octavius. Soon after I finished my glass, I got to take the bottle home with me in a bag, and we continued on with our day.

A lot of Senzin Nora’s activities were… pretty fucking boring to me. That is, if she wasn’t so interested in them. Because I was in turn interested in her, that made it easier to swallow whatever thing she wanted to spectate or place she wanted to go to burn money, or whatever the fuck a rich girl did.

We went to private galleries to look at art: paintings, sculptures, sometimes art performances. We encountered some people I didn’t recognize and Nora had chats with them while I listened. None of them deigned to include me in the conversation, but I knew that tuning out would be rude, so I just stood there like an idiot.

Eventually, we moved on from there and went to buy clothes. Nora spent over two hours trying different outfits. She privately judged the ones that she liked and didn’t really ask for my opinion after three ‘it looks beautiful’s in a row. It wasn’t like I was lying to her, either. She could wear a burlap sack and still look hot as hell itself.

It wasn’t that boring though.

I wasn’t pretending to enjoy things. I just enjoyed that she was enjoying things.

After she finished her shopping, she ordered the store to deliver her clothes to her house, and they obliged. Scales exchanged hands, and then finally, she gave me the opportunity to suggest activities. Since I felt I was too tipsy to safely ride an Eagle Snake (however safe it was to do so sober was still a mystery to me), I suggested we go to the artisan district like Chiara had suggested, before kicking myself. She wouldn’t want to associate with commoners , would she?

Contrary to my expectation, Nora jumped on the opportunity. She was even more familiar with the artisan district than I was, and she took me around to take a look at all the popular shopfronts selling all sorts of artistic masterworks. There were bookstores as well, and dreamstone dealers, sculptors, painters, and even architectural offices that displayed their prowess by designing wacky buildings that doubled as street art for passers-by.

Serpent’s Grave had a healthy respect for the arts, and I appreciated that with all my heart.

Around four o’ clock, Nora announced imperiously that she wanted to drink, and though I suggested she take the last of the wine, she wanted to do it inside somewhere, so we moved to an upscale pub.

I was in my element, but I also felt a profound reluctance to get drunk around her. Safe to say, I didn’t trust her like that. And there was the whole bounty business that I had to contend with. It was better that I remained sharp than not. She, too, bore no agenda to get overly shitfaced either, and we drank like old men. No, fuck that, old men could drink . We drank like forty-year-old protestant parents. It was almost embarrassing.

Eventually we parted ways, neither of us in the mood to ‘pillow’. I couldn’t help but feel like I had wasted an entire day that I could have spent training more, though.

If the reason why I broke up with Nora would be because I needed to focus on the sacred arts, I would laugh myself to death at what I had become.

000

“He’s an air artist on the Path of the Unrelenting Gale,” Eithan said as he held my shoulders from behind me. “You already know his playbook, correct?”

“Wide striker techniques that push everything away,” I said, holding my spear in a relaxed grip, index finger tapping away at it. “Decent flight. A weapon Enforcer technique that lengthens the reach of his blade, and speed . You’ve told me all his techniques. I’m ready.”

The man before me, Barelion Hachi, was dressed in a light green poncho, a pair of brown leather pants, and black shoes. On each hand, he wielded a single-edged blade. He was brown-haired—curly and cut at ear-length— bronze-skinned, and wore a mean scowl on him. I grinned hungrily at him.

“I trust you,” Eithan said. “Want a hint?”

“No ,” I said. “I want to download him myself.”

“I, uh, okay , I will pretend I know what that means. But I assume you mean you wish to puzzle him out yourself.”

The arena we were in was sparsely populated. The populace didn’t buy tickets so often unless the duel was between at least one person in the top hundred. Top tens usually sold out entire arenas, and had fleets of cloudships flying overhead to spectate from above. No cloudships were watching us, and there had to be a scant few hundreds of people in attendance.

Chief among them in the largest crowd, Nora. She was watching. I had to wonder what was going through her brain. Did she have any emotional attachment to me, or was I nothing less than a stock meant to grow and profit her?

I didn’t focus on her. Instead, I focused on my enemy. This wasn’t about anyone else in the audience anyway. Only about how Hachi over here thought he could slump me.

Eithan patted my back. “Time to begin. Approach your opponent.”

I walked up to him. The battleground was filled with tiles cut from brown-red rock. Most of the material in the arena was made of that, and I didn’t doubt there were scripts underneath to prevent undue destruction to our environment.

Once I was around twenty paces from him, Hachi spoke. “You don’t deserve her.”

I raised an eyebrow and grinned. “You think so? Tell you what, you bitch. Take her . Off my cold dead hands. I couldn’t care less about her. But if you’re so eager, why don’t you prove yourself?”

“You villain !” Hachi cried, pointing his right saber at me. “How dare you take what you have for granted?!”

“How dare YOU try to challenge ME?” I roared , pointing Star’s End at him. She was a beauty as always, her tip crystalline and faceted, her golden edge so keen that it could soundlessly cut through paper. Upon closer inspection, I could almost swear that the spear looked cut from an incredibly long crystal. It had no seams or connections of any kind: just abrupt jumps to different colours. I still couldn’t guess at its aspect either. All I was certain about was that it was by far the mightiest weapon in my void key. “This isn’t about her, champion. It’s about us .” I chuckled angrily. “You thought you were stronger. You thought you could beat me. Did you really think I would let that slide?”

The referee cried. “This is a match between Barelion Hachi versus Glassy Sky Arelius! This is a standard duel, weapons and sacred arts allowed. The contestants fight until one side is incapacitated, or I will announce a victor.”

I nodded. No killing.

Then I took a deep breath to create a breathing pattern for my cycling, relaxing with the injection of oxygen.

I didn’t hate this guy. He was… pitiful, honestly. Younger than me, at a mere eighteen, but still eager to lock himself to someone like Nora.

He seemed too sincere, honestly. I’d rather he not get with her, if only for his own good.

I didn’t really give a shit, being honest. He still had to answer for looking at my divine form and deciding that he should attempt his best to harm it. Bitch, I have no healing factor. If I fuck up, you’ve fucked me ! That pisses me off.

Rather than coasting purely on machismo, I was an adult for a brief period of time and asked Eithan what the ramifications for refusing a duel was, and he said ‘imprisonment’. Unless I broke up with Nora, I’d be fucked if I lost.

Oh. Right. I could break up with her. I always did have the power.

I just refused to.

The reason? Beyond my comprehension.

All I knew was that a human wasn’t in charge of my brain. It was a lizard. And the lizard wanted fu—

“Three!” the referee shouted. “Two!” “One!”

I cycled my madra, snatched back my plan from the ether, reviewed it in a fraction of a second, and activated phase one.

“Starfire surge,” and “Run.”

The ‘Run’ was towards Barry.

And the Starfire Surge made it faster.

Far faster.

I zoomed towards him. He waved his hands in a particular pattern…

Oh. FUCKING. YEAH!

Striker technique. Had to be. I knew it. I had read this bitch . He was through . A Striker technique in the form of an invisible and wide wall of air was headed my way. It would push me back and lock me down, making me vulnerable to his Ruler technique.

I did a high leap.

My leaps were… exquisite.

Even using Iron bodies alone, my average FAR exceeded others. It was a consequence of being lighter than most people my build. I could jump like a Maasai. No. Way higher. I could dwarf the vert of the best NBA players. One and a half meters standing . I was a moon man.

With Starfire Surge?

I flew clear of the horizontal wall of wind madra that would have crashed at me if I was at ground level, aiming my landing exactly behind my quarry.

He would have seen my jump, as wind madra was invisible, and my form wouldn’t have been obscured by his striker technique. And he would be prepared to hit me while I was at the peak of my trajectory.

And my Celestial Anvil would have formed underneath me far before he could reach me, as I had already prepared the technique long before I even jumped.

The milliseconds ticked, but my win was not in my hand yet. As I slowly cleared the jump, landing on the other side of him, the Anvil didn’t explode. No matter. I had Star’s End, what the fuck? Why even drag this out?

First, dodge out of the way of a Ruler technique. I had been still for a pregnant moment, and Barry would want to take advantage of that. Once I was out of the way, I sent a Solar Flare.

Guy’s offence was great, but his defence was for shit.

He threw a striker technique at mine, but he ended up accidentally hitting my Celestial Anvil .

A bomb blew up on his face, throwing him to the other side of the arena. He had even dropped both swords. That took care of his pesky Enforcer technique.

But he was flying way too fast. Couldn’t have just been my Anvil.

No. He was unscathed . Even his clothes hadn’t burned. He had blown himself away from harm's way far before I could have reached him. He dropped his swords so they wouldn’t weigh him down. Or maybe he needed his hands free for this evasive maneuver? This definitely was a movement technique, though.

I threw a Solar Flare at him.

And then things went tits up.

The Solar Flare was an impulse. It didn’t have any rationality following it. I fucking button-mashed.

I let my temper get ahead of me, and now I needed a scant few tenths of a second to relocate him, because he sure as father-fucking fuck wasn’t behind the lightshow my Solar Flare had just created.

Goddammit, now my light aspect was working against me .

He was nowhere around me. Where—FLIGHT!

I looked up—he was up there soaring—and activated plan C , using Starfire Surge to jump into the air, create a miniature Celestial Anvil underneath my spear, and I used it as a pogo-stick to launch myself into the air.

It was plan C for a reason.

I did achieve flight.

And my calculations were correct. At least I could trust in my inner nerd to deliver, if this fabrication of a badass persona fell through.

Damn.

I needed to tone down my ego. Science worked .

I shot towards the airborne Barry with minimal strain to my shoulders.

Rather than focus on what I would do once I arrived, I focused on how he would thwart my advance.

He would. With the wall Striker technique he had tried to use at the start.

The answer was, of course, another Celestial Anvil.

I pogo’d through the sky away from his Striker technique, and created a new one, always keeping an eye on the position of my quarry.

Okay. This trajectory could… fuck me up.

But… I had compassion, too.

Hachi didn’t deserve the worst that I could do.

Instead of flying high enough that only my spear—cutting through some part of his body—could be in range, I lowered my trajectory, stabbed my spear towards the Anvil hard enough that my shoulders cried at the agony. No break or dislocation, though. I could go on.

But it FUCKING hurt! Goddammit, oh, it hurt.

Still, I ended up catching Barry Hachi in a headlock, holding my spear to his face.

“Forfeit,” I whispered.

He huffed and puffed and hemmed and hawed and cursed under his breath but, eventually he gave up and accepted the end of this match, lowering us down towards the ground.

“And there you have it, folks!” the referee roared. “Glassy Sky Arelius becomes the victor! His skill was too keen and—”

I stopped paying attention to the referee. Once we were on the ground, I hopped off from the guy.

Then I walked up to him and asked. “Do you really love her?”

His eyes widened and he nodded. “I love her more than words can describe.”

“How do you know her?”

“We saw each other in the streets of the artisan district. She spared me a smile. Mark my words, Glassy Sky, I already have her heart.”

Oh my god.

Should I even say anything at this point? Damn kid was delusional.

“Barelion, please heed me when I say this,” I said. “You can do better .”

Hachi frowned. “What do you mean? Is she not the pinnacle of the Empire?”

“She’s a person that is beyond her appearance,” I said. “We are not our ranks, and she isn’t a treasure. She’s a person . I promise you. You can do better for yourself.”

Hachi frowned and looked away. “You are only trying to make me feel better—”

“I have no reason to do that,” I said. “None. Whatsoever. I’m doing this out of compassion, not some sense that I owe you anything. I do not. Look man, just… enjoy what you have, and look for a girl that you like, not based on her dumb rank, but what she does to your heart,” I poked at his chest. “Get me?”

He looked down and didn’t say anything, his body language utterly sullen.

“Trust me, friend,” I said. “You want better things for yourself than this.”

“Then why do you want this?” he asked.

“Training,” I smirked. He gaped, eyes wide as he took a step back and realized more from my little joke than anything I could have said.

I… honestly, I was no better than him. I still had a shred of ego left in me, unlike this poor bastard, but I still desperately wanted to continue being with Nora. Not just for her, but what she represented.

And it was a dickish thing for me to think, but… I wouldn’t doubt that were anyone else in my position, they would work just as hard as well. Nora was more than a woman. She was the life . The peak of most people’s dreams.

“I underestimated you, Glassy Sky,” Barry said. “Now I see what it takes to become a man worthy of a woman such as her.”

God, no! Okay, whatever. I tried.

I joined Nora back outside, and she gave me some comments of well wishes. “Well done. I expected nothing less from you.” Okay, so she didn’t expect anything from me, then?

I debated around feeding her bullshit like ‘I would do anything for you’ (because she might believe it, which wasn’t desirable) or just being sincere.

Sincerity won. “Thank you,” I said. “I didn’t expect anything different, honestly. Though it was nice that I got to field-test a new skill of mine. I will be doing some training and recovery on my own time now,” I said. “I hope you understand.”

“No,” she said. “I do not.” her neutral expression cracked, to reveal the barest of smiles. “Seeing you fight so valiantly today, I can safely say that I am in the mood .”

In the mood? In the pillowing mood? AT LAST!

“Are you?” she whispered, forehead pressed to mine.

000

After some painkillers to get my shoulders to stop screaming at me, I was.

000

That’s how she does ‘em, I guess. And I am no better but another humble slave to my lust. Just another Barelion Hachi or whoever the fuck came next.

Sucks being a slave, but I guess when the benefits were that good, who could object?

None of you, oh spectating ancestors of mine, watching down from on high regarding what old little Sky was going on about. I can tell half you bastards are proud as fuck, the other half, the women, disappointed about how this wily demon was completely subverting my free will and putting my health at risk for it. My feminine side could recognize the needless risk.

My masculine side wouldn’t go so far as to call it needless.

Since chatting while in bed didn’t work very well, I had resigned myself to just bathing in the glory of it, still holding on to Nora.

God, this wasn’t going to work out. But God if it didn’t work out for me right now .

000

I created a pretty good cycle of addiction for myself, to be honest. It was a cycle of work and pleasure. Dates with Nora counted as half work and half pleasure.

Making a fool of myself in front of her posh friends, failing to catch certain cues and just generally being myself despite my best attempts. It was… to be honest, it was awful.

We took a cloudship to a few dozen miles away from Serpent’s Grave to a place called Sandy Lake, the closest thing the desert region surrounding the Grave had to a beach.

From a cloudship, you could just barely see the other edge of the body of water, but from the ground, the horizon was unbroken by any land, just water.

Nora had me construct a mini-pavilion for her on the sand, next to where a bunch of other people were doing the same for their girlfriends. I had read through the instructions on the cloudship already, if only to not embarrass myself, and after about fifteen minutes, I was done. I was surprised that working in this heat didn’t work up a sweat in me. I guess exertion did that more than temperature did these days. I was wearing an open-buttoned white shirt, and a pair of blue shorts and sandals, but it was still pretty warm. I'd brought my spear with me, just in case of anything.

The construction had a central pillar that created a wide parasol to shade the table that surrounded the pillar, and also shaded the sunbeds next to the table. The height of the table was adjustable as well, so it could more easily reach the altitude of the sunbeds.

“Ta-da,” I said, gesturing at the finished construction. Nora ignored my antics and sat down on her sunbed, wearing a sheer saree-like garment that revealed traces of her bikini underneath. She also had a pair of sunglasses, the lenses crystalline and blood red, and a sunhat with a wide brim to prevent any of the sun’s rays from ruining her expertly crafted pallor.

She had put on a coat of sunscreen while in the cloudship, and was putting on another fresh coat even now, while we hadn’t even been out of the cloudship for thirty minutes.

She was number one for a reason, no doubt. God forbid she ever let her skin darken a shade, or she would be repulsive !

Ugh, whatever. I didn’t want to get into a debate like that. I knew it boiled down to classism more than racism: Looking like you spent your time out in the sun was a marker of the lower class after all.

“I need you to spread my shade serum,” Nora said, lifting up her saree to reveal more of her shapely legs, blemishless like the rest of her.

What was I thinking about again? Probably nothing important.

I saw a group of people approach us and I recognized several of them. The serious guy from the first day I met Nora was called Lucius, a pretty Arelius-like name for someone not of the clan. He had dark hair and soft, almost feminine facial features, and seemed to be a… friend of sorts to Nora. He was probably better friends with her than I was by a mile, which once again begged the question of why I was here.

The other guy in her group, the short-haired one with the brown curls, was actually an Arelius called Burin. He wasn’t among those who had the detection web. The only ones in Serpent’s Grave at the moment were Eithan and Cassias. And Chiara, for some reason, though her work likely took her all around the empire.

Unlike Nora’s other friends, he was pretty respectful towards me.

She had three other girls following her around like a chorus, constantly validating and obeying her. They didn’t seem to have a shred of personality whenever Nora was present, and I was rarely ever present without her, so I never got a good read on them. All I knew was that everyone except for Lucius were pretty overtly subservient to her.

“Your friends are here,” I said to Nora. “Should I continue?”

“I would rather you stop savouring it so we can finish up quickly,” Nora said. She turned her head so I could see and smiled. “You dog.”

I sighed. “I wish I could stretch this moment forever.”

I finished rubbing the sunscreen on her, doing it quickly and thoroughly in time for her friends to arrive.

I stood up off Nora’s sunbed and gave them away. “Hey, friends! What’s on the agenda?”

Lucius didn’t smile at me, though I doubted he ever would. “Preparations for tonight’s beachside fete.”

Is every day a fucking party? Goodness gracious. “Does it involve any fighting?” I asked. “Or the sacred arts?”

“Naturally,” he said. “That’s why you’re here.”

Ouch. What am I a fighting gigolo? A pokemon? “Yeah, but I’m also her lover,” I said. “Ain’t that right, Burin?” I asked the Arelius, because I knew he would indulge me.

He nodded. “You are indeed Nora’s lover.”

Nora spoke from her bed. “Nobody denies that. And where I go, you go. Regardless if there is a fight involved.”

I was becoming painfully aware of that fact now. I sorely missed being alone. The only alone-time I now had was for training.

Lucius looked to Nora and walked past me. “Thelassa and Indaria are going to show up.”

Burin muttered next to me. “The number two and three for looks under twenty-five respectively. The young mistress’ rivals.”

“Are you sure he can handle that?” Lucius said, giving me a brief look.

Burin continued. “Their lovers are the number one-hundred and three and one-hundred and fifteen in the Lowgold under 25 ranking.”

It still rankled me that I was only really a bigshot in the under 25 rankings. That was an asterisk that I desperately wanted to get rid of. Sure, it was my arena, but I doubted Lindon’s ranking depended on age. After he got dogwalked by Jai Long, he was ranked twenty-fourth , and I couldn’t recall any asterisks on his rank either. He really was number twenty-four among Lowgolds flat. And I genuinely thought he sucked at the time too while reading.

If he sucked at rank 24, then I’m just really fucking miserable I guess.

After Barelion’s fight, I was now ranked at eight-hundred and fifteen. Among the children. With the big boys, I was just shy of three thousand .

Yeah, no.

I needed to get stronger.

“Is there a way to fight officially here?” I asked.

Lucius frowned. “Do you really think you will win? Their ranks are—”

“I heard,” I said. “I don’t care. You worry about… whatever your business is, and I’ll worry about dispensing violence. Everyone stays in their lane, nobody gets offended. Does that sound acceptable to you, your highness?” The more I spoke, the closer I got to his face. I had to look down to keep eye-contact before the last word, afterwhich I curtsied to get to his eye level.

Lucius grimaced at me. He opened his mouth to talk, but Nora spoke first. “Sky is right, Lucius. Allow him a seat among us as an equal, and not as an asset of mine. He is a person.”

My heart fluttered at that. “You’re so attractive when you acknowledge my personhood like that,” I swooned.

Nora rolled her eyes at that.

Lucius schooled his expression with a breath, and then bowed forty-five degrees. A pretty severe apology. “Apologies for the disrespect, Arelius. It was only that the rank differential was cause for concern.”

“I can understand that,” I said. “Let’s talk strategy then. I have no idea what these people are capable of. Why not fill me in on the particulars?”

Burin cleared his throat. “I am well-equipped with information that can help you, young master.”

“Excellent,” Lucius pronounced dryly. “Meanwhile, Nora, we will have to discuss style matters. We need to make some adjustments to your clothing based on some new information that I have received.”

I tried not to get hung up about any of that or even ask about it. The young master lifestyle was just filled with way too much bullshit to care, but I guess for someone occupying the number one spot, it was a pretty big matter.

I walked away with Burin to an unclaimed spot of sand where he launched into his explanation.

Leolio Dening was number two’s fighting gigolo. He was on a sword path that focused on long-distance slashes and quick but short bursts of movements. He did have a weapon Enforcer technique as well, though it wasn’t as strong as his Striker techniques. His offence took centerstage, so his defence was naturally weaker. Path of the Silver Grace, apparently, meaning he shared a Path with Cassias. And it was a prestigious school, too.

Li Jogen was number three’s pokemon, and fittingly enough, he was a Pikachu. A lightning type. First time I’d face off against one of them. Not a Striker, despite my assumptions. He was a speedster type, using a movement Enforcer technique to practically teleport in straight lines. His weapon Enforcer technique—channelled through a pair of brass gauntlets— was equally bonkers, as it didn’t even need to hit to still affect the target. It could travel through metallic weapons.

Not constructs though, but that usually didn’t matter to most constructs. Apparently one aspect of Lightning madra was its ability to interact with the spirit, similar to Shadow and Pure madra. This explained why Tiberian apparently possessed the most powerful spirit-healing technique in the world.

Usually his Enforcer technique could destabilize or just break through constructs.

And maybe if his technique was Overlord to Archlord level, that would be a problem to me. Luckily for me, Star’s End wasn’t bitchmade.

He did have a Ruler technique, though. It just created stage hazards and was easy to dodge if you focused on your spirit, but that would distract you from the actual fight that you were in.

As for a Striker technique, it took time to build, and would only be relevant if I had been pinned down somehow, so it would never come as a surprise.

Neither were Forgers, and only one of them had a Ruler technique on hold.

Burin had given me dreamstones as well, though. They were memories of another dreamstone, meaning that there was a lot of corruption, but the main gist was there.

And I knew what they looked like, and the answer was… surprisingly handsome.

Leolio’s long gray hair fluttered with the wind, and a gray diamond was implanted on his forehead, though I knew that wasn't his Goldsign. He would have silver braces around his wrists, like Cassias did. He was muscular and well-built, and carried himself with the air of an aristocrat.

Jogen was more brutish-looking, but still fairly handsome. He had short-cropped black hair, was even more muscular than Leolio, and carried himself more like an irreverent bandit prince. His Goldsign, a pair of overly large canines, completed his wild and untamed look without detracting from his aesthetic.

Damn, how can I compete?

I got muscles, sure, but… they were smol. I was thinner than I was muscular, and almost all of my strength could be realised only through my path.

They looked statuesque.

“The young master needs encouragement,” I said.

“You are likely to be faster than either of them. Your maneuverability, as well as your destructive prowess, could—”

“No, I meant my looks,” I said.

“Ah. Oh ,” he said. “Uhm—”

“Nevermind,” I said, shaking my head. I didn’t want him to struggle to find something. “Whatever.” I stood up from my crouch where Burin had been scribbling on the sand using a Ruler technique and clapped my hands. “Homework is done. Thank you kindly for the information, Burin Arelius,” I bowed to him, let him splutter as was customary, and then turned around and made my way to the pavilion. While she herself was lying on a sunbed, Nora’s three cheerleaders were standing, and Lucius was doing so as well. He was using his Path to paint images of clothing into the air, madra that gave me impressions of euphoria and perfection. The feeling was unmistakable. I guess he was a dream artist then.

Wait, what the fuck was Nora’s path then? I’d never even asked yet. Wow, that was weird of me.

I just laid down on the bed, watching Lucius natter on about the best way to color match with me and also blow those two bitches out of the water as well. At some point, they ended up fucking off somewhere only God knew, and she came back with a different outfit. It was still in saree form, but the color was different, a bright white. Her bikini was different too, now golden and more intricate, both pieces connected through thin bands that hid some parts of her torso, subtly reshaping it and making her waist look thinner than it already was.

I was a philistine when it came to these things, but I could admit that this was an improvement. “Looking good, honey,” I said.

“Thank you,” Nora replied graciously.

Lucius frowned a little. Was that jealousy, maybe? He had helped make the outfit, I supposed. “Great job, Lucius.”

He gave a nod, but said nothing else.

The sun was beginning to approach the horizon, though it was still an hour or two off from setting, and the world slowly took on an orange cast. The Golden Hour.

I took a look around at my surroundings, and saw people that were so thoroughly different from me that I couldn’t even begin to describe it. Despite my newfound confidence and arrogance, I felt like an intruder to this space. There was no helping that, even if I played my part perfectly. My true self didn’t belong here.

“A scale for your thoughts?” Nora asked. She reached her hand towards me, past the table. I took her hand and let it ease the discomfort of being in this world.

“Gearing up mentally for the fight,” I said.

“Your hair gets brighter when you’re in deep thought,” Nora observed. “Like it’s your mind itself lighting up.” Ah, shit.

“I use a Ruler technique to disperse the light aura that naturally gathers on my hair,” I explained. “When I don’t focus on it, it can get really bright. Apologies if it stung.”

“No need,” she said. “In any case, the fight isn’t certain. And if it does occur, it could even be between Thelassa and Indaria. The two are not exactly allies, either.”

Yeah, but I attract fights like sugar attracts ants. There was something about my personality that most assholes found detestable .

“What am I meant to do during your meeting?” I asked.

“Be polite and greet everyone. Socialize with their lovers. I doubt that things will become tense unless we decide it during our woman talk. It would dishonour us greatly if you were to cause a falling out with your rank compared to mine being as low as it is.”

Shut up and let me take the lead .

“You’re the boss,” I said with a fake smile.

Chapter 23: Fighting Gigolos

Chapter Text

My two rivals looked even hotter in person. Fortunately for me, I was the tallest among them. That did count for something, but it also made me feel like a beanpole in comparison.

When the new party first arrived, I greeted Thelassa, her theme red—hair and clothes both—, matching her red feathered collar around her neck, likely her Goldsign. Then Indaria, who was darkly dressed, in a goth-like style. Inner and outer robes befitting a sacred artist, but hers was exaggerated to the point that she looked like a dark fairy. Her eyes were pink and cat-like to the point that they couldn’t be anything else than Goldsigns or maybe Remnant prosthetics.

Nora, for some reason, didn’t seem to have a Goldsign at all. I could sense that she was Gold, though. Perhaps it was her sapphire eyes? And I had seen her naked before, so if it wasn’t that, then perhaps she had advanced the same way that Eithan did: by brute forcing elixirs and scales? Or maybe she had a sacred beast partner tucked away somewhere?

The question always seemed to slip my mind when I was ready to ask, and now wasn’t really a good time to do so anyway.

Something I noticed about the two ladies was that they were very beautiful—but exactly in the way that Nora was. They had similarities, though not enough that I would think the three related, but it did say a lot about the sheer arbitrary nature of Blackflame’s beauty standards.

They were beautiful not because of the effect they had on people’s hearts, but because of how much similarity to some imaginary ideal that they could attain.

Leolio Dening and Li Jogen seemed like amicable lads, and soon we were split from our pokemon trainers and made to frolic about on our own terms.

In the sea beyond, I spotted a multitude of people on boats setting up some arcane equipment, apparently the main event to what Lucius had termed this ‘beachside fete’. The details were fuzzy, though.

At the behest of Dening, we were exchanging basic bitch pleasantries for quite a few minutes until I felt tired and wanted to get to the meat of anything. And I could also tell that Li Jogen seemed profoundly uninterested as well, with Dening doing most of the talking. “Do you two know each other very well?” I asked.

“I met him today,” the brutier Li Jogen said. “I’m not sure what I’m doing here, but it’s a beautiful beach!”

I nodded with a smile. “That it is! It’s my first time here as well.”

“First time?” Dening asked. He scoffed. “I’ve been to this beach three times before.” Okay, Ken.

“Oh,” I said. “Excellent. Your beach rank must be very high, then.” Dening raised his nose in the air, proud of his accomplishments. No way, did he actually have some beach-related ranking?

“I’ve been to this beach four times,” Jogen said, though I could tell he was just fucking with Dening based on his smile. Dening’s own smile fell, and I restrained a giggle. “I’m ranked number one on this beach.”

“Now that you’ve mentioned it, I have been here before. Five times, in fact.” Jogen laughed at that but I maintained a serious expression. “Really! I’m ranked number one on every beach in the Empire.”

“No you aren’t!” Dening said. I laughed. “See? You’re laughing! That means you’re lying.”

“Indeed,” I said. “Not at your expense, however. I just find this conversation to be a little… beneath us, don’t you think? Thought I would inject some levity.”

“Explain,” Dening said. I blinked. I wanted to structure my words more politely for my answer, but Jogen beat me to the punch.

“I mean… what does it matter who has been here more times?”

Dening had no answer for that. “That doesn’t warrant lying, however. Lying about your rank is extremely rude!”

Wow. He was really like this? “Apologies, good sir,” I said. Jogen restrained a giggle. “I should not have taken your beach ranking lightly in this way.”

“Apology accepted,” Dening huffed. “Don’t do it again.”

Brother, what?

Jogen scratched the back of his head, his expression awkward. “So, Sky, you’re a light artist?”

“Yes,” I said. “Though I have some more aspects tucked away. I see you’ve studied up on me.” Well, that and he could probably sense my Light aspect. It wasn’t substantially stronger than the other aspects of my madra, but it was the most noticeable one, on account of it being ‘light’ and all.

“Obviously,” Jogen said with a smile. “I have no doubts that you did the same. You knew my name on sight.”

“Guilty as charged,” I said. “You never know, since apparently,” I tilted my head towards the women. “They might decide they want a show, or whatever it is we are here for.”

Jogen laughed. “Yeah. It’s a good way to find fights, though, being with Indaria and all. She really loves parading me in front of as many rivals as I could ever want.”

Dening frowned. “Surely the frequency of sparring bouts is not the only reason you are with her?”

Jogen looked uncharacteristically serious. “Man, have you not seen my woman?” I looked at her. The only thing that really could describe the three ultra-attractive women talking amongst each other was ‘hot’. Even if, conceptually, I disagreed with the beauty rankings, I couldn’t deny that they were beautiful. “The fights are a side-benefit at best. What do you say?” he looked at me.

“Do you even have to ask?” I chuckled. “I’m still surprised she picked me when all I did was beat the excrement out of her former lover.”

Dening choked, and Jogen laughed.

Three proud men bragging about their owners. This was a really funny situation, honestly.

“How many fights?” I asked Jogen.

“Excluding what may occur today? Twelve. In the span of three months. Before me, there was someone else. I don’t know how long he took, but I’m betting it wasn’t that long, considering how easily I beat him.”

Dening chuckled victoriously and opened his mouth to say a higher number, but I decided to interrupt him instead, because I liked seeing him wound up. “Only one so far, if you don’t count the first guy I beat up,” I said. “In that case, two. I only got with her four days ago, so I’m betting it will take time. On the bright side, whoever loses today probably won’t lose their partner either.”

“You think so?” Jogen asked. “Indaria made it clear that I was not allowed to lose. Even to someone already partnered.” I shrugged.

“I can ask Nora later,” I said. “I assumed the loser has to let the winner become her new lover, and though that doesn’t have to be a constant as I doubt she’d take just anyone who is stronger than me. Hmm. I guess there’s no telling what happens if I lose. Other than freedom, I guess,” I said, and Jogen chuckled.

Man, what was with that ‘I hate my wife’ Boomer joke anyway? Was I old enough to finally understand the sentiment? Ugh, I was turning into a person I didn’t like.

“Freedom is well and good,” Jogen said. “But I intend on marrying Indaria. She is the woman for me, and I will bend the universe to prevent any loss to befall me. Not before I have changed my mind about her.”

I gave him a nod. “I can respect the commitment, Li Jogen.”

“I love Thelassa!” Dening roared, loud enough that the women had heard. Thelassa grimaced at that. Dening had embarrassed her.

“I believe you!” I said. “But if you shout it so loudly, I doubt she would return your love as eagerly, don’t you think?”

Dening looked at Thelassa, who shook her head minutely, and turned back to us with a bereaved expression. “Pardon my outburst.”

“No need to pardon yourself,” I said. “Your outburst was pure and good. Any woman should be proud to have someone declaring their love as openly as you have.”

Hint: leave her.

Jogen furrowed his eyebrows at me pensively. “Say, you don’t… really care for your lover, do you?”

What the fuck? “Of course I do,” I said with a frown. “And I’d thank you not to repeat such a baseless assumption.”

Jogen smiled placidly. “Your heart is not in this path you have chosen for yourself. Hence, you will never be able to defeat me.”

My path transcends your downright mundane view of the world, Jogen. I’m not staying on this planet for another eighty years. “I don’t win my fights because I want to stay with Nora. I win them to prove that I’m better.”

“Better than me?” Jogen asked, stepping forward. I met him in the halfway point, forehead inches from his.

“Better than everyone in this Empire.”

Jogen and I locked eyes. He bared his teeth, revealing his Goldsign canines. I only grinned, though it did not reach my eyes, which were wide and boring into his.

“But—” Dening spoke, but before he could, I raised a palm pointed at him to forestall him. He was unimportant. I doubt I’d take too long to beat him and his little anime swordsman routine—he didn’t have the aura to threaten me—, but Jogen looked like a challenge. He was the higher-ranked one of the two, so it made sense.

Finally, I took a step back. “Nora told me that whether or not we fight will be their decision. But if a fight does not come to pass, I would like to formally challenge you to a duel. You’re free to decline, as your rank far outstrips mine.”

Jogen sniffed. “I accept. We can go as early as tomorrow if you would like.”

“I’d want nothing more.”

“Sky!” Nora called from where she was talking, and I half-jogged back to her. Dening and Jogen followed. “My dearest friend Thelassa wishes to be wowed by your skill. Would you care to enter into a sparring bout with her lover Leolio Dening?”

“What about Jogen?” I looked at Indaria, who was giving me a gimlet eye. “Can we do Jogen instead?”

Nora clenched my forearm hard, reminding me that despite our differences in combat ability, even she was physically stronger than my baseline.

“Yes,” Jogen said. “What about me?” Indaria turned her glare to her boyfriend.

“No,” Thelassa said. “It will be Dening versus…” She looked me up and down. “Arelius.” she said in a dismissive tone. The fuck was that? Eh, whatever. She wasn’t my enemy. But just for that, I would make this one quick.

I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Okay, whatever.” I looked around. “Where do we fight?”

Nearby, Nora’s gang were watching Burin cycle madra. Then suddenly, a wide stretch of sand, probably fifty or so meters in diameter, started vibrating. Then the edges of this vibrating field suddenly deepened, creating a clear and wide boundary a foot or so deep. “There,” Nora said. I jogged over to one side of the grounds, furthest away, summoned a crack in my void key to let Star’s End fall through, and stood on the other side at the ready.

Dening stepped into the battlegrounds like his balls were made of lead, and gave me an imperious smile. “You can only curse your fate for having to fight against me.”

“Your mother is a woman of ill repute, and your father is known for some unspecified dastardly deeds. Let’s fight.”

Dening roared at that. “How dare you?!”

I shrugged. “I have more where they came from. Your house is suffering from financial troubles, and your face is ugly.”

“Count down!” Dening roared. “Count down now! Let me rip this ill-mannered serpent to shreds!”

“To shreds, you say?”

Lucius cleared his throat, gaining everybody’s attention. “This is a match between Glassy Sky Arelius of house Arelius and Leolio Dening of the Leolio family. Weapons and techniques are allowed. The battle is to submission or until I end the match. In that case, if both parties come to a good faith agreement on who fought better, they should be crowned the victor and the results reported to the Ranking Board.”

Okay, okay, okay.

“Contestants at the ready,” Lucius said. “In three, two, one, fight!”

By the time I had activated Starfire Surge and made it ten steps, Lucius had swung his sword in the air three times, sending three flying slashes at me at three different angles. I jumped well over any of them and saw a flash of a smile on his face as he felt that he ‘had’ me due to my being mid-air. My trajectory was predictable, and he would nail me far before I could touch the ground again.

Then I pogo’d out of the way, summoning and hitting a miniature Celestial Anvil to drastically shift my position before he could lock in on me.

I used another one to fly behind him, then one more to get him from his back while he was still slowly turning around. During his rotation, he threw a flying slash at me in the nick of time, and I destroyed it with Star’s End. I didn’t even need to use Nova Blade; just the construct was strong enough to destabilize the technique.

And it had the added benefit of slowing my descent towards Dening, from bat-out-of-hell fast to just a little too fast.

Still, fast was good. It let me bypass my physical weakness. I flipped my spear and flew towards Dening, hitting him with the butt of my spear directly in his chest. He fell hard and skidded on the sand for several meters, scraping his back while I rode him like an Alaskan bull worm, seated on his chest. I flipped the spear with one hand, pointing the blade at his throat.

How long did that take?

“The winner by submission is Glassy Sky Arelius!”

This fight hadn’t even been harder than the one I had against Shinichi or Barelion. What the fuck gave?

A part of me knew what. I was… in the zone, wasn’t I? I was raring for this fight. Jogen’s eyes told me a story of superiority, of a total confidence in himself. I wanted to take that light from those eyes. Reduce him to someone inferior.

I could.

I wasn’t a particularly talented fighter. I relied on plans and tactics, and leaned hard into the aspects of my Path that made me superior. Given regular parameters, I wouldn’t be faring as well as I currently did.

I did have my ego, though. With it, a baseless belief that I was the very best there ever was. It was my inner flame.

After I stood up from Dening’s chest, I was going to run up to Nora, but instead she was running to me.

She jumped onto me, legs wrapped around my lower back, and gave me a deep and decidedly unchaste kiss.

“You absolutely crushed her,” Nora said. I think she meant ‘him’. Or maybe she meant Thelassa? Would explain why she was so excited. This was her win, then.

“Mhm,” I said, too stunned by her overture to speak. “For you,” I whispered. A lie, but… I wouldn’t say no to some after-action.

She got off from me and straightened up her clothes, expertly fixing every crease and every place where her clothes had shifted. Hand-in-hand, we walked to the rest of the group. Thelassa looked furious, while Indaria was just smiling like a cat.

“In the end,” Indaria said. “Your champion could not even last ten full seconds.” Thelassa growled and walked up to her beaten Pokemon. To heal him or to free him, I did not know.

Wait, ten seconds? Did it really not take that long?

“I bet I might,” the barbarian prince Jogen said with a puffed chest. “What do you say, Sky?”

Nora nearly crushed my hand, and I kept quiet. Fuck! “Perhaps another day,” she said. “In the unlikely event that you win, you would not have your victory tarnished by the fact that your opponent was spent, would you?”

“Spent?” Jogen asked. “I don’t know if you know much about fighting but—”

Indaria kicked him on his shin, a decidedly gentle love-tap that barely produced any sound, but it did make him clamp his mouth shut. Hey, no fair! “Perhaps some other time,” she said. “Pardon my lover’s tongue, but he gets quite passionate when it comes to the sacred arts.”

“I am surprised that you would seek to insult me,” Nora said. “Knowing what my man is capable of.” She squeezed my hand a little gently, and I sighed. Yes, honey.

I sent a glare towards Jogen. “Keep my lover’s name out of your mouth if you know what’s good for you.” Jogen rolled his eyes. Sorry man, but thems the breaks. You actually want to marry into this life, so suck it up.

“Relax, my dear,” Nora said. “All is forgiven.”

“Really?” I asked. “Because we can still have this fight—” she squeezed my hand again and I said nothing. I whispered to her ‘that really hurts’ and she eased up, but the point remained.

“That being said,” Nora said. “I too grow curious regarding who is the stronger combatant. It is obvious at a glance that my Sky is quite underranked despite his power. Not a single fight I have seen him in has lasted more than a minute.”

Well, true, but the fights weren’t exactly trivial either. I still had to react and plan accordingly. A lot of things went into my fights

“Jogen can clear up this confusion tomorrow at noon,” Indaria said. “Is that not right?”

“Totally right!” Jogen said, smiling with excitement.

“Splendid,” Nora said. “Sky, won’t you give me some time to discuss terms with my dear friend?”

“Sure,” I said, giving her a brief peck on her cheek before walking away. “I’m a yell away.”

Jogen followed after being dismissed in a similar manner.

“Impressive battle,” Jogen said. “You are incredibly fast.”

“And you have me at a disadvantage,” I said. “Now that you’ve seen me fight.”

“I’d barely call that a fight,” he said. “But I will watch out for your strange approximation of flight. Not going to lie to you, it looks funny.”

“It works,” I said with a grin. “And honestly, I don’t mind being funny. Have you seen my Goldsign? If I don’t constantly run a Ruler technique to disperse the light aura from my hair, I could easily provide a light source for dozens of paces in any direction.”

Jogen laughed at that. “I like you, Sky. You don’t take things too seriously. Except for when it comes down to a fight.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I like your directness as well.” I turned to look at Thelassa, standing tall before Dening, who was sitting cross-legged and looking glum. “Do you think he’ll get cut off?”

“I don’t care,” Jogen said. “That won’t be me sitting like that tomorrow.”

I shrugged. “I won’t feel so bad if it is you, though. You seem far more capable of moving on.”

“You’d be surprised,” he said with a hollow chuckle. “Dening is a fool, but… I’m no different.”

Dening stood up, and walked away like a kicked dog, slouched over and hands dangling in front of him, all the while as Thelassa watched dispassionately. A loss and a break up in quick succession. When it rains, it pours. I didn’t envy that poor devil.

“Looks like he got cut off,” Jogen said. “A pity, though I doubt he’d be in this predicament if he hadn’t given so much of his heart to his lover.”

“No, that should have counted for something,” I said. “Fighting for love is valid. He was just weak and matched up against someone unafraid to cut the distance and outmanoeuvre him. Everyone starts with a Striker technique, you know. It shouldn’t be mindblowing that I’ve found a way to use that to my advantage.”

“Your unpredictability and agility are your biggest strengths,” Jogen said. “But I won’t lob a Striker technique on you right off the bat. And in certain ways, I am faster. You will fall victim to my Path of the Flashing Tiger, same as everyone else.” Wow, a flashing tiger? What did it remove its stripes in front of unsuspecting onlookers?

“It will be bad for me once you get cut off,” I said. “I probably won’t meet you again, and you’re the only person with their head on straight that I’ve met in this circle I’ve found myself in.”

“But we must fight,” Jogen said. “And there must be a loser.”

I raised an eyebrow at him and gave him a mocking smile. “And what if we ran away together, replaced our lovers with each other?”

Jogen laughed. “No, you’re not pretty enough.”

“Damn it,” I snapped my fingers in mock irritation. “Eh, then I guess bloodshed is a viable alternative.” I gave Jogen a deep bow of respect. “Fight well, Li Jogen. I would hate for this fight to be an easy one after how much I’ve raised you in my estimation.”

Jogen returned the bow. “You as well, Glassy Sky Arelius.”

Jogen rejoined Indaria, and I did the same with Nora. After some closing remarks they had, subtly dissing each other, they split up, and I was left alone with Nora. We went to our makeshift pavilion.

The workers on the boats had finally decided to move away from the constructs they had planted: wide and long frames of some buoyant material, marbled with Forged madra. They were planted for hundreds of meters along the coast on every side. The sun began to set over the sea, and the construct’s frame started lighting up.

“This is the Fish Dance festival,” Nora said. She looked over to the side where the other frames lit up. “An ancient tradition of Serpent’s Grave. It’s an abstract retelling of love and life.”

I raised an eyebrow. Then I saw them: spirits started manifesting above the frames, fish-like Remnants that looked more like rough sketches drawn with a brush than the real deal. They kept to a simple and flat color scheme consisting of blue, pink, purple and yellow.

Nora explained the big deal about the show dispassionately while the projected spirit fish painted abstract pictures in the air with each passing. She didn’t speak of this with the excitement you would expect from somebody who was particularly interested in the subject. Instead, it just came off as her retelling what she had studied prior, like a student giving a school presentation.

One more reminder of the facade of perfection she had crafted for herself.

The fish dance festival was nice, and lasted for a couple more hours after dark. Eventually, I took Nora home on the fastest cloudship available.

000

Note to self:

Humiliate Nora’s rivals more often.

It pays off. A lot.

000

Serpent’s Grave’s arena was much better than literal sand to run on.

That would be the one main disadvantage I had at the beach eliminated. Still, I was facing up against Jogen.

Quick rundown of his skills:

Movement technique that was insanely fast, but pretty limited in terms of turning. Only along straight lines, and basically counted as teleportation as far as my own speed was concerned. I’d call it the Flash Step.

Weapon Enforcer technique which he used on his pair of gauntlets. It could conduct through metallic weapons or disrupt construct weapons. Since almost everyone used construct weapons, that was where its true danger lay. And it only needed to graze me to pump me full of lightning. My Iron body was suited towards mitigating that kind of damage, but only to a certain extent.

‘Don’t get hit’. A rule as old as the concept of combat itself.

Ruler technique that created stage hazards and distracted me from plotting his movements. If I gave my full attention to his jumps, I could read them. And then some lightning would zap me and stun me for long enough that he could charge up and send possibly his most destructive technique:

His Striker technique. Some Zeus lightning bolt shit if the dreamstones were to be believed. He would Forge a lightning bolt in his hands, weave it together with a Striker technique, and physically throw it. The attack hit instantaneously and would probably kill me, even a graze, but it took a while to charge.

The stadium was more crowded than I was used to. Half the seats were packed, and a cloudship flew overhead. I didn’t quite get that, seeing as there were still seats left.

It was only natural, however. My rank was one-hundred and ninety-nine as of this morning. Beating Dening had given me the most substantial lurch since my seeding.

Now all that remained was to beat Jogen, then beat someone in the top one-hundred. From then on, I was only guaranteed a duel if I challenged someone ten ranks over mine. Anyone with a higher differential was not obliged legally to accept. At worst, there would be around nine matches until I could get to the top ten. There, the legal obligation for accepting a challenge was one rank’s difference.

All the way until I reached Jai Hojin, the number one Lowgold under 25 in the Empire.

I definitely did intend on challenging everyone in the top one-hundred that would accept, picking the highest ranked person that did accept. That should cut time down, and only depended on whether or not the whole lot were craven louts that clung to their ranks more than they did their ability to ensure it.

That was my initial plan, actually. Then Eithan had told me that the top one was in fact top one hundred and seventy-nine for Lowgolds of all ages. Using that scale, I could get ahead far faster by stepping out of the under 25 scale to challenge someone that didn’t qualify there, but was still higher-ranked than me in the all-ages scale.

That had its own associated risks, such as their techniques being way better than one would expect of an average Lowgold. The best of them had techniques that could even match fledgling Highgolds for power.

Using that alternative path, I could claw my way up to number one in approximately seven or so fights. I was ranked seven-hundred and fifty-nine overall.

I heard Eithan’s voice in my ears, which, if I’m being honest, was something I didn’t know he could do. Was he using a construct, or Soulfire to create sounds so close to my ear? In any case, it was a nifty thing. He could communicate one way, and would hear anything I had to say.

“This one is going to hurt,” he said to me, and I gave Jogen over in the distance another onceover.

“You think so?” I asked.

“Never stop for a single moment, even if it feels like you’re dying. You just might if you do.”

I accepted the advice with all my heart.

“Do you think I’ll win?” I asked.

“No,” Eithan said.

Dammit.

Guess I’ll just believe in myself, then.

I wonder if Nora believed in me.

We had chatted briefly before I went in. I had asked her what would happen if I were to lose, even if Jogen was with Indaria.

“We would be done,” Nora said.

I narrowed my eyes at her. “That doesn’t sound very efficient.”

“Losers rarely ever take revenge and win,” Nora said. “Such things are reserved for stories. In many cases, you rise up in the rankings and stop at the first place you were defeated. I would like to not waste my time with someone whose potential falls short of mine.”

Potential in what, looking pretty?

Okay, whatever. I could lose and be rid of her, and would that be such a profound loss for me? Maybe next time, I’d have a girlfriend that actually loved me.

Like she did last night, to reward me for my beating Dening.

Last night revealed something important to me.

Something of utmost importance.

Nora had been holding back. She was skilled in ways I couldn’t wrap my head around.

I could lose to Jogen and move on to find a person that liked me for who I was.

Or I could absolutely destroy him and maybe Nora would do the same things she did to me last night?

I smiled lecherously while Jogen raised an eyebrow at me from a distance. I shook the expression off and put on my game face.

Joggy flashed me a gross and lecherous smile, and I frowned at that. Huh?

Oh hell no.

I’ll be the one getting freaky tonight, you fucking weirdo.

“You really should stop thinking about such things before a fight,” Eithan said, dousing my fire at once.

“Fuck off,” I whispered. “This is between him and me.”

“Hey, Sky!” Jogen roared from the other side of the arena. “I’m going to enjoy what will come to me after I win!”

I gritted my teeth. “It can’t compare to what will come to me after I win!”

“Hah!” Jogen laughed. “You don’t know anything at all! After I win, the whole world will open up and sing praises of me.”

“Oh yeah? The sky will split and down from the crevice, an angel will descend to take me directly to the afterlife! I will die if I win!”

000

Senzin Nora put her face on her hands, shaking her head minutely as she watched the spectacle in the arena.

Maybe she had gone too far last night. Oh well. Perhaps it had given Sky the push needed to win this fight for her?

But the… implications they were throwing around… had they no concept of subtlety?!

000

“--every particle in my body will sing in euphoria—”

The referee blasted the arena with construct-enhanced volumes. “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!” He roared, finally putting an end to Jogen and I’s schoolyard antics. I was glad for it, because he had started it, and I’d rather not have him also be the end of it.

He was a good troll, I’d give him that.

The announcer gave a wonderful introduction to both of us. I was a rising star, rapidly going through the ranks. I could have been higher, too, if the match I had with Dening counted fully. Instead, it was reported by witnesses, and the environment was uncontrolled, so I didn’t get to dethrone him fully, while he still kept his rank.

Anything else, like whether Thelassa truly threw him to the wayside or not, was unknown to me.

Jogen was a wandering sacred artist with a bright future ahead of him, only twenty-four yet still so kickass that he had managed to travel from the outskirts of buttfuck nowhere all the way to Serpent’s Grave, and he now had his eyes on Blackflame City.

That reminded me… was Nora ranked this highly in all the Empire, or just Serpent’s Grave?

Speaking of the city, the entire roster of strongest Lowgolds couldn’t all live here. Did that mean that I would eventually have to travel to find greater challenges? Ugh.

I should have just started at Blackflame City, the biggest fishbowl within the fishbowl that was Blackflame.

Baby steps. Only been here five days. I was making pretty good progress as it was.

“Without further ado, let this match soon commence! Weapons and techniques are allowed, and you fight until submission or my call, and my call is absolute!”

I nodded.

“Three!”

I held my spear hard and picked up my breath to cycle madra.

“Two!”

I looked at Jogen, who looked at me, trying to glean a semblance of my plan, same thing I was doing. Or pretending to do.

I knew what he would do.

“One!”

Here goes nothing. I cycled, but not to start Starfire Surge.

To start Solar Flare.

“Fight!”

Jogen’s form became encapsulated by lightning just as I jumped to the side as far as I could and aimed at my general position, releasing a Solar Flare at the air.

Just as the Striker technique left the tip of Star’s End, Jogen’s form appeared.

He fell well short of the place I had expected him to be. Rather than warping past my spear’s reach, to me where his fists could crash, he had stopped right outside the wide ring that was my reach.

He bent over backwards to dodge the worst of the Solar Flare, but I knew that once I landed to where I had jumped and recovered, he would too, thus resetting the game board.

Kudos, you fucking asshole.

What next?

His Stage Hazard Ruler technique wouldn’t take long to set up, but I’d rip him apart using Starfire Surge before he was ever ready to use it. He’d have to play his cards well to distract me long enough to let him summon that bullshit in this arena.

Zeus’ Bolt was also out of the question on account of its startup time. Right now, he only had his Flash Steps and his Electric Fists.

I activated Starfire Surge and got close.

He Flashed away. Far away. Then I could feel his spirit cycle in preparations for—

Didn’t matter. Time stopped as my brain came to a halt, considering nothing except for two options. Send Solar Flare, or run to him and dodge whatever he threw with Starfire Surge? Could I reach there faster than starting up and throwing my Striker technique? No. From there, the answer became simple.

I sent a Solar Flare. He threw himself out of the way, not even using Flash Step. His hitched breathing and my senses told me that his technique had been disrupted. I wasted no more time and activated Starfire Surge to run up to him as fast as I could.

Then he punched the arena ground.

It did nothing to the ground.

And then my footing shifted right under my feet, throwing me into an uncontrollable roll. Were those shockwaves that he had sent through the ground?

I smelled a whiff of Ozone in the air, heard the loud clang of his Flash Steps, and as my body righted itself for a moment mid-roll, all I could see was Jogen, pulling his crackling fists back for the punch of a lifetime.

I used the shaft of my spear to block, grateful that he hadn’t reached me while my back was facing him.

My spear shaft crashed into my chest, turning my uncontrolled roll from tripping into actual flight. I was at least three meters above the ground, just soaring, my entire chest a single bruise that hurt with every beat of my poor, abused heart.

That wasn’t even counting the agony that coursed through me. For a pregnant moment, as my spear’s shaft pushed into my chest, Jogen’s fists had been an inch away from touching it. That was more than enough space for the arcs to travel.

I couldn’t breathe.

No breathing meant no cycling.

No cycling meant no Celestial Anvil to take advantage of my access to the third dimension.

I had to Iron body this.

I looked down at the ground, reoriented myself with some waves of my hands, and made sure that I would be as well positioned as possible once I landed, hoping that my lack of oxygen hadn’t weakened me yet.

It hadn’t. I landed well, planting my spear on the ground for stability while I fought to pull in breaths.

Stupid of me to stand still, but I needed this.

And I could still pull off a trick.

Every breath I took in through my nearly paralyzed chest, I directed it towards one technique.

A wide Celestial Anvil formed itself before me just as Jogen’s form became enshrouded in lightning, in preparation for another Flash Step.

He punched through the Anvil before it could fully form.

I had expected that.

That’s why I stabbed him.

Or tried to. He would have been a disappointing opponent if that was all that it took to put him down. He blocked the blow with the back of his gauntleted and crackling left hand.

I swung and thrusted my spear, falling into a familiar rhythm. I had to take steps back because he was still stronger than me, though the sharp edge of Star’s End made him leery of just steamrolling me. Starfire Surge restarted, and Jogen’s form became enshrouded in lightning, signalling another Flash Step.

I didn’t hesitate to rush him before the technique even started. I considered timing a jump exactly the moment he disappeared, after which I would disappear in his point of view and stab him from behind, but that tactic of mine was played out, and Jogen would expect it.

Why not use Rain of Stellar Spears at some point? That was the one technique I had never used yet. Because of its sheer lethal potential. No, not that. Sure, even if he blocked it, it would still do damage, as its tip would explode anywhere it went, but surely Jogen couldn’t be the guy to bring out the last card I was hiding.

There were easier alternatives.

Jogen had higher manoeuvrability, higher strength, decent defence and some pretty crazy wildcards. Where was he lacking, though?

Reaction speed. I had that in droves. Starfire Surge slowed down time in my perception, and was what allowed me to stick to complex plans.

I just had to outplay him somehow. He still hadn’t summoned his Stage Hazard technique yet, nor Zeus’ Bolt. I had pressured him enough to ensure that. I had been the one to take a real hit, but that didn’t mean he was completely dominating.

I sent a Solar Flare to where I suspected he would reappear, missed, and changed my running direction there.

Jogen blinked his eyes and frowned at me. I sent another Solar Flare. He dodged using a Flash Step, travelling far from me to a place where he cycled his madra in a new way.

Nope. I poured more madra into another Solar Flare. My channels around the nascent proto-binding—just a slight tangle in my channels, really—were starting to burn with exertion at the quick succession of techniques we were throwing, made worse by my own overeagerness. My perception of time gave me the false idea that using another technique was safe when it wasn’t. Only the pain in my spirit kept me from completely wrecking myself.

And it gave me a newfound appreciation of what it meant to be a Herald. Or have Diamond Veins. Damn, I needed those.

Did he have to run so fucking far, though? Jogen, I thought you were better than this. I would expect nothing less of myself, but seriously dude.

000

Eithan watched from a distant seat in the arena as Sky made a… rather poor showing of himself.

He hadn’t lied when he said that he didn’t expect Sky to win. Like Sky, Jogen too was severely underrated, and was closer to the top twenty in this category than one-hundred and three. And he fought in a similar way to Sky, using shock and awe to disrupt and destroy. And he had been the first person in all of Serpent’s Grave to give Sky his first bit of damage in a sanctioned duel. That was not just luck.

Sky had been given every tool that a sacred artist could ask for, every advantage in training, and a capacity for physical performance that no Lowgold could hope for, at least in this Empire. He lacked in skill and finesse, certainly. With only his spear, regardless of his physical weakness, he definitely could have defeated Jogen.

Were he better.