What kind of neck was that? No matter—Linden told himself. The sword was old and ordinary, barely invested with the power of Blood Core. The sword was only good for practice anyway, not for battle against the monster at the peak of the Elementary Realm. He threw the useless sword away and popped another blood pill into his mouth. He circulated his Drogen to the extreme, at the edge of it becoming painful, any more than that, and he would shatter his meridians. Linden dashed past the bushes and branches, pouncing on the monster. He dodged each of the flaming projectiles that barred his path. His fate perception made it easy. It was a time like this that made Linden want to kiss Riot for choosing him. If only she didn’t have that… personality. Linden pivoted, evading the flaming monster’s lunging kick. He swallowed the blood pill in his mouth and grabbed the beast by its neck. The flame surrounding the beast flared to greater life as a defensive measure. The fire engulfed Linden, y
Edwin absent-mindedly picked a cookie-shaped snack from the stall and shoved it into his mouth. It was crunchy and spicy rather than sweet and crunchy, which was a pleasant surprise.“Edwin? Doesn’t this remind you of all the bass and parties back at Vancorg Tribe?” Chris said between a mouthful of snacks Edwin had no name for.Edwin grunted. He wouldn’t know, would he?—he had never engaged in them. He eyed the room. There were too many people packed in the same room. It was claustrophobic.Instead of the strangers, Edwin focused on his friends for comfort. Sigmund was busy gorging himself with every strange snack he saw. He was acting like a street urchin dropped in a feast. Jimmy stood behind him like a bodyguard ready to protect him—silent as ever.Rina was shaking hands with yet another stranger. They had just arrived at the tribe and the woman was already making deals and developing hordes of connection. What was the big deal, anyway? Were scripters really that valuable? Edwin di
That day Edwin went to visit the said office to retrieve his class schedule. In his room, Edwin read the list of his classes. —No. 1:- The Drogen’s law —No. 2:- Meditation & Household Magic —No. 3:- Battle Magic —No. 4:- Theory of Cultivation & Vital Technique —No. 5:- Combat Training —No. 6:- Law & Politics —No. 7:- Hunting Each module came with the number of classes per week, its time and venue. Hunting and Battle magic didn’t start for a month. Edwin looked forward to all these classes except for Law and Politics—it was never his strong suit. Chris would probably ace it. *** Edwin clutched the map in both his hands so hard that he almost tore it in half. Chris laughed at his expense. Edwin was glad that he and Chris shared all their classes, even if she was laughing at him. He didn’t want to be alone among the strangers. “Why does this place have to be so huge? And everything looks the same. How do people even navigate this place?” She extended her hand to him. Edwin fr
“For one thing, vampires advance through a unique method. For another, the core of Body Transition Realm isn’t the only factor for advancement. Advancement to Body Transition Realm entails the achievement of a body with a certain aptitude. A body that is faster than anything else, a body that can fly, a body that can grow far stronger with each advancement. I myself have a body called Fading Mist—I can turn myself invisible and make my movements almost imperceptible, even with spiritual perception. So, how do we gain bodies with such incredible ability?” “By the use of elixir or artifacts during advancement.” “Excellent, child. What is your name?” “Rina greets her master.” “Why is it always her that hogs all the attention?” Chris whispered in Edwin’s ear. Edwin was too busy listening to all the secrets of cultivation to spare any attention to the feud between Rina and Chris. So, he half-heartedly replied something. The answer must have satisfied her, because it brought a smile to
It took Edwin some time for him not to be completely affected by the effect of Drogen. It still sometimes got the better of him. Through meditation, Edwin drew power into his core and opened his eyes. The world around him glittered as it always did when he drew Drogen. Apparently, the glittering particles were Aether, the energy of the Earth. “Good,” the elder said. “Now focus on your core. You will sense seven reserves of power within it. Find the power that gives you the impression of heat. Don’t worry, you will know when you find it. It’s instinctive.” As the elder had said, Edwin instinctively found the Fire Law. “Normally, other elders would advise against it. They will say Fire Law is too dangerous. However, I have a fire core. It will be safer this way. Each Law of Drogen requires a unique method to control it.” Edwin nodded. Edwin had expected he would have to wrestle for control, but the Fire Law obeyed his grip like a subservient puppy. “Good,” the elder said, placing
“The vital shroud may have the word vital in it but make no mistake it is no Vital technique. It is a spell. It is one of the few spells of Spirit Law that affect the caster directly. The Vital shroud hides your advancement level and hides you from the spiritual sense—it will at least make you less sensitive to the spiritual sense. However, you must be careful while using the Vital Shroud. It reduces your power level temporarily, and it takes a few hours to regain it.” Even with these dangerous drawbacks, Edwin could still see multiple uses for it. Especially during missions like espionage and assassination. “The effect and time of this drawback decrease as you advance—until eventually, it disappears altogether... follow what I do. To cast this spell, you must surround your core with Spirit Law just so.” It didn’t take Edwin, or anyone else for that matter, to learn this spell. It was the easiest of the four spells and didn’t need much effort. The Striker shroud was just as the na
Five Years Ago. It had been about five years since her mother died. Killed was more accurate. A band of people made from Dwellers and Vampires had killed her mother. And even after five years, Chris still wept herself to sleep. She had abandoned her in her time of need. They punished the murderers of her mother for their actions. They were flogged and tortured publicly before being killed. And yet Chris still could not feel at peace for the death of her mother—like everyone told her to do. Even though they had already received their punishment. Even though they were already dead, she still hated them for taking her mother away from her. How could they do such a thing? How could they have no regard for human life? That question always haunted her. Their death wasn’t enough. Someone else deserved punishment—it was her.A part of Chris wanted to forget about her mother. So that she did not have to hurt, so that she did not have to cry so much, so that her father would not have changed
Chris stood next to her brother as she watched him paint on a massive canvas. The strange amalgamation of colours slowly began to gain cohesion and shape. Slowly, the paintings began to gain more shapes and details. She saw villagers washing clothes in the rivers. Children playing near them. Why couldn’t her life be so peaceful as well? Why couldn’t she be as happy as that? Children playing in the river. This was the first time her brother’s paintings had made her feel more pain than soothing her.However, she did not blame her brother for her mood. She knew something like this could happen. She had been lucky that it hadn’t happened before. And her brother had never drawn a painting with people before.When her brother finished his art. She asked him a question. “What will you call this painting, brother? I always like it when you name your paintings. It is the most enjoyable part of all this.”“I will call this one A Vain Dream.”“Why do you want to name something so beautiful? Somet