Since the next morning, the days went by—by travelling and the nights by camping. Monsters never bothered them. At night Jimmy had to drink Sigmund’s potion to fall asleep, and each time sleep came a little later than before. Aside from his sleeping problem, the travel went on smoothly.On the third day of their travel, Jimmy finally finished cultivating with all the Blood Cores they had collected. Rohkov, his Metal Spirit, congratulated him. His advancement went smoothly. Nothing explosive happened. There was no explosion or burst of Drogen coming out of his body. He did not feel the rush of power. The only thing that changed was his core. It seemed just a tad brighter, if even that. It could just be his imagination. Jimmy opened his Stats just to make sure he had advanced.[Name: Jimmy Wright][Race: Vampire][Spirit: Hidden Metal—Rohkov][Spirit Ability: Metallic Push and Pull (Attract and Repel Metals)][Greater Realm: Foundation][Lesser Realm: Elementary][Realm Stage: None][Adv
A miniature figure, no bigger than his palm, zipped around across his vision. She screamed, and it was the same scream he had heard before. It was his name that she screamed in a tone that was frantic. Linden could not understand why, but somehow that scream seemed to rent at his heart. He should recognise that voice, he knew, but whenever he tried to reach for that recognition, it seemed to slip away from him as if he was trying to grasp at the air. It was so difficult to think. Memories faded. Memories he knew were dear to him. "Tim, you must hurry," The tiny humanoid figure said. "He won't last much longer. Linden, Please. You must not give up. You have to hold on, Linden. LINDEN." His vision faded, and with it, the pain. With the darkness came relief. Relief from the pain, relief from the responsibilities. He did not know he could fulfill. His relief seemed to last only for an instant, like a teaser to something you could never have. It was like a sick joke of a madman. Pain wre
Linden stood before his father's study. His father was in a meeting with an important person. Visits during such occasions by anyone were frowned upon. However, a visit by the Sect Master's son during emergencies was acceptable, especially when he was almost assassinated. He entered the room, and the guards announced him. His guard did not follow him. This room was a mirror to his mother's study. Back at the Tribe Hall. The room was a small one, considering it was used as a workroom by the sect master. A table sat in front of one wall, stacked with important documents. A self neatly occupied by books, scrolls, artefacts, and some burnished ornaments stood behind the table. Tapestries that captured the great heroic deeds hung on every wall. A golden green carpet with intricate embroidery covered the floor. "I cannot accept this," His father said to his guest holding a sword hilt that had no blade. They sat on a sofa that surrounded a glass tea table. His father looked up at him and
Rina groaned. Her skin burned. She was still healing from those long, sharp wounds that had marred her body. The healing potion she had taken had done wonders for her. Her wounds had faded into angry red rashes. However, the healing was still too slow for her comfort. It was perhaps the human kind's failings, no matter how fast you could heal, no matter how fast the pain faded—it wasn't fast enough. Pain was like that, she thought. Besides, humans were never satisfied with what they have. They always wanted more—she wasn't an exception to it, she knew.She hadn't expected a spatial jump to be so dangerous, and she was supposed to be most compatible with it, having a space core herself. Ignoring the burning pain throughout her body, she forced herself to get out of the tent. There were still recruits healing inside, their groans reverberating across the test. She didn't want to stay in such a depressing area for one more second.On her way to find Sigmund's group, she talked to a few el
It had already been three days since they had used the teleportation formation. Sigmund had spent these days helping the camp with small chores, but that only took a squat portion of his time. Every day he talked with people from other tribes, with different practices with herbs. Of course, he talked about herbs, exchanging information with them, and he had learned much, and he still had much to learn. There were herbs he did not know about, herbs that went by separate names in various tribes, and they used the herbs he knew about for differing purposes, in unique ways. He noted everything he learnt and his stock of Knowledge got broader after each discussion with these herbs enthusiasts. These last three days were among the best days of his life. His life had turned for the better ever since Jimmy and the others appeared in his life. He could never repay them for that, but he would try his best. Elder Ryan had been calling recruits one by one to his tent, and today was his turn. He
Sigmund did not have to wait long for Elder Ryan to return. He strolled into the tent as if he owned the place. Perhaps he did. He turned to Elder Reginald. “So, how did he do?” Elder Reginald hesitated before speaking. “His refining methods were crude and his talent as an alchemist is at best average for our standard.” He paused for a long second before continuing. “However, for someone with his background, his talent is among the best. Perhaps he could go far with proper education. It will depend on his own dedication.” Elder Ryan nodded. “However, there is something amiss with him,” Elder Reginald added. Elder Ryan Raised an eyebrow. “Explain yourself.” “With his talent, he should have been able to invent the energy of the core into his potion within a few minutes, if even that. However, it took him almost half an hour to do it. I can only think of a few reasons as to why. That’s why I called him average.” Elder Ryan narrowed his eyes, and two Spiritual Sense locked onto him
Chris tossed and turned in her sleep. Images flashed through her mind. Her hiding behind a tree trunk. Sword rising and falling, her mother’s head rolling to the ground. A contrast colour of red spilling into the green of the grass. Her mother’s body dropping lifelessly. Her brother torched in a roaring fire. Him, demanding her to follow him to his death. Following her, cursing her for abandoning him. For not leaving with him. For not understanding his pain before it was too late. Chris’s eyes opened. She didn’t flail around; she didn’t scream—she simply woke up panting for breath. Chris shivered, and it had nothing to do with the chill of the dying night. She had buried her memories deep in her soul. It had been a long time since it resurfaced in her nightmares. These memories were best left forgotten. Looking around her tent, she noticed Rina snoring away. Ignoring the woman, she walked out of the tent. It was almost dawn, so there was no point going back to sleep. Instead, she cou
Edwin walked out of Elder Ryan’s tent, satisfied with himself. He had impressed the Elder with his swordsmanship, and the Elder even tasked him to train a few recruits with swords for ten sect points an hour. The Elder had also warned him about Dwelling, and he would follow that advice—even though he itched to learn more about his powers. He was curious, but not stupid. Now, he had a clear schedule until they arrived at the Aether tribe. The first and most important one was to train Jimmy with his target. Edwin was both surprised and pleased to find out over the next week that he had an obvious talent with it. “You are incredible,” Edwin praised his brother. Jimmy beamed at him. *** Edwin walked among the assembly of all twenty recruits. He corrected their posture, gave them advice to fix their mistakes, and praised those who were exceeding expectations. None of them made any scene or voiced any complaints—they only asked the relevant questions. Edwin knew why. Elder Ryan had m
Jimmy listened to the elder, who taught them the properties of various metals. “This is Firesteel, this is Watersteel, this is Bloodsteel…” The elder got out seven metals and introduced them to the class. These were the best conductor of said Law and amplified their effect. The elder produced another seven metals and explained about each of them; Firebane, Spiritbane and Earthbane and so on. These were poor conductors of corresponding Laws—almost an insulator. These metals either diminished or nullified the effect of the corresponding Law. Jimmy learned much in his Blacksmith class. The identities of unique metals, their source, their properties—and how and what to forge with them. How to make an object of power? It was a simple process, impossible as it was to believe. First, forge a required item, take a beast core, and after that reach out with spiritual sense to the item through the core and push the power of the core to the item—the spiritual sense was the medium to such tran
Rina repeatedly tapped the table with her index finger. This was getting on her nerves. The man no older than her, who sat opposite her, inspected the inscription on the dagger she had carved, turning it round and round in his hands. Rina scoffed. As if he knew anything about the scripts. Scripting was The Most technical art of Drogen. “You have excellent calligraphy,” the man said.Rina snorted. “A fish that can’t swim is worthless.” “Point. Shall we test your handiwork? I hope they are as powerful as they are beautiful.”The scripter woman nodded. Finally! She would earn her keep and be rid of the man soon.The runes in the dagger glowed golden. The man flicked his wrist and the dagger cut through the air and struck the wall. There was little sound. Golden lines of runes flickered across the room. The dagger quivered for a second and dropped.Her pride swelled like a balloon. She had done a better job than she had believed. “To think the dagger activated the protection formation
“Why are you doing this to yourself?” Edwin asked on their way to class. “You had to visit a healer three times this week. Please tell me what is happening with you, maybe I can help.” “I am fine,” Chris said. A wave of nausea struck her. The world must hate her. Why did it have to happen now when she had just told Edwin she was fine? If the man hadn’t caught her, she would probably be bleeding from her nose right now.“Chris, can you stand by yourself?” The man looked ready to princess-carry her if need be–that she would not allow.Chris pushed herself out of Edwin’s arms and jumped up and down to show she was perfectly fine, thank you very much. She was, and anyone who said otherwise be damned. “See, I am fine.”“You weren’t, just a second ago. I think it best to go see a healer.”Chris caressed Edwin’s hand. She did her best to make her voice as soothing as possible. What she was about to say Edwin wouldn’t like. “You needn't worry about what’s happening to me. You know how we were
Only when Chris was well away from Linden and the arena did the consequences of what she had done dawn on her. What was she thinking dunking him in the water? If Linden had taken what she had done as offence and not as a joke, she would be howling in pain for who knew how long. Perhaps forever. She must have been mad. Why did she always let the anger get the best of her? She had to learn to control it better. ‘What’s done is done,’ she told herself firmly. ‘There is no point in fretting over it.’ Aside from her horrible mistake with Linden that could have ended up with her head on a pike, her days went smoothly—with only one sour note. It was, of course, Rina. Chris asked herself a thousandth time why she was sharing a room with her. The woman had no decency at all. None. Two nights a week, sometimes three nights, the woman brought a man to spend the night with. The partners she brought were sometimes young, sometimes old. The woman changed her partners like men changed their cloth
Linden stopped laughing, gave her a lopsided glance, and struck. Chris brought her sword before it to intercept the attack. At the last second, Linden twisted his sword, and it landed on her wrist. She almost lost her grip on her sword. Still, she powered through the pain and kept her hold of it. Chris was just glad she hadn’t yelped in pain and had just winced. That would be beyond embarrassing. They exchanged dozens of blows, and with each blow, her anger spiked up a notch. Linden had thwacked her left and right—blows that would bruise. Yet, for the life of her, she couldn’t land a single hit. It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t. Why should she be bruised and in pain, while the other man was grinning like a fool? She knew he wasn’t using vital technique or any form of Drogen. That would have left behind a residue that she would have undoubtedly seen, being a collector as she was. So, what was it he was doing? There had to be something. He can’t really see the future, can he? No, that w
Chris watched as the heir strode towards them. The bare-chested man walked like any heir should, back straight, one hand resting on his sword hilt as if he were assuming a sword stance. He could have made any girl’s neck turn in his direction and made their heart flutter. Not hers. Her heart fluttered for someone else. Someone next to her, no less regal than the heir himself, standing there, hand poised on his sword hilt, ready to draw at a moment’s notice. The man she suspected to be Linden’s bodyguard. Tim, was it? He could do with an earful. Holding a sword at her throat like that. When her eyes shifted back to the bodyguard, her mouth went dry. Sweat glistened along his abs. She gulped. Her knees wanted to buckle. She wanted… ‘Heavens above, what am I thinking?’ She wanted to get into good graces with the heir. Not canoodle with his bodyguard. She wouldn’t mind doing it, though. It could be warming. Gods, she had always prided herself on having great control over her thoughts.
[PRESENT TIME] Chris Scoured through the sect library searching for information on collectors. She had hoped to find some record to understand her powers. Useless, there was nothing she didn’t already know. All that knowledge in here and they were all deadwood to her. Unless she broke into the restricted section of the library, there was nothing new she could learn. That meant she would have to learn everything by experiment. The thought of experimenting with her powers sent a shiver down her spine. Playing with something she didn’t understand didn’t sound healthy to her. All her classes went well, better than well actually. She was one of the best in her class—aside from a few mishaps like that one time when she had turned into a giant; it was one of the most embarrassing things that had ever happened to her. What surprised her most as she navigated through her powers was the fact that her abilities were incredibly similar to that of a Dweller and, at the same time, quite differen
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
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