Linden sat in front of a table. He rolled the blood core around and between his fingers. About seventy blood cores lay strewn about on the table. His father had sent him those blood cores about two months ago. He had yet to use them. The truth was, he did not want to use them.Linden wanted to hunt down the monsters with blood cores by himself and use those cores to cultivate. He did not want to use his family name to advance faster without a proper foundation. He knew his parents would not like his decision. But they never did, did they?Besides, it wasn’t just about the blood core. If he wanted to improve his abilities, he needed to be in the thick of battles. Linden had already learned as much as he could about listening to the music of Fate. If he wanted to improve further, he needed to fight in battles. Actual battles, not some training sessions. He did not know how to convince his father about this.Speaking of the devil, the guard outside the door announced his father. The door
Chris and the group wondered about the thoroughfare, searching for the place to cash in the cores they had. Chris scanned her surroundings, looking for the signboard. “It should be around here,” she mumbled. She was holding the map of the tribe. The guard was generous enough to give her the map of the place. Chris was aware of the strange stares people were throwing at them. Those stares weren’t unfounded. They were wondering about the streets looking like a vagabond, after all. They looked worse than a street urchin with their unwashed bodies covered in dirt, grime, and dried blood, and their foul stench did not help either. The wounds, tattered clothes, and disheveled hair equally covered in smudges of blood and dirt played a part in those stares, too. Chris saw the signboard she was looking for. “There,” she pointed and dragged the two of her friends along with her. They climbed the marbled stairs and entered the room, labeled “Core Exchange.” Selling a core of ordinary level wa
“Oh, come on, you can do better than that.” Sigmund Young, the son of the alchemist, slapped the table.“Stop hitting my table, boy.” The shopkeeper snarled. “Do you want the sum to go down?”“You swine of a leaching vermin. I want my rightful pay. I have rights.”The shopkeeper shook his head. “You lost those rights three years ago. Because of your father’s traitorous act. The price is the same, four ordinary copper. I am doing you a favour, boy. No one else would buy a potion from you. I’m the only reason you can eat nowadays. You should be thanking me, not shouting at me.”Sigmund looked at the ordinary copper coins in the shopkeeper’s hand and snatched them. “My father is not a traitor. He would never do something like that.” Sigmund walked away, muttering under his breath.“Whatever you say, boy. Whatever you say.”Sigmund walked back towards his home with his hunched back. His father was not a traitor! Five of the best warriors of the tribe had been injured three years ago. Th
Sigmund did not know why, but he was very pleased with himself, watching the bewildered expression on Edwin’s and Chris’s faces. For some reason, Jimmy looked unimpressed. His house was a three-story stone structure with a flat roof. Long lines of nursery surrounded the house, which was used to grow herbs. “We weren’t as rich as the elders of the tribe and the merchants, but we were still rich. Father was one of the best alchemists in the tribe, after all.” “I don’t understand,” Chris said. “If you have this much land and property, why were you struggling for a few coins?” “I needed it to buy food. I have land, but no food. I could harvest them by myself, but they never sell me anything with seed or something that I can harvest. They cannot punish my father. So they satisfy themselves by tormenting me.” “But they still sell you food.” Sigmund nodded. “I just have to pay them more than the food is worth.” Sigmund led them into the house. His house was depressingly empty. “I had t
It had surprised Rina at how easy it was to join the Aether tribe—or at least at the list of potential recruits. The grisly old man in the tent had said there would be exams but after a year of training and education. He said it was a chance everyone deserved. Almost everyone. He had emphasised the word ‘almost,’ though.She looked at the surrounding people. Erin, Edwin, Jimmy, and Sigmund. They called Sigmund a son of a traitor. Though she doubted it. There was some foul play going on there.When she had first arrived at the tribe, Sigmund’s father had taken care of her and tended her wounds. She had arrived at this tribe, blooded and almost dead. But Sigmund’s father had brought her back to full health. She also remembered Sigmund, who had also taken care of her a few nights, though he did not seem to remember her.She was grateful to his father, and she would repay that favor to him someday. She had tried to help him many times over the last three years. But the watching eyes of th
Christopher David Vancorg, the patriarch of the Vancorg tribe, stood tall behind a massive arched window—watching the thoroughfare that led to and from his Palace. He watched the hubbub of men, waggons, and sedan chairs. “Do you know how much I had had to sacrifice to maintain my position as the Patriarch of the tribe? Messenger boy?”“This servant will never know the depths of your sacrifice, my Lord. We can only appreciate it, never knowing.”‘At least he knows how to talk.’ Christopher thought.Christopher looked at his own reflection in the window. He had black eyes, short black hair and a brown complexion. Nothing impressive aside from his muscular build. Thankfully, his body had no visible scars. All of them were hidden beneath his clothes.Christopher turned. He stared at the scrawny boy, who was probably no older than sixteen summers. “What message have you, boy?”“Our troops sent to the four tribes have the same message, My Lord.”Christopher cracked an eye. “Which is?”“Your
Christopher puffed on his pipe even as he watched the elders working outside the camp, ordering the men to do things properly. The camps were hidden in the hills from the Windhowlers. The small dell below the hills was the Windhowlers’ territory. Christopher knew about the Windhowlers before. However, their alpha wasn’t at the body transition at the time. The wind howlers had cornered another monster at Body Transition Realm with a wind core. His scout had seen the wolf advance himself after eating the other monster’s core. As the monster had just recently advanced, it shouldn’t be much stronger than himself. From what he had read about the Body Transition Realm from the tombs—only he had access to. Advancing to that realm, cleansed your body for further improvement and increase the capacity and quality of the cores. It was his only chance to hunt the Windhowler. If he failed this time, it would grow too strong for him to handle. Christopher shook his head. There was no point in th
Armin moved around the command tents, noting the position of the six elders he had to assassinate today. He counted each of the six elders, studying the number of personnel they had around them, and—of course, their exact location in each of the camp. It was difficult to sneak about the camp to study the elders undetected. However, his powers allowed him to do just that rather easily.These six elders he was planning to kill today were plotting a rebellion against the Patriarch Christopher’s rule. Armin would have helped the rebellion if he could, just to kill that fanatic. However, his core binding oath to the man prevented him from doing anything rash. Even having a traitorous thought against Christopher gave him a splitting headache.Armin liked his family alive. Otherwise, he would have broken this oath a long time ago. Christopher would definitely wipe out his family if he dared to cross the man. Someday, somewhere, someone would kill Christopher and free him from his misery. Tha
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