At an undisclosed location in the Grittus clan, below multiple passageways, and past hidden doors; a stairwell of stone delivers you to a hollowed-out cavity inside the earth. Craters: large enough to fit a bull and then some were patterned across the floor. A breeze is stirring. Here? Underground? Our ears pick up sound—the shuffling of feet; a harsh exhale; the tearing of wind. We follow the trail, and see a man standing tall. In correction, not a man, but nearly so.
His back looked as if it could be a bridge’s pillar. That shoulder-length hair of his had to be tied off into a knot, and still it rebelled with the strands that escaped. The lines of his face defined him as a handsome catch; and us being aware of his maturity being incomplete, meant everything of him was just merely a shadow of the man to come. Cold eyes stared into space. We realize it wasn’t him who was causing the noise, but rather—
Fingers moving, his silver spear danced with its partner, and snapped to attention: the boy effortlessly blocked a fist. The hooded man’s attack acted like it’d met an unbreakable wall against the shaft of the spear; he disengaged with swift speed, creating distance in a blink. Yet, despite all the trouble, the spear’s wielder hadn’t even flinched.
He didn’t even look at him.
The hooded man wasn’t alone. A second, looking like the first dove for him overhead. His target’s arrogance fueled the assault, with a low scream, he swiped the air and a crescent of Juva flew towards the boy. This time—the boy grunted—his silver spear became a silver cyclone in his right hand; slashing upwards to intercept. When the two met, the crescent bent. The boy exhaled, and with a little more strength in his arm, he parted the attack in half—with the remainder gouging out the land to his sides.
The hooded men regrouped.
“This junior…”
“With just physical effort alone…!”
He blinked, slowly. “May we be finished now?"
Their expressions warped.
“Too early to think of getting full of it! Even this old one has his pride!”
Energy began coalescing in his palm. Too unstable to pick a shape, so the light kicked and yanked against the man’s control. The light showed the wrinkled and aged skin below the man’s hood. He sneered. “Dodge it, or I won’t be able to explain myself to your father!”
“I think not.” The boy flipped his spear, stabbing it into the ground. When he let go, there was nothing but he and his hands to aid him.
The hooded men paused. And the one charging the attack said, “Such arrogance. If you want to play it this way, then this Elder will indulge you!”
The boy stood. Unflinching at the danger before him. The energy was just as much a danger to its wielder as it was for the coming victim; an Elder of his age wouldn’t allow his Juva to run amok in his techniques like so, meaning it had to be all but a mistake. He clenched his fists.
He said but one word: “Come.”
The Elder snorted. Tossing his Juva like a pitch. His weak, spindly arms were revealed as the sleeves rolled up in action, but even so, the amalgamation of Juva suddenly shot out with more force than his arms could ever physically give. Racing with intent, the unstable energy was like a falling star, taking flight once again. As for the boy…
He exhaled again, took a step, then—punched the unruly thing. In all their years, never have they seen someone so full of themselves they’ll even take the blast head on. Barehanded, even. The boy’s fist somehow didn’t make the unstable energies explode on impact; it soon became a tug-of-war with neither side willing to give. Then he grasped it, and now the Elders were worried. If it does explode, and the young master takes the blast…
Their expectations were defeated, as he with a giant’s arm yanked the wild Juva aside, sending it flying in a different direction. When it collided with the wall, the construction crew will be in tears at the mess they’d have to clean up. An expansion of the underground training field has been made, after the intense light and explosion.
One of them gaped. “He’s… a monster.”
The boy’s frosty visage cracked a small grin. “I’m the culmination of all the resources that my clan and Patriarch can provide. There’s no alternative,” he snatched his spear and turned. “I will tell my father you’ve done well, Elders.”
The two hooded men watched as their young master took the stairs back up. After he departed, the two glanced at one another.
Smiling, “He’s the one.” An Elder said.
“I’ve never seen such a gifted child, he almost…almost reminds me of–”
“Don’t,” the Elder sucked his teeth.
“What?”
With a flick of a sleeve, the other Elder left to follow his student up the stairs. “If the Young Master heard that, you’ll be answering to the Patriarch before morning.”
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A servant at the stairhead greeted the boy. “Has it gone well, Young Master Xinrei?” In his hands was a case taller than he, and the soft bed inside had an imprint of the thing it comforted.
Xinrei Grittus, son of Patriarch Grittus, the new Chosen One held his spear with two hands; caressing it as if to soothe its complaints. When his eyes met the servant, the case he held shook, so briefly, so little that it was as noticeable as a pebble getting pushed by the wind. But Xinrei notices everything; If it concerns his prized weapon. After laying it to bed, he walked off in the wake of the servant’s bow.
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Xinrei didn’t need to say anything to such people. He never needed to use much of his tongue at all, because if he had to—someone had more to worry about than his rebuke. Ever since that day, he’s neglected to talk much of anything. If he had time to talk, there was time to train. He was, in many aspects, not the boy he was four years ago.
When he stepped out of the bath, dressed, and walked to his courtyard, the morning sun greeted him. He hasn’t felt the need to sleep, though his body will remind him every so often of his humanity. Once he eats, he figures going back to training won’t hurt.
Xinrei stopped and blinked to a direction. “You’re the only one among the Seven, who dares to come here uninvited.”
“I won’t get a response from you otherwise,” a soft voice said. Under the shade of a tree, Rei Rangwha’s smile was reserved.
He kept walking. “Is this about your brother?”
“That comes after.”
“And now?”
Stepping out of the shade, Rangwha blocked Xinrei’s way.
“I’d like to ask for your help, Xinrei.”
“Such a casual addressing of your Chosen One, and future Patriarch.”
“Maybe I’ll remember,” she knocked on her forehead, “with some encouragement.”
He seethed slightly. Rangwha’s casualness disturbed him. Firstly, because it reminded him of him. Second, because he’d just hung up his spear. If there was trouble against Rangwha he’s confident in being able to manage her, but without his weapon he’d would exert more effort than he’d think she’s worthy of. Dealing with her meant his training would be delayed, so—
He’ll entertain it, for now.
“Get to the point,” he clenched his teeth. “What do you want?”
“The Orlith’s land—I want it transferred, to me.”
Xinrei’s eyebrow twitched.
“Oh,” he laughed. “That’s what you beg of me? To come all this way and risk my temper for?”
Rangwha crossed her arms. “You have your father’s ear. Our Patriarch isn’t beholden to the thoughts of anyone else in the clan; he makes an exception for you.”
He nodded. Ever since then, his father has paid more attention than before. It doesn’t help anything, though.
“There’s a little issue in your idea here, what makes you think I’ll take it up to him? And, say I agree, what can your favor do for me?”
Her hands clenched. Eyes not meeting Xinrei’s. “I–I don’t know. I came over here on a hunch. I mean, regardless, I am the daughter of the family head. Whatever price you ask—”
“Our family treasures!” Rangwha’s eyes lit up. “There’s more than what my brother tried to give you; we still have—”
“Think I have a desire for anything your family could provide?” Xinrei sneered. “How presumptuous of you. Unfortunately, there was one chance. Your brother spoiled it the second I came to realizing that whatever ‘treasures’ your people claim as such is merely snake oil and poppy seeds—and for such a crime, I punished Rei Han accordingly. Or did he not tell you of this?”
“Looking at that stupid expression you have, it seems that it’s true.”
A ripple in the air. Some sudden heat caught on it, and the moisture felt as if it was being strangled and, Xinrei’s Juva began to march in his veins. Cultivators sometimes don’t need to be investigators of their opponent’s tendencies. Often, human emotion wore things on a sleeve without asking. The more sensitive of their kind allows for predicting action more easily than it should. Especially when, a distressed mind means their aura leaks out without the person fully aware of it.
“Why…?” Rangwha looked down. “I haven’t been absent. Though I am your senior in age, I still grew up with you guys. It’s not about the favor, is it? It’s about—”
“Don’t mouth something you’ll regret.”
She snapped, “If there’s something up, I speak my mind about it! I’m not distant like you. Or avoidant like Grisla. You two may have had issues, but the fact is, you two had an understanding with each other! Xinrei, you won’t ever think of him as a friend but…”
“But…” Rangwha trailed off.
Silence began to settle.
His chest started to turn, a tad. Though the world outside may churn and warp from the power of Rangwha’s Houtian core, he ignored it, knowing that she didn’t mean to do anything. It’s been ages since he’s talked with one of the Seven, and this is what happens for it?
He sighed. “At one time,” Xinrei said, “he was my equal. My father resented him for it, and by extension, he resented me for that failure. He once, took a loss in face to his father and Grisla was a walking reminder of the man; a boy who defies everything he expects out of the members in the main household. And I, too, began to hate Grisla Orlith. How could I not? A mere boy robbed me of my father’s love, and my clan’s attention was too divided to ever dare speak praise with the both of us in the same room.”
Rangwha’s blurry eyes raised up.
“It is only heaven’s justice for what he did to me. I hate and respect Grisla Orlith, and for him being what he is today is nothing but robbery of what’s rightfully his. But I have no desire to oppose my Grittus clan’s policy on him; even if I did, there’s no way I could change the Patriarch’s mind. Despite what you may believe.”
Xinrei stepped forward. When he raised his hands, his power—his aura—revealed himself at the Second Step of Houtian Enhancement. The level which the mortal moves on from refining their core under Solidification; to refine the mortal body, preparing it for ascension. His Juva flickered to become nearly seeable; a feat only achievable at the level beyond Houtian. Rei’s own aura stood up, trying as much as it could to not be overtaken by the challenger.
He raised his chin. “Should you tell anyone what I just said. I will go back, retrieve my weapon and then slay you right here for it.”
Rangwha scoffed, “What about now then? How do you feel about the Patriarch revoking the Orlith family’s land rights? For what reason!”
“Isn’t it obvious? The Orlith family is finished. Currently, the head is a cripple, and the heir is a dead cripple. Where’s his body? Nobody knows. His father ran off on a fruitless journey to find him, and with him gone there really is no one in the Orlith family to speak up in defense. Rumor says the halfwit offended the wrong person, and now he’s rotting over a hill somewhere. Wouldn’t put it past him. You’ve made the error in putting your faith in the wrong person to save your family’s reputation four years ago. And now you’re trying to make a mistake again, by interrupting my training.”
“Tell me, Xinrei. What’re you training for? You have everything! Even if you slept, ate and dawdled your time away for the next decade you’ll still be in line to become Patriarch!”
“Because," he spoke as if he were narrating the obvious, "becoming an immortal is my dream.” Eyes flashing with a playful glint, “and if somehow, Grisla returns from the dead to haunt me. I’ll obliterate his spirit too.”
“I’ll make that dream known at the Rosewater Exchange. On the new arena over the Orlith’s family land.”
“That won’t be possible.”
“How so?”
“You’ll be defeated before then.”
Xinrei shook his head, smiling. “I’ll entertain the joke: by whom?”
“Your eyes deserve some training too, Brother Xinrei. This won’t be for Grisla… this’ll be my retaliation for my brother.” She turned around, walking. “Prepare yourself.”
“Do as you’d like.” Rolling his eyes, “I’ll give you your show,” Xinrei said.
Rangwha’s feet shot her far above the highest walls of his compound, disappearing in a flash. Xinrei, still staring at where she left, closed his eyes, and looked somewhere.
“She’s very motivated, isn’t she? I believe so, yes.” He nodded, “Don’t worry… I will.”
Xinrei’s sneer flashed.
“Nobody in this clan can oppose my rise. Nobody, not as long as I have you.”