As the last of the pill dissolved within his body, Tunde was seized by nausea. The overwhelming stench surrounding him caused him to retch as he struggled to keep his food down. With gritted teeth, he shuddered lightly, feeling so weak that even a child might have been able to push him aside, his muscles spasming. Ani appeared at a distance in the room, pointing towards a stall in the corner where he nodded faintly.
Grabbing the walls, he struggled to his feet, making his way to the private corner where large vats of water awaited him. He scrubbed with as much strength as he could, fighting off the dizziness with controlled breaths as the icy cold water made him wince slightly. Done a few minutes later, Tunde found a neatly folded black robe waiting for him just outside the doors of the stall.
“Please leave the soiled clothes and bandages,” Ani’s soft voice said from afar. “We will dispose of them; the new robes are from your quarters,” she added.
Tunde said nothing, the minty taste of the pill still in his mouth as he donned the clothing, stepping out into the still-soiled room where Ani doused the surroundings with some sort of liquid that ate the stains and dirt around where he had laid.
“I’m sorry, for all that,” he said softly.
She turned to him, shaking her head as she bowed. “No, it is I who am grateful. You brought her back alive; it was all I ever asked for,” she said.
Tunde nodded wordlessly, feeling a soft ache within his chest as he spoke. “Miria, where is she?” he asked.
“Recovering within her home. The Highlord ordered you to come see him immediately upon waking, and you shouldn’t cultivate Ethra,” she answered.
Tunde found himself honestly not looking forward to the meeting, calmly nodding his head as he moved to the window, staring at the sight that surprised him. Banners flapped in the wind all around Black Rock, the black cloud with white lightning bolts running through them graced every corner of the settlement.
“When did they get here?” he asked.
“A day after you left, along with a direct master descendant of the imperial clan, the Highlord’s sister," Ani replied.
Tunde glanced at her, surprise all over his face as she stared back at him. “A master, here?” he asked again as she nodded.
“She resides within his quarters as well. No one really saw her until the wastelander woman appeared at the walls, shouting your name.”
Tunde frowned, nodding at her as he began making his way out of the room, swaying gently on his feet. His weakness was foreign to him, bringing up the display that had been glowing softly in his peripheral vision.
[Ethra heart has advanced to lord [mid-tier]!]
He supposed he should celebrate, but with the absence of Ethra in his system to test it out, it felt meaningless. On leaving the building, he found himself in a new area of the settlement, something he had observed but hadn’t really focused on. Small brick and wooden buildings stretched as far as the eye could see.
The moderately yet shoddy cobbled roads were a welcome sight, as well as the myriad of people simply moving up and down the road, paying no attention to him. He took in the sights, the fresh breeze, and the smell of food as well. Most of the faces were vague ones he remembered from the bandits of the wastelands he had permitted access to the settlement now. He began moving in the direction of the stronghold.
Getting used to his weak form, it took him a few minutes to get from the densely populated areas to the familiar sights of the buildings close to the stronghold itself. Finally seeing familiar faces he had known since Black Rock was created, they bowed subtly at him, Tunde nodding in response, a slight smile on his face.
The figures approaching from the distance, though, were faces he hadn’t seen before. The tall, imposing figure carried himself like royalty, moving along with another figure with a cold expression on his face. They drew his attention, especially the one walking ahead, the soft, almost assured smile on his face, as well as the weapon he thought he concealed well enough.
Activating Ethra sight had him swaying lightly on his feet, but Tunde had the will to steady himself. Pushing his hands into the folds of his robes, the figure paused in front of him, that same smile still on his face.
“You must be Tunde. We haven’t formally met,” the male figure said.
Tunde shook his head softly, bowing at the waist as the figure raised an eyebrow at the gesture. “No,” he replied. “But I see you are with the delegation of the imperial clan; I beg your forgiveness.”
There was no use trying to play smart. The man was a lord, and the other figure behind him an adept.
“Indeed, I am Wol Huang of the Huang clan. One of the four great clans of the empire,” the figure introduced himself.
Tunde nodded. “It is an honor to meet with you. Excuse my state; I am merely recovering from my ordeal,” he said calmly.
Wol nodded, rubbing his jaw. “Yes, yes, quite fortunate to have survived. I was impressed,” he replied.
Tunde clamped down on the irritation that swelled within his chest at the words of the cultivator. He might be weak, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew what Wol was attempting to do right there in public. Show the might of his clan and prove to the people of Black Rock that their lord was nothing to the powers of the empire itself.
“Your words do me great honor, esteemed Wol. Perhaps had you been there, I would have escaped in a better state,” Tunde said with a tight smile.
Wol shrugged; his smile unwavering. “Most definitely, the true might of the empire itself would have been displayed. Shame, really,” he replied.
Tunde bowed again, exhaling calmly. “If you’ll excuse me, venerable lord, I have been summoned by the Highlord himself,” he said.
Wol parted, gesturing for him to head onward. “Please, I will not hinder the Highlord,” he said.
Tunde could literally hear the barbed tone disguised with sweet words. He would have to be careful of him; the subtle look of disgust in his eyes was there if one knew what to look for. Bowing again, he shuffled past the lord, controlling himself as he felt a tightly veiled burst of killing intent aimed at him.
Tunde shrugged it off just as easily, stiffening his body to prevent any sudden movements, disgust written all over his face as he stared onward, not sparing the lord a look. He was past him despite the murmurs that came from around him, moving towards Black Rock itself.
The stronghold itself looked to have been walled, black shining bricks building a second wall around it that stretched to half the height of the very walls around Jade Peak itself. Atop it, patrolling in black armor with eyes on him, were figures Tunde knew would be the guards of the imperial clan.
Holding pole blades, each of them giving off the aura of a lord, Tunde kept his cool. He found the fact of not being the only lord again in Jade Peak quite refreshing, a challenge even. With lords being used as guards, the sense of responsibility being on him had vanished; now, he was just one more lord among dozens.
He found himself pondering if he could take them on. The two guards at the main gate crossed their pole blades. “Halt! State your intention,” the one on the left said.
*************************
Their armor, while burnished black, looked to be made of Ethereon, the valuable metal adorning their entire form. They were literally wearing a fortune, and it made him wonder if everyone was that rich in the inner territories. He bowed slightly.
“Greetings, I am Lord Tunde Darkfist,” he said.
They stared at him as if he were stupid, Tunde feeling the gathering of aura around him. Ignoring the peculiar fact that they gathered their aura rather than their Ethra, he continued.
“I live here, and I’m also here at the behest of the Highlord,” he said.
“We received no such notice,” the one on the left said as his pole blade came alive with a silvery aura.
Tunde took a few steps backward, preparing to gather Ethra and cultivate should he have to, against the wishes of the Highlord. A burst of overwhelming aura Tunde had grown accustomed to came from the building, the guards freezing before bowing, their blades reverting to mundane metal.
“You may pass,” they said, the gate opening.
Tunde nodded slightly, passing between them and into the surroundings of the stronghold. The large metal doors were wide open as he entered. The first thing he noticed was the usual absence of the throngs of people that usually filled the hallway, heading for the requisition room as well. The cold halls echoed with his footsteps as he glanced in the direction of Elder Wren’s quarters.
He frowned; this was not what Joran had in mind when they had created Black Rock. It was to be a place of excitement and a new start. Instead, he was watching it slowly transform into what Jade Peak had been. Making his way up the stairs to the highest floor of the stronghold, he paused at the door of the Highlord, calming himself before knocking.
“Enter,” the deep voice of the Highlord called out, Tunde stepping into the room.
A wave of dizziness took hold of him, Tunde gritting his teeth before turning his gaze to the two figures that sat opposite each other. The calm appearance of Varis paled to the female figure whose crossed legs and burning presence sat next to him. He approached them, bowing his head as he spoke.
“I greet the venerable Highlord of the empire and his esteemed guest,” he said hoarsely.
“Sit,” Varis ordered.
He complied meekly, more than aware that the Highlord could drive him to his knees with a simple gesture of aura. However, that wasn’t why he sat; it was the female figure staring intently at him. Her presence pushed down slightly on his frail form, and Tunde could swear that he saw a shimmering haze of aura around her despite not employing Ethra sight.
Stolen story; please report.
Something about her screamed power, one honed and used over and over till it became second nature to her. From the way she carried herself to the surety in her posture, instincts warned him to play the meek game.
“Tunde, you are in the presence of one of the masters of the imperial clan itself, a direct descendant of the patriarch and emperor, Rhaelar Talahan,” Varis started. “As well as my elder sister,” he added with a soft sigh.
Tunde pressed his head to the wooden floor. “Please, forgive my ignorance,” he started. “I greet the esteemed master of the imperial clan.”
“Did you hear that, brother? Respect, genuine one, even though it came from a place of pure terror,” he heard her say. “Raise your head, young one,” she added, and he complied.
A master, a real master in the flesh. It sounded almost too good to be true. Less than half a year ago, a Highlord seemed like the pinnacle of strength and power he would ever meet in his lifetime. Yet, here was a real master, staring him down. Tunde felt like an initiate all over again, meeting the elder adepts for the first time.
“Tell us what you saw in the wastelands,” she asked.
He found his mouth moving before he even thought to, wondering in alarm if it was some sort of technique privy to masters.
“Carnage. The forces of the wasteland king have conquered most of the entire wastelands,” he started. “Entire bandit fortresses lay in ruins, blood soaking the very sands till they shone red. The wild creatures of the wastelands also rally to their banners as well.”
“So, it would seem,” she said with a thoughtful tone.
“What are true beasts?” he asked as they glanced at him.
“What?” Varis asked.
Tunde realized he had spoken out of turn, alarm on his face as he bowed his head. “Forgive me, I spoke out of turn,” he said hurriedly.
“Where did you hear that term from?” Rhaelar asked, a chill permeating his body.
“I fought a tier 4 creature, one looking almost like a Corespawn but didn’t feel quite like one,” he started.
He couldn’t outright say that he could see through their bodies; that would put him under scrutiny, so he continued.
“Initially, I mistook her, it, for some sort of Corespawn. It was quick to refute it, looked enraged even, calling itself a true beast,” he finished.
Varis glanced at her with worry in his gaze. “That explains the strength of the tier 5 creature that led them,” he said as she nodded.
Rhaelar turned to him. “It isn’t widely known, seeing as few people ever get to meet them,” she started. “But there are special cases where certain native creatures of the planet gather enough Ethra and aura that they attain consciousness and enlightenment.”
“They obtain Ethra lines within their bodies and form a core, finding themselves aware of their surroundings in a human manner,” she continued.
Tunde’s mind flashed back to the abomination that had brought down Joran during the siege of Black Rock, unsure if it had also been one.
“They grow in strength. Some become bloodthirsty creatures that must be put down. Others form contracts with cultivators and are referred to as familiars.”
“Then the last group are those who have grown so powerful, they have become their own faction in the world, the seaborn, but that is another issue,” Varis added.
It sometimes boggled Tunde, the sheer scale of the planet and how little he knew of it.
“If true beasts are living within the wastelands that have advanced to tier 5, maybe even higher, then this is more serious than we thought,” Rhaelar said.
“I did fight one now that I think about it, but I assumed it had been a Corespawn,” Varis said thoughtfully.
“What else did you see?” Rhaelar asked.
Tunde found himself swallowing hard at his next words. “They are also forcefully turning people into Corespawns for their armies,” he added.
********************
“Entire fortresses swearing allegiance to the king and becoming Corespawns. Those that willingly convert are left with their fortresses intact, most of their people becoming Corespawns and joining Kugan,” he said.
“Kugan?” Varis asked.
“The tier 5 creature, the Highlord. He leads the armies of the king, perhaps his direct subordinate as well,” Tunde replied.
“And strong as well, took my technique to the face with minimal damage,” Varis murmured.
“No doubt, an attack will be coming soon. You have done well, Tunde,” Rhaelar said.
“I thank the master,” Tunde replied, bowing.
“My brother here has seemingly taken an interest in you, more so now that we both have seen your tenacity in battle,” she said.
Tunde gave no reply, simply staring ahead.
“Perhaps, you wouldn’t be a pushover in the coming duels,” she added.
Tunde glanced warily at her. “Duels?” he asked.
“Indeed. Your lady Ryka has petitioned the clan through my sister to formally recognize Black Rock as a sect,” Varis replied.
It came as a surprise to him. Black Rock as a sect? Did they even have the strength to back it up?
“Of course, we declined initially; not every gathering or settlement could be called a sect or clan. Certain criteria must be met,” she continued. “The first of which is to prove their strength in battle, or in this case, a duel.”
Tunde slowly began to realize where this was going. “You want me to participate,” he said.
“Yes, and now, not only you but your fellow lord Miria, who somehow advanced out there,” Varis said pointedly.
Tunde did his best to ignore his piercing gaze. “I apologize, but if so, who am I facing then?” he asked.
Rhaelar smiled at him. “Something tells me you already know. After all, you met one of them on your way here,” she said.
Had she seen that far? He shivered slightly at the thought.
“One of the lords of the great clans,” he replied calmly.
“Indeed, although not the Huang brat, another, a female, the Cheng heir,” Varis said.
Tunde roughly had a foreboding feeling it was the girl he had lashed out at when he had gone mad in battle. He glanced at Varis, who nodded again, aware of what he thought.
“Yes, that girl. Miria, though, might probably have to face another of the remaining two,” he said.
Tunde swallowed, staring at his clenched fists and knees before speaking. “I beg your patience, esteemed elders, but when will this duel take place?” he asked.
“Assuming no invasion appears, a week from now,” Varis replied.
He watched Rhaelar sit up, focusing entirely on him, an amused smile on her face.
“Tell me, Tunde,” she started. “Do you believe you can take them on? The heirs of the great clans who have been fed the best pills and purest of elixirs from birth? Trained with the best of tutors and are the pride and joy of their respective clans?” she asked.
Tunde glanced at his slightly shaking hands, his clenched fists, and the tattooed relic that had been quiet for a while now. He found himself wanting, lacking even. A lord, a half-one with no core and no concept to call his own. He would be expected to go up against what was most likely some of the top lords in the entire empire.
He found his heart racing and his head swelling, but it wasn’t with fear or panic. It was a feeling he hadn’t felt since the days within those forests of Jade Peak, or when he had faced down Thalas and that Acacia girl.
“I was once a nobody, an initiate,” he started softly. “I once found initiates and disciples terrifying, their techniques, the power they had. I watched as they wielded it with what I now know were naïve applications.”
Varis snorted, as if sharing an inside joke with his sister, or maybe Tunde was the joke. He never could say, nor did he care, so he pushed on.
“Soon enough, I found myself surpassing them, beating down those who had a head start ahead of me. Then I was thrown into the realm of adepts, facing down those terrifying rankers as well, surviving really, surpassing them as well.”
“Your point?” Varis asked, Rhaelar rolling her eyes at her brother.
He matched her gaze for once, not sure how he did it but finding himself doing it. “Over and over, I have found myself being given impossible odds. Face down the heir of the branch clan of Verdan who was a peak disciple, then an heir of Acacia, a peak adept. I have survived,” he replied.
“These are nothing like those half-baked products,” she warned.
Tunde nodded solemnly, feeling his heart beat more loudly at the thought of battle. “I do not doubt the words of the master. I understand and I see just what impossible odds I face if I am to secure the safety of Black Rock. And yet, I welcome it. Only the strong survive on Adamath, and I am not weak,” he replied.
Rhaelar matched his gaze for a few seconds, Tunde finding himself unable to tear his gaze away from her as her smile widened.
“Asura,” she whispered as she reclined, Tunde snapping his eyes away, shutting them tight as he controlled his breathing.
“You’ve found something special, brother. I can only hope they don’t break him,” she said to Varis.
“Then I best get to tempering him,” Varis murmured, his gaze on Tunde.
Rhaelar got up, stretching slightly, Tunde drawing his gaze away from her shape and the way her breasts strained against her robe. She was built almost as something divine, her eyes and lips like a deadly blade also forged for its looks as well.
“Might as well take a walk, see those prized Ethra cannons the guards won’t stop talking about,” she said as she suddenly vanished from the room.
No traces remained of her in the entire room, Varis turning his full attention to him as he spoke.
“You will open your ears and you will listen very carefully to my instructions,” he started. “If you so much as make a sound or irritate me with your usual sarcasm or quips, I will leave you to your inevitable fate and humiliating defeat. Or better still, simply hand over Black Rock to the Cheng clan.”
*******************
Tunde nodded smartly, aware that this was not the time to push the Highlord’s buttons.
“You do not have a second affinity, you do not have a concept, you are not technically a lord but somehow have the physical strength and aura to deceive others around your rank into thinking so,” Varis said.
Tunde found every piece of protection he thought he had began to crumble around the Highlord, who took him apart piece by piece.
“To the wider empire, you are nothing but a speck of dust, a single existence out of untold billions that call this continent home. You have been chosen by me to be my temporary acolyte, my student, and as such, I will beat you into an ideal shape, break you if I have to. Do you understand?” Varis asked.
“Yes, Highlord,” he replied.
“I care about you and you alone, for as long as you hold my interest. I will suffer no fool or weakling. Hundreds will throw their daughters at me simply to learn from me, to glean the techniques and styles of the imperial clan,” Varis continued. “But do not delude yourself. I will simply teach you something good enough to rival the clans of the empire and see how far you can push yourself. Fail me, and I will feed you to the ravenous rankers looking to advance. Impress me, and you just might find yourself raised to the esteemed ranks of the true lord powers of the empire,” he finished.
Tunde had nothing to say, no defense, no reply, simply bowing his head in submission.
“Good, now raise your head. Take this,” Varis ordered, throwing him an item.
It was a circular piece of metal engraved on both sides with a cloud and lightning running through it, and a slim chain on it as well.
“That is the most ordinary form of medallion within the imperial clan. To have that is to have recognition as a member of the clan, temporarily,” Varis explained. “It is a symbol of status and power. For as long as you have it, no one, except a direct member of the clan, can touch you.”
Tunde nodded, wearing it as it dangled from his chest, the metal cool against his body. Varis got up, his robes showing no sign of even crumpling as he moved towards the door.
“Follow me,” he ordered.
Tunde got up, feeling the slight weight of the medallion around his neck, aware now that he was fully in the grasp of the Highlord. It felt like a weight on his spirit, but this time, it had a purpose. He would do whatever it took to advance, to get stronger. He would do it for Black Rock, and he would do it for Joran. He would never be weak again, even if he had to crawl for now, this he silently swore to himself.
******************************
Rhaelar floated above the walls calmly, her robe flapping softly in the wind as she sighed to herself. She was happy, far away from the eyes of her mother, father, and even her uncle. Most of all, she was far away from the gaze of the patriarch. Even though she knew the barest whisper of his name could and would draw his attention, she chuckled as her black void ring shimmered and a bow appeared in her hand.
All of a sudden, the skies around her darkened and a pressure settled around her, the soulbound weapon rousing to life.
“Shhh, my darling, I merely want to stretch my limbs,” she whispered soothingly to the weapon.
Carved out of some wood that glowed with tiny runic inscriptions written all over it, its string glowed black as she drew on it, watching an arrow form on the bow. It gathered a measure of her concept and willpower, glowing ever brighter as the rankers below no doubt shielded their gaze lest it burn them.
This was a technique of a master, albeit a new one, but all the same a master. To gaze upon it at any rank lower than Highlord was to beg for death. The aura around her bent to her will as she focused on a distant place where she had sensed a tiny prick of power earlier.
She had been warned that Haruka would soon be free of the seal placed on him by the Ironedge, his full might rising again. Rhaelar wanted to test that, wanted to see just what she might be up against, and so she released the arrow, watching it gather even more Ethra along the way as it streaked across the skies like a comet.
With her bow vanishing and hands on her waist, she watched with a grin as it exploded in the distance, but not before a force of raw power blossomed, shielding against it before shattering. She dusted her hands. Haruka was alive, maybe a bit shocked, but that was what she had intended to do anyway.
Whistling to herself, she descended back to the walls, passing the shivering disciples and adepts who stared at her with terror-filled eyes.