Elyria glanced between the two disciples flanking her within the training ring of Elder Celia’s home. Each residence within the Jade Towers had its own training ring, the size varying with the rank of its adepts. This particular ring was expansive, reflecting Elder Celia’s high status. The clan had numerous adepts, all family heads, but with loose ties to the core Verdan clan. Elyria had often wondered how an adept like Elder Joran had managed to secure a high-ranking position when there were other adepts within the clans bearing the Verdan name.
Eventually, she realized the answer was simple, might. Unlike the Silvershade continent, where endless politics and scrambles for power often overshadowed raw physical strength, the Bloodfire continent valued martial prowess above all else. This didn’t mean the various forest walkers, elemental clans, and domains were weak; it simply meant that in the inner workings of these clans and factions, a High Lord might wield more influence through connections than a Master ranker could through power.
It was one of the reasons why she would have never fit into the system back home—not with her constant need to prove herself. But here, in the Bloodfire continent, where martial strength spoke louder than connections, she would carve her way to the top through sheer strength and skill. She had been engaging in these duels, masked as training, overseen by Elder Celia, all in preparation for the beast surge. Elyria had to admit that the clan had some truly powerful and talented disciples—deadly ones, if she was honest with herself, mostly true Verdan clan members.
The bloodline of jade affinity ran strong within the clan, granting them the ability to use it either as a defensive weapon to protect their bodies or as an offensive weapon to coat whatever they used, crystallizing it into rough, jagged edges. The closest she had come to seeing them use a mage-like technique was Rhyn’s ability to manipulate the wounds of any disciple he cut with his blade, ensuring the jade dust in the wounds became jagged, sharp razors that wreaked havoc from the inside.
These two disciples, ranked nineteenth and twentieth within the clan, were what Elyria had heard were called ‘outer disciples,’ meaning those whose families swore allegiance to the Verdan clan but were not true Verdan clan members. There were many of them around, each carving a piece of Jade Peak for themselves as their little fiefdom, all vying for a spot at the top of the food chain. Elyria absolutely loved it—too bad she wasn’t staying for the long run.
As soon as they moved, she reacted as well, her metal arm coming up as the hovering metal balls around her melted and became sharp blades, responding to her every thought. The one on the left wielded dust Ethra, a power she knew was as deadly as it was versatile. Unlike the rabble they faced in the wastelands, this was a true dust Ethra ranker. She felt the particles congealing around her—a projection attack, quite a bold move for a disciple, considering it would consume a good chunk of their Ethra.
The other ranker made up for it, wielding a lightning affinity with two short blades—a bad matchup for her, given her affinity was metal itself. Good thing she had another part to her affinity. She went for the dust user first, dodging the dust-spiked fist that appeared above her and slammed into the ground, spraying tiny rocks and dust around.
“Tricky,” she thought to herself, realizing the secondary goal of the ranker.
Twisting through the air as the lightning shot past her, she landed, shooting for the dust user who was gathering more dust around herself, spikes appearing in the air. Elyria always envied rankers who had affinities that were buoyant in nature, like the dust user. This very trained one knew that rather than pouring copious amounts of Ethra into the dust around her, she could simply project strings of her Ethra to control the surrounding dust and use it to her advantage.
Sure, it might not be as potent as the dust she could create herself, but it was plentiful, and she could use it to her needs. The spikes came for her as Elyria melted a metal blade into a shield, taking the brunt of the attack before clashing with the longsword ascender. The two of them exchanged quick but furious blows as she ducked, her blades still striking furiously at the dust ranker while she turned her attention to the lightning user. Rolling her eyes at the overkill display as the lightning user forged a large bird in the air, its shriek causing claps of thunder, she knew it must have taken quite a bit of Ethra to make.
The bird struck, lightning flashing as the very ground beneath them cracked and bore scorch marks. When it cleared, a brown metal-covered Elyria still stood, weathering the blast as Elder Celia applauded.
“Ingenious,” she praised.
Rust, the other part of her affinity—the one she used whenever she wanted to end a fight as swiftly and deadly as possible. But it also served another use as well. Rusted metal, a good insulator against lightning, while it helped her weather the blast a little, she felt her muscles spasm gently, allowing her body to wash it away as she struck the weakened ascender. Her moves were fast and brutal, the dust user attempting to conjure up another projection to relieve her ally but was pushed back by the flying metal blades of Elyria.
She broke down the lightning ranker bit by bit, getting into her attacks as she clashed with the short blades she used, her rusted blades actually passing the rust to the two short blades of the ranker. Slowly but surely, she began corroding the weapons, inhibiting the ranker’s flow of lightning through her weapons, and by the time the ranker noticed, it had been too late. Elyria went for the kill. Disarming the disciple, she went low, kicking the legs out from under her, then delivered another kick to the face, slamming the lightning user into the ground.
Then it was the turn of the dust user, who went all out, attacking with dust all over Elyria’s metal armor in a bid to take control of it, restricting her movements from the inside. She dropped the armor the moment she got within striking range of the ranker, her blades a furious tornado around her as she distracted the ranker, allowing the one blade she kept hidden to make its way to gently press against the throat of the ranker, who froze, eyes wide.
Elder Celia clapped from where she sat, a stone-faced Rhyn at her side, who seemed to be holding himself in check. The lightning ranker had risen to his feet, bowing at the waist to Elyria, as did the dust user.
“Impressive display from all of you; you do me proud,” Celia said.
Elyria bowed as well, Elder Celia smiling. “At your current rates, I believe you are worthy of being the high rankers of the clan, excluding my brother here,” she said. “But like you all know, there’s little I can do for you right now other than to push you to the peak of disciple rank in both body and heart, in preparation for you choosing your secondary affinities,” she continued.
Elyria had been given enough resources to push an entire team of initiates to disciple rank and then some, courtesy of the clan and Elder Celia. It amused her. While she was grateful, she had her own specific resources she was after, geared toward the path she had in mind for her advancement. Nevertheless, she accepted them graciously, storing the elixirs, pills, fruits, and other items within her void ring. She knew someone who would need them.
Speaking of which, she folded her arms behind her back, watching the two disciples leave after greeting Rhyn, the disciple himself moving toward her. The number one disciple of the clan, his sword skills and bloodline control second to none, Elyria began to see him in a new light. Despite her attitude towards him, she had realized he wasn’t as much of a bully as he painted himself to be. Of course, she wasn’t going to admit that to him. He had an inflated ego as it was—one that he could defend, no doubt, but an ego all the same.
She walked up to the elder, bowing again as the elder turned to her, a smile on her face. “Ah, Elyria, just the ranker I wanted to speak to,” she said.
Elyria found the always cheerful elder strange; her positive demeanor hid something, some dark secret—not because she knew for sure, but because she knew the elder’s type. She maintained her neutral mask.
“The maids tell me that you spend the entire day inside, training,” she said.
Elyria nodded. “My sole aim is towards the goal of the clan and the surge; nothing else matters,” Elyria replied.
The elder gave a noncommittal ‘hmm,’ eyeing her as she clapped her hands together, her smile returning to her face. “Well, that won’t do,” she replied.
Elyria stared at the elder in confusion.
“A ranker is only as sharp as their body. Even as you wiped the ground with those two disciples, I could see the slight errors in your movements. You need to relax,” she said.
Elyria shifted uncomfortably, glancing between the elder and Rhyn, who kept his gaze locked on her, one hand on his blade. The elder flicked her eyes between Rhyn and Elyria, giggling like a teenager.
“Very well then, perhaps it’s time I officially take you to the main clan house at the peak of the mountain,” Elder Celia said, as Rhyn glanced at her sharply.
“Elder, her?” he asked carefully.
The elder turned dreamily to her brother. “Hmm? Do you have a problem with that?” she asked.
Rhyn seemed to choose his words carefully. “That would be putting Grandfather at risk; besides, she could learn things she isn’t supposed to know,” he said.
“Oh? And you think I haven’t considered that?” she asked.
Elyria froze, her muscles locking despite no physical presence or aura around her. There it was, that feeling, that tone that somehow caused her hackles to rise whenever the elder switched to her mild, soothing voice. Rhyn stuttered, bowing his head.
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“Forgive me, great elder, I misspoke,” he said quietly.
Elder Celia turned away from him to face her back, Elyria doing well to maintain her blank mask despite what she felt inside.
“My brother is right, despite his tone,” she said. “Some in the clan might see it as me doing too much, so why don’t we go somewhere else?” she continued.
“Pardon my intrusion,” Elyria started, “but will it take long? I really need to meditate to consolidate my gains before I lose them to my mind,” she finished.
It was a load of rubbish, and the elder knew that as well, but it hadn’t been her blatantly saying no; it was her softly telling the esteemed elder that she would prefer her own company for the rest of the day.
“That depends on you,” the elder said with a smile.
“I don’t understand,” Elyria replied softly.
“We’re going to see the third member of your group, the revenant, Thorne, I believe?” Elder Celia said.
Elyria sucked in a breath, maintaining eye contact, her mind parsing through different scenarios all at once. Was this a test? Did they still suspect her of having some ties to the revenants? She kept calm as she spoke.
“Venerable elder,” she started. “As previously stated, I have no ties with the revenant any more than happenstance. I—” she said, pausing as the elder raised one hand.
“Peace, Disciple Elyria,” she said. “The clan neither suspects you nor has any hidden agenda toward you. I merely wanted to give you some closure. I believe this might be your only chance to see him before the great patriarch decides on his sentence,” she finished.
“Sentence?” Elyria asked carefully.
“Indeed, he’s a revenant at the end of the day. The only two viable options are either the clan executes him, or we hand him over to either the imperial army or the heralds themselves,” she explained.
Elyria nodded slowly, warring within herself as she stared at the elder. Thorne had been a good companion; it was a shame he was a revenant, but she admitted to herself that without his help, they could have died over and over within the wastelands. She sighed internally, perhaps she owed it to him. Besides, she wanted to give Tunde some sort of news to ease the heart of the initiate when they eventually met. She bowed to the elder again in acquiescence.
The first thing Tunde did was ensure his home for the foreseeable future was safe enough. Not that he had the means to do much, really, but for some reason, the creatures of the forest gave the surrounding area a wide berth. He wasn’t sure just how long that would last, but he would take it like that for now, at least until he knew what he wanted to do for the foreseeable future.
Safe within the wooden home, he opened his void ring, pouring everything the elder had given him out into a pile. His eyes widened as the pile kept increasing in size until he had a small mountain of resources. Even to his Ethra sight, they were quite a lot, from cooked, roasted meat that gave off a delicious smell and was filled with life and vitality Ethra, to green and gold glowing pills filled with so much life Ethra and pure distilled Ethra that Tunde knew they must have cost a fortune to obtain. The message was clear to him: he had been given the necessary resources to kick-start his climb to disciple rank; he had no excuses for failure.
Arranging them into groups, he began eating the meat first, feeling the rush of Ethra seeping into his blood, flesh, and bones, marveling at the raw Ethra they held. It was like an intoxicating rush, actively feeling their benefits to his entire system. What puzzled him, however, was his entire skeletal structure that seemed to keep absorbing the Ethra as it flowed into him, making him hungrier.
Unconsciously clearing the pile of meat in front of him, he found himself crunching the bones, sucking the marrows as blood and life Ethra fused together was absorbed in whole by his bones. Still, he had the feeling that he was not satisfied—not his stomach; he was bursting at the seams, but some nagging feeling literally in his bones like he had barely scratched the surface of the power within.
Again, he wondered what the bone Elyria gave him was, perhaps some ravenous magical beast or something? Whatever it was, he was eternally grateful to her. And as he lay down on the wooden floor, allowing the power within him to completely assimilate, he opened his Ethra eyes to his surroundings, watching the flow of Ethra around as he sat up, crossing his legs and closing his eyes, breathing calmly. With a startle, he realized the cuffs were still on his hands, and they hadn’t jolted him in a while, another surprise being that he hadn’t deviated from the breathing technique he had been using, proving the cuffs really did work.
A soft smile on his face, he closed his eyes again, losing himself to the beating of his heart. Resonance—a bridge between imbuement and projection, two techniques where one was basic and the other too taxing on the body of an initiate. He stretched one hand out, drawing Ethra to his palm as it began to tingle, his mysterious Ethra affinity that stumped even adepts. Feeling his entire arm strain under the power he was slowly accumulating, he released it back after a few seconds when he couldn’t hold it any longer, panting slowly as sweat matted his face.
The power it held was explosive, he could feel, but without its application, it might as well be useless to him. Laying back on the ground, he closed his eyes, letting his strained body recover for a few minutes before getting to his feet, packing the entire resources back into his void ring as he stepped out of the house. It was time for him to do what he was brought here for, and he didn’t need to go far. Tier 1 creatures were already assembling outside his home. Large, black, furry creatures with large canines and two tails, red eyes glowing as they shrieked at him from the confines of their trees.
One of them dropped to the ground—a large one, larger than the others, growling at him as its clawed limbs stepped warily towards him. Tunde maintained his calm demeanor, slowly imbuing his body as he felt a difference almost immediately. He felt denser, more solid, more powerful, and he knew almost immediately that the meats were already working. He bowed to the creature as it stopped in its tracks, its hackles rising.
“I must thank you for volunteering,” he said.
It didn’t understand him, but Tunde saw clearly that it viewed him as a minor threat—a pity. He shot forward with all the speed that he had, fists cocked by the time he reached its front as it reacted too late. A punch to the skull blew the entire head of the creature in a shower of gore as he tossed the body straight past the stone rings that somehow protected his home and into the front of his wooden house itself. The creatures froze, shocked at the sight as Tunde moved immediately again, knowing time wasn’t on his side, counting their numbers. Over a hundred; even if they were Tier 1 creatures, they could overwhelm him, and he was sure being under those claws and fangs was a bad idea.
He killed two more before the creatures whipped themselves into a frenzy, foaming at the mouth as they charged at him. Weaving between trees and branches, he dodged the creatures, hissing whenever they managed to scratch him. A punch here, a jab there, and five more were down. Tunde grabbed their bodies as he vaulted for the safety of his home, rolling to a stop just beyond the stones that gave a quiet hum, causing the creatures to retreat.
Panting and bloodied, with scratches all over his body, he dropped his prizes, staring at the creatures that growled at him with threats, fading back into the comfort of their tree homes. He could still feel their eyes on him, knowing that the moment he stepped out of the protective circle, they would come for him. He sat with a sigh, swallowing a healing pill as his wounds stung, wincing gently before turning to the bodies. Placing a hand on one, he willed the relic on his wrist to activate, drawing the Ethra within the body of the creature.
He blinked at what he felt—a drop, if he could call it that. It was nothing. His eyes widened as he realized the implications. Discarding the body to the side, he touched another and then another, growling with frustration as barely anything entered him after the relic purified the Ethra within the creatures. Sitting back down with a slump, he stared toward the forest. Tier 1 creatures were useless to him, at least Ethra-wise. He would keep their bodies for food, letting them be of minimal use.
Checking his body and torn robes, he sighed. There was no use changing out of them; he might as well get the best use out of them. Getting to his feet, he opened his void ring, bringing out a blade as he glanced up, yelping and scrambling backward. Elder Joran stood in front of him with a smile, tsking loudly.
“No blades, or weapons!” the elder said sternly.
“You were there all along?” Tunde asked, calming his breathing as jolts shot through him from the cuffs.
“More or less. I wanted to see what you’d do with the Darkhowlers, seeing as this place is right within their territory,” the elder replied.
“Darkhowlers?” Tunde asked.
Elder Joran nodded. “Indeed, nasty little things if they corner you. I once saw them strip an initiate of flesh to the bone in a few minutes. Let me tell you, it was not pretty,” he continued, shuddering.
“And you want me to fight them without weapons?” Tunde asked, just to be sure he understood correctly.
“Yes, you are slowly going down the path of unarmed fighting, and to be honest, I’m not sure anything other than that relic of yours can withstand the power of your Ethra, as destructive as it is,” the elder said.
Tunde glanced at the blade and then at the forest again.
“But of course, it’s all left to you, really,” the elder said, shrugging.
“What about the resonance?” Tunde asked.
Elder Joran shrugged. “You’re a far cry from a ranker that can successfully fend off the creatures of this forest without your two arms. Are you sure you want to take that risk without even entering the domain of the Tier 2s yet?” the elder asked.
Tunde shook his head reluctantly.
“The aim is to grow. Make your way through this forest to the end of the territories held by the Tier Twos. Now, my candid advice to you would be to work on your reaction time and attacks, and when you reach the peak of initiate and finally cross over to disciple, then you can use resonance with significantly less strain on your already peak initiate body,” the elder finished.
Tunde’s eyes widened. “My body is peak initiate?” he asked.
Elder Joran snorted. “You punched off the skull of the leader of the Darkhowlers with one hit. Few initiates can accomplish that without first reaching the peak of initiate rank, and even then, most need some sort of melee weapon. No, you’re not using one,” the elder said, cutting off Tunde as he mentioned a melee weapon.
“It’s a bad habit of rankers, really. I blame the entire system and forgesmiths. Initiates have no business near weapons; they serve as aids, and in time, they would fool you into some sense of strength,” the elder said.
Satisfied that Tunde had understood him, he stretched. “I’ve spent enough time dawdling; my absence will be noticed soon enough,” he started. “I will check back on you in three days’ time, should you still be alive then and not have proven yourself to be a complete waste of time for me and my expended resources,” he said.
With that, the elder vanished again, leaving him in the quiet forest. The creatures had gone silent sometime between the arrival of the elder and now. Opening his Ethra sight, he searched for the elder, seeing nothing as he shook his head, glancing at the blade before depositing it back into his void ring. He took a deep breath, calming himself before stepping out of the protection of the circle and into the shrieking forest itself, prepared to have the fight of his life.
Elder Joran stood at the entrance of the forest, staring into it with a smile on his face, nodding to himself. The child was strong; he hadn’t lied when he told him that his body was at the very peak of initiate rank. The truth was even better. Somehow, even as the elder chuckled to himself, the bewildered disciples at his side stared at him. He realized the boy’s body was slowly stepping into the rank of disciple. Again, he made a mental note to ask the metal girl just what sort of ‘bone’ she had used in his body tempering process. They would need it, or something like it, to break through to adept rank when the time came.
He wondered if he was too forward in assuming the kid would make it to adept rank, but then he watched the child tear through the Darkhowlers and nodded to himself. He had really found a gem in this one.