Five cultivators surrounded Tunde, five with as distinct Ethra affinities as he had seen, and their leader, the man in a reed hat with his mud affinity who led the charge. Drabbed in the emergency robes he had been given aboard the vessel, Tunde flicked his eyes across the area, aware of the slowly growing numbers of residents who were out to watch the fight. Producing sharp serrated-looking weapons from knives to rusty-looking blades, Tunde took a deep breath, cycling his Ethra calmly through his body as the relic shivered.
It released rift Ethra through his body, fusing with his midnight-colored Ethra that began to flow around his limbs in constricting circles as he prepared resonance. With a second thought, he dispelled the technique, he wasn’t here to kill them, but he could feel the bloodlust leaking from them, and he prepared to show them the difference between him and them. Then they unleashed their auras, harsh billowing power that clashed with him like rabid creatures, distorting his perception.
Barely.
Ethra sight revealed their movements as they shot for him, the first of their numbers with dust Ethra coalescing next to him, blade coming down in a swipe with the intent to rip through his shoulder. He grabbed the wrist, rift Ethra coating his palms as the cultivator grunted in shock, his Ethra dispelled from the taint of Tunde’s Ethra. Snapping the wrist, he grabbed the blade before the cultivator could even scream, stabbing it straight through his shoulder with his imbued Ethra on it, the force blowing a hole behind the back of the cultivator, losing an entire limb.
The second threw blades at him, his sight following the trajectory of the blades as he danced around them, grabbing two in the air before a dropkick to the skull of another wielding an even bigger meat cleaver saw the cultivator with sand Ethra slam into the ground, two knives imbued with his Ethra punching through the reinforced shoulders of the man, pinning him to the ground and dispelling his Ethra imbuement.
Instincts screamed at him to go low, landing on the blades that pinned the sand user to the ground who screamed in pain, the cleaver passing above his head. He was on his feet, facing the three cultivators that remained, the first one crawling away to safety, producing his skinning knife, he poured rift Ethra through it, its blade glowing with the midnight Ethra of his, elongating even further. The mud user stretched his hands out, his affinity pouring out of him in a large circle as he attempted to cocoon Tunde in mud.
Resonance was on one leg, slamming into the hardened mud that evaporated like fine dust, Tunde pushing his way through as he swung the blade, slicing through the weapons of the two cultivators who barely had the chance to cycle whatever Ethra affinities they had. A punch to the chest of one and a knee-shattering kick to the other and they were out of the fight, the mud user remaining.
“This is where I ask you to stand down,” Tunde said.
“Not unless the lady wills it” the mud user replied as the mud splatters all around Tunde began to bubble taking humanoid shapes with mud weapons shaped into serrated sharp edges.
They came at him all at once again, each mud clone with the strength of an early-tiered disciple, Tunde willing resonance into both limbs as he roared, both fists slashing out. Resonance blew apart the clones in an explosion that burnt them to dust, filling the air with fine particles, Tunde regardless, dodged the attacks of the mud user that came for him, burning the mud attacks that came at him with fists, getting close and personal with the mud user and his swinging meat cleaver.
Tunde sliced through the weapon with his skinning knife, feeling his blade shatter after, now devoid of a weapon, same as the mud user, he dropped a punch to the chest of the cultivator, blowing it wide open as the mud user staggered backward in shock. With nothing but the raw strength of his fists, he came down on the mud user like a bolt of lightning when another aura crashed into him with accurate precision.
Steeling himself as he flipped backward, he turned his gaze in the direction where the aura attack had come from, a large building towards the far end of the narrow district.
“She has deemed you worthy” the mud user rasped; reed hat removed to reveal scarred pale features.
Tunde glanced at the other cultivators who had managed to drag themselves to safety.
“Apologies for the damage to your friends,” he said.
The mud user shrugged.
“they’ll be fine, a reminder why we aren’t in the rankings” he replied.
Tunde hesitated, wanting to ask his name before stopping and moving deeper into the district, towards the building itself. The inky aura had receded, leaving him on the darkened road that led to the building, stopping at the wooden doors where two young women, dressed in black flowing robes, hairs oiled and styled upwards, and their faces with makeup. They bowed to him, opening the doors as he passed through and into a wide room.
Dim golden light illuminated the entire room, soft billowing smoke coming from puffed pipes floating in the air. He stopped as he entered, eyes going around the residents of the room, the dim light hiding their features as he switched off Ethra sight, raising his head towards the stairs where a female form stood, staring down at him.
“Everyone, we have quite the guest here tonight,” her voice said, filtering down from where she stood.
Aware of the silent appraisals the room members were giving him, Tunde drew himself to his full height, he might not know just how to use his aura, but he would leave that taste of lethality behind, if not for any reason than to deter any would-be cultivator from coming at him.
“Are you the lady of tyrant’s haven?” he asked, his voice loud amidst the now silent room.
“One of my names, yes” The dimness of the upper floors shielded her visage, but Tunde could hear the amusement in her voice.
“Then I have come to see you” he replied moving towards the stairs.
“Members of tyrant’s haven, cherished guests of the inky lodge, I present to you, disciple Tunde, student of venerable adept Joran, wastelander, and killer of Corespawns,” she said.
Now Tunde felt the pressure, the malevolent and curious gazes from the patrons of the inky lodge all around him, like hungry beasts, they sized him up. And so, he did what he had always learned to do in situations like these, he unleashed his Ethra, his Ethra sight burning with its midnight color, his midnight starry Ethra wrapping coiling bands around his arms as he primed resonance.
“First to come at me dies, no mercy,” he said softly.
Her laughter came from above, Tunde turned his gaze to her as he saw the same inky blackness that shielded the entire district coming from her.
“So that’s where the name came from,” he thought to himself.
Ink affinity, the Ethra flowing around her like a sluggish stream, making it hard for him to put her in one spot as it seemed to seep into reality around her, masking her presence.
“no one here would be foolish enough to attack a disciple, much less the student of elder Joran,” she said.
“Is that the only reason?” Tunde asked, dispelling resonance.
A knife tipped with poison flew at him with the raw speed of a peak initiate, Tunde caught it by its hilt in the blink of an eye, returning it firmly lodged in the throat of the foolish initiate that had attempted to try his luck. The weathered man staggered, eyes wide as he sank to his knees, blood foaming out of his mouth before crashing to the ground, convulsing.
“And that apparently, someone clean that up, it’s bad for business,” her voice said with a hint of disapproval.
Tunde crouched his knees a little and propelled himself to the first floor where she stood, light illuminating her features as he staggered, eyes wide.
“You,” he said, voice hoarse.
“Like what you see?” she asked.
It was like he was back home, on crystal reach, staring into the faces of one of his people.
“My name is Miria, and it’s nice to meet someone from the true home,” she said.
************************
Chocolate black skin, grey-tinged hair that spoke of distinct gene color and not old age, grey-tinged eyes as well, supple breasts, and an alluring figure as if cut from a gem, Tunde stood frozen, disbelief in his eyes. Lady Miria raised an eyebrow, a soft smile on her face.
“One would think you’d seen a ghost, didn’t expect to meet someone that looked like you?” she asked.
“How?, everyone was- “Tunde said, stopping as he swallowed to calm himself.
Miria snapped her fingers, some statue-looking maid came out of the darkened corners holding a pitcher filled with sweet-smelling liquid. She poured two glasses, Miria taking one and handing the other to Tunde who collected it wordlessly.
“Now before you ask any questions, realize I was born and brought up in Bloodfire, as was my father and his father before him, so no, I’m not from Crystalreach,” she said.
That gave him pause, Tunde doing a once over for her again before nodding reluctantly.
“Then I apologize, you caught me off guard” he replied.
“I do have that effect on people, although I must admit to it being a pleasure,” she said.
“Meeting someone of our origin, it’s far in between” she added.
“Back home, I- “Tunde said, pausing as he shook his head.
“I apologize if I brought back bad memories,” Miria said.
“No, just, nothing serious,” Tunde said, closing his eyes and breathing in.
It had been serious, he had watched as his entire settlement had been worked to death, perhaps, there were other settlements far from them, and hopefully, they had been spared the cruelty he and his people had faced, but what were the odds of that? He opened his eyes, staring into her grey one.
“I was sent by Elder Joran, as regards my aura training,” he said.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Miria cocked her head to the side slightly, Tunde watching her oiled grey hair flow a bit to the side, noting the lushness and pearly smile, wondering why he was drawn to it. Then he saw the moving shapes on her skin, artfully drawn images moving quietly, something he could have totally missed had it not been for his Ethra sight. Realizing he still had it activated, he shut it off.
“I wondered if that was how your eyes looked” she commented.
“Only when I intend on breaking bones” he replied as she chuckled.
“Well, whatever fantasy the elder gave you, it sure isn’t training your aura,” she said.
Tunde frowned.
“What?” he asked.
“Aura training, that’s what he told you, right?” she asked as Tunde nodded.
Miria turned, Tunde doing his best to remove his eyes from her waist as she sat on a soft-looking chair, crossing her legs.
“Well, I don’t do that, although why you would think a disciple could teach you what an adept couldn’t and one of elder Joran’s reputation is baffling” she replied.
Tunde was lost for words, trying to see what angle elder Joran had been playing, had he simply wanted him to meet another person of his descent? He doubted the elder had time for such frivolities, no, there had to be something, something he was missing, he turned to her again.
“What then can you offer me?” he asked.
She smiled, dropping the glass.
“A peek into your aura” she replied cryptically.
Sighing, she continued seeing the blank look on his face.
“As I’m sure you’ve noticed, my affinity is all around you, ink” she started.
“Some cultivators, mostly rankers who intend to climb the rank and have issues with visualizing their auras, tend to come to me privately to sort their, needs,” she said.
“I see” Tunde replied.
She gave a soft smile.
“You don’t,” she said.
“I don’t, but you’re about to explain,” Tunde said.
Miria got to her feet, chuckling.
“Come along’ she said, heading towards a room on the upper floor.
Tunde glanced down at where the body of the dead initiate had laid, staring at the now naked body missing every single item of clothing, the body itself being dragged away by large burly men before turning and following Miria. She led him into a room illuminated by small golden bulbs filled with flickering flames within, the room painted red, ash-painted portraits lining the walls all around as well as a sweet-smelling incense that almost made him sleepy.
Immediately cycling his Ethra, he kept himself on guard, Miria turning to him as she stared at his guarded posture.
“that’s Serenith root, it helps calm your nerves, allows for a smooth transition process, although in your case it’s clearly doing the opposite,” she said with a touch of sarcasm.
“I would be relaxed if I didn’t just see a dead man being stripped of his belongings and drawn away like meat to the slaughter” Tunde replied.
“Resources are scarce in tyrant’s haven Tunde, the weak exist only to feed the strong here” she replied.
Tunde noticed she was cleaning metal pointy objects.
“And yet you’re simply a district away from the merchant district of Jade Peak” he replied.
She pointed one of the objects at him, a soft frown on her face.
“Just a month in Jade Peak and already you speak like them,” she said.
“They?” he asked.
“Do you know why Elder Joran said nothing of this place as he brought you here? Why he wasn’t here officially?” she asked.
Tunde shook his head.
“Because tyrant’s haven is a necessary stain on the perfect image of Jade Peak and clan Verdan” she replied.
“You need killers, thieves, people who would do the jobs the other families with their fake sense of superiority can’t afford to be seen doing,” she said.
“That, and formal duels are tiring and take a long time to prepare for, as in your case” she finished.
“What are you then?” he asked.
She flipped the object, laying it calmly on the table.
“I’m what keeps them in line, the denizens of tyrant’s haven” she replied.
Her eyes were like bottomless pits as she uttered those words, Tunde shivering slightly, matching her gaze as she came closer. He saw the feral cunning in her every move, from the way she carried herself to the way she sized him up, it was a reminder that he was strong, but strength wasn’t everything.
“People like you and I, we’re not accepted by society here, we don’t fit in,” she said.
“Because I’m supposedly a wastelander?” Tunde asked.
“No, because naturally, no one likes those from Crystalreach, some long lost history of invasions and the likes, I could care less” she replied.
“But also, because we’re good at what we do” she added.
Tunde frowned.
“I’m simply a ranker,” Tunde said.
“Yes, and in one month not only have you climbed to a mid-tier disciple, but you’ve cemented your name as one of the top-ranking disciples of the clan as well as liberated the mines of the clan from an invasion, not to talk of being the student of an elder adept” she listed out.
Tunde could see her point.
“I and my father moved to Jade Peak when I was fifteen, humble artists hoping to make a living within the fringes of the empire after escaping the grueling life of the capital” she started.
“It was good at first, helping young initiates see what forms their auras could potentially take, business was booming, till some of the families decided we were bad for business” she continued.
"You see, the higher families shunned us at first, saying our art was crude and misleading, and they were all for allowing the no-named initiates with no concrete backing to go through the process,” she said.
“But then they realized the initiates grew sharper with their direction for aura use, better than even the stronger members of their families, and then brought up trumped charges against my father”
Gesturing for him to sit on a long bed, Tunde obliged, too enraptured in the tale to even protest.
“He was given an option, work exclusively for the noble families, or face exile out of Jade Peak, my father refused, he wouldn’t sell his art and frankly, his life to those greedy bastards, and so they did what every rich entitled family would do, they frustrated him to death,” she said.
“Business stopped coming in, the entire area around us became desolate, shops moving away from our proximity to distance themselves from the wrath of the families,” she added.
“The clan, what did they do?” Tunde asked softly.
Miria snorted.
“They could care less, these areas are left to the noble families, so far as they pay their dues to clan Verdan, they are free to do as they like,” she said.
It lit something within Tunde, a small spark, one he felt with growing, simmering rage, but he said nothing.
“I took over a dead job, the area now a festering hole of vices, the entire district cordoned off by the families who knew the uses of vagabonds but would have nothing to do with them, a haven of tyrants,” she said with a smile.
“Elder Joran brought some semblance of order to the area, that, and I joined a house as an early tiered disciple, selling my father’s possessions had generated enough lumens to push me to the second stage of advancement, and I would die than see his shop and home go down in flames” she continued.
“I was a member of the now defunct Red Pearl house,” she said.
“Red pearl?” Tunde said, eyes wide.
The house destroyed in a rift.
“Lady Ryka said she was the only survivor” Tunde added.
“I and Lady Ryka parted on less than amicable terms” Miria replied.
“I wanted to go for those that betrayed us, she wanted peace, sour words were said and I assume to her she considers me better off dead” she added.
Tunde said nothing watching as she turned to him.
“Although, I must say, house dark fist, not bad,” she said.
“Join us,” he said.
She was strong, he could see that, and while he had nothing but her words to go on, she would be a strong addition to the house, assuming she hadn’t joined another house since then.
“I’m more of a subtle, supporting role in a house and battle, if you’re looking for raw strength then I’m not your person,” she said.
“Besides, I’m satisfied with tyrant’s haven” she added.
“You look like a woman who wants more than to lead a bunch of misfits” he replied.
She smiled.
“Lay down, the process is going to be rocky at first,” she said.
Tunde scrunched his face together.
“What pr- “he said as his eyes rolled up his head, knocked out.
******************
Lady Miria stared at the large form of Tunde on the bed, it had taken the root twice the time it took ordinary rankers to knock him out, and even at that, she had to distract him. That they shared the same roots wasn’t debatable, it was the raw presence she felt oozing out of him that kept her on edge. He was like an ignorant lethal beast unaware of the absence of a leash, Miria even suspected he had no idea his aura was leaking continuously out of him.
Grabbing one of the pointy needle pens, she sat next to him, closing her eyes as she channeled her Ethra, the tattoos on her body moving around again as she channeled the second power she had, one that she had sworn an oath on her soul not to reveal. It was one of the reasons why her father had not agreed to the deals of the families, a secret so deep that even the thought of speaking it woke the oath and made her tongue just as heavy as her entire head.
The tattoos swirled as a single drop of ink touched his skin and began to spread, making its way towards his chest area, one flick of her wrist and his robe was cleanly sliced in two from his waist upwards, revealing the ink that settled directly on his right breast. Dropping the instrument, she placed one hand on his shoulder and got to work, feeling the scalding intensity of his aura and Ethra as they fused with bubbling intensity.
***************************************
Tunde woke up feeling groggy, eyes bleary as he snapped to attention immediately, off the bed in a flash. Miria sat in a corner, seemingly oblivious to his presence, that was, before she spoke.
“Sleep well?” she said.
“What did you do to me?” he asked.
“Placed you under” she replied, turning to him.
Her grey hair seemingly disheveled, she blew one strand away, rising to her feet.
“It was the only way to safely draw out your aura, see just what you represent within” she added.
“And what do I represent?” he asked.
“See for yourself,” she said, handing him a mirror.
Noticing the tingling feeling on his left breast, he hesitantly collected the mirror, staring at the point.
“what’s that?” he asked in confusion.
“Seems self-explanatory,” she said with a sigh.
“I know what it looks like, but are you saying my aura looks like that?” he asked.
“You decide what it looks like, not me, not anyone else” she responded.
“Besides, that’s your subconscious revealing your inner tone to you, sort of like how you view yourself” she explained.
“there’s definitely no way I view myself as some animal,” he said, raising one eyebrow.
“You doubt the authenticity of my work,” she said as a matter of fact.
“Elder Joran wouldn’t send me to you if you weren’t good at your job” he responded.
“And still you doubt my work” she replied.
Tunde glanced down at the intricate design of swirling ink that stood out even despite the dark tone of his skin, glancing back at her again. Miria sighed.
“I don’t have time for contemplation, show the elder, and if he approves, well, you owe me an apology” she stated.
“I decide what is good for me and not,” Tunde said softly, a tinge of frustration in his voice.
Miria tapped her fingers on her lap, seemingly chewing on his answer.
“What were you expecting?” she asked.
“Well, I had no idea that- “
“And now you’ve seen how I work” she cut in.
“What were you expecting, Tunde?” she asked again.
“Something else, different, stronger?” he said hesitantly.
Miria shook her head.
“You have no idea, do you? What you think your aura would look like,” she said.
Tunde said nothing, simply staring at her, she nodded, standing up as she came closer to him, her smell of spices and soft perfume filling the air around him as she used one perfectly painted black nail to touch the mark on his chest.
“That is simply a frame for how to work your aura,” she said softly.
Staring into her gray eyes was unnerving, the depth of knowledge and subtle cunning he could sense seemingly threatening to drown him in her eyes. Swallowing softly as he grounded himself, she continued.
“You are right, you decide how your aura looks, but that is what your inner mind revealed to me, and I’m never wrong” she finished.
“Never?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.
“never” she replied, dragging the nail away from his chest as he stared at her going back to her seat.
“Your bill is two thousand lumens,” she said.
“Two thousand?” he exclaimed.
She turned to him, laughter in her eyes.
“don’t tell me the champion of dark fist can’t afford such a measly amount,” she said, mirth in her voice.
“I’m not in the habit of splurging funds” he replied.
“Obvious,” she said, looking him over.
Tunde wasn’t sure if it was an appraisal or an insult, but he folded his arms before sighing, withdrawing two thousand lumens from his void ring.
“I merely jest, it’s on the house,” she said.
Tunde paused, crinkling his face together.
“I insist” he replied.
“Well, who am I to say no to free funds?” she said, her void ring swallowing the lumens.
Tunde quietly realized he had just been made to willingly pay for a service he was less than satisfied with, but he kept his face neutral, standing straight as he spoke.
“I will be taking my leave now, lady Miria,” he said.
“Please, call me Miria, it isn’t every day we high rankers get to talk on friendly terms,” she said.
“I haven’t been given a rank yet” Tunde responded.
Miria shot him a look again.
“Your humility is as humorous as your presence, please, drop the act,” she said.
Tunde shrugged softly, picking up the robe she gestured to as he turned before pausing.
“Thalas,” he said.
“What about him?” Miria asked.
“What sort of ranker is he?” he asked.
“Oh? are you asking me for hints?’ she replied curiously.
“Yes,” Tunde replied bluntly.
“Well, I really shouldn’t be telling you anything, seeing as we’ll soon be competing for resources together, but Thalas is one of my least favorite people so, no problem” she continued.
“Methodical, calculating, solid, those are the three characteristics of Thalas,” she said.
“Trying to push him to anger is useless, trying to trick him with cunning is useless, going at him with pure brute strength would eventually prove useless” she listed out.
“So what works?” Tunde asked.
Miria shrugged.
“you’ll have to find out yourself, there’s a reason the top five rankings have remained the same till the metal user showed up,” she said with a smile.
“Elyria,” Tunde thought.
He bowed at the waist.
“Thank you for your time, Miria,” he said as he left, the lady of ink watching him go.