Every clash came with a bone-jarring effect, Tunde’s Lithane staff moving with every iota of strength within his body, twisting even despite the inhibitions of the stone cuffs on his limbs. He could feel the strength that came from his reinforced skeletal system, every swing doubling the strength of his strike. It felt like resonance came with every blow despite its absence, his reflexes honed better as he managed to deflect three subsequent strikes of the elder, pushing backward to give himself space before going on the offensive again.
He had successfully moved from defending the brutal attacks of the elder to returning them with his own strike albeit with little to no results. The closest he had come to touching the elder was the staff striking at his robes and that was met with swift retribution as the elder brought him to his knees. Tunde was on his third duel, his body aching as the elder seemed intent on hammering him into the same pitiful state he had been hours ago. The only difference now was that it took longer, painfully longer for him to succumb, like his body was growing more resistant to flesh-induced pain.
The elder was right, he was a walking tank of resistance honed through suffering, and Tunde had conflicted thoughts on that. While it no doubt meant that given enough time, he would be able to take on devastating attacks with nothing but slight injuries, the journey to that stage was another matter entirely. Parrying a strike of the elder, Tunde bent his entire speed into striking the Joran’s head, he couldn’t afford mercy, the elder was too strong for that. He watched as Joran caught the attack with a light parry, attempting to change the trajectory of his attack, Tunde forced his strength onto the staff, his body straining as the elder nodded appreciatively.
For the first time, the elder used his Ethra, the repulsive power running through his body as Tunde shot backward, crashing into the ground with a groan.
“Good, you pushed me into using Ethra, we’re getting somewhere,” Joran said.
Tunde felt like his bones were having mini vibrations of their own, subtle shakes that hindered his movements. Struggling to his feet as his Ethra continued cycling automatically, his breath stable enough to prevent the collar around his neck from releasing any shocking corrections, he spoke, his voice coming in a huff.
“Your affinity, its vibration, isn’t it?” he asked.
“If you’re just realizing that now, then I’ve given you far too much credit than I hoped for” Joran replied.
“No, I, I just wanted to be sure,” Tunde said, pausing intermittently.
“That, and another” Joran replied with a shrug.
“It’s how you’re able to see,” Tunde said as a matter of fact.
“Congratulations, you’ve discovered the secret of the century,” Joran said sarcastically.
Tunde bowed.
“Apologies elder, I meant no disrespect,” he said.
Elder Joran tsked, swinging the staff as he spoke.
“how’s the restraints?” he asked.
Tunde clenched his fists and stretched his legs.
“moderate” he replied.
Joran snorted.
“Easier you mean” he said.
Tunde inclined his head softly, dreading the elder bringing out another pair of even denser cuffs from his void ring. He faced Tunde, twirling his staff as he spoke.
“I have done all I can for you as regards your body, it’ll be left to you and the challenges within the other rooms for you to hone yourself better,” he said.
Tunde’s eyes strayed to the corridor, wondering just what the elder had left for him in them.
“You go through them now and you might get past the first room, the second?, I doubt” Joran said, no doubt sensing his curiosity.
“What we need to work on now, young one, is your aura and presence” he continued.
“sit” Joran commanded.
Tunde sat on the sandy ground, legs folded beneath him and his eyes on the elder who stood in front of him.
“Initially, you spooked rankers and cultivators alike with your absence of aura” Joran started with a chuckle.
“Just this overwhelming presence that felt like that of a caged animal, it was quite amusing to watch initiates and disciples alike treat you like an unsheathed blade” he continued.
“I had no idea” Tunde whispered.
“Naturally, I’m willing to believe based on the reports Rhyn submitted, that it was the reason Gale and his team hadn’t sensed you, they were tracking your absent aura and not your presence” Joran replied.
“Then again, in a forest filled with abominations, presences like yours would be rampant, and yet,” he said pausing.
“The disadvantages of not utilizing your aura weigh more than its advantages,” the elder said.
The elder sat in front of him, opening one palm as he continued, a slight haze of milkfish white power wobbled like a bubble around his palm.
“Aura is a weapon to be exploited, the shape it takes, its characteristics, says a lot about the ego of the cultivator in question” he started.
“Seeing as it’s a manifestation of the ranker’s ego, it shouldn’t surprise you down the line that auras could take weird forms as one advances up the path of cultivation,” he said.
“you’re saying my aura would be this?” Tunde asked revealing the tattoo.
Joran shrugged.
“Fate is always in motion, no one but you can decide that, but we’ll see when you reach there” Joran replied.
“There?” Tunde asked.
“The peak of adept or early lord, it’s the earliest stage your aura can take shape,” Joran said.
“For now, it’s nothing but a well of power you can use to give an extra bite to your attacks” he continued.
“Your ego took the shape of a bubble?” Tunde asked hesitantly.
Joran raised an eyebrow.
“Is there a problem with that?” the elder asked.
“No, forgive me, I was merely curious” Tunde immediately replied.
The elder chuckled.
“we’ll see what you think about it soon enough,” Joran said cryptically.
“a presence is the general sense of strength or deadliness exuding from a ranker, most times revealing just how dangerous they were,” Joran explained.
“Hence why I said you felt like a caged beast ready to lash out at everybody, now though, now it feels different, almost simmering,” the elder said thoughtfully.
He sighed, folding his arms.
“But for now, we’ll work on your aura, and I need you to envision how you feel about yourself,” Joran said.
“How I feel about myself?” Tunde asked doubtfully.
Joran tapped one finger against his crossed arms, nodding.
“When you faced the tainted Corespawn, when you had nothing to lose, I need you to think of it, envision yourself again, and try to let it come to the forefront of your mind and body,” he said.
“Sort of like you trying to sieve your Ethra out of your body, that’s basically aura” Joran finished.
Tunde scrunched his eyebrows.
“I can try, but- “he said, freezing as Joran snapped his fingers.
Tunde saw and felt the bubble aura of the adept swallow him whole, constricting him as he struggled to breathe. Eyes wide, gasping for short breaths, his body feeling like stones had been attached to his feet and he’d been dumped into an ocean. He gasped futilely as Joran watched him in silence.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“You overthink things too much when you aren’t in battle, that’s not good,” he said.
“That pressure you’re feeling?, that sense of helplessness as your heart is beginning to constrict itself?, that’s my aura on you, a defensive one by the way, or at least, I’m building it to be” he continued.
“And while I apologize for taking the option of choosing whether you want an offensive or defensive aura, I feel your body is defensive enough as it is, don’t you think?” he asked.
Tunde couldn’t move any longer, straining with his body to push back the aura ineffectively, Joran shaking his head.
“Again, wrong,” he said with a frown.
“Auras are intangible unless imbued on objects, they sink into your soul, locking you from the inside out, those who train them offensively become good at soul-based techniques, but that’s a lesson for another day” he continued.
“Push from the inside, you need to detest what I’m doing to you, gather your ego and willpower, and push out, whatever form you envision your aura as, it would strike back in an attempt to assert its dominion” Joran explained calmly.
Tunde tightened his fists, sweat lining his eyebrows as he felt his breath coming in shorter and shorter breaths, his body beginning to panic, the same way he had panicked when he faced down the shadow panther. It was like a dark part of his mind had been unlocked, something primal within him unraveling itself as he grunted, heaving deeper. He had survived the seas for many cycles, he had survived the putrid foul-smelling decaying carcass pit he had been left to die, and he had even survived the bone-loving barbarians of the wastelands.
That had to count for something, and as Tunde’s eyes strayed to the tattoo on his chest, the dark shape that shone like stars in a full moon night, he faced Elder Joran again and felt himself push. Pushing from within him as his muscles strained and his head felt like it was constricting even more and more. Nothing mattered in that moment that to tear off the aura of the elder, his entire mind bent towards it.
At first, he didn’t notice the wisps of black smoke that were coming from his body sizzling against the aura of the elder, like hot oil, more and more, melting through the dense layers of the elder’s aura. He saw Elder Joran sit up with all seriousness, but what did it matter?, who was the elder to think he could kill him like this?, he had made it to disciple rank, and he was tired of being looked down upon.
Suddenly he could breathe better, he could move one arm as he saw the black smoke, the same one that he had seen back at the mining area, and even though it was supposed to be impossible, he grasped the aura of the elder who snapped his hands again.
“Alright, let’s tune it up a bit,” he said.
The aura doubled in strength, weighing him down, pressing more on his aura faster than the smoke could eat at it, Tunde groaned under the weight, feeling his sight go dark as he almost passed out and bit his lip to keep himself awake. He didn’t care how long it took he would rip the aura of the lord apart.
****************************
They had been at it for hours now, Tunde lost in the battle as Joran felt him push his mind and willpower to the brink of exhaustion, breaking and reforging just as quickly, it was fascinating to watch. This wasn’t the help of whatever affinity he had, “all right, maybe a little” he thought as he watched with rapt attention, but mostly his will to live. To Tunde, he was fighting desperately for his life, he would die if he lost the battle, at least, that was what his mind told him. And so his entire body had shut down to resist physically and had thrown the full weight of his willpower at Joran’s aura.
It was like a rabid injured beast, lashing out trapped, a beast that kept getting stronger by the hour, a very dangerous thought when he looked at it. Joran snapped his head up to the ceiling as he felt the presence of lord Alaric, watching calmly as he wondered what the lord was doing. And then, with horror, he watched the lord’s aura clamp down on Tunde, driving him further into the strain. Joran wanted to release his aura, to tear off the lord's aura, but then he felt the lord’s presence settle on him in turn in a warning.
What was Alaric doing?, was this some plot by the clan to sabotage him?, Joran watched with helplessness as what tiny aura of the lord threatened to actually break Tunde when a change slowly began to happen right before Joran’s eyes. The aura of the disciple reacted to that of the lord, pumping out more aura rapidly at the expense of the sanity of Tunde, like a faucet had been unlocked, the smoky aura filled with pinpricks of light began to fog the area around Tunde, blocking him off physically, Joran could see him well though.
And then the lord’s aura was gone with a snap, leaving Joran’s slightly less heavy aura in place as Tunde’s aura began to rapidly eat at it. Joran doubled his aura output, realizing he was at the peak of disciple rank with his aura and then some, if Tunde was able to take on the aura of an adept, Thalas wouldn’t stand a chance in that part, and while that excited him, the horror at what could happen if the child’s body couldn’t handle such terrified him.
He withdrew his aura in a flash, watching Tunde’s aura lash out at his surroundings, Joran tapping him on the skull as Tunde passed out immediately, his aura dissipating. Calmly letting him rest from his mental breakdown, Joran made his way outside the underground training chamber, walking towards where Alaric stood in black light robes in the hotness of the midday sun.
“Lord Alaric,” he said in greeting stiffly.
“Two days down there and I can already see changes in him” Alaric answered back softly, staring into the horizon.
“I would ask with all humility, that you please don’t interfere with my training,” Joran said calmly.
Alaric turned to him.
“This is the first time I’ve seen you this angry” Alaric replied.
Joran bowed a bit lower.
“Then I apologize for my countenance,” Joran said.
Alaric gave no reply.
“The Acacia are no longer hiding their alliance with the mountain sects, our mission was a failure, both rankers have reported back that they have the location of the tier 4 rift and are prepared to hold it,” the lord said.
Joran spoke.
“And the mountain sects are ready to incur our wrath?” he asked.
“The Acacia clan has promised them all at least two adepts each and possibly a lord from each sect to offset the, ah, damages done by my sister” Alaric replied.
“So the lady really laid waste to their mountain fortresses?” Joran asked, brows furrowed.
“It appears she attempted to, driving them back to their fortresses proper where they hid under the runic protections of their barriers,” Alaric said.
“There’s no way a bunch of border mountain sects could have afforded an arcanist” Joran murmured.
“It appears the Acacia clan is investing quite a lot into this tier 4 rift; they want their heir as a lord as quickly as possible” Alaric replied.
“Along with whatever noble born will accompany her” Joran finished.
They both maintained their silence, staring at the shaven peaks where sky vessels settled and left, most looking battered as they had braved the skies from their long journeys.
“With rifts opening left and right, we’re about to see a surge in disciples,” Alaric said.
“as well as deaths” Joran replied.
“Then you understand what I intend, don’t you?” the lord asked.
“We will not play this game lord Alaric” Joran immediately replied.
“Would you rather my sister sink her fangs into him?” Alaric asked lightly.
“there’s a reason I picked the border of the wasteland for the base of the house, lord Alaric,” Joran said.
“True, but if you think for a second that you are free from her reach, then I’ve sorely overestimated you” Alaric replied.
Joran folded his hands behind his body.
“We will win this duel, lord Alaric, and without your help,” he said.
“You really expect him to stand up to Thalas without any help?” Alaric asked.
“He has mine” Joran responded.
“Thalas has reached the aura-shaping stage,” Alaric said.
For once, Joran had no response, he had told Tunde that it was left for the peak of adept or early lord, but like all things, that wasn’t necessarily the case. Some cases, saw bizarre occurrences, like young Thalas for example.
“You ask for the impossible” Joran murmured.
“And yet that is exactly what you need to defeat him,” Alaric said.
Joran shook his head.
“You intend to use us at the expense of your own family,” he said.
“It’s not Rhyn facing a loss of face,” Alaric said.
“you’re right, it’s me, and I would firmly ensure that come what may, I will be the architect of either my rise or fall” Joran replied.
“You intend for me to hold Moros and by proxy, your sister at bay, ensuring your grandchild becomes an adept and your daughter a lord, and while I have no qualms with that” Joran stated.
“Do it on your own, I and by extension, house dark fist would have no part of your family feud” Joran finished as he bowed to the lord.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a disciple to mend back together after you so suddenly and quite possibly, ripped his mind apart” Joran finished turning to leave.
“It doesn’t hurt to have a higher power behind you,” Alaric said.
“Somehow, I doubt that my lord,” Joran said, the chamber opening up as it sealed up behind him.
******************************
Tunde woke up to a banging headache, cursing lightly, a bottle of healing elixir shoved in his face, accepting it gratefully, he drank its entire content, feeling the banging in his skull subsided, groaning lightly.
“How do you feel right now?” the voice of Elder Joran asked.
“Better, felt like I took an axe to the skull a few seconds ago,” he said.
“Aftereffects of fighting a stronger aura” the elder replied.
“Your aura is terrible to face,” Tunde said.
Joran merely gave a non-committed grunt, watching his student get to his feet, Tunde staring at the cuffs that were already losing their potency, his body gradually draining the Ethra he had fed it and then some of its qualities. He crunched the, shattering the cuffs with his bare fists before stretching lightly, his bones cracking as he sighed with relief.
“What now?” Tunde asked.
“You rest, you begin the three trials tomorrow” Joran replied.
“Three trials?” Tunde asked.
“Indeed, this series of chambers so gratefully given to us by lord Alaric despite the exorbitant sum I paid for it, is home to three trials” Joran explained.
“The trial of strength, of skill, and willpower” he listed out.
“What are they?” Tunde asked curiously.
“you’ll find out yourself” the elder replied as he turned to leave.
“Oh, and artificer Borus reached out, you’ll be getting your soulbound weapon by sunrise tomorrow,” he said.
Tunde for the first time in a while felt excitement.
“Did he say what it was?” he asked.
“No, just the words that they should suffice for a ranker with no sword skill” Joran responded.
“Perhaps a blunt tool then,” Tunde said.
Joran shrugged.
“No idea, we’ll see, rest, and your companions are back from their mission safely,” the elder said walking towards the dark tunnel.
“Elyria and Thorne?, are they around?’ he asked.
Joran sighed, turning to him.
“I’d focus on what I can do if I were you, and not them” he responded.
Tunde bowed respectfully as the elder disappeared through the corridor, sighing, he moved towards where he kept his elixirs sitting close to the crevice before bringing out various dried meat and fruits, pitchers as well. Eating his weight without care, his body burning through it as usual, he found himself drifting off, eyes straying to the tattoo on his chest. In silence, he thought about its shape, its meaning, and what had gone down when he released his aura against the elder. It had felt like he was fighting back against a stronger foe, which in reality, he had been doing, he released his aura into his palm, the smoky starry power coagulating before dissipating when he felt a slight strain.
His rate of growth was pleasing, and yet he couldn’t help but wonder if it would be enough against Thalas, the duel two days hence. He was doing his best, and his growth was evidence of that, clenching his fists, he cleared his mind of such thoughts. Thalas was a disciple, same as him, and they both wanted the same thing, so in essence, it boiled down to who wanted it more. Crossing his legs as began to actively cycle his Ethra, he needed rest, but he would draw it out of his tired body.