Tunde rolled to a stop in the mud, body aching with a grade 3 healing elixir in his hand. Cork removed and downing the entire viscous liquid with a tangy taste, he slowly got back to his feet, feeling the overwhelming aura of a true peak-tier adept. It felt like the bitter touch of winter he had been familiar with while growing up, the shiver that reflexively came along with it making him grit his teeth. Watching as the very grounds began to grow cold and then hard.
“she’s freezing the entire area,” he thought to himself with surprise.
The amount of Ethra she was expending was near crazy considering the fact that Tunde knew she couldn’t cycle rift Ethra, he watched as the solid white glacier of frost covered the ground, feeling and seeing the ice Ethra loom around him.
“Well, that’s one way to go around dominion,” he said softly to himself.
She appeared from within the now frozen swamp trees, frost mist emanating from her body as her eyes shone blue.
“I’m not in the habit of letting those who make a fool of me live,” she said.
Tunde could hear the haughtiness in her tone, the simmering anger of her lesser getting one over her, it was truly not a feeling she was used to. Ethra sight revealed the raging storm of Ethra within her body, Tunde silently surprised she still had that much Ethra within her. He took his stance, resonance burning within its edges with a faint black and white glow.
“I simply did what I had to do to survive” Tunde responded.
Zehra nodded as she stretched both hands out, Tunde noticing her blade was still strapped to her waist. Blades forged of raw ice manifested in both hands and then sharp lances of ice above her head, his face grim, she spoke again.
“Then Thalas was right, you win with trickery and not skill, do not dare call yourself a ranker of Bloodfire and the empire,” she said.
“You want me to fight toe to toe with a peak adept?” he asked incredulously.
Zehra frowned as anger flashed before her eyes, the spears firing with speed. Tunde was already moving, body imbued as Ethra spheres manifested, clashing with them and shattering them into pieces. She was on him at that moment, his axe crashing down on her heavily imbued blades, pushing himself to the limit simply deflecting them, she had him on the defensive, Tunde triggering resonance every time his axe clashed with the blades.
It cracked them, much to her shock and he took that brave chance to slam a punch at her side with all the strength he had. A shimmering red plate appeared at her waist, taking the brunt of his attack as he screamed, feeling the bones on his wrists crack, tearing backward, he watched her entire form glow red with what looked to be a projected armor. Disposing of her blades, a bow formed in her hands, Zehra drawing the string back and an arrow manifesting on it.
It glowed brightly with adept tier Ethra, her aura burning in a blue mist around her, feeling his wrists mend themselves, he cycled rift Ethra as quickly as he could, letting it surround his body as she spoke softly.
“Be gone from my sight,” she said and fired the arrow.
It tore across the space between them in the blink of an eye, Tunde already bringing Shadowfang down with raw power, Ethra burning on its edges, and aura surrounding him in a haze. Shadowfang left a tear in the air in front of him, a thin edge that shot out towards the arrow just at the last moment. Both attacks clashed, a resounding explosion that threw him away coming from it as he landed in a heap, body drained just as quickly as he began recycling more rift Ethra.
He rolled over just as a sharp pain pierced his shoulder, Tunde screaming and grabbing the ice blade with rage in his eyes, staring up at Zehra who had one leg on him, pinning him to the ground. She stared down at him contemptuously.
“Thalas was right, you’re like an insect that won’t die unless squashed properly,” she said.
Breath ragged, Tunde began priming resonance in his hand that held the blade even as blood slowly dripped from its edges, his other hand gripping Shadowfang but to no avail.
“And to think you have a soulbound weapon, what a waste” she continued.
“Beating on a disciple, must be proud” he groaned.
She frowned the more.
“Die now,” she said as a blade formed on her other hand and she moved to decapitate him.
“Now now, let’s not get hasty” a voice Tunde was all but glad to hear said as it gripped the other blade.
Joran stared at the heir of Acacia, a smile on his face as he shattered the blade, distracted by the presence of the princess, Tunde exploded the blade within his shoulder, grabbing her wrist and slamming a kick to her chest, Zehra stumbling backward, defensive artifact shimmering to life. A figure dropped close to her, holding her from falling as Zehra burned with rage.
“See?, told you there’s be benefits to retreating,” Joran said to the new figure, one of the adepts, a female.
“Can you run?” he whispered to Tunde who nodded a fraction, already prepared for it.
“You will not escape me this time,” Zehra said.
“Who?, him or me?” Joran asked.
“Because I assure you, while you might have an inflated sense of self, you’d be stupid to try to take me down,” he said as she drew her blade.
“Where are Vasriq and Keto?” she snarled.
“The fire one is currently lying at the bottom of the swamp with a massive hole in his chest and the other mud one is currently fighting Thalas, something about a betrayal” Joran narrated.
Tunde took the time to pocket what was in his hands slowly without drawing too much attention, Zehra’s eyes widening at the words of Joran.
“You lie” she growled.
“My lady, we need to retreat” Vaya hissed.
Those words all but confirmed Joran’s story as a loud explosion rang in the distance.
“And if I’m correct, that would be Thalas and his father finishing off the last adept, still want to rumble?” Joran asked with a slow creeping smile.
Zehra raised her blade up with a scream, gathering ice Ethra as the frozen ground began to shake, wind picking up around her in a tornado of sharp ice.
“Run!” Joran shouted as he clapped his hands together.
A tectonic blast of sound and vibration shattered the ice around them as Tunde took off into the distance, trusting the elder. His legs pushed him as fast as possible, he tore towards no discernable position, just away from the blast he could feel raging behind him. He felt a presence descend from on high, his movements slowing down as he turned, eyes wide and then started running back towards the position of the elder.
A blitzing speeding figure caught his robes and then pulled him back toward the distance again.
“What part of run don’t you understand?” Joran’s voice said over the wind.
Regaining their footing, both teacher and students tore away from the clash of power behind them, making their way deeper into the swamp and coming out at a waterfall before jumping straight down without even thinking twice, their bodies more than strong enough to handle it. Landing within the icy depths, Tunde managed to open his eyes, swimming down into a cave opening with the elder as they resurfaced within it, the water reaching their waists.
Making their way deeper into the barely lit cave with blue glowing plants that gave them limited light, they panted as they lay on a rock, trying to catch their breaths.
“That was scary,” Joran said.
Tunde turned to him, struggling to sit up.
“And getting closer to the rift core,” he said.
Joran chuckled.
“It would be foolish to go for it with you as a disciple,” he said.
Tunde patted his robe.
“About that,” he said as he brought out an item, the elder staring at him.
“Is that?” Joran asked with a slow creeping smile.
The void ring was made of gold, glinting even in the dimness of the cave.
“The void ring of lady Zehra, stolen when you came” he replied.
The elder laughed as he fell back on the rock, Tunde smiling even with the pain.
***********************************
Alaric was growing irritated with the never-ending lines of peak adept revenants and even lord-ranked creatures. Propped up in some grotesque caricature of life the undeath cult or sect was known for, they were unfeeling, unthinking creatures unleashed with the sole purpose of wreaking as much havoc as they could. They also came with one particular command that irritated him even more, they went after the strongest being around, and in this case, it was him.
He had gone after the injured lord of Emberpeak, the still recovering cultivator holed up in their smoldering volcano home, Alaric faced down the ranker of raw fire and metal, the clash tearing apart the mountain along with what remained of the forces of the sect itself who engaged in battle with the reinforcements of clan Verdan that were slowly arriving. The other adepts of the clan had fought back with relentless fury against the mountain sects, a bloodbath ensuing as Alaric and the adepts held back the hordes of revenants, pushing to destroy the last mountain of the clan that poured the summoning circle itself.
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When they reached the home of the Cloudsoar sect, a miniature sprawling mountain set upon a low-hanging cloud, Alaric did battle with the last and strongest of the lord tier revenants, the battle dragging on as the forces of the clan retreated to survive the battle. When it was done, Alaric swallowed healing Ethra pills of grade 4, his body mending rapidly as he cycled the rich Ethra in the air, he turned his gaze to the rift.
The stronghold had crashed, and what remained of the forces of clan Acacia that were left behind to defend to buy time for their leaders having surrendered, he pondered quietly. Aware of the four disciples moving towards him, he said nothing, one finger tapping the hilt of his blade in thought. He had lost two adepts already, something the clan couldn’t afford to do right now, and even if they did, they were to be replaced almost immediately.
He heard them being stopped by adepts Torin and Rela, the rankers whispering furiously to the disciples as Alaric sighed, they had broken his musings, might as well attend to them.
“The answer’s no,” he said clearly as both parties froze, Alaric turning to face them.
They looked worse for wear, the disciples, Rhyn, Sorin, Elyria, and Shiro, four of the top five disciples, the fifth member of their elite numbers as well as a former member both stuck within the rifts. He folded his hands behind his back and took a step forward as they fell to their knees, heads bowed against the wind that blew atop the shattered remains of the mountain they stood on.
“It’s been more than an hour since they’ve gone in,” Elyria said.
Alaric turned to her, his gaze settling on her completely.
“I’m aware” he responded.
“They could be in trouble,” Rhyn said softly.
Alaric said nothing at first, mulling over his next words carefully.
“Am I to believe you care about the well-being of Tunde and Thalas?” he asked carefully.
Rhyn turned his gaze to his father wordlessly, his eyes staring into his older self.
“We would like to be given the chance to prove ourselves” he replied.
“Plus, it’ll be fun,” Shiro said with a hesitant smile.
“We simply cannot leave the entrance undefended, besides, I’m sure you’re aware that Jashed and his son Thalas both broke rules stating that adept Joran and his student were to be given free rein within the rift.
“With all due respect, you and I both know it’ll lead to their deaths,” Elyria said with a tired exasperation.
Torin raised his hand in anger, about to gather a projection technique when Alaric raised one hand stalling him.
“It’s a death sentence” she continued without a care in the world that she stood in the presence of peak adepts and a lord.
“All these, the posturing, the seeming encouragement, now that I think of it, it was all just a ploy to get them to lay their lives for the clan, an excuse to go to war with Acacia and the mountain sects,” she said.
Alaric silently acknowledged her, noting Celia was right, she was too versed in the politics of cultivators to be just any disciple.
“They are stuck in a rift with not just the very clan you hope to bring down, who, by the way, brought along their own lord, three adepts, and their heiress who is in fact a peak adept,” she said.
“I grow weary,” Alaric said with a hint of irritation.
She was proving too good for her own sake.
“You want them dead?, fine, then send me in as well, we both know our presence at Jade Peak has led to nothing but destabilization of the status quo, you want to reap the resources while ensuring the power never leaves the clan” she completed.
Alaric could feel Rhyn’s shocked gaze on him, searching his face for the truth, the adepts beside him furious as well. He sighed, he should have eradicated her when he had the chance, it would have been as simple as just idly swinging his blade. Now though, it would be too much of a hassle. Glancing at the adepts who inclined their heads, he rubbed his face, so much for secrecy.
“you’re free to do as you like, Elyria I mean,” he said.
Rhyn froze.
“If you think I’d actually risk you within the rift then you must be stupid” he bit out harshly.
Rhyn turned to Elyria, Alaric staring in disbelief, since when did Rhyn consider another’s opinion?. Elyria cracked her neck as she began moving, Sorin getting up as well, Shiro following suit.
“And where in the hegemon’s name do you two think you’re going?” he asked.
Sorin and Shiro paused, glancing between themselves.
“We’re not direct members of clan Verdan,” Sorin said.
“And?” he asked.
“we’re not as valuable to you as Rhyn is,” Shiro said with a smile.
“The rankings beg to differ,” Reya said.
A loud explosion tore from the vicinity of the rift itself, more inscriptions writing themselves on the ground as Torin cursed.
“Revenants!” he barked, already gathering Ethra.
“Alaric dismissed the disciples without a second thought, turning to stare at where the rift was, watching as three figures manifested around a large green crystal that jutted out of the ground.
“undeath’s last gambit,” he said softly.
The three figures gave off the aura of peak lords bordering on advancing to the stage of high lord. The very ground around them began to grey out as everything around them died and then revived in greyish semblances of existence, Alaric drew his blade.
“You need to trust me,” Rhyn said behind him, Alaric irritated.
“Now is not the time” Alaric warned.
“you’ve always wanted me to prove myself, to become the image of clan Verdan, well, I chose to lead by the blade” he continued.
Alaric raised his blade, gathering his Ethra from within his nascent core, his affinity bubbling into existence in a rush of power that poured off him. He grabbed at his concept, merging both blade and jade as he began manifesting a giant blade made of green crystals. It filled the skies above like a giant, poised to strike, the revenants turned their gazes to the skies above and released an unearthly shriek, a wailing moan that seemed to scratch at their ears in irritation.
They raised their hands up, spectral skulls that trailed aura rising to the skies as they clashed with his concept given crude form. It took all of Alaric’s concentration to clash with the spectral forms, ever-hungry things that consumed whatever they touched, preparing to go do battle with them properly, he turned his gaze to Rhyn.
No words were said between them, but the message was passed, Rhyn bowing at the waist.
“I return an adept” he promised.
“See that you do” Alaric whispered harshly before shooting towards the revenants, aura burning on his blade.
He would distract the creatures, the adepts would do their best to either destroy or distract the spectral forms, giving the disciples a chance to breach the rift and the reinforcements that were still mopping up the shattered remains of the mountain homes of the sects would join them in time. Alaric found himself smiling just a little as he clashed with them, the creatures seeking to paralyze him with both their aura and skeletal horrifying looks, their bale green eyes shining at him.
Alaric gathered blade Ethra, slicing rapidly at them as they healed, the revenants sending spectral limbs to touch and petrify him, something he knew their higher forms were more than capable of. He noted the cult of undeath was pouring an absurd number of resources on a tier 4 rift, which showed him just how important the rift was for them, whatever their goals were.
His mind once again flashed to Rhyn as an adept, a thought that gave him no small amount of pride, if it happened. Clan Verdan could be stronger, it would put them right in the faces of the great families and noble clans of the capital itself, shooting them into the limelight if they could produce another batch of adepts, strong ones for that matter.
For now though, it was only a thought, and while he had been reluctant to send his only son into the jaws of certain danger, he knew deep down that to break through, like any stage of advancement, a measure of danger was needed. So he immersed himself in the fight, his mind calculating just as fast as he swung his blade, Ethra techniques tearing apart the area around them, the adepts adding to the battle in what they could, leaving the rift to the futures of the clan.
***************************
Tunde felt himself salivating as he opened the void rings, staring from those of the disciples. Over ten had been gathered, their contents being dumped on a stone slab they had found the deeper they had wandered into the cave itself. From grade two fruits, Ethra elixirs of grade three, and even foods cooked with enhancements to help heal and fortify the body, it was a feast as far as Tunde was aware.
He shared them with the elder who declined, simply taking a bunch of tier 2 fruits stating they had no uses for him, simply to satisfy his appetite, Tunde needed them the more. And so he scarfed them down, ignoring the weird notifications from his Ark screen.
[you have consumed roasted flame fowl; lifeline has been improved]
[You have consumed sparkling crystal water, your mental fortitude has improved]
More of these kept creeping up the more he consumed the fest in front of him, feeling his body heal from the deep-sated wounds that would have taken him days to recover from. Releasing a sigh as he finished, wiping his mouth and turning to the elder who had been meditating silently.
“You sound better” Joran noted.
“And feel it too elder” he replied, dropping next to the elder.
“This rift is rich with power than I thought possible,” Joran said.
“What do you mean?” Tunde asked.
“Cycle the Ethra” he replied.
Tunde looked at the elder with alarm, opening his Ethra sight and looking the elder all over.
“you’re cycling the rift Ethra?” he asked in alarm.
Joran chuckled, smacking him so fast that Tunde barely saw it coming.
“You have been blessed with the eyes of the heavens and you fail to use them properly” Joran chastised.
“Look around you,” he said.
Tunde did, marveling at the blue calm Ethra that floated around, watching it permeate the waters that sparkled, the plants that stubbornly grew on the walls themselves as well.
“What sort of Ethra is this?” he asked silently.
“We have no name for them, perhaps the alchemists do, but it’s not something you often see on the lower ends of the rifts themselves,” Joran said calmly.
“Cycle it” he repeated.
Tunde nodded, closing his eyes as he began to cycle the Ethra, snapping his eyes open almost immediately in shock, Joran chuckling.
[your Ethra lines have been cleansed and fortified to the peak of disciple rank]
[your Ethra heart has been cleansed and fortified to the peak of disciple rank]
[your lifeline has been improved and fortified to the stage of early adept]
[your body is in the process of total cleansing, continue cycling or consuming the Ethra around you in whatever form for maximum results]
Tunde glanced at the elder calmly.
“Can I?” he asked.
“Not yet” Joran replied.
“Oh,” Tunde said with disappointment in his voice.
“This water is a rumor I heard from….” The elder said pausing with a frown.
Tunde stared at him continuously.
“that’s strange, I could have sworn I remembered where I heard it from” Joran mumbled to himself before smiling again.
“But it matters not really” Joran continued.
“What matters, is that in some places, this very liquid is considered a minor cheat for advancements,” he said.
“Cheat?” Tunde asked.
Joran nodded, using his hand to cup the sparkling waters.
“Used in the creation of advancement pills and elixirs, just a tiny amount to help boost whatever affinity you use” he explained.
“you’re saying if I consumed it, I could break through to adept?’ Tunde asked slowly.
“of course,” Joran said with a grin.
“And then summarily find your advancements cut short because as the idiot you are, you consumed what even lord would take just a mouthful of alone with whatever advancement elixirs they had and then meditated as they disseminated the energies within their bodies,” Joran said just as cheerily.
“Oh,” Tunde replied awkwardly.
“It’s the driving factor in creating a core, something you really shouldn’t bother about till you’re getting to the peak of adept rank,” Joran said.
Tunde scratched his head awkwardly.
“So what do we do with it?” he asked.
Elder Joran mulled over it.
“How many empty void rings do you have?” he asked.
“Twelve?” he replied.
“Good, then we start draining this entire cave till the rings are filled,” Joran said.
Tunde blinked at the elder, as if unbelieving of what he had just heard.
“Oh, alright” he replied.
Opening one ring, he watched as torrents of sparkling water poured into it, a thought coming to him.
“Why isn’t there a general name for it?” he asked.
“If it’s that fantastic an elixir, why hasn’t anyone given it a general name?” he finished.
“You could call it one of the closest guarded secrets of the alchemical guild, in the good books of the cult, any signs of this liquid being sold and the Heralds or artificers for that matter would come down on said party with all the fury of the regents” Joran explained.
Tunde paused.
“So, we could be in trouble?” he asked.
“Not if you don’t blabber your mouth till you’re strong enough to flaunt it with caution” Joran replied with a shrug.
“And what stage would that be?’ Tunde asked with a sigh.
“Why master rank of course!” Joran responded with a laugh.
Tunde sighed, feeling the ring reach its limits quickly.
“You must have traveled the world well” he mumbled.
“Why do you say so?” Joran replied with a hint of a smile in his voice.
“You seem to know all these amazing things that are way above your stage venerable elder,” he said wistfully.
“Yes,” Joran replied faintly.
Tunde turned to him, seeing the elder with his hands folded as if in thought.
“It appears I do” Joran replied.