They came out of the rift to the fresh Ethra filling the air, hastily making their way across the demolished landscape toward their war vessels. Lord Alaric led the charge as the other adepts gathered around them with shocked eyes, Joran grabbing Tunde and making their way to the black swan. In a few minutes, they were up in the air, pushing towards Jade Peak with all speed as the aura of undeath began to leak out of the rift, creatures running away from their surroundings in haste. Seated on the upper deck of the ship, Tunde watched as the rift receded, feeling the power of undeath take over the immediate surroundings.
The broken mountains of the now destroyed sects lay in ruins, no doubt plundered by the adepts of the clan, their main goal however had failed. Chewing silently as his mind went through all that had happened, he took solace in the fact that he had gained as much as possible from the rift itself. He was now an adept, he could stand up to the whims of the adepts of the clan, black rock was safe to an extent and he came bearing gifts for those who were of the house.
The fact that elder Joran had lied to the lord sat like a burden in his mind, unsure of just what it meant for them. Should the elder advance to lord stage, the clan would know he had lied, that and the fact that the accusations on Jashed would cause a whirlwind of activities as soon as they got back. Lord Lirien had just lost a child and her grandchild was being accused of being a traitor, he sighed as he reclined on one of the wooden frames of the ship, the wind blowing over his smooth head.
Things were going to be in an uproar once they got back to the clan, that much he could see right now. Closing his eyes as he cycled the Ethra in the air, now free of the taint of undeath, he replenished his heart, filling his body with Ethra and simply meditating. Calmly bringing up his Ark screen again, he stared at it in silence.
Name: Tunde Dark Fist
Stage: Adept [early-tier]
Ethra Heart: Adept [early-tier]
Tempering Art: unknown
Tempering Stage: Adept [early-tier]
Aura Stage: Adept [mid-tier]
Battle Art: Flowing fists
Concept: None
Ethra Affinities:
* Rift Ethra
Attributes:
* Strength- 75
* Agility- 70
* Constitution- 75
TECHNIQUES
Imbuement: Ethra strike [tier 3]
Projection:
* Ethra sphere [tier 3]
* Ethra razor disc [tier 3]
Dominion: null
Special Technique:
* Resonance [tier 3]
* Ethra sight [tier 3]
Chewing silently, staring at all the advances he made, he closed it back, activating Ethra sight as the entire ship took on a whole new hue of colors. Ethra sight had been one of his most significant improvements, he could now see a second in the future, useful against adept tier attacks, lords though were another matter entirely. The two ships flew side by side, the one last functional one of the clan and the black swan, Tunde watching the disciples over at the other ship attempting to discreetly stare at him.
He ignored their gaze, watching elder Joran come up from the lower decks, robes dirty and torn in some places, it was the most he had seen the elder ever come to looking tired.
“Elder Joran” he greeted softly.
“Sooner or later, you’d have to stop calling me that” Joran replied as he sat next to him.
“we’re now of the same rank” he continued.
“you’re still my teacher,” Tunde said calmly.
“Was your teacher, now I have nothing to teach you again, but fate and the heavens do” Joran replied.
They watched quietly, the both of them meditating as the ships pushed for jade peak.
“a trial is being assembled,” Joran said softly.
Tunde kept his eyes, speaking even as he did so.
“Thalas?” he asked.
“Yes, lord Lirien would meet us along the way,” Joran said.
Tunde felt his cycling stumble as he struggled to maintain his composure.
“That is not good news” he replied.
“Indeed, it is not,” Joran said.
“And the other thing?’ Tunde asked.
“We speak not of it, not now, not till the rock” Joran replied.
“Will they search our rings?”
“we’d have to be dead for them to do that”
Tunde swallowed as he breathed out, stilling his heart and cycling again with perfect flow.
“Is that a possibility?” he asked.
He was an adept, he had barely spent two months with them and had gone from a nobody to one of their strongest, there would be consequences for breaking the status quo, he was no fool.
“Not now, not with them losing so many cultivators and an adept this soon into the surge, but there will be, of that, I have no doubt,” Joran said.
“We’re in danger, aren’t we?’ Tunde asked after a while.
“When are we not?” Joran replied with a chuckle.
He felt the presence of Rhyn who made a jump from their ship to the black swan, landing softly with practice and walking briskly over to them. He bowed at Joran and then stiffly at Tunde, the action born out of reluctance, Tunde quietly thinking to himself of how the tables had turned.
“Elder Joran, adept Tunde” he started, the last part bitter in his mouth.
“Your presence is required for the trials to commence, lord Lirien as almost upon us,” he said.
***************************
Tunde and Joran had felt the moment the lord landed aboard the war vessel of the clan; her aura not hidden in the slightest bit. The disciples and unfortunate initiates to be aboard the vessel reduced to near comatose by her mere presence, struggling to breathe as the adepts did their best to relieve them of the pressure. Rhyn, Sorin, and Shiro managed to keep standing, but the sweat that beaded their foreheads spoke of just how much willpower it took for them to even keep at it.
The inner chambers of the vessel itself were darkly lit, light crystals hanging on the walls, dimly illuminating the entire room. Standing at one side were the adepts of the clan, Moros, who had arrived along with lord Lirien stood with adepts Torin and Rela who had been with Alaric. On the other side were Joran and Tunde, standing alone, as if accused as well, in the middle of the room stood Lirien and Alaric, brother and sister in cold silence, a chained and kneeling Thalas in the middle.
Tunde locked his eyes on every movement of the lady as she stared down at her grandson, unsure of what was going through her mind. He supposed rage, anger at disappointment, but he noticed the calmness with which she regarded Thalas and a chill went down his spine. She turned to the silver disc that sat right in front of Thalas, a communication construct used for long distances, nodding to the disciple close to it who made sure to carefully pass Ethra through it.
Its inscriptions, workings of the artificers themselves lit up as a face appeared, everyone falling to their knees in supplication, even the lords. It was a cue for Tunde too as well, already guessing the image of the person appearing.
“We greet the patriarch of the clan,” the entire retinue aboard the ship said.
Tunde kept his head down, trying to imagine what the patriarch looked like when a voice that sounded like forged steel spoke.
“Rise,” he said softly.
Tunde did along with the rest, looking into a chiseled face that exuded power, deep green eyes, smooth oiled hair, and little signs of the ravages of time. The patriarch stared at them all before turning his gaze to a bound Thalas, staring at him with detachment.
“We face an unprecedented problem” the patriarch started.
“a member of clan Verdan itself stands accused of betraying and attempting to kill members of the clan itself” he continued.
“Can those who table the accusations step forward” Rowan Verdan said.
Tunde stepped forward along with Joran and Elyria, glancing at Rhyn and the rest who avoided their gazes.
Ah, so that’s how it was.
Three outer members of the clan, Tunde congratulated himself for seeing through what was about to happen.
“Do you swear on your souls that every question asked would be answered truthfully?” Rowan asked.
“I swear” they chorused.
Tunde felt the oath wrap around his heart, a heavy burden constantly reminding him that any lie spoken would send agony ripping through his body and soul at once. Satisfied with their answers, he turned to Joran, calmly speaking.
“Tell us of the incident,” the patriarch said.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
And the elder did, recounting how they had thought he had initially sided with clan Acacia and how he had aggressively come at Tunde with the intent to kill. He then narrated what had happened at the mountain, both before the arrival of the revenant lord and the subsequent death of Jashed. Tunde watched as Lady Lirien twitched, seemingly restraining herself as her brother glanced warily at her, Tunde was sure Joran could see it in his own unique way, and yet he continued unperturbed, speaking calmly till he finished.
The patriarch turned to both Elyria and Tunde, both of them steeling themselves against the image of the patriarch.
“And do you attest that every word spoken by the adept elder is true?” he asked.
“Yes patriarch,” they both said.
Tunde felt the oath assess the words, gripping his heart, assessing his words before releasing him, Tunde giving a light shudder. The patriarch turned to Thalas, staring at him before speaking.
“You have heard the accusations, speak, I would suffer no traitor to my bloodline,” he said.
Thalas sat up on his knees, staring at them before speaking.
“All I did, I did to ensure the protection of the clan, the wastelander I might hate, but not the venerable elder,” he said with gritted teeth.
“You say I wanted them dead, all I wanted was to ensure the clan grew in strength” he added.
“And then you thought the best way to do that would be to take out one of our outer members?” Rowan asked.
“In public,” Tunde thought.
“I might have shown signs of that, but I knew when to stop, I only attacked them because of the death of my father, Jashed Verdan wouldn’t take his own life” Thalas gritted out.
“No, he sacrificed it to give us a fighting chance against the coming battle,” Joran said, cutting in.
“And what about atop the mountain?” Elyria asked.
“Where you implied it was the will of the house that we die?” she added.
All gazes snapped to Thalas, auras rising as the adept puked blood, eyes growing bloodshot.
“Enough,” the patriarch said as the pressure disappeared.
Tunde watched the rage filled Lirien’s eyes as she raised one hand, aura coating it in a smoothened yet deadly manner, Alaric catching it before it fell on Thalas.
“Are you aware of what you’re saying?” Rowan asked Elyria.
“It’s one thing to accuse him of being a traitor, it’s another thing to accuse the clan,” he said.
Elyria nodded.
“He implied it, this I swear on my soul,” she said as she seemed to stagger for a brief second before standing firm.
The fact that she still stood was a testament to the fact that her words were true, the patriarch glanced at Lirien before turning to her grandson.
“Thalas Verdan, swear on your soul now, absolve yourself that all these accusations were merely words and actions spoken and done with rage,” he said.
“That you didn’t sully the name of your father and that of clan Verdan” he added.
Thalas said nothing, reclining back before closing his eyes.
“All I’ve ever done, I did for the clan,” he said.
Tunde wondered if he should feel happy, because he didn’t, instead, it was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, swallowing softly before he found himself attempting to raise his hand when elder Joran grabbed it rather forcefully.
“don’t” he hissed quietly.
Elder Moros stepped forward, the lightning affinity user staring at the patriarch who peeled his attention away from his traitorous descendant to him.
“Do you have something to say, before I deliver judgment, adept Moros?” he asked.
Moros fell to his knees, bowing his head as he spoke.
“Venerable Highlord, patriarch of Verdan clan” he started.
Tunde turned his gaze to Thalas who had a look of acceptance on it, turning his gaze to Tunde as he felt the stare. The hatred and bitterness that stared back at Tunde jarred him, tightening his fists as he stepped forward, feeling all the attention turn to him.
“Something to say, wastelander?” lord Lirien asked, her voice rough.
He could feel all gaze on him, from the disappointment of Elder Joran to the incredulous look on Elyria’s face, confusion on Rhyn, and curiosity of the patriarch.
“Leniency,” he said as he bowed.
“Really?” the patriarch asked.
“Forgive me esteemed patriarch” Tunde started.
“I am not familiar with how you treat matters like this, but I would like to plead, spare his life” he added.
Thalas stared at him with wide eyes, unsure if he should feel insulted by the words coming out of the mouth of the adept he had attempted to end a few hours before. He shifted his gaze from Thalas before continuing.
“I may not know why he hates me with such passion, but right now you need all the power you can get against the surge, and that includes an adept as strong as he is,” he said.
The patriarch said nothing, turning to his two children, Alaric nodding before Lirien did as well, Tunde catching a glance of relief before it hardened back into rage.
“And what says the elders of the clan?” Rowan asked Moros and Joran.
“The wastelander speaks the truth,” Moros said, speaking the words with bitterness.
Joran merely bowed.
“He has a valid point,” he said calmly.
The patriarch nodded.
“The second stage of the surge is now upon us and we cannot tally if we still have the intent to increase our fortunes,” he said.
“We have struck clan Acacia a huge blow, they have lost three peak adepts and an untold number of disciples and initiates” he continued.
Turning to Thalas he spoke.
“As of this moment, you have been stripped of all rights as a true born member of the clan and confiscated to the clan itself till you’re needed to fulfill what responsibilities are left to the clan,” he said.
Turning to Joran, he spoke.
“Members of House Dark Fist are to return to their base and await further instructions from the lords, as agreed, you will act as the first line of defense against incursions from the wasteland,” Rowan said.
“Consider this a reprieve, to be spared by one you considered enemy,” the patriarch said to Thalas, the communication turning off.
The room was thrown back into its usual dimness, a prevailing silence filling the room, Tunde warily watching as Lady Lirien grabbed a chained Thalas with one hand, walking away from the room with Alaric and Moros in tow. They exited, auras spreading as the tiny sky vessel they came in powered up, shooting away.
Joran said nothing, Tunde following him as they made their way back to the swan, landing on the deck, Elyria behind them. Joran turned to her.
“Elder Celia would be waiting for you back at Jade Peak,” he said.
“You just saw what happened in there, still think I’d be safe back at Jade Peak, even as an adept?” she replied.
The elder thought on it, nodding his head.
“Yes, you would,” he said.
Tunde made to talk when he raised one hand.
“They need all the adepts they can lay their hands on, and right now, we need all the allies we can get in Jade Peak, we’re being cut off” Joran explained.
“Cut off?’ Tunde asked.
Elyria turned to him.
“You really think the patriarch would just accept the fact that only the outer members of the clan grew stronger while they lost inner members?” she said.
Tunde nodded thoughtfully.
“Then we have no reason to send her back to Jade Peak, they could attack her, irrespective of the fact that they still do need an adept” he explained.
Joran folded his hands behind him, shaking his head.
“Still, I have to disagree, however, I will not ask this of you without offering something,” he said.
From his void ring came a bunch of blue glowing flowers, the ones that had grown near the source of the glowing water itself. Elyria stared at it in awe her void ring swallowing it almost immediately.
“Just how much of this do you have?” she asked in surprise.
“Enough to assure you that once what I have planned for jade peak is done with, I can smoothen your path to the peak of adept tier” Joran replied.
Tunde turned to Elyria who folded her arms.
“All right, I might be agreeing to this because of the obvious benefits, but the moment I feel any sort of threat against myself, I’m getting out of there,” she said.
“I would have it no other way,” Joran said, inclining his head.
Elyria nodded, pausing before turning to him.
“here’s a better idea, why have one ally when you could have more?” she said.
“What do you have in mind?” Tunde asked her.
****************************
Tunde watched the ship of the clan as it separated for them, all power shooting for Jade Peak itself while theirs headed for black rock, watching as they passed across the borders of the city itself before heading towards the borders of the wastelands where their new home was situated. He, elder Joran, Hagan who had remained closeted within the captain part of the ship, and the few initiates who scurried around.
Tunde sat at the prow of the ship, the drew air blowing past him as he cycled his Ethra, feeling the flow within his body, relieving the battles he had faced within the rift. His mind replayed them perfectly, every life and death situation he had faced, his hands twitching as he remembered how close to death he had come when he faced the lady Zehra.
Snapping his eyes open, he felt the presence of the elder close to him, seated with his legs folded as well, the wind blowing at them.
“Feels just like yesterday, doesn’t it?” he asked.
Tunde nodded.
“Yes, I was a mere initiate looking to make his way within a world I had no understanding of” he replied.
Joran nodded.
“Your ancestry aside, one can only wonder what is going on within the Crystalreach continent,” Joran said.
“I intend to find out too” Tunde replied calmly.
He was angry, angry at what he and his people had gone through, fighting not to bring the memories back to the forefront, but also at the same time calm as well. He had a clear path forward, he knew what he had to do, he had to get stronger. Tunde took a deep breath again, feeling his Ethra cycle through him before Elder Joran spoke.
“Your second affinity” he started.
Tunde glanced at him curiously.
“The convergence hasn’t started,” he said.
Elder Joran smiled at him.
“Look at you, telling me about the convergence,” he said jokingly.
Tunde smiled, bowing his head a bit.
“I learned only from the best,” he said.
“Now you’re just glazing me up” Joran replied shaking his head.
“Have you thought of any affinities you would like?” he asked.
“Vibration Ethra” Tunde replied almost immediately.
Elder Joran glanced at him in surprise.
“That was quick,” he said.
“I’ve seen its capabilities and techniques, versatile, useful in almost any condition, I’d like it” Tunde explained.
The elder gave a hearty laughter, his blindfold eyes crinkling around the upper edges.
“you’ve seen one affinity and suddenly think it’s the best in the world?” the elder asked.
Tunde frowned.
“No, but I do know what it can do, and with my techniques of rift Ethra, I believe it’ll complement each other” he explained.
“So would other affinities I could think of at the back of my mind,” Joran said.
“For example, the affinity of air could give you the speed and reflexes you so much desire in your movements” Joran started.
“Steel could make you stronger, water could make your fighting style more fluid and lightning could make you faster adding more lethal damage to your techniques” Joran explained.
“No, I don’t want an elemental affinity,” Tunde said firmly, sure of it in his gut.
“You want the more of the esoteric ones?, fine,” Joran said.
“Weapon affinities have been tested and trusted, they could get you to the peak of adept in no time and then to lord stage,” Joran said.
Tunde paused, remembering something.
“Why did you lie about the crystal?” he said in a hushed whisper.
Joran stilled before Tunde noticed a ping in his Ark screen, bringing it up.
[we need to be on friendly grounds before we discuss it] Joran wrote to him.
Tunde nodded before glancing behind him.
[what happens when you advance to lord and the clan finds out?] he asked.
[then we prepare to defend what’s ours] Joran replied grimly.
[us against the entirety of Jade Peak?] Tunde asked incredulously.
Joran shrugged.
[probably] he wrote back.
Tunde swallowed carefully, thinking it through, glancing at the elder who still maintained his posture and wondered at just what he was planning. The warnings of artificer Borus and Elyria still rang in his mind, cultivators didn’t help out of the goodness of their hearts, but he couldn’t figure out just what the elder wanted.
[we cannot drag the innocents into this] he wrote back allowing himself to be calm.
Elder Joran gave no reply, Tunde dropping the matter reluctantly.
***************************
They got close to black rock, staring at the large stronghold that glittered under the sun of the wastelands. The forgotten mines were totally gone and in their place was a marvel of construction itself, black walls that stretched as far as the eyes could see circularly, built like a mini fortress and replica of jade peak city, the single stronghold in the middle rose to the skies, Tunde watching tiny figures flutter around it, carrying equipment with them.
Totally in awe, he watched as elder Joran froze, turning into the distance as he spoke.
“What is he doing here?” he said warily.
Tunde turned in the direction of the elder, watching a sleek grey sky vessel approach them as it opened up in a manner the ovoid vessels of jade peak did, artificer Borus appearing, a smile on his face and his hands folded behind him.
“The heavens have been kind to you, Tunde,” he said.
Tunde bowed at the artificer.
“This humble adept greets the artificer,” he said.
Borus stepped on the swan, the vessel behind him shrinking to the size of a ring he slipped on his finger, Tunde in awe.
“An adept, your rise has been nothing short of miraculous, surviving so many times I see,” he said.
“Only by the teachings of elder Joran and Shadowfang you forged for me” Tunde replied.
“What brings you here, venerable artificer?” Joran asked, his voice less than friendly.
“Jade peak was becoming too stifling for me, and with the coming second stage of the surge, well, figured a quiet time was on the table for me,” Borus said.
Tunde frowned.
‘I’m afraid you might have come to the wrong place” he said.
“Oh?, and why is that?” Borus asked.
“The surge is coming from the wastelands as well, we could face an incursion,” Joran said.
Borus chuckled.
“Somehow, I believe this place would be safer than Jade Peak” Borus replied.
“What does that mean?” Joran asked.
Borus shrugged.
“Just a hunch, besides, are you rejecting the services of an artificer?’ he asked.
Tunde hastily bowed as Joran did as well.
“Please, excuse our manners, the artificer is most welcome here for as long as he likes,” Tunde said.
“Good, now I believe I owe you a tale about that relic of yours, don’t I?” Borus said.