The skies above the city made of sand and glass within the deepest parts of the wasteland roiled with black fire and lightning wreathed together. The temperature had gone from cool to close to boiling as the Ethra in the air was dominated by one specific concept, the concept of the royal clan of the Talahan empire itself, the Blitzfire tempest.
It scorched the air as it made the sand below lord Aerin’s feet brittle, crunching as she tore through the already abandoned street and towards the cultivators of the wasteland themselves. Servants of the wasteland king who himself was in battle against her adepts, the flames above had been conjured by Varis Talahan, lord of the empire and descendant of the clan himself, his core no doubt a peak-grade core from the strength of the technique he had unleashed.
She withdrew her silver blade, her Ethra coating it in a smooth sharp cover that hummed silently as she felt the figures that surrounded her. Adept ranked but all sporting some form of mutation of the other from absorbing the cores of the creatures within the wastelands. They weren’t Corespawns, that much she knew seeing as they willingly summoned said parts of their bodies, a large clawed hand here, a stinger there, sharp mandibles.
Leading them was a man whose body began to clink as black shining carapaces took form on him, covering him in armor that glinted even under the flames of the tempest itself. The figure stopped in the distance, Aerin feeling her adepts surround her in an instant, blood coating their bodies and their weapons drenched in it.
“This attack will not go unforgiven,” the carapace figure said calmly.
Aerin spoke, her voice tight but strong.
“You and your king broke your oath to the empire,” another figure said, landing with the charred husks of two people in his hands.
Clenching them together, the skulls exploded within his fists, dusting them as he folded his hands behind him, the flames above reaching a crescendo.
“You escaped the last time, I won’t repeat that mistake again,” the carapace figure said as sharp serrated claws appeared on his armored hands, glowing with venom.
Varis Talahan blazed to life with fire and lightning, the black color of the former contrasting with the very blue of the latter, his eyes now flaming orbs of fury.
“I will not ask again, first claw,” Varis said.
“Where is the king?” Varis asked.
The first claw shot towards the lord of the Talahan clan with blitzing speed, the both of them clashing as claw met with blade, both sides exchanging blows even as the adept cultivators met with the adepts of the Heralds.
“Filthy beast blood cultivators!” one of her adepts said as he swung his aura imbued hammer, smashing the skull of an adept beast blood like a watermelon.
Beast blood cultivators, the name given to those who successfully integrate the cores of beasts into their advancements rather than the abominations that became Corespawns. It was a feat reserved for a few within the wastelands, and their king was reputably a cultivator who had perfected it as well.
Aerin slashed at the adepts, easily lobbing off heads as even more and more began to appear out of nowhere, from the very sands themselves, swarming over them. Varis hissed in irritation Aerin’s eyes widened as he raised one hand and the first claw shot backward, his body compressed together in a ball.
“To me!” she shouted at her adepts who surrounded her.
Before Varis brought the hand back down, she threw a talisman in the air, the item shimmering before a large blue barrier covered them, the lord dropping his hand. The tempest fell with a detonation, tearing across the landscape as it turned everything unprotected into ashes, destroying a portion of the city to brittle glass. It took a while for it to clear, and when it did, Varis stood there, turning to glance at Aerin as the barrier shattered into glass before evaporating into Ethra.
“a little warning next time,” she said.
Varis inclined his head apologetically, turning to face the first claw who got to his feet, carapace badly burnt but already healing just as rapidly, a grin on his face.
“You orthodox cultivators,” he said as he raised both hands, the sands below them shaking as the glassy layer cracked and shattered.
Large forms rose out, tier 4 Sandshards glowing under the now visible sun, staring down at them with malice in their eyes.
“He wanted you to waste your dominion, nice work Talahan,” Aerin said irritably.
Varis pulled out a black sword from his void ring that burned with black flame Ethra, the weapon singing through the air as the Ethra around him caught fire as well, pointing it at the creatures before swinging his blade. Cascading flames burned through the air as the Sandshards spat both venom and sharp sand at the attack, the flames eating them up before landing on the creatures that screamed in agony as they were eaten up.
The skies roiled once again as Varis summoned lightning, going dark when Aerin added her dominion to it as well, her aura expanding as the very air around them became as sharp as blades, pointed at the first claw who snarled in rage, his aura taking shape into that of a large Sandshard.
“you’ll pay for that!” he roared.
From the sands below came hundreds of adept beast bloods, rising as if in waiting before falling on them, Aerin gripped her silver blade tight and prepared herself. Whatever the cost, no matter how many of the beast bloods she would have to cut through, and even if she would have the rip the heart out of the chest of the first claw himself, she would complete her mission.
**************************
Tunde woke up feeling refreshed and relaxed, blinking slowly as he sat up, he surveyed the room, realizing it was nighttime. Ethra light crystals illuminated the entirety of black rock, casting it in an Ethereal glow, as he got up and went to the window, staring at his side of the rock. It wasn’t his literally, but from there he could see a portion of the little buildings that dotted the surrounding area around the stronghold itself, not everyone could live within the stronghold that was even now still being slowly expanded, the large excavation site in the distance where the same black rock that had been used to build their new home lay.
Breeze blowing gently, he tightened his robes, making his way out of his room and through the throngs of cultivators and random people he hadn’t seen before, greeting frequently as they realized whom he was before descending to the lower levels where the training hall, as well as other quarters lay. He paused as he stopped a disciple, one he wasn’t familiar with who bowed at him, asking if he knew where the forge was, the disciple pointed in a direction, Tunde making his way out of the main stronghold itself and into the surrounding buildings.
It didn’t get past him that black rock was looking less like a single house base and more like a burgeoning city just finding its feet, actually seeing Baron Dale’s point. The elder was doing too much, even Tunde could see it, this wasn’t subtle, this was a big proclamation to the clan that you were going your way, the only question was, why now?. He was in the last place to complain really, Tunde had been a recipient of said process, the elder using him as a focal point to press his gains.
Looking at the throngs of average people who couldn’t even be called cultivators that had come along with the members of Red Blossom house, he realized just how truly fortunate he was, and the grim words of Thorne. Cultivators didn’t do things out of the goodness of their hearts, the elder made use of him the same way Tunde had in all sense and purpose made use of the elder, the both of them gaining significantly from their alliance with each other.
He had the strength of an adept now, a soulbound weapon, and a powerful relic whose origins he was about to go find out. The elder had taken the attention of himself to acquire the necessary items he would need to get to lord stage, a base of his own that given time, he would be able to defend by the forces he had gathered as well. Tunde paused as he got closer to a place that was slowly shaping up to look like a market, the ringing sounds of hammer on metal coming from the distance.
He hadn’t come close to finding out the secrets of the relic or his past as he had thought, nevertheless, he was getting there, and all he had to do was survive the coming surge. Taking a deep breath, he moved towards the smithy, opening the door as a blast of hot air assailed him, surprise on his face to find Draven there, hammering at a weapon with the overseeing eyes of artificer Borus watching him. Both raised their heads as he entered, Tunde pausing as they saw him, Draven dipping the blade he had been forging into a water so saturated with Ethra that it reflected in its color.
It bubbled as the blade went from soot black to glowing red.
“Fire imbuement” Borus said.
“Congratulations, forgesmith Draven” he added.
“Forgesmith?” Tunde asked.
Draven nodded with a smile.
“Since we both know I don’t have a calling as a ranker, might as well be useful to the house” he replied.
Tunde gave a tight smile, bowing at the artificer in greeting, Borus inclining his head at him in return, turning to Draven, the artificer spoke gently.
“Repeat the procedure over and over till you manage to improve the grade of imbued weapon you can make, I need to speak with your adept in private,” he said.
Draven bowed at him softly, turning to Tunde before speaking.
“You must come to the wedding ceremony, it’ll mean the world to me,” he said.
Tunde patted him affectionately on the shoulder.
“wouldn’t miss it for anything” he replied.
Draven left the smithy with the still red blade, Tunde watching him go into the night, a certain hop of pride in his steps.
“That’s the first imbued weapon your house has created,” Borus said as Tunde turned to him.
“Should cut down on the exorbitant cost you’re paying the merchant” he added.
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“Why did you take him as your apprentice?” Tunde asked.
Borus raised one eyebrow as he used his metal arm to lift a large slab of metal, Ethra coating his entire arm in some sort of blistering heat. He turned on his Ethra sight, watching the Ethra as it diluted like syrup but burned hotter than any fire he had ever seen before.
“Plasma Ethra,” Borus said as Tunde snapped his eyes at him.
“No need subtly checking with those eyes of yours,” he said.
Tunde said nothing, folding his hands behind him.
“I decided to pay you back for your hospitality, besides” Borus continued as he cut the metal in two, dipping one into a blue burning fire.
“he’s hardly a forgesmith, not unless he either goes to train with the guild or really wants to devote himself to me” the artificer completed.
“And are you going to train him?’ Tunde asked lightly.
Borus shrugged.
“His decision, do you think he has the drive to make the sacrifices required?” Borus replied as he raised his metal arm for him to see.
“That’s one of the requirements?” Tunde asked.
“More or less, depends on the preference of the person in question really,” Borus said, staring at the flames before turning to him.
“But that’s not why you’re here, come, our tale is a long one,” he said, making his way into the inner rooms.
Tunde stared at the door before following a heartbeat later, entering the inner sanctuary of the artificer. It was a cool place despite the blistering heat of the forge, Tunde sitting on a leather seat as the elder poured wine from a glass container.
“Plasma Ethra, is it a concept or an affinity?” he asked.
Borus glanced at him for a second before a soft smile graced his lips.
“Why?, thinking to make it your second affinity?’ he said.
Tunde shrugged.
“If it’s worth it” Tunde replied.
Borus chuckled, handing him the wine as Tunde’s sight went through it, he wasn’t sure what exactly he was looking for, but he had to be careful.
“You really think I’d poison the first adept of a new house?” Borus asked.
Tunde gave a tight-lipped smile at the artificer.
“can’t be too sure, too trusting, you taught me that” he replied as he sipped from it.
The liquid tasted like honey in his mouth but burned slightly down his throat.
“Elysian wine, imported from Silvershade, quite expensive, two hundred thousand a bottle,” he said.
Tunde nearly choked as his eyes widened, glancing at the wine sitting on the table before turning back to the artificer who grinned.
“Perks of being an artificer,” he said.
“Back to your earlier question” Borus continued.
“Concepts, affinities, both are interchangeable really,” he said as he faced Tunde, dropping his glass cup.
“What do you mean?” Tunde asked.
The artificer paused for a second, as if thinking of how to explain easily before speaking.
“Over the periods of your advancements, you will understand that concepts are simply two affinities merged to become a greater affinity” he explained.
Tunde stared confused at that, concepts were two affinities come together to create something bigger, better, would they reduce in strength to become an affinity again?. The elder waved his hand dismissively.
“don’t think too much about it,” he said.
“My point is, the concept of plasma as you will later learn of it, is one whose origins even I myself have no idea, I was bestowed with it on my advancement to artificer,” Borus said.
“a bestowment,” Tunde said.
“Yes, you know of it, yes?” Borus asked.
“Yes, the process of obtaining another affinity or as I’m hearing for the first time, concept either by Ethra duplication or congealment” Tunde explained.
“Precisely, although I haven’t heard of any plasma affinity congealment for centuries, and even if it happens, the guilds are quick to obtain it by any means necessary” Borus explained.
Tunde raised an eyebrow.
“Any means necessary?” he asked.
“Yes, any means, exactly what you’re thinking” Borus replied with a nod.
“You see, for all the fairness that the world of Adamath and all its powers preach, some things are considered properties of some very powerful organizations, such as the cults,” Borus said.
“For example, plasma concept is one of those, the technocrats or artificer’s guild as you know them consider theirs.” He continued.
“The Heralds consider the battle concept theirs, not sure on the wardens, but I’ve heard of something known as the nature concept,” Borus said.
“So, anyone with it without being in their cults would die?” Tunde asked.
It sounded ludicrous and a blatant misuse of power, but who would hold them accountable?.
“Oh no, they’d offer you to join their ranks, something so rare that no one in their right minds would decline,” Borus said.
“And if one does decline?” Tunde asked, already knowing the answer.
“Well, the world wouldn’t perish if one cultivator is taking off its face would it?” Borus said.
Tunde slowly digested it.
“And the convergence is coming,” he said softly.
Borus nodded at him.
“don’t obtain any affinity or concepts that would put me in the crosshairs of the cults” he added.
“Good, you learn fats, but it’s too late for that if you ask me,” Borus said sipping on his wine again.
“What do you mean?” Tunde asked softly.
Borus sighed, dropping the glass before folding his arms, muscles on the flesh arm rippling as he spoke.
“Before I say anything, I want to make it clear to you that all I’m about to tell you is considered taboo” he started.
“Then why tell me?” Tunde asked.
“Because you want something from me,” he thought quietly to himself.
“Because you’re so rare a product that you dying from ignorance would go against everything I believe in as an archivist” the artificer replied.
“What does that mean?” Tunde asked curiously.
“None of your business,” Borus said, shutting down that train of thought.
“What you should be bothered about is how much of a blessing and frankly, curse, you now have on your head” he continued.
Borus pointed at him.
“Before you touched the relic, what affinity did you possess?” he asked.
“None,” Tunde said softly.
“Exactly, all you have, or will ever be, comes from your relationship with that relic,” Borus said as he snapped his fingers.
A dome of aura surrounded them, cutting out any noise from the outside.
“In our world, in a time long past when not even records existed outside of a certain tightly guarded place in a location I will not mention to you, powerful creatures roamed our world” Borus stared.
The air in front of him shimmered, shapes forming as eight shapes took form.
A large winged creature with three faces, glowing with golden light, a large humanoid creature with four hands holding weapons, but before Tunde could spy the rest, they vanished, leaving only one darkened shape, a canine looking creature with a serpentine body.
“It is said, that these creatures created Adamath during the first age, if that is true, I have no idea, but they once existed,” Borus said.
“Each of these creatures would go on to be worshiped as deities more or less, by throngs of thousands who would then come to serve under them as cults”
Tunde’s eyes widened at that as the artificer nodded.
“Yes, the eight cults as we know them,” Borus said.
“they’ve existed from the first age?” Tunde asked.
“Yes, but before I go on, swear on your soul that all I’m about to tell you wouldn’t leave this place or be told to another person, unless I’m dead, that is,” the artificer said with all seriousness in his voice.
“I swear it” Tunde responded, feeling the oath bind him tightly.
Borus watched for a few seconds before nodding.
“Good, now that was a lie,” he said as Tunde stared shocked and confused.
“Oh, not the whole cults surviving from the first age, just the part about the creatures and their shapes, no one really knows what they look like,” Borus said.
Tunde stared into the eyes of the artificer and came to a drastic realization himself, one he kept hidden as he nodded at Borus.
“So what is the truth?” he asked.
“The truth is that these creatures were the first beings to ever grace the planet of Adamath, they brought along with them, or rather, opened the path for the myriad of races of the first age,” Borus said.
“Races?” Tunde asked.
“Yes, the blood-drinking Sangrevoirs, the human-beast hybrids called Beastwalkers, the flying lizards known as dragons, among a few others,” Borus said.
“And what happened to them?” Tunde asked.
“I’m getting to that,” Borus said, Tunde watching him.
“These beasts were more or less, walking beacons of power that could shape reality to their very whims, and wherever there’s power, you will find cultivators,” Borus said.
“Entire organizations, forming under the banners of these sentient beast beings, trying to further whatever the goals of these beings, naturally, rivalries would spring up” the artificer continued.
“However, one of these beings was considered the most powerful due to what it could do”
“It was called the realm walker,” Borus said.
“Realm walker” Tunde echoed.
“Yes, that’s its title you see, its true name however would trigger that relic on your wrists seeing as it’s literally a part of the creature,” Borus said lightly.
Tunde did a double take of the relic, the black band sitting on his wrist with caution.
“Legend says that it was only through the realm walker’s help were the other beasts and races able to bring in their people from their respective worlds,” Borus said.
“There are other worlds out there?’ Tunde asked.
“Not that I have concrete evidence, but yes, most of the lesser evolved creatures on Adamath aren’t native to it, that much I can tell you, but I digress,” Borus said, pausing.
“The point is, they all came together to bring down the realm walker” he continued.
“Some records say that a few of the beasts, like the warmonger and the world forests, subtly helped the realm walker, but even they at some point wanted its power”
Getting up, the artificer stretched his hand to the glass container with the wine, the object flying to his palm in a deft display of some technique Tunde had no idea of before sitting again.
“At the end of the day, somehow, the realm walker not only banished most of the races to another realm, some place of eternal war and darkness, but was able to weaken the beasts that greed and rage caused the cultivators under them to rebel,” Borus said.
“Even those under the realm walker?” Tunde asked.
Borus smiled.
“You assume greed isn’t universal,” he said.
“There is no black and white, yes, even them too” he added.
“However, theirs was one ordered by the walker itself, to keep its remains away from greedy and covetous hands, meaning the hegemons”
Tunde paused at that.
“The hegemons are real?” he asked.
Borus chuckled.
“I should hope so, or all these pointless rivalries going on for hundreds of years would be foolish,” he said.
Tunde swallowed, draining what was left in his glass container before speaking.
“They wanted the remains?” he said.
“Yes, and they got it, fashioning them into powerful weapons, and then all realizing the same thing at once,” Borus said.
“What?” Tunde asked.
“The same thing every powerful hungry cultivator wants, more power,” Borus said.
“They realized that Adamath wasn’t enough for them, and they wanted what laid beyond it, perhaps to go back to whatever worlds or realms they came from, we’d never know” he continued.
“The point is, suddenly, they all had the same enemy again,” Tunde said.
“Precisely, the hegemon of the realm walker, Luwaye the abyssal seeker,” Borus said.
“The cult of the abyssal seekers,” Tunde said softly.
“Yes, all the cults are named after their first and only hegemons. Luwaye, Baelthor, Mekrandor, Astradriel, the list goes on” Borus said pausing.
Tunde’s mind was a well of knowledge, so much to assimilate that he took a moment to take it in.
“you’re saying this is one of Luwaye’s relics?” Tunde asked, raising the wrist up.
“Yes, and only one if my knowledge serves me right, the rest of the body of the beast is lost to us, except of course, somehow, you managed to find a piece of the bone of the walker, added into your body tempering process,” Borus said.
Tunde wasn’t sure what to say to that.
“Quite the peculiar friend you have in her, Elyria, a very valuable one,” Borus said again.
“How?’ Tunde could only ask.
“Not my story to tell you, ask her yourself” he replied.
Tunde nodded quietly. Eyes filled with questions.
“Luwaye was killed, or so the records ended, his regents, Shango, Ogun, and the other powerful cultivators he had under him scattering into the winds, their legacy broken and the relic along with the remains of the realm walker vanishing along with them,” Borus said.
Sighing as he got up again, making his way to the table of drinks.
“Tales said the hegemons are still searching for it, for any of those with the blood of Luwaye, your people,” Borus said.
“Miria,” Tunde thought.
“It was why you were treated like slaves, why your people were left to seek what was lost, the knowledge of your true heritage lost to time, and why even the slightest rumor of that relic would lead to forces so powerful that they could wipe out jade city in a blink and turn it to another wasteland would descend on you” he warned gravely.
Tunde stared at the relic in abject silence, shock, unbelief, so many emotions running through him all at once.
“Now you tell me, is it a blessing or a curse?’ Borus said softly.
Tunde got up without a word, bowing at the artificer and leaving wordlessly, closing the door behind him. He found himself walking almost without direction, realizing he had made it all the way back to black rock stronghold itself, finding himself in his room. The words echoed in his head, the tales, the supposed history of his people, he found himself on his knees, watching as people settled for the night, body shuddering as tears ran down his face in silence.
******************************
Artificer Borus poured himself another helping of the wine, a soft smile on his face, that had been emotional but interesting. The kid really knew nothing, and he’d prefer it that way anyway, it was soon time for the reaping, the second cycle of the surge would soon be upon them. Borus smiled as he brought up his Ark screen, typing a single word to Tunde, a name, one of the very beast whose bones he wielded. Good tidings were coming, and he was going to obtain a massive bounty.