"Sunfire berries, Breezeleaf herbs, hundred-year wall tree bark—these guys really did rob a fortune from merchants and travelers," Thorne muttered, dropping yet another rare item into the cauldron.
Tunde stood inside the cauldron, watching as the water began to bubble and boil, his gaze flickering between Thorne and Elyria, who was eyeing him with a mix of doubt and concern. He didn’t find her uncertainty particularly reassuring.
“So, you’re sure you know what you’re doing, right?” Elyria asked Thorne, probably for the tenth time.
Thorne sighed, clearly exasperated. “Yes. Maybe. Nothing bad can come from adding all these essences, fruits, and herbs.”
“Which, by the way, are probably rare and hard to find, especially this close to the wastelands,” he added, almost as an afterthought.
“Too much of anything isn’t good for him,” Elyria cautioned.
“I trust Thorne,” Tunde said with a faint smile, trying to inject some confidence into the situation. Thorne blinked at him, nonplussed.
“Then you must be stupid,” Thorne replied bluntly, while Elyria shook her head in dismay.
Tunde wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “For trusting you to help me with the tempering?” he asked.
“For trusting anyone at all,” Thorne shot back immediately. “I’ve told you; this is the world of Rankers. Adamath is not a place for the meek or the gentle. Believe me, I learned that the hard way.”
He punctuated his words by tossing another handful of items into the cauldron with a forceful motion. The water boiled furiously now, the ingredients dissolving into it as the heat began to seep into Tunde’s body. Elyria stepped closer, a large bone appearing in her hand. It radiated a palpable sense of strength. Thorne noticed and turned to her with curiosity.
“Where did you get something with such dense earth and strength essence?” he asked.
“My continent. It’s something I found. Never mind,” she said dismissively as she dropped the bone into the cauldron.
Thorne looked like he was itching to ask more questions but decided against it. He shrugged and turned back to Tunde. “Count your blessings. It seems your tempering is going to yield some remarkable results,” he said.
“That bone was undoubtedly from a tier 3 or 4 creature. Too valuable to waste on an initiate, but far be it from me to complain,” Thorne added.
“You just did,” Elyria pointed out.
Thorne muttered something unintelligible under his breath as he took out three small balls—one glowing softly red, another green, and the third yellow.
“Since we’re being so generous with rare and valuable items, let it not be said I did nothing,” he grumbled.
Tunde almost smiled, but the serious look on Thorne’s face convinced him to keep it to himself.
“These are refined essence orbs,” Thorne explained. “The red one is—”
“Blood essence,” Tunde interrupted, his Ethra eyes identifying the energy within the orbs.
“Essence. We call it essence,” Thorne corrected. “Just because everything is made up of Ethra doesn’t mean we should call it that.”
“But you called the bone an item of strength and earth Ethra,” Tunde pointed out.
Thorne paused, caught off guard. “You think you know better than me now, do you?” he retorted.
Tunde quickly shook his head, while Elyria chuckled softly.
“Essence or Ethra, it doesn’t really matter, at least not to most Rankers. Just don’t call it Ethra in front of alchemists—they’ll lose their minds,” Elyria warned.
Tunde nodded in understanding.
“Anyway, the blood essence will enrich your body. It’s typically used by adepts and sometimes peak Disciples,” Thorne continued.
“Then why are you giving it to me?” Tunde asked, alarmed. He remembered Elyria mentioning something about his heart potentially exploding if he used items above his level.
“Because the cauldron acts as a buffer. It’ll help regulate the energy, but you’ll need to stay vigilant. Follow the Ethra cultivation technique I taught you,” Thorne replied.
Tunde steeled himself. These two didn’t seem like the type to waste resources on someone unless it was in their best interest. He felt his heart start to pound harder as he began to stagger under the growing pressure.
“It’s starting. Sit in the cultivation posture,” Thorne commanded.
“The water,” Tunde hissed. It was getting uncomfortably hot.
“You’re an initiate now. It’ll only sting. Focus before you pass out,” Thorne snapped, shoving the three orbs into Tunde’s mouth.
As the orbs dissolved, an overwhelming surge of energy shot straight to his heart. He sat in the lotus position, his body drenched in sweat as the heat intensified. He tried to control his breathing, but the pain lanced from his heart to every corner of his body, making it difficult to focus.
“Let your heart guide the way. Let it carve its path through your body,” Thorne’s voice echoed in his mind, almost as if he were in a trance.
Tunde’s body felt like it was burning from the inside out, as though liquid fire was coursing through his veins, forcing its way through where there had been no path before. His head throbbed painfully, his vision swimming as his body slowly opened up to the essence within the cauldron. All he could hear was the relentless pounding of his heart, drawing in the essence and pushing it through his veins. He felt his manacle hum to life, somehow refining the essence and easing the strain of the immense power surging through him.
Sharp flashes of pain erupted in his brain as his bones cracked in countless tiny places, the strength and earth essence seeping into the fractures. He was on the verge of losing consciousness, biting his tongue to keep himself awake, breathing steadily as he fought to maintain control. He suppressed the screams that threatened to escape, tears streaming silently down his face.
“Nothing comes easy on Adamath. Pain comes before strength, and strength before power. Let that be your mantra. You cannot afford to be weak,” Thorne intoned.
Tunde lost track of time, his body continuing to draw in the energy around him. What had once felt like an overwhelming force trying to crush him now became a desperate hunger in his heart, urging him to absorb more. Still, he pressed on.
***************************
Thorne tossed another batch of herbs, pills, and elixirs into the cauldron, his movements swift and deliberate. Elyria’s eyes widened with concern as she watched the concoction brew.
“He’s been in there for an hour,” she whispered, her voice laced with worry.
“The real question is, how is his body handling it all?” Thorne murmured in reply.
Black veins coursed through Tunde’s chocolate skin, pulsing ominously as the once-full cauldron neared emptiness, its contents almost completely absorbed.
“Think it has something to do with that relic?” Elyria asked, her tone hushed.
Thorne nodded thoughtfully. “Nothing else could explain it. A relic with the power to slice through reinforced metal and Rankers, and still refine and strengthen the Ethra and essences the cultivator uses? I’m jealous,” he chuckled.
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Elyria remained silent for a moment, the weight of their conversation settling between them.
“No doubt, it belonged to some master or paragon—Hegemons forbid it’s the weapon of a Regent or Hegemon,” she whispered.
“If it is, he’s as good as dead. If anyone finds out, they’ll hand him over to whichever clan or power controls that relic,” Thorne replied grimly.
They lapsed into silence, their eyes fixed on Tunde as he continued to absorb the items in the cauldron. The once towering pile of initiate-grade items had dwindled significantly, and the pile meant for Disciples was about to follow. Suddenly, Tunde’s body gave a loud, resounding beat.
“Finally,” Thorne muttered as black fluids began to leak from Tunde’s body, the stench so foul that Elyria gagged.
**********************
Tunde was jarred out of his meditation by the most revolting smell he had ever encountered. Gagging, he snapped his eyes open and leaped out of the cauldron, only to crash headfirst into the cave ceiling. He landed with a thud, pain briefly flashing through his skull. Before he could even gather his thoughts, Thorne and Elyria were dousing him with buckets of water, which had been neatly stacked near barrels. After several minutes of intense scrubbing, Elyria realized Tunde was stark naked and quickly excused herself. He hastily dressed his newly cleansed body.
Tunde could feel the power coursing through him, the Ethra flowing within his heart and veins, filling his blood with a near-invincible strength. His euphoria was short-lived as Thorne landed what he called a “light punch” to Tunde’s chest, sending him crashing into the wall with enough force to crack a rib. Struggling to his feet, he felt his body rapidly healing the injury, his broken bones mending back into place.
“Anything broken?” Thorne asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
“Not anymore,” Tunde replied, awe evident in his voice.
Thorne nodded approvingly. “You can thank Elyria for that bone. It’ll take a lot for an initiate to break your bones now—Disciples will have to be serious, too.”
Tunde turned to Elyria as she re-entered the room, bowing deeply. His eyes were wide with gratitude. “Thank you, both of you, for everything.”
Elyria muttered something under her breath, smiling softly, while Thorne snorted.
“You can repay us by not dying,” he said.
Tunde stood straight, his gaze firm and resolute. “I won’t fail. I will uncover the truth about my people and find a way home. I will grow stronger, no matter how high the climb.”
Thorne grinned. “Good. Now, let’s see how bad you are with a weapon.”
Taking up the weapon Thorne had given him earlier, Tunde followed him to a corner of the cave.
“Attack me,” Thorne ordered, his tone leaving no room for hesitation.
Tunde lunged at him, blade swinging as he activated his Ethra eyes. It was a blessing not to have his weapon siphoning his Ethra, his body still pounding with newfound power. He swung the blade with all his strength, trying to use his Ethra sight to find a weakness in Thorne’s defenses. But his efforts were in vain; there was nothing to exploit. Frustrated, he aimed for Thorne’s skull—a grave mistake. He barely had time to register the movement before Thorne parried the blade with his bare hand and slammed his other hand into Tunde’s midsection. Tunde crashed to the ground in a heap, blinking back tears as he struggled to breathe.
“Most times, Rankers will try to cut off your flow,” Thorne explained, his voice calm. “By flow, I mean the way you breathe during battle. If they disrupt that, your Ethra goes haywire.”
“Your techniques and fighting style become useless, you’re disoriented, and you can barely fight back. You die,” Thorne concluded.
Wiping drool from his mouth, Tunde struggled to his feet and nodded. “What can I do?”
“Make sure they don’t disrupt your flow. Learn to fight better. Besides, something tells me you’re not exactly skilled with weapons,” Thorne said dryly.
“I killed the bandits,” Tunde protested.
“Yes, you did, and you were flailing around so badly that it was pure luck you didn’t die,” Thorne replied, watching as shame filled Tunde’s eyes.
Seeing his reaction, Thorne quickly added, “No need to look so glum. They were probably using some shoddy sand fighting style.”
“Fighting styles are methods of combat modeled after Ethra types, suited to whatever affinity the user has,” Thorne explained further.
Elyria spoke up from where she was storing the remaining items back into her void ring. “I follow the iron metal fighting style,” she said simply.
“And I once followed the heavy blade fighting style,” Thorne added.
“How do I get one?” Tunde asked, curiosity piqued.
“First, we need to figure out what type of Ethra you use. We’re not entirely sure if it’s light or heat,” Thorne said.
“And that can only be done in the city,” Elyria added.
Letting the matter drop, Tunde returned to relishing the sensation of Ethra flowing through his body, his heart filled to the brim with energy. He suddenly got the idea to use his Ethra eyes to scan the cave, wondering why he hadn’t thought of it before. As he walked around, he observed the sand and dust Ethra that filled the entire space, spending some time monitoring how much Ethra it took him to maintain the sight. To his surprise, the ability barely drew from his heart, meaning he could keep it active almost indefinitely. Soon enough, they finished their preparations, and the journey continued.
They pushed forward through the vast wastelands, pausing for water breaks in between—mostly Elyria and Tunde, as Thorne barely needed to drink. Along the way, they encountered Sandshards and other wasteland creatures, mostly tier 1 and 2. Thorne left most of the fighting to Elyria and Tunde, though it was mostly Tunde who faced the creatures. With Elyria and Thorne offering advice, Tunde spent the majority of his time honing his Ethra sight to pick out the minute details of the creatures.
Despite a few close calls—like the time he nearly lost an arm to a Sandshard’s pincers—Tunde began developing a sense for when he was getting too close to danger. His battle instincts, as Thorne and Elyria called them, were slowly sharpening. While most powerful fighters had honed theirs to perfection, Tunde was just beginning, as evidenced by the deep gashes and injuries he accumulated. With each victory, he absorbed the Ethra with his relic, watching as it sent some to his heart, which continued steadily pumping Ethra through his body.
Then Thorne gave him an impossible task: cultivating while fighting.
“What if you run out of Ethra mid-fight?” Thorne asked.
Tunde was tempted to say he’d run away, but he stopped himself—such an answer would be cowardly. Determined, he continued his battles with the wasteland creatures, the fights now hellishly prolonged as he maintained his cultivation. The close calls increased, but so did his reaction time, his battle instincts growing with each encounter. When he wasn’t fighting creatures, he was either coaxing Elyria to train him or sparring with Thorne, who seemed all too happy to thrash him, claiming it was to test the limits of his body.
Tunde wasn’t sure it was healthy to admit, but he was slowly beginning to look forward to the fights. Perhaps they distracted him from thoughts of home, of his people who were killed. Between fighting, meditating, and sleeping, he was managing just fine. His first real test came in the middle of the night, as they camped in another cave. A new group of bandits attacked them, but Tunde’s battle instincts warned him, and he was up in a flash, rolling away from a sand pike and landing a crushing blow to the skull of an initiate bandit.
The head exploded like a ripe fruit, blood splattering everywhere. Tunde fought to keep his stomach from turning, picked up the initiate’s blade, and jumped into the fray. Whether these bandits were friends of the ones they had previously fought, Tunde couldn’t tell, but this group had no adepts among them—just two Disciples and ten initiates. Activating his Ethra sight, Tunde threw himself into their ranks, dodging, hacking, and slicing. Without any techniques.
Activating his Ethra sight, Tunde threw himself into their ranks, dodging, hacking, and slicing. Without any formal techniques to rely on, he simply empowered his body with Ethra, immersing himself in the rhythm of the battle. His strikes were raw, unrefined, but powerful—each swing of his blade fueled by the relentless flow of energy coursing through his veins.
He was vaguely aware that he was taking lives, but he shoved that thought to the back of his mind, resolving to deal with it later. Right now, survival was all that mattered. As he decapitated the last of the bandits, he staggered back, breathing heavily. Applause rang out from Thorne, who was watching with an approving grin, while Elyria observed him with a calm, steady gaze.
“Injuries are healed, you kept your cool, and you maintained your breathing technique,” Thorne remarked, his tone one of approval.
Tunde nodded, his mind still reeling from the intensity of the battle. He moved to the side and vomited, expelling the remnants of the meal they had eaten earlier. Elyria patted him on the back gently as he rinsed his mouth and stood straight, nodding in appreciation.
“Thank you,” Tunde muttered, his voice hoarse.
Thorne, however, was unfazed. “Pick the bodies for valuables. Anything you find is yours—you earned it.”
Tunde turned to the bodies, his Ethra eyes scanning for anything useful. He found a thousand lumen coins, some endurance and blood balls, and a void sack—the latter being the real treasure. Thorne had previously taught him how to bind a void sack to himself, so he carefully dripped a single drop of blood onto it. The sack opened up, revealing more lumen coins, pills, and even food. When he offered to share the spoils with Thorne and Elyria, they both declined.
“They’re yours. You’ll need them more than we do,” Elyria said with a smile.
“Besides, we need to solidify your stage and prepare you to advance to Disciple,” Thorne added.
The process, as they explained, was straightforward. Tunde would need to reach the peak of the initiate stage by continuously meditating and infusing his heart with more strengthening fruits and elixirs until his heart was ready to advance to Disciple. But to do that, he had to ensure that his body and mind had also reached the peak of the initiate stage.
“If you advance to Disciple while your body is still too weak for that rank, two things could happen,” Thorne explained. “First, your body might not be strong enough to handle the techniques you develop. Second, you’ll be stuck at that rank for a long time, trying to get your body to catch up with your heart.”
“You, on the other hand, have a body already fit for a Disciple,” Thorne continued. “That bone Elyria gave you, along with the essence pills I provided, has pushed your body beyond the middle of the initiate stage. All that remains is for your heart to follow.”
Tunde took their advice seriously, dedicating himself to his training. He absorbed as many initiate fruits, pills, and elixirs as he had accumulated from the bandits, thanking his luck for bringing them his way. While he was still no match for Elyria or Thorne, he had become more than a match for the wasteland creatures, especially those of tier 1 and early tier 2. His life became a cycle of sleeping, training, and meditation as they pushed deeper into the wastelands. By the end of their third day, they finally saw signs of civilization.
In the distance, flying objects could be seen on the horizon.
“We’re approaching a city,” Thorne said as they continued onward, Elyria and Tunde eager to finally reach their destination.