“The only true path to freedom is advancement.”
Unknown regent.
The bright rays of the morning sun illuminated the wastelands, shimmering sands glowing as the heat began to slowly build, for now though, it was cool, the perfect time for the sand blade sect to attack the black stronghold. They had been pushing further and further from their natural home, driven from their oasis deep within the wastelands by the forces of the true king of the wastelands, something they hadn’t expected to happen as there had been some sort of tenuous accords with the de facto ruler of the domain.
All that had changed a few months prior.
It had started with burning black clouds in the skies over a portion of the wastelands, seen from afar and its blistering power felt as well. Then had come a battle that had shaken the very foundations of the entire area as two cultivators of near unfathomable strength clashed. Rakash should know, his spies had informed him of a battle so powerful, that they dared not get closer than a few thousand meters from it or be obliterated.
He had known immediately that the rumors were true, the wasteland king had broken through to the rank of master, pushing past a barrier they had all hoped to the hegemons above would be impossible. It had thrown the entire core of the wastelands into chaos, rival bandit sects vying for supremacy, attempting to gather resources in preparation for the inevitable move of the king himself, his forces gathering strength day by day.
Some of the sects such as the sand raiders, sand serpents, and scourge blades had allied with the king, their entire sects bending the knees and partaking of the foul cultivation methods bestowed by the king through his vassals to them. Rakash would rather die than bend the knee to that abomination, hence, he and his rag-tag team of initiates, disciples, and adepts had gathered themselves together, fighting a retreating battle, demolishing sects along the way they could handle and avoiding those they couldn’t.
The empire wouldn’t accept them with open hands, that much they knew, but they had heard of the destruction of the home of the clan given the authority to protect the empire from the inhabitants of the wastelands. Jade Peak City, the jewel of clan Verdan had fallen, its ashes rising to the skies, seen all the way from the wastelands, and it had been a rousing call for the abandoned cultivators of the wastelands, the abandoned ones pushed to the edges of civilization to gain more grounds for themselves.
Then they heard of black rock.
The impregnable settlement acted as the new warden of the wasteland, a stronghold slowly turning into a city that had repelled an invasion force of both the surge and the creatures of the wastelands, wasting their lives on its black walls with Ethra cannons that shredded tiers 3 and 4 creatures with ease. The first of their forces had gone to test the walls, communication lost with them, the words ‘black cultivator’ and ‘shadow’ had been their last parting words.
More and more sects had gone next, contacts being lost with them, spies reporting back that no signs had been seen of the now lost sects. It had drawn the interest of Rakash, primarily because it lay on the only path straight away from the encroaching forces of the king, besides, Rakash was curious as to who inhabited the stronghold, strong enough to push back the forces of the wastelands so easily.
He didn’t expect to find three cultivators standing in the rising sunlight, as if waiting for them. Drawing his blade, Rakash stepped forwards, watching the figures who stared at him lazily, as if they had seen this scene play out a dozen times. He pointed his blade at them.
“Make a “
“you’ve encroached on the domain of black rock, please, return from where you came,” the female said, cutting him short.
Rakash blinked in surprise, shocked anyone would ever hush him, ire building in him as he looked over them. The female looked a little too bulky for the dainty cultivators of the empire itself, the male at her side though, with his hands folded behind him and a strained smile on his face, his eyes darting to the man at their side looked every way like the cultivators of the empire, although his crest wasn’t the familiar design of clan Verdan.
“The rumors were true then, clan Verdan has fallen?” Rakash asked.
The male nodded, once again glancing at the black bald figure whose eerie eyes that looked like midnight stars were within it. feeling his irritation growing, he spoke.
“The empire is far from here little guardians,” he said, the black man snorting.
“Surrender, inform the leader of your sect to hand over this settlement to the sand blade sect and we will spare you all within it,” he said.
“you’re looking at him,” the calm-looking man said, nodding at the black man who stared at him.
Rakash turned incredulously at the cultivator who maintained his silence, an awkwardness in the air.
“Is this a joke?” he asked, cycling his sand and blade affinities, feeling his lord rank Ethra suffuse his body.
“Please don’t do that,” the lady said with a sigh.
Rakash had heard enough, imbuing his blade as he prepared to swing it. The cultivator with starry eyes was suddenly in front of him, the blinding speed he had used crashing into him as a punch to the gut threw Rakash into the air with the force of a projectile. Sight dizzy, not sure what had just happened, the leader of the sand blade sect gathered his aura feebly, his barely formed core stabilizing as he floated in the air, shaking his head to clear it, wiping blood from his lips.
Glancing down to see what appeared to be two adepts cutting through his forces, he glanced around, looking for the other cultivator. Rakash had never experienced such speed before, the raw power in the punch, his ribs would have been shattered had he not imbued himself first with his sand armor technique. And even at that, the cultivator who was obviously lord rank as well had shattered it with one blow.
“Turn back,” a calm but lethal voice said at his back.
Rakash spun, swinging his blade to release another projection attack, gathering sword Ethra as he did. The attack slammed into the cultivator whose Ethra affinity Rakash still hadn’t seen, or was it strength affinity?. He had heard of cultivators who had affinities that weren’t elemental, close to something the bone affinity users of the flesh wastes farther into the wastelands used.
The cultivator stretched one aura-coated hand out, the attacks crashing into it before seemingly dispelling, flicking his hand dismissively before turning back to Rakash with a look of absolute boredom.
Rakash felt his ire spilling over as he gathered everything that he had, blazing with yellow power, his aura spilling everywhere. He was a lord, albeit a new one, one of the few lords of the wastelands, he would not be disrespected this way. His dominion was a prison made of blowing sands, encapsulating the cultivator.
Sand ripper, he called it. A ball of sand imbued with sword Ethra, it was a form of slow torture he had created as he advanced to lord rank, able to strip the flesh of the bones of any cultivator, it was a slow death, one almost guaranteed for even the hardiest of cultivators he had ever come across. He would bring this ignorant lord down, he would show him the strength of the wastelands, the power of the sand blade sect.
He heard more than felt the attack when it hit him. Feeling his limbs suddenly become weak as his dominion shattered in an explosion, puking blood and glancing down at his chest to see it had caved in. Eyes wide, Rakash tumbled to the ground, his last sight, the floating cultivator wreathed in a black and white aura.
**************************
It had been easy taking out the remaining cultivators of the sand blade sect, Harun and Giselle first wiping out their adepts with surprising ease before taking out any disciple with the idea of facing them. Those who surrendered were rounded up, most of them surrendering without so much as a peep as they shot fearful glances at Tunde who watched passively.
He turned his gaze to the dead lord below, frowning as he floated down, looting his void ring and storing it away before gathering void touch in his hand and gently attaching it to the body of the lord. Nothing remained, not even bones, the technique completely obliterating any traces of the body. He could feel more than hear Harun and Giselle as they made it to his side.
“More than fifty cultivators left, most of them initiates,” Giselle said.
“Send them back the way they came” he replied without looking up.
He could feel Harun’s frown at the back of his head, sighing as he stood straight before turning to them.
“Lady Ryka wouldn’t approve of it,” Gisele said.
“Not in my hands” Tunde replied.
Turning away from the bandits that hung together, he paused, glancing at black rock itself before turning back to them, his voice loud.
“you’ve all been spared” he started.
“Please, head back from where you’re coming, spread the news, don’t let them waste their lives”
A disciple stepped out, bowing his head to the ground as he spoke.
“Venerable lord” he started.
“Death lays that way, the forces of the wasteland king push ever closer” he pleaded.
Tunde swallowed with difficulty, staring at them. A few minutes ago, they had been ready to invade black rock, and yet, with the death of their adepts and lord, left at his mercy. Or rather, the Highlord’s mercy. He turned his gaze yet again to the stronghold within black rock, sure that Varis was watching, the Talahan Highlord looking on, judging him. Tunde turned back to the assembled bandits you could hardly call cultivators, speaking.
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“You will swear on your souls not to harm anyone, you will follow my directives to the letter, you will stay where I put you, jump when I tell you to jump or hegemons help me, nothing will remain of you by the time I’m done with you,” he said.
They all bowed before him in the scorching sun, swearing on their souls as Tunde felt the oath tighten against their hearts. They’d be dead before he could get to them if they committed any offense, dead before they even struck anyways. Nodding, he turned to Giselle who nodded at him in appreciation, Tunde speaking.
“This is the last of the strays we can take in, any more and all of Lady Ryka’s careful planning will go down the drain”
“doesn’t mean we have to let whomever this wasteland king is have them” Harun replied.
Tunde watched as the bandits milled together awkwardly, waiting for orders before he spoke.
“no one is innocent in the wastelands,” he said.
He took to the air on his aura, making his way for black rock, Giselle and Harun could handle them, he had things to do. It took Tunde a few minutes to make it to the walls of black rock, the disciples atop the walls saluting him with a bow as he landed, taking a deep breath. Flying with his aura had come as easily to him as walking, under the brutal tutelage of Varis, Tunde found himself itching for the next step.
“Venerable lord,” a disciple said.
He was a brute of a man, advancement to the rank of disciple hadn’t done much for his looks.
“how’s guard duty for today?” Tunde asked.
The disciple shrugged.
“can’t complain, lord, though it would be nice if we saw some action though, I think the disciples are getting rusty” he replied.
Tunde gave a soft chuckle.
“With the way things are going, soon” Tunde replied as he took in the view.
Black rock had changed, the small settlement with one stronghold had grown into a veritable fortress surrounded by buildings stretching as far as the eyes could see. Most days he could hardly recognize the city around him, flashes of the battle that had taken place still stark in his memories. All that had gone now, and black rock prospered under the gaze of the imperial clan, something that didn’t sit right with Tunde. Nodding at the disciple, he allowed himself to freefall off the wall, taking into account that he was dropping into a populated area.
Aura wrapped around him tightly, he dropped without as much as a sound, melding into the crowd with precision, moving through them as he stopped at a small shop with a worn-out signboard, the name “Ani’s soothing tonic” written on it. he stopped at the shelves, staring at the tier 1 and 2 elixirs as well as the pills that lined them, they were weak and barely refined well, but with no alchemist within the city, this was the best they could come up with after the golden pavilion had moved back to the capital city itself.
Tunde frowned at the train of thought, vanishing it from his head, footsteps moving over at the desk.
“Tier one elixirs or pills go for twenty lumens, tier 2 fifty lumens, anything tier 3 and you’ll have to pay a deposit of two hundred lumens to get the ingredients” a soft voice came from over the desk.
Tunde gave a soft smile.
“What about tier 4?” he asked.
The voice paused, a sucking of breath before rapid footsteps replied, Tunde turning to see the once timid-looking girl step out behind the desk, the round glasses that once looked too big for her now sitting delicately on her face as she gave a bow to him.
“Lord Tunde, it is an honor to see you,” she said breathlessly.
Tunde waved his hand.
“Please, call me Tunde,” he said, glancing behind the desk as she smiled expectantly at him.
“I’ve made progress,” she said.
Tunde raised his eyebrow.
“Is that so?” he asked.
She had been a disciple at the time of the battle that came for black rock, an early ranker. Now though, as she gathered her Ethra, the bright white with specks of gold motes floating within them, Tunde felt the power of a peak adept cultivator. Nodding appreciatively at her, he spoke.
“That is indeed progress,” he said as he could see the Rejuvant beam with the praise.
“she’s been eager to show you,” a voice said from the darkened corners of the shop, somewhere even light couldn’t pierce.
It wasn’t an issue for him with Ethra sight though, but out of respect for the lady there, Tunde had kept it to himself.
“With you being rare to pin down and all, it’s been hard for her” the female voice continued.
“I apologize, I’ve been outside the walls” Tunde replied with a sad smile.
“Oh, we all know, the black wolf of black rock, has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it, lord Tunde?” the female voice said, revealing herself.
Miria was a sight to behold, clad in black robes, her inky black eyes staring at him, some sort of technique caused by her advancement to adept rank, and her hair that seemed to float a few inches off her head, as if in water. Tunde bowed a fraction to her.
“It is an honor to meet with the lady of shadows,” he said calmly.
“Oh no,” Miria protested with a soft voice.
“I’m nothing next to the wolf himself” she added.
“This is my signal to leave I believe,” Ani said, rolling her eyes.
Tunde gave a light chuckle as she hugged him staring at him before speaking.
“don’t lose yourself,” Ani said softly.
Tunde raised an eyebrow, nodding slowly at her as she patted his shoulder gently before leaving the shop, Tunde watching her go.
“Is she safe out like that in the open?” Tunde asked as the doors closed behind her.
“Everyone here takes her as their sibling, plus she knows better than to display her techniques out in the open, no matter the circumstances, she’ll be fine,” Miria said.
“You though” she added, wrapping her hands around his waist.
“Are in dire need of some talking to” she added, a light kiss on his lips.
Tunde frowned.
“What do you mean?” he replied.
Unknotting her hands with a sigh, she gestured at a table for him to sit, moving behind the desks to grab a steaming pot and some cups. Tunde noted the fact that her projected inky black hands had multiplied, something he nodded to.
“you’ve been training,” he said.
“With the way you constantly scream at us about the coming war, it’ll be hard not to” she replied.
“The only way for us to be safe- “
“Is to be stronger, yes, yes, I’ve heard those lines before” Miria cut in, placing the cups on the table.
A delicious fruity smell filled the entire room, Tunde peering at the pot.
“My personal blend, been trying my hands at the plants lady Ryka has, it’s been yielding results,” Miria said.
Pouring him a cup, he nodded appreciatively, sipping it and releasing a sigh, eyes closed.
“Ani’s right you know, you look on edge,” she said.
Tunde gave a non-committed “hmm”, eyes still closed as he awaited the inevitable speech.
“Harun, Giselle, lady Ryka, Draven, hell even Isolde’s been complaining” she continued.
“That?”
“you’ve changed, running yourself ragged, training like a possessed being, all in the name of preparation for the unseen foe we’re waiting for”
Tunde sighed again, aware that Miria was staring at him.
“ten,” he said.
“What?” she asked.
“Ten, it’s the number of bandit incursions I’ve had to stop from reaching black rock” he replied.
“Bandits are a normal part of living so close to the wastelands,” Miria said.
“today” Tunde added as she paused.
“At first, they started with few numbers” Tunde continued, sitting up and staring at her.
“One, two sects, over fifty half-baked cultivators that would die with a flick of my finger, thanks to my training, you’re welcome”
Miria rolled her eyes at that.
“Then three, four, six sects in a day, hours behind each other, running from an unseen foe”
He tapped one finger on the table.
“Today we recorded the highest, ten, in a single day. What does that tell you?” Tunde asked.
“That we need more space in black rock to accommodate errant half-baked cultivators as you called them?” Miria teased.
Tunde sighed.
“I see you are of Lady Ryka’s view as well,” he said.
“And she’s right, we need more manpower, taking over former bandits isn’t a bad idea” she replied.
“Ah, except their reason for coming to black rock wasn’t for aid but to pillage and loot” he countered.
“On the orders of their leaders Tunde, you need to take that into consideration”
Tunde rubbed his face wearily.
“We're playing a dangerous game with our resources, Highlord Varis- “
“Could jump off the tallest mountain on the face of Adamath for all I care” Miria said harshly as Tunde snapped his fingers.
His aura subtly encompassed the entire shop in a flash, a frown on his face.
“Be careful how you speak, he has his spies” he warned.
“they’d have to find me first” Miria replied with a shrug.
“you’re an elder and adept of black rock, you’re easy to find Miria” Tunde chuckled.
Miria smiled.
“You know what I mean,” she said.
Tunde adjusted on the chair.
“Even at that, if Varis isn’t right about resources, or the other reasons he ordered their immediate executions if they prove hostile, we run the risks of spies of the wasteland king infiltrating our midst” he argued.
She stared at him for a few seconds.
“When was the last time you slept?” she asked.
“What?, of course I sleep”
“no” she replied, shaking her head.
“Full night sleep, no waking up for training sessions, no refreshing meditations, nothing, just carefree sleep?” she asked.
Tunde sipped his tea in response.
“Not everyone gets to train with a Highlord of the imperial family” Tunde responded.
Miria sighed.
“You have a goal, Tunde” she started slowly.
“Ever since you told me about…..that,” she said, eyeing the tattoo on his right hand meaningfully.
“And I can’t do anything about it till I reach at least Highlord” he responded.
Miria nodded.
“True but dying here in a war that doesn’t concern you rather than chasing your goal is a bit redundant, don’t you think?” she said softly.
Tunde had a thousand-mile stare in his eyes even as he pointed one finger to the side, activating a technique of his. It was like a blot of ink suddenly splashed in reality next to him, growing larger by the second before stopping at the size of the table, just hanging in the air.
“what’s that,” Miria asked softly.
“My latest technique” he responded.
She paused, unsure of what to ask next before speaking.
“Ifa?” she asked as he nodded calmly.
“What can it do?” she asked.
Tunde removed his void rings, every one of them with him, pointing them at the hole, and poured out everything within them. It was a torrent of items, weapons, elixirs, pills, and all other things he had either bought, stolen, or looted. It took an entire five minutes for the void rings to disgorge everything they had inside them before they became empty, Tunde wearing his personal ring back before throwing the rings themselves into the hole as it closed up.
“a spatial space,” Miria said incredulously.
“How large is it?” she asked.
Tunde shrugged, no limit in sight I believe” he responded.
“Something about the weight of my authority and soul balancing the space, not too sure on what it means yet anyways”
Miria nodded.
“That’s a scary thought,” she said softly.
“Indeed, and I was only able to get it due to the bloody yet effective training with the Highlord,” he said.
“don’t you get it?, whatever this sentience known as Ifa is, it won’t give me anything simply because I’m some true bloodline of Luwaye” he whispered, tightening his aura field closer.
“It needs me to prove my strength, my skill, and my determination, and training with the Highlord somehow made it teach me this technique” he explained.
“People would die to get their hands on it,” Miria said.
“exactly” he responded, reclining on his chair.
Miria tapped her finger on the table, pondering to herself.
“Look,” Tunde said with a sigh.
“I hate the pompous bastard as much as you do, but no one can deny his strength and power, right now he’s the only thing standing between us and utter annihilation at the hands of the king,” he said.
“That we still don’t know if he’s coming, or the empire won’t send forces to crush” she argued.
“we’re on our own, you know that Miria, Verdan betrayed the empire, we’re the ones paying for it, and that Highlord up there is both our jailer and observer,” he said.
She got up, clearing the table wordlessly for a few minutes before she spoke.
“You know, elder Joran left black rock in your care” she started.
“You might not consider yourself a leader, to be honest, you’re bad at running anything, but we trust you, all of us, brought together by the elder”
“And he trusts you, so take it when I say that the moment you decide to overthrow the Highlord, we’ll be with you,” she said.
“And then we’d all die in a blaze of black fire and lightning, I’ve got to admit, sounds nice,” he said sarcastically as she rolled her eyes.
Tunde stared at the table.
“Joran wouldn’t want me to rush into anything,” he said as he felt her staring at him.
“he’d want me to study my foe, understand my foe, and then get better than my foe”
He looked up at her, watching her make her way to his side before sitting on his legs, black inky eyes staring at him.
“And you’ve studied your foe,” she said softly.
He nodded.
“Except he’s not the only foe, and the other one, the main one, has yet to show his face” Tunde finished.