A lone figure sat within the shade of a solitary tree, an island of life in the middle of a vast wasteland. Before him, a large pond—an oasis—glistened under the oppressive midday sun. Dressed in tattered animal hide, scars adorned his rugged skin. Beside him lay the white thigh bone of some colossal beast, cracked but intact.
A large festering scar marred his chest, no doubt a source of immense pain, yet he showed no sign of discomfort, lying motionless as if too weak to move. Suddenly, the ground beneath him rumbled. From the sands emerged a gigantic serpentine shape, blotting out the sun with its titanic form.
The figure twitched, stirred back to life. He dipped his hand into the sparkling water, bringing it to his lips and swallowing, releasing an audible sigh.
“It takes much Ethra and flames to transform into your base form, does it not?” he spoke to the towering creature, a Sandshard, looming above him.
Its black carapace shimmered under the sun as it turned its gaze down at him.
“The king of the wastelands shouldn’t waste away under the burning heat of the sun,” the creature’s rumbling voice said.
Haruka, the king of the wastelands, turned his gaze upward, meeting the creature’s eyes. “You really think me that weak?” he asked softly.
“Never, my king,” the creature rumbled.
In a burst of brown essence flames, the Sandshard transformed into a humanoid form. He stood before Haruka, brown-skinned with yellow eyes and patches of carapace smoothing out as he settled into his new form. Garbed in dusty brown robes, he stared down at Haruka with a deep gaze.
“How does it feel?” he asked calmly.
“Kael’s touch is like a sharpened edge honed to perfection,” Haruka replied. “It was my fault for underestimating him. How fares Kugan?”
The large brown-skinned man, who had once been a Sandshard, chuckled. “He wages war against the humans of the outer regions, pushing them towards the settlement. You might need to rein him in soon. He might be a Highlord, but his urge to test himself against whatever power holds that settlement might be too much.”
“Strength can only be tested when faced with adversity, Yumar,” Haruka replied.
“True, but we didn’t survive this long by taking needless risks, my king,” Yumar replied.
“Let the Sky Claw spread his wings, Yumar. My wrath will soon follow in his wake,” Haruka said softly, getting to his feet with a grunt.
Grabbing the thigh bone, its surface began to glow. Haruka brought it to his face, staring at the bright red cracks. “We can get you another one,” Yumar said.
“No,” Haruka said after a few seconds. “This one has… memories.”
Strapping it to the leather holder across his back, the master-ranked wasteland king began his walk through the dusty plains in the burning heat. Yumar stood a good distance away, watching Haruka as he moved slowly through the scorching wasteland, barefooted.
“Is it time, my king?” Yumar called out softly.
Haruka paused, glancing skywards before drawing his hand back, fingers clenched into a fist. He punched forward, raw force and aura tearing through the air, digging a wide trench through the ground, ripping through the wasteland’s hardened surface, and exploding in the distance.
Destruction lay in his wake. Haruka stared at his hand and then at the scar on his chest. “Soon,” he said softly, his aura carrying his voice across the space between them.
“Are they ready?” he asked.
“All are assembled, my king,” Yumar replied.
“Even the spawns?” Haruka asked.
Yumar frowned slightly. “Even them, my king,” he answered.
“Good. Await my signal, just a little more time.”
The wasteland king began his march toward a distant stone-shaped mountain, the air around him roiling with his Ethra and aura.
**************************************
Tunde sat in his room, staring at the shadowstone, the darkness smothering even the light from the Ethra crystal on his desk. An affinity crystal in the possession of an assassin was shocking, especially since he had never seen one before. Its power and cost were beyond his comprehension.
Elder Wren had explained that some affinities were relatively cheap, especially elemental ones native to the environment. Rock, sand, wind, and even jade Ethra were common and affordable in the city. However, esoteric affinities were highly sought after, commanding prices in the hundreds of thousands or even millions of lumens.
The imperial clan’s affinity, for instance, was tightly controlled, rarely straying beyond the Talahan bloodline. Variations of these affinities were bestowed upon chosen families, prized in the tens of millions for those daring enough to risk the imperial family’s wrath.
Picking up the crystal, feeling its cool touch, Tunde threw it into his void space, watching as the shadow Ethra in his room began to dissipate, clearing slowly as he willed his relic to absorb and purify the room.
The rest of the void ring contained an assortment of items: tier 3 elixirs, blades, knives, strings, clothing, food, and to his surprise, another shadow elixir. He stared at it under the crystal’s light, unsure of its connection to the affinity crystal. He considered revealing his findings to Elder Wren before informing Miria, frowning at the thought. What if the elder was right? Pushing her too fast could irrevocably damage her advancements.
Resolving to think it over, he threw the empty void ring aside, moving to the next one, the barbarian’s. Tunde was unprepared for the overwhelming blood aura that filled his room, emanating from the raw meat of some creature the lord had killed.
Feeling his relic rousing, he grabbed it, throwing it into his void space and siphoning the excess aura. The relic drained it as well. Preparing for more surprises, Tunde found elixirs of healing, strength, and vitality. Some gave off a ferocious aura, and he discovered a distilled blood elixir and a hundred thousand lumens, amused that the barbarian had more lumens than the assassin.
He hesitated at the hermit’s void ring, recalling the vile feeling from their encounter. [What happens if I’m exposed to the raw affinity of the heretical light?] he asked Ifa.
[Prolonged exposure could scour your soul from your body, leaving you a puppet for the light,] it replied.
Tunde admitted, the sentience knew how to explain a dire situation. [Can the fangs absorb it?]
[Yes, in minute quantities. It can be purified into essence flames,] it wrote back.
That was all Tunde needed to hear. Opening the ring, a sweet smell pervaded the room, a smile forming on his face. Why was he bothered by things beyond his control? Life was meant to be easy, fun, to trust in a higher purpose. Trust in Astradriel.
Raw Ethra coursed through his body, spiking into his brain, Tunde gripping his head in pain. [Warning: Exposure to the affinity of the heretical light. Purifying,] Ifa wrote.
Tunde closed the void ring, sweat matting his body, eyes wide as he gripped his head. When had he fallen under the trance? What happened to the vile feeling during the first fight? Staring at the ring with renewed fear, he waited a few minutes for the pain to subside before asking Ifa again.
Stolen novel; please report.
[What was that?]
[Exposure to the affinity of the heretical light… the same one whose consequences I warned you about,] it replied.
Tunde felt too tired to take offense at the sentience's tone. Instead, he nodded, eyeing the ring. [How prone am I to facing it in battle?] he asked.
[Tainted exposure as in your previous battle causes mild irritation,] it wrote.
Tunde guessed it referred to his fight with the hermit. [Exposure like now would incapacitate you. Your advancement and willpower aren’t strong enough to withstand it.]
[In other words, advance,] Tunde wrote back dryly.
[Precisely,] it said.
Tsking to himself, he sat up, a cool breeze blowing into his room, cooling his hot skin. He stared at the ring, weighing his options before setting it aside. He’d return to it when better prepared, turning his attention to the five remaining rings from the baron.
The first ring held so many lumens that Tunde stared in shock, depositing them into his void space, watching them pour through in an almost never-ending deluge. Even with the three gold-plated aurum cards, the ring emptied. Tunde picked up the second ring, grinning at the rich elixirs of all qualities and types. Ethra, strength, vitality, healing, and even meditation elixirs, all recognized by Ifa.
Setting them aside, he found various relics, one with an overbearing urge to consume everything around it. His relic siphoned it, leaving the gold-plated item a husk. Fruits rich in life aura and Ethra he consumed on the spot, as well as meat exuding vitality and blood Ethra. He felt power surge within him, drinking a meditation elixir and drifting into a profound calmness.
He was vast, the nightly skies with hundreds of stars. He was the void, the all-consuming space.
Nothing was beneath or above him; he was the giver and taker, the path creator, the walker of realms.
Snapping his eyes open, he shut them again at the sharp light, grunting and blinking rapidly. To his surprise, the early morning rays poured into the room. Tunde got to his feet, shielding his eyes from the light, staring at the settlement sprawled out before him.
The elixir had knocked him into oblivion, but he felt the effects. His body seemed open, absorbing the latent Ethra in the air, a soft smile on his face. He stared at the remaining items sprawled on the ground, a minty herbal-scented pill, the elixirs, and other items, all swallowed into his void ring.
The third ring held random items: vitality-infused water, which he drained, his body absorbing every drop, and an assortment of flashy robes, the baron’s arrogance sewn into golden flecks. Letters and scrolls on shipping businesses and correspondence between the baron and his associates. Tunde set them aside, mentally noting to review them later, wincing at the thought. He hadn’t even opened the book the elder had given him, let alone the scrolls. Nevertheless, he resolved to dedicate a day to them.
The fourth ring seemed empty, but as he reached into it, he pulled out an Ethra crystal pulsing with strength Ethra. Eyes wide, he pushed his hand through again, adding his willpower like the Highlord had taught him. Wanting to do something differed from having the will to do it. A Highlord’s punch was strong, but a punch infused with willpower was deadly.
He kept pulling crystals out, each with different affinities: sword, hammer, light, fire, ice, metal, earth, lightning. It continued until he pulled out one last crystal that overshadowed the rest—the Ethra affinity of gluttony. Its presence suffused the entire room, and he immediately threw it into his void ring, closing off its effect.
[Notice: Gluttony affinity would be a fit for your secondary affinity,] Ifa wrote.
Tunde frowned. The sentience had never recommended an affinity before. Why now, and why this one?
[Why?] he asked.
[Matching similarities to the effect of relic: fangs of Alana,] it replied.
Tunde realized how true that was. The fangs acted like a second affinity. Not replying, he turned to the fifth ring, opening it to reveal finely cut ingots of Ethereum. Tunde stared with greedy eyes. He wasn’t sure if the shipment had Ethereum, but it was meant for Draven and the settlement’s armament. These, however, Tunde would use sparingly to practice his forging skills. Storing them away, he whistled in surprise at the baron’s small arsenal.
Tunde suspected the baron relied too much on his gluttony affinity or was scared and not thinking straight. A hammer infused with strength Ethra, a blade wreathed in lightning and fire Ethra, a whip with flame Ethra, a spear with ice Ethra, and two small knives with wind Ethra—Tunde now owned them all.
He returned them to the void ring, aware that, unlike the golden sword and heavy Ethereum shield the baron had used, these were adept-tier weapons. Finished with the baron’s rings, he grabbed the fifth ring containing the weapons and stored it in his fresh robes before cleaning up, planning his day.
Tunde didn’t look forward to meeting the Highlord, though he knew it was inevitable. A knock on his door, and dressed, he opened it, finding a bowl of food. Checking the corridors for the disciple who left it, he chuckled, enjoying the broth filled with meat, tears coming to his eyes at the taste.
The shipment had brought much-needed relief to the settlement, and Tunde noted to discuss it with Lady Ryka, his first stop today. The bright sun of the wastelands glaring at him, he made his way to her abode, stopping at a polished wooden door and knocking.
“Come in,” her gentle voice called.
He entered, staring at the wide room filled with sunlight. She sat on the ground, ink quill scribbling on parchment, working in silence.
“I suppose I should get up and bow to the lord of Black Rock,” she said.
A soft smile settled on Tunde’s face as he sat, staring at her. “I’d rather let the battles take me than watch you do that,” he replied.
She laughed softly. “You’re up early,” she observed. “Usually, you’re beaten to a sorry state and pass out till midday after your training sessions with the Highlord.”
“Decided I’d take a break today,” Tunde responded, staring out the window at the settlement.
“The disciples and initiates won’t stop singing your praises,” she said, dropping her quill.
“Why?” Tunde asked with a frown.
“You’re the lord who brought back a shipment of supplies to last a year, two if we ration properly,” she explained.
Tunde shook his head. “I’m guessing it came from those aboard the swan for the journey?”
“Well, in their defense, most didn’t think they’d make it back with the obstacles you faced,” she said, resting her head on her hand. “They nearly died, you know. They came close to losing their lives in a battle they didn’t understand or need to be in, yet they think I saved them.”
“Perception matters as much as strength in our reality, Tunde,” Ryka said. “To them, you’re the true ruler of the settlement, not some upstart Highlord from a distant capital.”
“Please don’t tell me they said that to his face,” Tunde said with a wince.
“He knows they don’t like him. His display of power during the first month ensures they keep their distance, which he approves of,” she replied with a laugh.
“Perception and power,” Tunde repeated, and she nodded.
“Now, tell me why the lord of Black Rock is here instead of at the walls where he usually stalks.”
“Harun and the disciples feel I should take time off and let them handle things,” Tunde said, frowning.
“Why? Is something wrong?” he asked.
“Actually, it’s the lack of it,” she responded, seeing his confusion. “According to an unnamed adept—”
“Harun,” Tunde interjected as she rolled her eyes.
“Along with more than a dozen disciples, wall duty with you is boring. They don’t get to see any action, merely man the cannons and watch you take down the forces in minutes.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” Tunde countered.
“Not bad, but it became repetitive. Some disciples volunteered for the farms, despite the grueling hours,” she said with a chuckle.
“So they want to experience danger?” Tunde asked incredulously.
“Precisely. They’ve been having their fill with nearby rifts, bandits streaming in, and wasteland creatures fleeing something, probably this wasteland king of yours.”
She sighed, looking at him. “They call it fulfilling now.”
Tunde stared at her for a few seconds. “Fine,” he said.
“Fine?” she asked skeptically.
“Fine,” he repeated. “I will leave the walls to them. I will not involve myself in whatever problems they face, no matter the situation.”
If they were eager to be rid of him, he’d give them that. He had better things to do with his time. A voice in his head asked what he’d do with the time, but he shut it down. He was a lord in a settlement; there was always something to do. Lady Ryka rolled her eyes.
“Now you’re just being petty,” she said with a laugh.
Tunde said nothing, merely dropping the fourth ring of the baron on the table. “What’s this?” she asked.
“Spoils of war. Weapons from the dead baron, adept-tier. Pick and share with the team. I have no use for them,” he said.
She frowned. “They’re worth a significant amount of lumens,” she said.
“Not in Black Rock, they aren’t,” he replied.
“Well, who am I to refuse?” she said, picking up the ring and slipping it on her finger.
Tunde stood, bowing to her. “I’m just a call away if you need me.”
“Off to the Highlord now?” she asked.
“No, Draven. Need new weapons. Turns out taking adept-tier weapons to a lord fight was a stupid idea,” he replied.
“Well, we learn every day. Just ensure you don’t cause a ruckus,” she said.
“No promises,” he said, closing the door behind him.
His journey to the iron district was short. Tunde weaved through bustling crowds, noting areas once deserted now bustling with life. It brought a smile to his face, seeing a child munching down on something. He hadn’t had that opportunity as a child, and he’d ensure others didn’t go through that pain.
The iron district was as loud as ever, hammers ringing on metal. Tunde made his way to Draven’s forge, moving through the forge hands that greeted him, large men pounding away at metal. He took off his robes, moving toward Draven.
The large man eyed him from afar. “No,” he said.
“I’ve missed you too,” Tunde replied as Draven snorted.
“I’m not about to have another gathering at my forge.”
“You won’t,” Tunde promised.
“I don’t believe you.”
Tunde rolled his eyes. “Got your delivery of Ethereum?” he asked.
“I suppose you want a thank you?” Draven asked.
“You could repay me by letting me use your forge,” Tunde said.
Draven sighed. “One little incident, and I promise you, you’ll make your own forge,” he said.
“Your forge, your rules,” Tunde replied.
Draven sighed, leading him to a spare forge. The room went silent, both of them watching as the forge hands scrambled away at Draven’s deadly glare.
“They think you’ll give them another show,” he said.
“Hopefully not,” Tunde replied.
“Hopefully?” Draven asked, eyes wide.
Tunde chuckled, producing an ingot of Ethereum as he smiled, calling up Ifa. “Hopefully not, my friend,” he replied, watching as the forge blazed to life.
Draven gave a heavy sigh of resignation.