“The great irony of the Red Star was that he truly was strong, under his will he was able to unite a truly eclectic group of peoples, tribes, cultures and civilisations into a force that nearly consumed the entire continent at its peak. But in his strength his Khanate grew dependent, so sure of the invincibility of its hero that when that invincibility finally cracked and failed they were doomed to follow. Truthfully it could not have ended any other way.” -Extract from Tragedy of the Khans by Atomic Priest Andrei Ratcatcher.

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There was a palpable tension hanging eternally in the air, the trio returned victorious not only with the core of the Mauler but with a small satchel of dull yellow spirit stones which would ordinarily be cause for great celebration, but more pressing matters weighed on their minds. They reported straight to Elder Aurelium with all they have learned, by the time they were finished the original reason for the expedition was all but forgotten. The promotion of John and Magni to inner disciples for the feat was done quickly and without fanfare, from start to finish half an hour or perhaps less. As John prepared to leave and retrieve his new robes and Sect badge however he was stopped by the many eyed Elder.

“Come with me John, there’s some family business I want to discuss.” He explained, signalling for John to follow. His voice was as serene as usual, yet had an undertone of anxiety which filled John with dread made worse when he noticed they were walking towards the infirmary of the Sect.

“I don’t think this is about you or me… did something happen to Alexander?” He asked.

The elder Aurelium paused in his tracks, sending cold spikes down John’s spine. The older man took a deep breath laced with grief, anger and guilt. “Perhaps those eyes lining your arm aren’t as blind as you seem to think. But yes, he had recently returned to the sect with significant injuries, and I do believe he will be remaining here well after recovery. Suffice it to say he has found himself on the wrong side of very many bullets.”

Now it was John’s turn to pause in his tracks. “That- Shit! Kracking… Bomb-cursed… how- what happened?”

The Elder patted John reassuringly on the shoulder with an extended tendril before returning to walk. “We’ll discuss this further when we reach him. I think it is best if we are all gathered before continuing, but there are troubling things happening indeed that are bleeding into the Empire, beyond the enemy from beyond the sea to the East and the cries of war echoing in the West.”

Nodding in silence John followed shortly behind, stomach twisting into elaborate knots all the way.

The Sect was largely empty, most of the higher ranking members having either gone with Elder Cinnabar to the Eastern Front or were spread out around the province either performing various duties or joining Elder Phagos in suppressing the activity of the more violent local warlords. Despite that however the infirmary was an island of activity, the crew of medics, priests and assistants carting about supplies between beds lined with those sent home for treatment both mortal and some Cultivators. John shuddered to imagine the type of injury that would keep a cultivator beyond the Wretch realm down enough to still require treatment when they returned to the Sect, and what possibly caused Alexander to return to the place that obviously meant so much pain. The speculation would have to wait, soon they reached the section of the infirmary relegated for private rooms, a sight with no small amount of irony, John realised, it was the one that belonged to him all those months ago. The doors slid open and there lying on that vaguely familiar bed was Alexander wrapped with bandages that smelled of fungus and bitter medicine.

“Hello John, wasn’t expecting a reunion so soon, nonetheless it is good to see you.” His old mentor spoke weakly. “I only wish it was in better circumstances.”

“What happened?” He asked, still feeling as though reality had become unreal. “How did you get hurt? Are the others-”

“I just had a run in with bounty hunters, got them all before they could hurt my Rats rest assured. What’s troubling though is the fact they exist at all, and why they went for me of all people…” Alexander explained. “I caught more bullets than I should have and I didn’t feel like I could keep them safe anymore like this, so I made the choice to go back to the Sect.”

“So Oliver, Jamie, Rubble and-” John continued to ramble, breathless.

“They are fine, rest easy, I have a good friend taking care of them for the time being.” Alexander responded, allowing John to take a breath of relief, though not completely quelling the unsettled feelings in his chest.

Slowly he built up the courage to speak once more. “Bounty hunters? Why would bounty hunters go for you, why would anyone put a bounty on you? What were they thinking!”

“It seems the same powerful warlord the refugees you mentioned were fleeing from has a very real grudge against the Empire. So much so he would pay an exorbitant sum of stones to any who slays a cultivator clan heir.” Elder Aurelium explained in a clipped clinical tone, yet with an outrage of his own simmering under the surface. “Of course there are laws against this and no official bounty board would dole out the payment, but there are networks for those with less scruples and even less sense to access. Phagos has already been informed and no doubt is tearing apart the province searching for these nests of villainy, but still there is no telling how deep the bone-worm has burrowed.”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

John once again felt his emotions twist. “So you mean we can’t go out? And what just sit in the Sect all day? I know officially the reason you made me an inner disciple is so that I could have access to the upper archives, but I know you want me to take on your responsibilities one day. How can I do that if you would not afford me the practice?”

“I don’t want this either, but you must understand it’s the only guarantee of safety now.” Elder Aurelium insisted sternly. “Besides, you will have plenty of opportunities to learn within the Sect in the coming months.”

“What do you mean?” John asked, puzzled.

“If my tacking of the moons is correct soon the Sect is to host its annual tournament.” Alexander wheezed with some effort in his bed. “Surprised you don’t know of it already, though I suppose there has been more pressing news as of late…”

“The event is still on given… everything?” John asked.

“War isn’t all constant battles worthy of song, most of our cultivators sent to the lines simply have a role in maintaining long chain formations in order to support those actually on the front. Special considerations can be made for important Sect events, one of the privileges of our contributions during the War of the Red Star.” Elder Aurelium answered.

“Alright… fine i’ll stay put and just get ready for the tournament. When is it anyway?” He asked.

“We have perhaps one and a half moons, and the Tournament will last another moon more.” Elder Aurelium explained. “With all the cultivators returning to attend the Tournament the Lead Cave will be the safest it will ever be, after all not even the most foolish bounty hunter or petty warlord will try their luck on our land so close to when all six score cultivators will be gathered in one place…”

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“Do you know where Magni is?” John asked Cobalt on the upper levels of the archive.

Cobalt raised a single scaled eyebrow “I believe he has requested a closed cultivation chamber to breach the Second Step with some of the Spirit Stones we gathered, why?”

“I wanted to ask him if he would want to be my sparring partner, you know, in preparation for the tournament.” He replied.

“Tournament? Well if you want to practise for it you are in luck!” Cobalt said with a vicious grin which made John feel an awful lot like prey. “Elder Aurelium has forbidden me from going outside of the Sect for the indeterminate future and as it happens I am bored, so I think we could help each other out!”

“I uh… like to keep my bones intact generally?” John tried to decline.

“You’ve dealt with worse, besides i’ll hold back!” Cobalt ‘reassured’. “I really just want to see that arm of yours in action, how does it work anyway?”

John flexed his modified arm, ARTOS remains silent as usual, but lately when he looked into the eyes lining its side he could swear he could see hints of the tell-tale light of consciousness behind them. The limb could now stretch and morph shape at his will, except it felt more like he was requesting it to change rather than truly commanding it. In other words the thing was as enigmatic and unhelpfully unsettling as usual.

“I have no idea.” He decided to answer honestly.

“Well, all the more reason to figure it out!” Cobalt declared, claws extending .

John audibly gulped.

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“Great Khan… with all due respect-” A blabbering lesser general to one of the petty khans he was corralling into his service tried to catch his attention, earning a glare which would burn an ordinary mortal man.

Focusing more of his intent on the man he pressed the full brunt of his will onto the petty commander. “Do not declare your intent, show it. I say ready your troops for the march north, do you intend to defy my will little man?”

“O… of course not sir… but the war engines require fuel and the men need rest. I have no intention on questioning the righteousness of your cause, but when we started the march we were woefully underprepared already, at this point we will be unable to make it to the rest of the army without giving up at least half our force!”

Iktan sighed. “How long will you need?”

The man straightened up immediately, his immensely curved spine shooting ramrod straight with a loud crack. “Assuming all the logistics go well no more than a few weeks perhaps…”

“You have two weeks. See it done.” Iktan growled, raising two fingers with his response.

“But that’s-” The petty general tried to complain, freezing in place and shrinking back into himself at the gaze of the Khan.

Picking up the general by the scruff and holding him at eye level, Iktan made his intent very clear. “I have nearly entirely either reconquered or otherwise bent to my will the southern territories of the Khanate, but this rate is still far too slow to achieve my true ambitions. So I give you a simple choice, get it done or I find someone among your men who will, understood?”

The pathetic little worm of a man slinked further into himself, nigh tying himself into a knot with the depth of his prostration. “O- of course… my sincerest apologies for doubting you…”

Iktan smiled and dropped the man to the floor with a thud. “Simply ensure it doesn’t happen again.”

He channeled his Si into a well practiced formation and teleported to the back of Cipactli, giving his son in every way that matters a well deserved scratch. If all goes well he will be ready to show the Jackalopes the fury of a man wronged in two moons, two months to assemble his armies and march to the site of the first rebellion that would grow to crack the Khanate into uncountable shards. Patience already wasn’t a virtue of his, but every moment was building to an eternity of anticipation…

He felt it in the air, through his shared senses with Cipactli… the shattered soul of his grandfather sung his approval he knew, and soon he will be able to rest easy with his vision truly restored. A continent under his fist…

A million graves for the stolen lives he was not even allowed the chance to bury…