Nearly four decades ago a young man looked for a way to prove himself, training day and night to accomplish his dreams, his eyes glued to the heavens. The only scion of a distinguished family, and the last among their number, to prove himself worthy of his legacy was as important as breathing. To have called him a rising star would be selling him short, his talent was only matched by his drive. Soon he found himself no longer so alone, joined by people driven by a similar fire. In his memories he still remembers their faces, a tall man with skin as dark as the night and a smile that shone through the dark like a searchlight, a red haired woman as short as she was ferocious, her twin sister identical in appearance down to the tumours but opposite in her icy personality. Him, Titus, Alum and Argent, together they set out to achieve their dreams, to become heroes, to forge a legend! They slew monsters, weeded out the wicked, uncovered secrets and travelled the world unburdened and free under the azure sky!
Two decades later only one remained, a shell where there was once a man…
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The Supervisor was thorough when it came to his education. In the last few weeks John had memorised everything from local spirit beasts, fighting techniques, breathing techniques, cultivation basics, literacy skills, movements and trivia. It was just as exhausting if not more than sparring and honestly he probably forgot half of the information provided, but naturally the Supervisor would not let him forget so easily, and so once a week a new form of torture was provided. It was a pain on a level the physical could not match, a device of torment surely dreamt up by a devil, something demonic which belonged only in tales, the dreaded…
“It is time for your quiz!” the Supervisor said chipperly, providing a parchment and a quill.
John held the glazed expression of a soldier who has seen one too many a battle in his eyes, still he persevered, he had no other choice,
“What is the basis of over half of cultivation herbs and plant materials?” one question asked, which after wracking his head he managed to answer with The Fruit of Life, a spiritual fungus.
“When was the Lead Cave Sect founded?” another question asked, which to John’s infinite frustration he simply could not answer even though he knew he most certainly was told it before,
“What is the weak spot of a Chupacabra?” yet another question asked, which he managed to answer far more confidently with the soft underbelly below the hardened exposed ribs
Ultimately his score was “satisfactory”, which given the fact he started out with barely being able to read the questions, was an improvement. Still, there was something he needed to ask,
“Why do I need to know this?” he asked the Supervisor, “I mean, some of it is useful for the trials I guess, but I don’t think I will need to know exactly when the sect was founded.”
The Supervisor chuckled, “Everyone always says that, and then the second they actually need the knowledge they find themselves lacking and wonder why! There are things the Sect expects of you and expects you to know, you are a nobody, an outsider of no renown, it is best not to live up to their expectations.”
With a grumble John acquiesced to the wisdom of his elder.
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It was a contract like any other the day everything changed, they were tasked by the sect to take care of a threat to the nearest warlord city state of Ozark, hardly a pleasant people like all of the so called successors of the Great Khan but better the devil you know. They slew dozens of the walking dead with comical ease, puppets of rotting flesh controlled by strange centipedes which he remembered were so disgusting he at first didn’t even want his fiery breath near them let alone his body. Still duty called and so far it did not seem like anything more than a pest extermination mission, then of course everything changed as the twins perked up at once.
“Slow down guys, I am receiving a strong psychic signal to the south, it was buried by the signature of the horde but now that it is clearing it is potent… I think it’s a Cultivator…” Argent warned with little emotion but a slight wariness in her voice as usual.
“Understood, let’s finish off the small fry and we will turn our focus towards the real threat!” Titus responded swinging his greatsword wildly into a crowd of the living dead.
“Y-yeah we will drop a bomb on the slimy bastard that is surely behind this!” Alum declared confidently, though there was a shakiness to her voice that was usually not present, something about her natural psychic affinity was unsettling her about the situation clearly.
Before much else could be exchanged a mass of writing insects scuttled from beneath a sea of walking corpses laughing with a malice that chilled to the bone. Something moved, time seemed to slow to a crawl, and as two bolts of light moving faster than even enhanced eyes could track soared towards their targets the world erupted in an explosive cacophony of pain, psychic backlash, confusion and sound.
Blood poured down his head, a red hot agony erupted from every part of his body, but worse than that was the helplessness. All of a sudden in his front hands was the head of his friend, her eyes forever frozen in a moment of terror, and he couldn’t do shit about it. There were a million things he wanted to do at that moment, scream, cry, fight, run, but he could only sit frozen with his eyes a thousand miles away. When did it all go so wrong? How did it all go so wrong? They were strong, they were ready, they were prepared, so why?
He felt the many strong arms of Titus wrapping around him, dragging him to safety, but a part of him didn’t want to go to safety, his back arms pushing against his friend even as the arms in front clutched the head of Alum. Argent was much the same, eyes for once filled with emotion, burning with hatred, rage and a helpless sort of fear. Without an arm however and down a working eye she had no other choice but to retreat as well leaving behind the body of her dear sister in that forsaken place…
A part of him died that day, a rot in his spirit which would only grow and spread.
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Meditation and cycling were still important, as the basis of cultivation that should not really have come as a surprise, but those long hours spent focusing on ones inner world was not exactly John’s thing to put it lightly. Something needed to be done to motivate him to actually perform the right techniques instead of learning to sleep in a cross legged position, and for that John and the Supervisor got into the habit of asking each other questions, sharing things with each other in the downtime between cycles.
“How old are you anyway?” John had asked, and though John’s eyes were closed he could practically feel the Supervisor stiffen.
“You know, I don’t really remember myself, it’s been a while since I kept track of my birthday. I think I might be 60 this year? Or maybe 61, I like to think I am closer to 59 however.” the Supervisor answered slowly.
“I always knew you were older than you looked, but somehow this is a little hard to believe.” John replied as he felt Si swirl within his core through his limbs and washing gently against the dams of his unopened meridians.
“Watch your tongue boy, I thought I taught you to respect your elders!” the Supervisor retorted mirthfully.
“How come someone as old and experienced as you ended up supervising Ruin Rats anyway?” John found himself asking, and once more the atmosphere became icy.
“Do you know what today is?” the Supervisor managed to say after a few shaky breaths, dodging the question like he dodged John’s attacks in their spars.
“No?” John replied, confused.
“Don’t worry about your cultivation, open your eyes for a moment please.” the Supervisor requested.
Opening his eyes slowly the first thing John noticed was a sweet smell slightly tainted by the familiar scent of dust and old grease that stuck to the Supervisor’s robes. In the Supervisor’s hands was a small disc shaped bundle of colourful paper, clearly from the city, perhaps even one of the fancier Greywater bakeries.
“Happy 14th birthday John!” the Supervisor said with a smile, though there was a sadness behind his eyes and an unshakable sensation in the air that this was meant to be an occasion for later today.
Thanking the Supervisor John took his gift and opened it immediately assaulting his senses with the heady mouth-watering scent of honey. Deciding that he really should press further John dug into a roll of sweetbread and simply enjoyed his break for this moment.
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Titus had a very useful mutation, capable of growing limbs from his own body and attaching them to others, but there was only so much he could heal. Argent had a madness in her remaining eye, a scar that would not heal. When her twin had been alive their matching psychic mutations had been a blessing, allowing them to create potent formations in perfect sync leading to a degree of control unrivalled by their peers. Now however…
A tree burst like a bomb showering the area with splinters as Argent screamed in pain. More than the pain however was the rage on her face and the twisted smile that manifested beneath the scarred ruin of her eye,
“That bastard of a warlord is back I hear, marching with his armies north… the Great Spirit blesses us! This is a sign, we must take vengeance, we must take it NOW!” she had cackled maniacally,
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“We aren’t strong enough, please, don’t throw away your life!” Titus had argued, even knowing his words were futile as raindrops against a mountain in the face of his friend’s madness.
“HE TOOK HER FROM US! HE TOOK HER FROM ME! IF YOU ARE TOO MUCH OF A LIMP DICK COWARD TO STOP HIM THEN FINE BY ME! I’LL JUST GO MYSELF!” she had screamed, her skin shimmering before she disappeared from sight, a dozen explosions rocking the landscape as screams of pain and fury echoed into the night.
“Shit! I know where she is going, we have to stop her before she kills herself!” Titus declared in a panic,
He remembered not having any words at that moment, his mind stunned to silence, but still he followed. What else really would he have done?
It was a week before they caught up to her trail… and that of the man she had been hunting. She stood alone, over a crater filled landscape, hundreds of corpses lining her path. Her one remaining eye blazed a silver fire laced with madness, she was well beyond saving now. A mass of bugs moved through the wreckage of its army and moved aside to reveal a bloated man, with a chitin covered skull and ribs seemingly mismatched against a worm eaten stretched out abdomen, like some plague demon’s parody of a man. With effortless ease he raised a finger and before anyone could move Argent’s leg flew off in a spray of crimson ichor.
“Ah I remember you… yes the sister… come to join your sister I presume?” the man said calmly in a tone that was almost as slimy as himself.
Though reduced to one knee, Argent glared at the man with a hatred that pierced like a spear, “I will hang your infested skull on my WALL YOU KRACKING MONSTER!”
“Why did nobody ever tell you it is improper to be rude to your elders? Especially in front of family!” the slimy cultivator said with a vicious smile, and instantly Argent froze, colour draining from her skin.
From behind a headless corpse shambled out, a mass of insects connected to the husk of a body forcing it to move jerkily like a puppet, the very sight causing both him and Titus watching from afar to gag.
“You and your friends made off with her head unfortunately but I figured I might as well get some use out of her, what do you say about a family reunion? Isn’t that sweet?” the monster in human skin said as casually as one may remark on the weather,
That proved the final mistake he would ever make. Argent’s mind, already driven to the brink, snapped like a twig and with it the already fragile dam holding back her psychic power erupting in an uncontrolled silver tide which forced the spectators to duck for cover. Something within the headless corpse of her sister resonated with the furious death throes of Argent glowing equally as bright as the Warlord’s eyes widened in shock. The very world seemed to lose its colour as a bright silver light drowned out her form,
“FUCK YOU!” were her final words, and with a soundless flash of light the monster, the corpse of Alum and Argent were nowhere to be found, them and all their surroundings reduced to a fine ash.
In the aftermath Titus and him were hailed as heroes who took down a monstrous warlord and a burgeoning threat to the Golden Plains Province. The celebrations were bitter in his mouth, the light in his eyes dimmed even as fireworks were lit in their honour. Titus was a stone wall, outwardly stoic, devoid of emotion, but he knew he was just as broken.
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Sparring still took place, though now it was more for practice than anything. Instead of the long silences and focus required when each battle was a seemingly insurmountable challenge, now every move was preceded with perhaps half a dozen repetitions and between each blow was a word of advice. John honestly didn’t know which method he preferred more, while his body was less bruised by the end of each session, his soul was crying out in boredom. At least this slower paced training now gave John time to think, and with that came time to expand his understanding of his new capabilities.
“Your form is good, but you still have your shoulders too stiff, and while your punches are good your guard is sloppy. Repeat after me.” the Supervisor noted harshly, demonstrating the proper forms with practised ease.
“Yes Supervisor!” John confirmed copying the movements best he could, though his mind was off in a different place.
So ARTOS, you mentioned compatibility a few times, what exactly does that entail? John asked his Relic in his mind.
[COMPATIBILITY REFERS TO A COMPLEX INTERPLAY OF IMMUNE RESPONSE, NERVOUS SYSTEM INTEGRATION SUCCESS RATE AND GENETIC COMPATIBILITY WITH 100% BEING THE THEORETICAL MAXIMUM COMPATIBILITY A HOST COULD ACHIEVE UNDER IDEAL CONDITIONS]
So my number is pretty high… that is good then?
[HOST: JOHN ZHOU IS WITHIN THE TOP 0.1% OF COMPATIBILITY PARAMETERS]
That’s good then… I think… in truth a lot of your words I still don’t understand much
[UNDERSTOOD: SEARCHING SOLUTION FROM DATABASE… PROPOSAL: ENROLMENT IN HIGHER EDUCATION]
John blinked, education has… levels?
[REASSESSING… COMPLETION OF ELEMENTARY LEVEL EDUCATION ADVISED]
Ok… well I remember my compatibility was dropping after I drained my Si away from you, what was that about?
[HOST COMPATIBILITY DROPPED DUE TO LOSS OF POWER TO VITAL HOST BINDING COMPONENTS, CHIEFLY LOCAL IMMUNE SYSTEM DISRUPTORS AND ENDOCRINE MANIPULATORS BRIEFLY TRIGGERING A DROP IN COMPATIBILITY WHICH IF UNCHECKED WOULD LEAD TO SEPARATION FROM HOST. SITUATION HAS SINCE STABILISED]
That doesn’t sound good, is there any way to increase compatibility?
[OVER TIME COMPATIBILITY WOULD NATURALLY RISE UNLESS EXTERNALLY DISRUPTED]
And what happens if we reach 100%
[...NO DATA AVAILABLE]
It was then when John felt a light slap on his head and the disappointed stare of the Supervisor.
“John! I have reminded you to focus three times already! Where were you up to?” the Supervisor sternly scolded.
“Ummm…” John answered unhelpfully.
The Supervisor huffed, “Well if you can’t answer, let's repeat your movements before we start with your spar! And if we have to do this again we will end the day here, I still have to watch after the rest of the children after this!”
John mumbled out a quiet “Yes Supervisor” as he forced himself to focus on the task at hand rather than the rather ominous conversation in his head.
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Titus was a completely different man after that incident. Once bright and cheerful, now he was sullen and silent. Where once he had a passion for cultivation that manifested occasionally in extended sessions and sleepless nights now he dived ceaselessly into it without rest nor respite as a matter of course, and it was clear his body could not handle it. He watched as his friend’s skin took on a deathly pallor, he watched as beneath his skin tumours and malformed limbs writhed uncontrollably threatening to tear away at their thin prison and he watched as blood soaked the floor of their secret cultivation hideaway killing the small life that had begun to form there. Enough was enough, he could no longer afford to silently watch his friend kill himself against his own bottleneck, and so he confronted Titus one day outside that hidden little grove. A place once where dreams were shared and born… now something his last friend was using to kill himself with.
“Step aside old friend, you will not stop me!” Titus warned even as his teeth stained with his own blood.
“Have you looked at yourself! Please Titus! Would they have wanted you to be like this?” he had pleaded desperately
Titus paused, his face inscrutable, before responding, “Had I been stronger they would be here right now…”
“Then honour their memory by living! Do not throw your life away!” he had begged,
“I thank you for your care, I truly do, but unfortunately…” Titus had said with the resignation of a man already dead, “If you wish to stop me you will have to make me.”
Titus unsheathed his sword and it was clear words were no longer of use, so he responded in turn. He told himself then he had no choice, he still tells himself that now… the alternative is too much to bear…
Blades clashed in the silence of the forest, poisoned blood sprayed into the air like mist. Fire met wall of flesh, trees were shattered in the wake of titanic blows and rapidly blunting steel slammed into one another with a noise more comparable to an explosion than anything a blade should make. His third eye could see dozens of weaknesses around his friend’s form, once a fortress, now filled with cracks from weeks of neglect and abuse. He could not bring himself to attack with his full fury, not when an errant blow could mean the end, not when an inch meant life and death. Power, speed and awareness of all but was immediately before him were sacrificed in exchange for the precision that would allow him to leave with his friend’s life intact. Not so blessed with the same power and accuracy and left sloppy by his weakening body, it was clear Titus was trying to be as merciful, however this dangerous mix of circumstances culminated with an unfortunate swing of a now dented and cracked block of metal nonetheless cleaving through one of his arms as his dodge proved ever so slightly too slow. Utterly defeated and down a limb, he could only fall to his knees and cry, tears of blood also streaking down Titus’s face.
“My body is too weak to heal you right now… but I will make it through this bottleneck and I will come back for you stronger than ever!” Titus promised, though his words were hollow.
“Goodbye…” he had said
“Goodbye.” Titus had responded before walking out into the woods never to return.
Silence once more reigned over that wretched forest.
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“Who founded the Lead Cave Sect?” one of the questions asked
Gregory Aurelium, Kalko Phagos and Hamza Cinnabar John answered confidently
“What are the Aspirant Trials?” went another question, another easy one,
A process of weeding out the weak and the unworthy among aspirants for the Sect, consisting of the Trial of Haste, the Trial of War and the Trial of the Cave
“How long does it take for a mortal exposed to the spores of the Fruit of Life to die?”
Privately John questioned why this question was even relevant, chalking it up to the mysterious ways of the Sect, he answered with Four hours at most
This routine continued for well over an hour and by the end when it was time for the final results John was ecstatic seeing a smile come across the mouth of the Supervisor.
“This is the best you have done yet, you have come very far from where you started, i’d say you know just about enough to get through the trials and the first few challenging years at the Sect, now there is only one thing left!” the Supervisor praised proudly,
“What is it!” John exclaimed eagerly.
The Supervisor took a badge hidden within the folds of his robes and gave it to John, a crescent of Lead, the sigil of the Lead Cave. John’s eyes widened in confusion and some shock, why was he being given such an important item?
“In truth, this has been a long time coming, I no longer deserve this badge, take it instead as proof of my support and my approval of you as my successor.” the Supervisor said to answer John’s unspoken question, “I will accompany you to the trials and I will visit you from time to time but the Sect is no longer my place, it hasn’t been in two decades. So take this instead and at the gates tell them… Alexander Aurelium has come to fulfil a promise.”
John sat slack jawed at the revelation of his mentor’s name, a million questions flowed through his mind, but he could only helplessly gawk.
“Also if it isn’t that much trouble, I no longer deserve this heavy name of mine I feel, would you care to take on this last promise of a selfish old man and take it for me?” the Superv- no, Alexander asked.
“Y…yes” John stammered
And so John Aurelium Zhou took his first true steps towards the long climb to the heavens that awaited him.
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Mere days after recovering from the battle in the woods he handed in his application for an external position in the sect, the care of doomed children sent to scour the ruins for trinkets and treasure. The fire in his eyes long extinguished; he had sat in silence as the clerk read his own application for exile.
“But why? With your name… your potential… why?” they had asked
He laughed, a long bitter thing.
Once the paperwork was processed he wasted no time leaving the small administrative room. In the hallway outside waiting for him was the tall hunched form of his father, three dozen eyes fixated on him with an inscrutable expression as always. Once he had strived to make those eyes light with pride, but now he was just tired, and he was certain even his barely present father could see why. He had wanted to leave then and there, he had no more words to speak, but his father stood immobile in his path and made it clear he would not leave so easily.
“Alexander.” his father started.
“Father.” he replied simply
“...”
“...”
The silence was most deafening of all.
“I want you to know… I was proud of you… am still proud.” his father spoke at last, the confession seeming to drain him more than any battle could.
Alexander blinked in shock, unsure of what to respond, “Th-thank you?”
His father sighed, a weary empty thing unbefitting a sect elder, “Just… son, I know I have no right to ask now of all times, but could you grant this selfish old man one last wish?”
“What is it?” he asked.
“I do not expect you to return soon if ever, but no matter what form it may take, promise me that I will not die as the last to bear the Aurelium name please.” his father requested, weary, resigned.
For the first time in his life Alexander looked into his father’s eyes and saw not an insurmountable mountain, myth made flesh, an unreadable statue of a man. In the many eyes of his father echoed a deep profound sadness, a hollowness so great it could carve out a mountain and a loneliness that could only come from climbing so high on the backs of comrades who could not make it. For the first time in his life Alexander understood his father, and gave a small thin smile.
“I will try father.” he had responded.
“That is all I ask.” his father said.