By the time the thugs noticed his approach it was too late, John’s left fist struck out with a force far beyond what his small frame should have been capable of, knocking the slightly larger of the two several yards on their back. Evidently though, these were not the simple teenage hooligans John and his friends faced off against last time, and without a word the one accosting the shopkeeper dropped his old prey and retaliated against the sudden intruder with an attack of his own. He was fast, just as fast as John was even, thankfully however he was no Alexander. Near effortlessly John weaved past the attack, a smug grin growing on his face at the irritated expression of the thug.
“Bomb it all! What hit me?” the man he had previously knocked on his ass groaned.
“Some fucking street rat who thinks he is tough shit because he got a hunk of scrap screwed to him probably. Little shit thinks he can make a name for himself by challenging some Stones. Forget about the old man, help me teach this brat some manners!” grunted the other thug.
“What’s wrong? Can’t beat a little rat half your size on your own, big guy?” John taunted, the blood pumping in his head overtaking what good sense he had left.
There was no response, only the wind up for a kick that soared towards his face. John once more slid out of the way, but was just barely too slow to realise the mistake he had made. The narrow crack did not allow for much variety of movement, and so in dodging one attack he had immediately left himself open for another, a thought that was immediately confirmed by the sight of the other thug charging like a raging bison towards him. John dove out of the way of the tackle, right into a fist that slammed into his chest knocking him a few feet into the air.
The shock of impact gave way to a sharp pain, up in the air unable to control his movement John could only helplessly watch as his leg was grabbed and used to throw his body against a wall.
[SIGNIFICANT DAMAGE ACQUIRED: ADMINISTERING PAIN SUPPRESSANTS]
Pain gave way to a sort of numbness and fog. Shakily John managed to get back on his feet to the annoyed huff of the slightly smaller thug.
“Haven’t you had enough?” the man asked, though really it was more of a statement.
John spat as his reply.
The man clicked his tongue. “Fine by me.”
He walked over slowly, but clearly ready to throw a punch. John’s eyes darted back and forth across his surroundings looking for anything that could give him an advantage. Right before a fist would have connected with his face he remembered what happened last time he was hit, and with it an idea.
Jumping over the attack John once more soared through the air, this time under his own volition, and thus under his control. Before either of his foes could react he landed right on top of the smaller man and used him as a platform to jump to a nearby wall. Taking advantage of years of experience navigating treacherous terrain John lept between the walls of rock, striking blows while staying out of reach. The thugs tried to follow but were too large and slow to keep up, barely making it up a few feet of rock before being kicked back down. Eventually they resorted to throwing stones at him, but by the time the rocks hit the target they were aiming for he was already elsewhere.
A well placed blow to the head knocked out the larger man, not a moment too soon as a dull ache made itself known across John’s body. Now completely enraged John’s remaining opponent all but physically leaked smoke from his ears.
“I was going easy on ya since you’re a kid, but that’s IT! You die NOW!” he screamed, pulling out a metal cylinder that made John’s eyes widen with panic.
Before the Age of Ash, it was said no warriors used the blade, for the weapons of the Golden Age were made so that even a mere child could slay a trained soldier. Crude and clearly improvised it may have been, but there was no mistaking what it could be: a gun. A loud explosion flashed from the weapon, thankfully not before John could dodge, leaving a small hole in the stone wall behind him.
[ASSESSING…]
Another shot fired with a bang.
[ADRENALINE RUSH]
Time slowed, John just in time moved his right arm in the way of the pellet of metal. A loud ping reverberated in the alleyway as lead bounced off the metallic plates of ARTOS. The man was ready to line up another shot, the world stood still, John could see the thug’s finger tighten around the trigger…
A blur of motion entered the alleyway and a whirlwind of blows knocked the man out cold. Standing in front of him was Alexander, thoroughly enraged.
“Somehow I had a feeling something like this would happen, must you always insist on not using that head on your shoulders?” Alexander scolded, voice shaking with suppressed fury. John had no words to say in his defence, exhaustion overwhelmed him and the bruises he had earned made themselves known in a bonfire of agony.
A quiet voice emerged from behind them, the stick thin shopkeeper emerging from where he was hiding. “Excuse me sir cultivator… but your boy here rushed here to my assistance. Please do not be too harsh on him, he’s a good man, if lacking sense.”
Alexander nodded, fury slowly fading away to a deep weariness. “I see. We’ll talk about this later John, come with me!”
The walk out of the alley was thick with unsaid and mixed emotions, most piercing of all a measure of disappointment and pride. And of course that was when the small device in John’s pocket began to buzz.
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With the sun ready to rest its head for the day, a battered and bruised John made their way to the top of the gorge wincing with every bit of pressure against the leg that had been used to throw him into a wall earlier. A pair of figures draped in dark green robes stood there waiting for them. One appeared more like an animated rock than a human, his green garments looking like moss that had grown over a cracked grey boulder and even his eyes had a glassy quality more fitting rough gems than orbs of flesh. The other looked almost completely covered with scar tissue below a canine-like head, it was absolutely impossible to tell what gender they were with an absence of any traits noticeably male or female. Both proudly wore two brooches, one being the three triangles that marked them as official Cultivators, the other the dull grey crescent of the Lead Cave. The stone man turned an amber eye towards John and raised a rocky eyebrow.
“For a fast-tracked Aspirant I was expecting something more.” said the rock-man in a voice that didn’t quite match his appearance.
Before John could retort, perhaps sensing the diplomatic disaster imminent, Alexander quickly gave him a jab on the back reducing his complaint to a quiet grumble.
“If you must know Igni I believe it may be because of my sponsorship.” Alexander replied calmly but sternly.
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
“Ah the Babysitter… I had almost forgotten about you. Finally got tired of herding rats and being a disappointment?” the now named Igni sneered. John felt himself twitch, resisting the urge to punch the man who could probably beat him by standing still.
The canine faced cultivator coughed and glared at their companion, defusing the situation for now. “This Graff Huron apologises for the poor conduct of their junior brother, congratulations on being accepted to participate in the trials Aspirant Zhou, we will be in charge of escorting you to the Lead Cave. Would you please follow us to your transportation arrangements?” Graff intoned stiffly and unnaturally, mouth only forming words through obvious and deliberate effort.
Taking some deep breaths to steady himself John nodded, though there really wasn’t any other answer. He and Alexander were led to the strangest carriage John had ever laid eyes on, an old machine that had clearly been repaired and retrofitted so many times it was likely completely different from what it once was. In appearance it was similar to a taller metallic version of the old wooden cart used to ferry scrap and Rats from place to place save for the front section being covered by some sort of hood with large windows. Beneath the hood looked to be two seats, a wheel in front of the left. Strangest of all John thought was the lack of any handholds or other attachments that could be used to pull the thing along, was it meant to move under its own power then? Graff with clearly practised motions came to a stop ahead of the rest of the group followed shortly by Igni who managed to look as dignified as a moving rock could be.
“Greetings esteemed guests, I am the driver of the Rust Wagon tonight and also in charge of seating arrangements. I warn you to listen carefully, words tire me so I will only say this once” Graff began in the same stiff manner. The warning was followed by a brief series of coughs and then what sounded like the voice of an entirely different person.
“Aspirant! Is tradition for you sit at back, like Igni! Most days more Aspirants with you, but Igni good company sometimes.”
A moment passed as the words settled into comprehension and Igni’s entire body shifted in shock like crumbling rubble. “Wait, Graff, what do you mean ‘like Igni’? Wasn’t I meant to sit next to you?”
Graff gave little more than a wry smile in response before continuing like nothing had happened, gesturing towards Alexander. “Alexander! You sit next to me, you not officially expelled from Sect last I check, and I want catch up!”
A shadow of a smile briefly flickered across his mentor’s face. Slowly, as if he wasn’t fully certain the vehicle wouldn’t vanish at his touch, he made his way to his seat. Huffing indignantly Igni pulled himself onto the back of the Rust Wagon with more ease than his appearance would suggest. Though his bruised muscles and overtaxed tendons screamed in protest at the very idea, John followed suit, heaving himself on board with considerable effort.
The Rust Wagon sputtered and roared to life, the entire frame shaking even before it started moving. Between the stiff iron seating and the natural bumpiness of the road, if John's rear was not already bruised it certainly was now, and the injuries that had already existed flared into raging infernos of stabbing sensations. It was still miles from the Sect yet it felt like he had been on this accursed wagon for days, internally he asked ARTOS for another dose of pain suppressants.
[CONFIRMED: WARNING YOU ARE NEARING YOUR RECOMMENDED DAILY LIMIT FO-]
I know I know. He dismissed, not caring to hear much more.
“Who were you talking to?” Igni asked, the question slamming into John with more impact than if the man had simply punched him.
“I-I uh…” John sputtered uselessly prompting a laugh from Igni.
“Don’t worry, I read your file and I can make a good guess.” Igni said with a wide grin revealing a strangely normal looking mouth that really did not fit on his face. “You should have seen your face though! Spitting image of the Babysitter, no wonder he picked you!”
“What do you want?” John grumbled.
Igni looked at him more seriously, glassy eyes boring into his soul. “You came here injured, didn’t you? And anyone with even half of a working brain would know not to start shit with someone with an unknown Relic, not even on a scrawny sack of bones like you, so you clearly were not injured in a robbery or ordinary street brawl. So I ask you, what possessed you to start a fight not even a half month before the first Trial starts?”
John suddenly felt very very small, like he was a worm trapped beneath the gaze of a hungry bird. “I… I saw some thugs accosting a shopkeeper and I couldn’t just let them do it!”
Igni raised an eyebrow. “And did you know this shopkeeper?” He asked.
“Well… no.” John replied.
“Hmph, I see a few possibilities, that you are simply a bleeding heart, that you are some sort of glory chasing hero wannabe or that you simply look for excuses to justify wanting to punch someone. Regardless of what is true, from where I am right now you are either overconfident, an idiot or quite possibly both.” Igni sternly lectured. Even through the numb haze of the pain suppressants John felt his blood boiling.
“You don’t even know me! What do-” He began to yell before being silenced by the feeling of Igni grabbing onto his arm, or rather the Relic attached to it.
“This is truly something spectacular, unlike anything I have ever seen, it is like it is alive even beating with a heart of its own.” Igni noted not even giving a scrap of attention to John’s momentary outburst. “But I have seen your type before, it doesn’t matter if you are a nobody, an Aurelium or even a kracking Cunningham, in the end you are all the same. You think you are special, that having power means you don’t need to think, and that may even be true until the moment it matters most.”
Igni abruptly let go of ARTOS causing John to tumble slightly back. “Honestly I would not blame you if you had the impression I hated you because of this, but the truth isn’t that simple. I do want you to succeed, Aurelium is not an idiot. If he believes you have potential, so do I.” the stone man said in a softer, gentler voice. “But every year dozens of Aspirants arrive at the Lead Cave, from all over the province, training to be in peak condition for the Trials and yet still there are less than a hundred true Cultivators among our number. Have you ever stopped to consider why? Given the bruises I somehow doubt it.”
Mutely John looked down at his worn sackcloth clothes, stained with blood and torn in places to reveal ugly splotches of purple and black flesh, unable to respond.
----------------------------------------
The Sect Compound was beyond any expectations, what would otherwise be an unremarkable hill was transformed into a mixture of fortress and art. The formidable stone walls were carved with seemingly inhuman precision, even from a distance it was clear any errant pebble that did not work to improve the image of the place was either discarded or remodelled into a better role. Compared to the dim moon-lit surroundings the Sect glowed, nearly every building either rising from the sides of the hill or carved into the stone itself brightly illuminated showing off bright metallic paint that made every structure look like jewels embedded in stone. A heavy metal portcullis lifted at their approach and from within it looked just as stunning as it did from afar, hung from the top of a huge round arena as well as a massive gaping hole in the hill that dominated the view were tubes of dark blue light shaped in the crescent symbol of the Sect. If John had to describe it the Sect would be like how he imagined the ruins he used to explore looked like before the world that built them crumbled to dust. It was a little more difficult to admire the view however when more pressing thoughts weighed in John’s mind. He hated to even consider the idea that Igni was right, but who was he trying to fool anyway? There was no point changing Igni’s mind, Alexander had known his flaws since well before he decided he wanted to be a Cultivator… and what was the point of trying to lie to himself?
The Rust Wagon came to a stop near the walls and shortly after leaving the vehicle the atmosphere immediately turned icy. Before there was nobody else outside where they had stopped, now there was a woman standing there as if she had been waiting for them. Well John assumed they were a woman, the shape of their body would have looked distorted and disproportionate on any gender. Most of her body besides her face that was visible beneath a long flowing dress was covered with bony spines varying in size and shape; said face was actually rather unremarkable besides the fact it was completely out of place amidst the tumours in her head and hair like someone stapled the face of a doll onto a lump of flesh. Her lower half looked like a centipede crossed with a snake with whatever was once ordinary human legs nowhere to be found now. The sight was equally entrancing as it was viscerally terrifying, like she did not belong with the rest of the world. She gave a small smile revealing blue stained teeth and was met with stiff bows from all near. Not wanting to find out the consequences of not following along, John quickly lowered his head as well, hoping his slow reaction was not noticed.
“Raise your heads, I know I can be scary but I assure you I won’t bite!” She scoffed, waving a clawed hand to dismiss the show of respect.
“Apologies Elder Cinnabar, we did not expect your presence.” Igni responded shakily. Internally John associated the name with Alexander’s lessons of people to be wary of in the Sect. His description of her could hardly do the real thing justice, then again possibly nothing would.
Elder Cinnabar giggled, the movement of her face subtly but not unnoticeably out of sync with the rest of her head. “Relax, I’m not here on any business or official duty and you all know how much I hate suppressing my Si. See old Rusty thought he could sneak something past me, and I wasn’t going to let that happen again!”
She turned her attention to Alexander, grinning brightly. “Ah Alex, you have changed, I had hardly recognised you!”
Alexander sighed deeply, resigned to his fate. “Hello Aunt Cinnabar, once again I am not interested in cultivating again.”
“I know I know, but you wouldn’t return for no reason either!” she then turned her head to John, her already unsettling smile becoming terrifying beyond reasonable description.
“Ah and there he is, John was it?” she asked, slithering over to investigate.
“Yes ma’am!” he replied, every scrap of spare willpower trying to keep his voice from wavering. Her eyes did not seem to stop at just his outside, they drilled into his soul.
“Ah you have come here injured, mostly blunt force damage I suspect.” She noted instantly. “Dear old mother, rest her soul, always did say the Aurelium men were more impulse than sense, it seems not even blood can change that fact. Time will heal these wounds, the healers could cover the worst of the damage, but don’t expect the trials to go soft on you just because you have already been beaten to a pulp!”
“Understood, ma’am.” John said, wincing a little at the reminder.
Elder Cinnabar continued to stare into him, the air shaking under the force of her attention. Once apparently sufficiently satisfied she shut her eyes and nodded. “I have seen enough, continue as you must.”
In a blink she disappeared, taking with her much of the pressure of her presence, though still to call the situation tense was an understatement. John felt a shiver travel down his spine, a thought that did not feel like his own bubbled to the front of his mind.
By the way, I suggest staying away from the Phagos daughter until you are at least Wanderer level. Unless of course you want to be eaten alive by her father, if so it is easier to just ask him politely.