After the unexpected encounter with Elder Cinnabar an uncomfortable silence hung over the group. Graff left first, needing to return the Rust Wagon and Alexander followed saying he had something he needed to discuss with his father leaving John alone with Igni as they made their way to the Aspirant barracks. By the time they made it there, the tension had mostly dissipated. The barracks themselves appeared to be a large rectangular block jutting out from the walls of the Sect complex, comparatively drab and boring in contrast to the rest of the Sect besides a grand set of wooden doors. Illuminated by two sterile white lamps the undoubtedly ancient wood was covered from top to bottom with intricate carvings depicting a great battle beneath two suns, three faceless figures standing in front of the gates of the Lead Cave before an army of smoke belching war machines as twin suns clashed overhead. Even with his rushed and patchwork education John immediately recognised it: the battle that defined the Lead Cave, the sacrifice of the martyred Founders that would elevate their children and sect into greatness.
“Any last questions before we head in?” Igni asked outside the door.
John’s stomach growled loudly, breaking the silence like a response. A thick silence blanketed the air as John desperately tried to shrink into himself and disappear from the world. For his part a wide grin emerged on Igni’s stone face that grew into a full belly laugh.
“N-no… and it’s not funny…” John grumbled, Igni for his part had calmed down to a small chuckle, though a grin that resembled an aerial view of Gorgeville was still plastered on his rocky face.
“It is extremely funny, but you wouldn’t get it just yet! Soon though, no doubt.” Igni chortled somewhat condescendingly, knocking on the door with a peculiar pattern.
There was a hiss and a clunk followed by the old wood groaning as it slid open. Waiting behind it was a woman of indeterminate age, shorter than even John and appeared to be almost as much head as body… and said head was mostly large bug-like eyes. Faster than he could react, a pale yellow, wiry arm grabbed John by his flesh and blood hand and pulled him in with unnatural strength.
“You must surely be freezing, come on in! I was so surprised that we were getting a new Aspirant, honestly they didn’t give me any time to prepare! John Zhou, was it? Clan Aurelium by induction but not by blood, but that hardly matters.” Words fired rapidly from her mouth at a dizzying pace leaving no space for a response as she unceremoniously dragged John into the building.
“Wh-uh, yes, that is my name!” He stammered in an attempt to regain his footing. Meanwhile Igni was once more fighting back tears, something that temporarily drew away the attention of the small woman.
“Pebble brain! What are you laughing at? What happened to that polite young man who tried to hide behind the taller Aspirants a decade ago!” the short woman chastised, impressively actually succeeding in getting the talking boulder to listen.
“My apologies senior sister.” Igni apologised to the satisfied grin of the woman before her attention was once more plastered onto hapless John.
“Terribly sorry for Igni, I know he can be as rough as his skin but unfortunately he is the only other person who volunteered to help take care of newcomers. Oh, where are my manners! I am Nicole Ruiz and I am the Matron of the Aspirants, which is really a fancy way of saying I make sure nothing goes wrong with anyone before the Trials!” She said with a formal bow before unceremoniously picking up the hapless John. “My my, you are all skin and bones! And with those bruises… this will not do at all! I was going to start with a tour and the usual drivel but that can wait now! Let’s get you in the Mess Hall, you won’t survive the trials looking like a Bone Worm!”
Helplessly John found himself being dragged by the tiny matron across the building and up a lengthy staircase, who either completely failed to notice or effortlessly ignored his complaints. Soon muffled sounds of conversation became audible, and a waft of unfamiliar mouthwatering smells made its presence more obvious with each step. He had never heard of a ‘Mess Hall’ in his life before but it was not hard to guess even before he was all but thrown into the room.
There were four long tables in the room piled high with food. Each had between four and eight people of all descriptions seated busy in eating and conversation, notably the youngest among them still seemed perhaps half a decade older than John. The matron clapped her hands and the whole room stopped what they were doing to stare at her and by extension the boy she had dragged over. John would have felt less exposed naked in a battlefield.
“Good evening Aspirants, as the Trials are drawing near normally we would not be accepting new applications, however tonight we have another to join your number! Please give a warm welcome to John Aurelium Zhou!”
John waved weakly at the staring group. Most gave quiet welcomes of varying degrees of sincerity as a response. Some were too focused on ARTOS, their eyes fixed on the Relic. Most did not express much besides some mild surprise, perhaps at his age, perhaps also at ARTOS or maybe his adopted clan. The remainder were held barely disguised apprehension and disdain. Suffice it to say it was far from warm.
“Now go on! Take a seat, you aren’t going to get any healthier just by staring at the food!” the matron instructed. Accepting his fate John made his way to the fourth and least inhabited table.
Seated to his right were two individuals. Next to him was a very muscular woman with pale scars criss crossing her dark skin likely stemming from a history of combat. To the left of her was a bald man that looked inches from death, bearing scars of a different kind akin to the scores of bodies in the slums from those who had desperately tried to join a sect, the only difference being he had made it further than most. On the other side of the table sat a man wearing clothes that practically screamed wealth, a single sleeve was likely more than most earned in a year, the now familiar and thick smell of medicine stuck to him constantly detectable even from the other side. Finally directly opposite him was a reedy albino boy who looked carved from bleached bone, the youngest on the table aside from him, and judging by the glare the most distrustful of him.
Turning his gaze to what was in front of him, the most obvious was the food. More cooked meat than he had ever seen in one place in his life, the powerful scents of unfamiliar spices and herbs, impossibly clear glasses filled with equally clear water, brilliantly white leavened bread and even plump ripe fruits that he had never seen before. There was however an obstacle, arranged before him was a variety of small metal tools, the purpose of which was obviously for use in eating but the exact details of the matter…
With his right arm he picked up a blunt knife and stabbed at a nearby roast in an attempt to carve off a slice. Attempt is a rather generous word in fact for the act, for the blunted blade just slid out of the tender meat.
[REPEATED STABBING MOTIONS DETECTED: WOULD YOU LIKE TO ACTIVATE BASIC COMBAT ENHANCEMENTS?]
Mentally he quickly banished the dubiously helpful voice of ARTOS, distracting him for just long enough for a light nudge on his bruised side resulting in a fresh eruption of pain. He winced and turned towards the source of the poke with a glare. The offender for her part did not seem to have been aware of the extent of his injuries and did appear somewhat genuinely apologetic.
“Sorry there lil guy, didn’t know you were hurt there! My bad!” She apologised, raising her hands in the universal signal of non aggression.
John just sighed and lazily stabbed at the meat again. “What do you want?”
“Well first of all, I wanted to introduce myself to my neighbour. Ferrin Scavin, pleasure to be acquainted with you… John, was it?” She said with a growing smile on her face.
“That is correct.” John confirmed, continuing to futily stab at the meat.
“Second, well to start off with that is a pretty imp relic you have on your right arm there, but you do know that is not going to help you murder the meat that is already dead right?” Ferrin continued, her face changing into a wide wolfish smirk.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
John felt his cheeks set ablaze in shame. In a pathetic attempt to defend himself he stammered “N-I mean I… I just-”
Salvation came from an unlikely source as the wealthy man made his presence known with a scoff. “At least he is trying to use tools, even an undignified attempt at civility is better than none at all, not that I expect you to know of course. Now if you are done with your hypocrisy allow me to introduce myself, Haw house Gallia of Greywater. Would you like some table etiquette advice, young John?”
“Krack off, mole! Some of us didn’t have the luxury of growing up on a pile of fine Golden Age silverware, and I reckon I learned pretty quickly! In fact I’ll prove it!” Ferrin snapped back, suddenly pointing a finger at John right as he was about to finally take a bite of meat. “John! Allow your senior sister to educate you on the matters of etiquette!”
“Please, like a Mauler could teach a Rattlebeast how to jump! I admit you have improved, but that simply means you have more skill than the absolute zero you started with!” Haw remarked as though he had simply recited a well known truth.
John quietly managed to push some meat onto a spoon and shovelled it into his mouth.
“As much as it pains me to agree with the aristocrat he has a point no?” The bald man chimed in with the scratchy voice of a man who had until recently had too injured a throat to speak between small sips of water.
Ferrin gasped in faux hurt, placing a hand on her chest. “Treachery from you, Bron? You side with the aristocrat over me?” With dramatised movements she turned to the last member of the table to plead. “Will you vouch for me Magni, my faithful ally?”
Magni glanced across the table and met John’s eyes while John was committing what was probably a crime against a now shredded drumstick. A smile that would better fit a devil emerged on his colourless face.
“Well I for one would certainly like to see you try.” He replied simply, signing John’s death warrant.
“I knew I could count on you! Come now John! We have much to learn!” Ferrin declared victoriously, suddenly an ominous shiver crawled down John’s spine.
John’s eyes spun around the room locking eyes with the Matron, praying she could somehow hear his pleas. He heard a voice in his head…
Well I think it’s good she is taking initiative, and it is never too early to learn some table manners… and don’t even think about trying to leave early, young man! You don’t have nearly enough food in you, and while the rest will be dismissed at their usual times you leave when I say you can leave, understood?
[FREQUENT EXTERNAL NEURO-DIRECT COMMUNICATION DURING THE PAST 48 HOURS DETECTED... MANUFACTURER'S SUGGESTION: ARTOS ADAPTIVE NEURAL SYSTEMS ARE MORE THAN CAPABLE OF ADAPTING TO EXTERNAL HARDWARE AND DATASTREAMS, BUT DALTOKKI BIOTECH™ NEURAL HARDWARE IS MOST COMPATIBLE]
The beginnings of a long headache from the mental overload at the very least distracted from the pain in the rest of the body.
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After what felt like hours of dubiously useful education followed by a lengthy period of stuffing himself until he… or rather the matron… was satisfied John left the mess hall feeling significantly rounder and ready to call it a night. Of course it was hardly going to be that easy, at least if Nicole had anything to say about it.
Before starting the tour the woman produced a small flask and spat some sort of deathly green substance inside it.
“While cultivators even in the middle of the Wretch Realm do heal faster, with the widespread injuries you have acquired your recovery process will be slowed significantly. This however should be able to accelerate your healing so that by the time the Trials begin the worst of any fractures or tears you may have acquired should be healed.” She explained, handing the container to a hapless John.
The sight alone was enough to make him feel somewhat nauseous, and the smell escaping from the open top of the flask unfortunately matched well with the appearance of the liquid.
“Do I have to?” He asked, breathing through his mouth as much as possible to not inhale any more foul vapours.
“You don’t have to, I suppose, but you won’t make it far in the Trials if you do not care for your flesh. Ideally we don’t want anyone to die, so if you would rather go into the trials injured might I suggest withdrawing from the Trials or transferring to a Menial Disciple position instead?” She answered bluntly.
Begrudgingly John drank the disgusting liquid, kept only from emptying his stomach again from years of experience picking through waste for scraps. Still he could not keep from gagging, earning a sympathetic look from the matron.
She gave John a comforting pat on the back. “I understand it is unpleasant, but we don’t have much time now.”
The foul aftertaste still lingering in his mouth, John struggled to resist the urge to vomit again. “Could you have at least made me have it on an empty stomach?”
The woman tutted. “Believe me, I would much prefer to do that than deal with vomit, but the side effects well… just trust me it is better this way. Regardless I digress, there is much that you need to know!”
Once more John was dragged around by the small woman in a way he was sure would seem comical to any outsider. The tour began on the right side of the building where most recreational and training facilities were located. Long meditation halls, strange machines that appeared more fitting for torture than exercise and the location of a door leading to a courtyard where exercises incapable of fitting in an indoor environment were placed were quickly introduced and almost as quickly moved on from. The most important detail however was the restrooms, apparently waste was taken from certain locations through a series of pipes to be disposed of and treated depending on the cultivation level of the… producer… of said waste. Reminders to look at the drawings placed in every bathroom for instruction if he was ever unsure of the proper procedure made John wonder just how many times someone had, in the words of Nicole, ‘done their business like an animal’.
“Make sure to listen carefully for this because I am only going to say this once boy!” the voice of the matron shook John from his… somewhat distracted… thoughts as they made their way to the left side.
“Y-yes Matron?”
“The tradition of keeping a separate building for the unproven Aspirants unfortunately has roots in a long history of attempted infiltration and sabotage from within the Sect, back in the days when we were a minor organisation under the rule of the Khan only those with the direct approval of the sect leadership would be allowed to join our ranks, but of course that is no longer feasible. As such all Aspirants have some very strict rules and restrictions they are expected to follow.” She explained relatively slowly and quickly. “You are not to leave the building after sundown unless it is for the purpose of a Trial or during emergencies, you are expected to keep to a strict routine waking at dawn and to be present and accounted for during mealtimes and scheduled training sessions. In addition you are not to leave the Sect complex without prior permission, you are not to enter any staff only areas labelled with the red crescent and you are under no circumstances allowed past the first floor of the archives. Are we clear?”
John quickly nodded and Nicole let out a long relieved sigh.
“Honestly, realistically I know full well these warnings are nowhere near enough to stop everyone. But do remember, while your circumstances may be different than usual you will be held to the same standard as everyone else, if not harsher.”
“I wouldn’t want you to go easy on me anyway.” John replied curtly, feeling his battered pride rise like a cornered snake in his heart.
“Well while your attitude needs some work that is good to hear. By the way, we have almost made it to your room, and I must first warn you that you will have to share it with a roommate. They may become a good friend, they may just as easily be the opposite, but if you feel the need to fight please take it to the sparring circle in the courtyard.” She hummed, stopping outside a door labelled E-1, presumably his room. “Any more questions?”
“No matron, thank you for the help.” he replied.
“Good. Have a good night and catch some rest!” the matron concluded, quickly gliding down the hall leaving John alone.
He opened the door quietly and looked around. The room was simply and practically decorated, there was a single door to the side leading to a bathroom, a switch on the wall presumably connected to electric lights. In the middle of the room was a thin window and to each side of it was two beds, something he was not quite used to after years spent sleeping on bedrolls. The bed on the left was immaculate and untouched while the bed on the right was a mess of disturbed sheets half hanging off the mattress and a pillow somehow moved to the centre of the bed. It was not hard to figure out which one was already claimed.
Feeling as though his eyelids were shaped from lead John struggled to not instantly collapse onto the free bed. Before he could however a click signalled the opening of the bathroom door and a familiar white haired figure emerged from the bathroom.
Magni stared at John.
John stared back.
Magni made a pained groan. “Well fuck, I am too tired for this shit. Goodnight.”
As promised he shuffled towards his bed, curled up in a cocoon of bedsheets and left the room in blissful silence.
“Oh thank the spirits great and small…” John prayed in relief.
Determined to be as rested as possible in preparation for the inevitable drama in the morning, John quickly mirrored Magni and fell asleep.
----------------------------------------
Deep in John’s body countless tiny tendrils hooked to his blood supply measured thousands of different factors in minute detail, just one system of many in the vast sprawling network that connected ARTOS to its host. A disturbance was detected, recorded and processed by the complex neural systems hosted beneath the large metal plates visible on the host.
[UNKNOWN SUBSTANCE DETECTED IN BLOOD: ANOMALOUS STRUCTURE… 0 MATCHES FOUND IN LIBRARY]
[PRELIMINARY ASSESSMENT…]
[NO ADDITIONAL DAMAGE TO HOST: SUBSTANCE APPEARS TO INCREASE SPEED AND EFFICIENCY OF CELLULAR REPAIR…
MOST LIKELY POSSIBILITY: EXOTIC REGENERATION STIMULATING DRUG.]
[COLLECTING SAMPLE…]
[PROCESSING… ANOMALOUS STRUCTURE INTERFERING WITH MOLECULAR ANALYSIS… ESTIMATED TIME FOR FULL ANALYSIS… 3701 HOURS…
SAMPLE DATA FILED UNDER PHARMACEUTICAL COMPOUNDS WITH TEMPORARY DESIGNATION X-130]
[NEW DATA ACQUIRED: COMPOUND X-130 SIGNIFICANTLY BOOSTS IMMUNE SYSTEM FUNCTION AND MAY INCREASE REJECTION RISK BEYOND ACCEPTABLE PARAMETERS. UNABLE TO PRODUCE ACCURATE SIMULATIONS BASED ON CURRENT DATA… MORE DATA REQUIRED]
In less time than a human would take to blink the not quite computer and not quite brain of ARTOS made a decision.
[THIRD KIDNEY MODULE RECONFIGURING TO TARGETED BLOOD FILTRATION: COMPOUND X-130 CONCENTRATIONS TO BE REDUCED BY 25% UNTIL MORE DATA CAN BE ACQUIRED]