Hector’s gaze drifted to where the blur had come from, and he paused as the man hopped from one broken stall to the next, each leap carrying him a great distance. He was dressed in dark red robes that fluttered as he moved. In his hand was a javelin with flames licking across its surface, and on his back were several more. The most eye-catching thing about him was his red hair—not like Jodie’s, but an actual red like fire.
“Core Formation,” Hector muttered, glancing at Lincoln, who looked just as confused as he did. The robes identified the man as part of the Phoenix Company, but the hair—which would take on the colour of one’s affinity upon reaching that stage—placed him in the Core Formation.
System, scan him.
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///: Acquiring target stats…
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///
Cultivation level: [Core Formation-1]
Talent: [None]
Talent Fragment: [None]
///
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I was right; he is a Core Formation. He must be here to deal with that thing.
The man raised his arm, flames raging across it as he launched another javelin. It shot through the air, whistling with speed, and slammed into one of the Void Hungers fighting the two guards, pinning it to the stone. A second javelin followed a moment later, crunching into the obsidian flesh of the other beast and pinning its head to the ground.
Both creatures continued to writhe for a moment until the javelins exploded in flame, immolating their flesh. Hector cringed as they let out their final pained cries—a feeling of wrongness washing over him, though much weaker than the one pervading the area.
“Lincoln, he’s in the Core Formation realm,” Hector said, grabbing Mirae’s shaky hand as she came to stand next to him. Her presence was a comfort.
“Yeah, I think so,” Lincoln replied. The man cracked onto the cobblestone a few feet in front of them and reached out. The stall rubble where he had slammed the Void Hunger that Hector had been fighting shook; flames licked at a smouldering corpse, and then he pulled back. Out from the wreckage, the javelin snapped and smacked into his waiting palms—he was definitely in the Core Formation realm.
The man looked at them, gave a curt nod, and spared a glance at the creature looming in the center of the festival. His face tightened, and he launched off the ground, soaring over to the two guards, where he collected his other two javelins.
“I think we might actually be alright,” Lincoln said, grabbing Hector’s arm—his finger pinching into his skin as he shook him. “With a Core Formation here, they should be more than able to deal with that big one.”
“Yeah.” Although impressive, the Core Formation cultivator was the least of his concerns. Those corpses had fragments on them—at least he hoped they did. If he could extract even a few, that would be one seed, at the very least.
Hector scanned the area. The Core Formation man said something to one guard before leaping away toward the Void Ravager in the center of the festival. Hector’s eyebrows bunched as he watched the guards hobble further down the stone path—weren’t they supposed to help someone?
Although the guards weren’t healers, they could surely provide some first aid. He sighed, his eyes moving to the smouldering stall wreckage as he shook his head. It didn’t matter; he needed those fragments, and if they weren’t around, extraction would be even easier.
“Lincoln, stay here. I’m going to check it out.” Warmth left his hand as he let go of Mirae’s and gestured toward the stall. “I want to get a closer look.”
“Didn’t you already get a look when it was trying to kill you all those times?” Lincoln said, crossing his arms and letting his gaze flicker between Hector and the surroundings. Quiet sobs still littered the area as a few people moved around, helping others. “Maybe we should get out of here. Just because there’s a Core Formation doesn’t guarantee how this fight will go.”
He was right, but still—when am I going to get another chance like this? And what about Mirae…
He looked back at his sister, who trembled slightly as the wind buffeted her white hair. She reached out to clamp it down, stopping the loose strands from getting into her face. It was dangerous, but no more so than walking blindly in any direction, hoping not to run into another one.
“Do you guys trust me?” Hector asked, looking between the two of them.
Mirae nodded.
“I do, but I have my concerns—especially after what happened earlier,” Lincoln said, kicking a loose piece of wood aside. He looked up to meet Hector’s eyes. “But I know why you did it. So…”
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
It wasn’t a full yes, which Hector would have preferred, but it was enough for now. “Good, so just follow me.” Hector took Mirae’s hand with a tight grip and led them toward the stall. They stopped a few feet from the corpse—a burnt husk that smelt of sulfur and decay. Hector, letting go of Mirae’s hand, brought his own hand over his nose as he squinted.
“This thing didn’t smell that bad when we were fighting it, did it?” he asked, looking at Lincoln. The boy’s eyes scanned the beast before he shrugged.
“I don’t think so, but then again, I was too busy trying not to become its next meal to really give it a proper whiff.” He sighed and rested his hand on his hip. Raising an eyebrow, he gave Hector a questioning look as he backed up. “So what did you want from this thing, anyway?”
Hector stepped forward, the wood of his sandals cracking against the debris as he picked through the wreckage. “Not much. I just wanted to see what it was that we were actually fighting.”
“And you couldn’t do that from here?”
System, are the fragments still present?
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///: “Yes, but they are currently in the process of decay. If they are not extracted now, they shall be lost.”
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Okay, that’s good. It’s not a waste, but I’ll need to make this fast.
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///: “The target does not have a soul space, so fragments can be extracted from the target without leaving this plane. Just place your hand on it.”
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It doesn’t have a soul space. Why? Is it because it’s dead?
Hector dropped to his knees and placed his hand on the Void Hunger’s rough, obsidian skin. It brushed against his palm, almost scratching it—like the bark of an old, long-dead tree.
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///: “Void entities do not have souls. They are creatures of pure oblivion. It is unknown why, but they do develop Talent fragments, though most never manifest into full Talents. That is all I can tell you for now.”
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Oh. Okay. System, extract talents.
An energy pulsed through Hector’s hand, and a moment later, something reacted. The power slipped through his veins, his skin rippling as it flowed into him. It was as if someone had just poured sugar into his arteries.
“Hector, are you all right?” Mirae said, stepping forward and cracking a piece of wood with her foot. “It’s not coming back, is it?”
“No, it’s not,” Hector replied, pushing off from his thigh and coming to his feet.
Lincoln gave him a queer look, placing a hand on the back of his head. “Did you find what you were looking for?” he asked, glancing behind him. Various people around the festival shambled about—many injured, with wounds dripping blood onto the floor. “I hope you did, because I think we should get going.”
Hector looked off into the distance. The Void Ravager at the center of the festival was on a rampage, its tentacles whipping about as it fought off attacks from people that Hector couldn’t make out at this distance. “Yeah, I just want to have a look at the other two creatures. I think there is something I’ve come to understand.”
“Oh, really?” Lincoln said, looking back at him. His gaze made Hector fidget. It was as if Lincoln were searching for something—Hector wasn’t very good at lying to his friends, and Lincoln probably picked up on it. “Alright, if you think you’re onto something, then let’s go check them out. But as soon as you’re done, we need to get moving.”
Hector nodded, crunching across the debris as he reached for Mirae’s hand. She gripped it tightly, and he gave her a reassuring smile, which seemed to steady her shaking. He reminded himself he was doing this for her.
“Now let’s go see what these two have. Hopefully, the fragments won’t have decayed by the time I can extract them.”
----------------------------------------
Emela pursed her lips behind her mask. Crossing her arms, she scanned the area and took in the destruction the creature had wrought. It was now frozen—a husk of what it had been when it rampaged through the festival earlier.
Nyx, standing a short distance away on the cobblestone, turned to her, her face hidden by a simple black mask. “I don’t think these are mana beasts, mistress.” A second creature—its tentacles now limp—lay a short distance away, its carcass crushing the stall beneath it.
“That much is obvious. The wrongness these creatures give off is nothing like I’ve ever experienced,” Emela said, tapping her foot on the beast’s skin. Although frozen, the obsidian-like surface still emanated an eerie, unnatural feeling—like a perversion of life.
“Perhaps we should ask Mistress Cathrine. Maybe she would know what they are,” Nyx suggested, cleaning her hands on her leather pants and stepping over.
Emela scoffed, jumping off the beast and bouncing onto the cobblestone. Shaking her head, she sighed—it was a nice thought, but it wouldn’t work. “If I told them I was anywhere near this place, they’d lock me up for at least a month. It might not be fully in the slums, but the festival is still too far from the centre of Middlec for their liking.”
Nyx nodded, glancing over as a man shambled out from a destroyed stall. He had a large cut on his back, with splinters of wood clinging to his blood-soaked shirt, yet he seemed unconcerned. His focus was fixed on the stall. He dropped to his knees with a thud and began sobbing. “Why, why…”
“Mistress, should we?” Nyx asked, gesturing toward the poor man.
Emela shook her head. It wasn’t her place—she could give him some coin, but she doubted it could bring back what he’d lost. Licking her lips, her warm breath brushing her cheek, Emela looked away. There was no need to watch.
Around the path, similar scenes played out. Wails filled the air as people questioned the meaning behind it all. But Emela knew the reason: they were too weak. How could they ever hope to defend themselves against a creature that treated them like food?
The air whipped as someone cracked onto the cobblestone. Turning to see who, Emela discovered a woman with green hair rustling gently in the wind, standing over the corpse of the creature that had crushed the stall. The woman frowned at the beast, biting her lip before turning to Emela and Nyx.
“You killed this thing,” she said, gesturing toward the corpse.
Emela nodded and took a confident step forward. Playing coy would only put her at a disadvantage—she had to go full-on noble, irony and all. Nyx moved in front of Emela, taking up a defensive stance.
The woman tilted her head and brought a finger to her red lips. “Strange—children so young, able to take out a creature of the void with such ease. And two of them, no less.” She glanced past Emela to the creature’s body behind her. “I see. A Frostkeep, and a blessed blood at that. Interesting.”
A smile tugged at the woman’s lips as the wind ruffled her hair. She reached into her robes, and Emela tensed. Her heart quickened. If this woman was who she thought she was, they were in trouble.