Book Two: Sprout

Ash

The streets of Farryn were awash in beautiful colors as the people prepared for the New Year's celebration. It was a special time of celebration. The new year signified new beginnings in Vorthe; new couples are united in marriage at the beginning of the new year, so it was one long celebration that led into another and another.

Ash walked around the city of Farryn taking in the view. Three years ago she came to know the world outside the slums.

“What are those?”

She remembered asking the maid she accompanied outside the Royal Estate.

“They’re called horses, dear. They are used to pull carriages, and soldiers also ride on them.”

She had pointed to a horse, because she didn’t know what it was, and it was the most beautiful beast she’d ever seen. “People can ride on ‘em? Oh shweets, that’s amazing! Can I ride ‘em too?”

“Sorry dear, but we have to run that errand fast else we return late to the estate.”

“Hmm,” she responded, looking a little disappointed. She was used to living free in the slums even though she had nothing, she could do almost anything, most times with consequences. She was coming to understand now that life in this part of the city came with rules that must be obeyed.

Ash smiled as she remembered. She was young and naíve back then. Alone and frightened. She hadn’t gotten justice, and even justice wasn’t enough. She wanted revenge. The psychopathic teenager who had taken her family away from her got away with a public warning. Now she’s Blank, but the psycho's already Sprout. She needed to get stronger fast so she could have her revenge.

Uncle Rihal keeps telling me that Jerome will get revenge for us, but when? He won’t even take me to him! Ash suppressed her frustration as she headed towards the Royal Estate. She’d been out running errands for her master.

When are you coming home, Jerome? She thought in frustration.

~~~

Darkness...

Mountains...

A Mountain...

One, unlike the rest of them.

Jerome tried opening his eyes but they wouldn’t open. He tried to move. His body was stiff and it didn’t budge an inch. Then he noticed his core. He was cycling faster than he ever had. But strange was that he could see his core inside himself, unlike before, when he had to imagine and feel the flow of essence inside him. It had completely taken shape, like a tiny seed planted in the soil.

Sprout! I’m Sprout!

With little effort, he rapidly slowed down his core. The action was effortless but it hurt like hell! Jerome ignored the pain and began picking himself up with great difficulty. Pain wracked his body, unlike anything he had ever felt before. He began convulsing violently, his muscles spasming repeatedly. His eyes almost rolled into his head before he quickly began cycling again.

Jerome calmed down after a while, his muscles twitching periodically. He tried standing up again and his body made cracking sounds with every movement. Debris fell off his body as he stood, and he was immediately hit by the raging currents of the river. Jerome quickly recalled what happened before he passed out.

Hedon.

He grabbed hold of the undergrowth in the water before he was swept away by the strong currents. He noticed he was naked. My robes must have been destroyed by the water, he thought.

He quickly searched around and began picking up the storage bags that were on him before the incident. They were still in pristine condition. They were artifacts and couldn’t be easily destroyed.

There were a lot of them. With a thought, he used Suzzie to pick them all up. But he noticed something. Suzzie came out of his fingertips. She’s supposed to be a set of gauntlets. How’s it she came out of my fingertips?

Jerome shot out of the water with wings flapping behind him. There was no point searching for answers to questions he didn’t have at the moment. The effort it took to fly put a lot of burden on his mind and body and he wondered why. He had done this as Blank, why was he feeling burdened by it now?

He flew up towards the outcropping that jutted out of the canyon wall, where he had found Ash lying in her own blood. It was empty. The blood had been cleaned up, probably by scavenging birds of prey.

Jerome’s rage awakened. The beast reared its head but Jerome shoved it down forcefully. He looked towards the direction of the current as the faces of his friends fleeted by in his mind’s eye.

Not all of them had been stabbed before being thrown into the river below, he thought. There’s a chance some of them are still alive.

Jerome lashed onto that hope. He had nothing else to go on except hope. He quickly took out some robes from one of his storage bags and put them on. The robes were supposed to be a gift to Moss but surprisingly, they fit him. Almost like he had grown taller.

He shot forward in the direction of the current.

How much time had passed? he thought to himself. He hoped it hadn’t been too long. But even as he hoped, he knew deep down that he was wrong.

What must have happened to Ash? Was it birds of prey? Some flying magical beast? Maybe she was thrown into the river too. Jerome wanted to hope nothing bad had happened to her but her condition the last time he saw her was grave.

Jerome’s body hurt like hell as he flew. His back hurt where his wings protruded out of him. And they weren’t cooperating as he flew. Heck, his body wasn’t cooperating with him. Soon enough he fell out of the sky and crashed into the river.

Try again. Try again, Jerome! They must be out there somewhere, he thought as he struggled to push himself to the surface of the water. The strong current of the river violently pulled him along southward. He tried to get control of his body’s movement, but his limbs didn’t obey him. Jerome was disoriented. His body wasn’t cooperating. His limbs were beginning to go numb.

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With one final push, he shot out of the water, flying high into the sky. He landed on the cliff edge of the canyon and fell down flat on his back, breathing hard. He passed out moments later moments later from exhaustion.

The sun was high up in the sky. And the wind was blowing heavily making it hard to hear anything but the sound of gusts. Jerome awakened to the sound of birds screeching high up in the sky. He opened his eyes and struggled into a sitting position. His eyes hurt as the sun shone down on him. Or was that the aura in the air?

He stood up and looked around. How long has it been since I was thrown off the cliff? he thought. The memories of his last fight with Hedon came crashing back in again.

Jerome took a deep breath to calm his pounding heart. He noticed his body was a lot skinnier now like it used to be before Mhen Agrh’ur. He also felt very weak. Weaker than he’d like to be. He looked towards the direction the river was flowing with a wistful expression.

I’m gonna come back for you guys. I promise. Just hold on…hold on for me. Jerome turned around and walked the other way. He walked back to the spot where he was thrown off the cliff. The soil looked undisturbed. It didn’t look like there had been any fighting recently.

Jerome sighed. This just solidified it in his mind that he had been under the river for far longer than it appeared. Maybe a few seasons.

He jumped down to the outcropping on the cliff wall and sat down in a meditative posture, his body in pain as he took deep breaths to begin cycling. Time passed by slowly as he absorbed the pure essence in the air. Jerome could now distinguish the strange aura in the air now. Sword Aura. It was sharp and felt dangerous. He remembered Rihal’s teachings once again.

“To comprehend Sword Force, one had to comprehend the edge of the blade.”

“What’s the edge of a blade?”

Jerome visualized the Sword Aura in the air and magnified it in his mind’s eye. He shaved off particle after particle of the Sword Aura, as though it was physical matter until it was as thin and sharp as a blade’s edge.

Blade’s Edge, he thought and looked around him. It’ll be a fitting name.

Jerome closed his eyes once again. With his understanding, he began absorbing the Sword Aura in the air. Pain wracked him once again but he held on. His body convulsed from the pain, yet he withstood it — not for long, though.

His heart felt like it was about to explode, his muscles felt like they were being pricked by over a million tiny needles from inside him. He felt death approaching. He quickly slowed down his core, even pushing out some of the Sword Aura.

What’s wrong with my body? he thought as blood flowed from facial orifices. This shouldn’t be normal. His eyes were unfocused and watery. He felt a splitting headache that made him want to curl up and into oblivion. The pain was unbearable.

Jerome remained in his cross-legged position, however. Waiting out the pain. After a while, he opened his eyes and raised his right hand slightly with the first two fingers outstretched. The essence in his body spiked. Jerome felt like he was zapped by lightning all of a sudden and the hairs on his skin rose. He forced the pain to the back of his mind. His focus sharpened. He took hold of that feeling and channeled essence to his hand.

With his outstretched fingers, he made a slicing gesture, forcefully slicing into the rock wall beside him with an invisible blade. Pain wracked his hand! His fingers curled involuntarily as his hand shook from the pain.

My nervous system is a mess! he thought as he held his right hand in his left watching it tremble continuously. He lost the feeling in that hand right away, and couldn’t move it anymore.

Damn it! What the hell is going on?!

Jerome felt he couldn’t practice anymore. The more he did, the more his body broke down from within. He needed rest as he was exhausted and out of breath. He began taking stock of his injuries.

I can’t slow down my core to a halt. If I do that, my nerves and blood vessels will cause me pain from the lack of essence passing through them.

If I cycle too fast, it’ll put too much pressure on my channels and my entire body. “Ah,” he sighed, “so much for being a prodigy.” What did Hedon do to my body? he felt regret. He knew now that he shouldn’t have antagonized the teenager. But the thirst for vengeance had been kindled.

The bridge’s been burned already, and he’s gonna pay for bringing my family into this! His eyes filled with determination and a thirst for revenge.

“The flowing steel has merged with my body somehow, but I can use it just as before it did,” he muttered. That should be a good thing, right? He took out the storage bag containing the Sunfire stone and held it for a while before dipping his hand into it. He couldn’t bring out the stone here as there was nowhere to place it.

Jerome sighed. This is gonna hurt really bad. He started absorbing essence straight from the pouch.

“Aaaargh!” he screamed in pain almost as soon as he started. This was a mistake. The fiery essence inside the Sunfire stone was far more potent and destructive than he assumed.

With as much strength as he could, Jerome shot towards the City of Farryn. His body was on fire from the inside out. The Sunfire stone was too potent for his battered body. He hurriedly flew forward with his nerves on fire. He soon fell out of the sky crashing onto the earth with a loud bang.

The locals of the area saw this and fled in haste. Many of them were mere mortals who knew jack-shit about essence and very rarely visited cities where sacred artists dwelled, so seeing someone fall from the sky was bizarre. Jerome tried to stand up but the pain was unbearable.

He forced himself, groaning loudly as he picked himself up. The wings at his back dissolved into his body and his paralyzed arm was now broken.

Ain’t it a beautiful day, he thought looking upward in frustration. He began walking towards Farryn with a limp. He had to walk for miles. Thankfully, even though he was bruised and battered, his body was still that of a sacred artist.

Jerome stopped to rest for a while as he neared the city gates. He’d been walking for half a day and it was night already. There was a long line of people waiting to get into the city.

He looked at the city walls for the first time. He had passed through here when he came out of the city in Light knows how long ago.

The city wall was huge, easily forty feet high. It shimmered with essence in the darkness of the night, making him wonder what it would have taken to build such a marvel. Jerome could tell that the wall wasn’t just a passive defense erected to keep unwanted folks out; it was alive with magic, imbued with protective barriers so it could withstand the worst of barrages. Maybe it could be used for offense too, but he may never know.

Guard towers jutted out at irregular intervals along the wall, each a masterpiece of both function and aesthetics. Glistening spires housed archers, offering vantage points to survey the landscape and protect against any encroaching danger. These towers were crowned with functional and wide battlements.

Perhaps Vorthe had canons. Jerome had no idea about that. If they did, they never showed it.

He didn’t want to draw attention to himself so he decided to join the line. He wrapped his head in a small scarf to hide his face before getting in line. The line in front of the gate was quite long, as a lot of people wanted to get into the city to purchase accommodations. Rooms in inns would be readily available for rent.

How long can I hold on here, he thought in agitation. Little by little, the line moved forward, and more people joined behind Jerome. A fight broke out behind him but he didn’t bother looking back. It was the survival of the strongest out here. It was already dark and everyone wanted to get into the city before the gates were shut.

Someone began walking towards the front from the back, skirting the line and looking for sheep among wolves. He took a glance at Jerome and saw someone weak and probably at death’s door. Jerome was hunched over in pain and his body was trembling as his nerves couldn’t stay still.

The man stopped beside him and spoke loudly in a hoarse voice, “Leave the line, or lose an arm.”