Jerome took a deep breath to calm down, immersing himself in his consciousness. He found himself in the mental plane once again. The plane was the same as before. However, he didn’t know what to do next.

Visualize the entire world, he reminded himself of the Sovereign’s words. Reach for it and push through the boundary in your mind. Jerome sat down cross-legged to visualize the entire mind plane. This time around, he didn’t do it to leave but to get the feel of it.

His mind roamed the plane. It was like a pocket dimension. At least that was how his mind translated it — which he still found awesome! The last time he did this it was way bigger than how it felt now.

Or maybe my mental capacity has increased, he mused.

Jerome moved through the plane with just his mind. It felt weird, like being in multiple places at the same time — yet without a tangible presence. He hovered atop the trees and the valleys, his mind was divided while doing this, like apparitions of himself — connected, yet separate.

He willed the cold wind to stir around him. Dead leaves were blown away leaving the land bare. Jerome reached down to pick up a handful of soil. It felt like ordinary soil, even though he knew it wasn’t.

“A mind is a powerful tool,” he muttered. With just the power of the mind, one could visualize whole worlds into being, or push through barriers the body says is impossible to push through.

Jerome left the plane. When he came to, he was mentally exhausted and was breathing hard, but not as he was the last time. He cycled as fast as he could to get rid of the fatigue. After a while, he inhaled and exhaled audibly, trying to recreate the same feelings from when he was inside his mind plane.

He sensed the barrier again and pushed through it, stretching his senses around his tiny room. The sensation was similar to expanding his senses in the mental plane — with just a little more effort. But it was nowhere as fast enough.

Jerome made a note to himself to study the barrier in his mind, and perhaps strengthen it. If his mental barrier was strong enough, no one would be able to barge into his mind as the Sovereign did.

~~~

Rihal

“He did it,” Kilian muttered.

“Yes, but he still has a long way to go. Can you compare him with the Royal Sprouts?” Rihal asked. They had been monitoring Jerome’s progress from Kilian’s study for a while now.

“Give him time,” Kilian stated. “And also…talk to him. I’m sure he isn’t going to be unreasonable.” Kilian’s meaning hung in the air, left unsaid, but he understood.

“He doesn’t have time,” Rihal said. “And he is… bitter. That bitterness, Kilian, I don’t know how to handle it. I’m afraid it’ll change him.” He felt lost — and unwanted. But what he feared the most was Jerome becoming embittered, which was happening before his very eyes. Bitterness corrupted sacred artists.

“Hmm. He’ll just have to find a way to survive.” Kilian stood up, ready to call it a night. “It’s what he’s good at. Just have a talk with him, Rihal. You two can find a middle ground, I’m sure.”

Rihal chuckled, “I guess you’re right. He is good at surviving. And I’ll talk to him.” He stood up as well and vanished as Kilian left the study.

~~~

“Breathe…in…and…out,” Layla’s voice lulled Jerome into a trance.

Jerome sank into his consciousness, entering the mind plane to study it more closely. He was sure it was connected, or perhaps, created by the mind-calming stone. Now he could be in here and still sense what was going on outside his body. At least if he was concentrating on only being in here.

He was going to meditate this way for another moon, absorbing essence at a very slow rate and healing his wounds as well. He sat down cross-legged on the ground and just breathed.

Time passed, but he didn’t know how long. He wasn’t aware as he was in deep meditation. But he knew he was healing.

“Jerome…”

The moment he heard his name he knew it was already a full cycle. He came out of his trance feeling healthier than he was before.

“Urgh,” Layla groaned, stepping down from his bed and stretching her limbs. “Never gets easy.”

“Sorry,” Jerome said with a smile. “I feel a lot better now thanks to you. Will you be going to Terra Praeta?”

“Sure. Last I heard, there were over fifty of us going from the Royal Family.”

Jerome was surprised at the news. Fifty was a pretty big number was it not? “And the other Great Families?”

“You’re wondering if Hedon would make an appearance,” she said with a smile. “He’ll be there for sure.”

“Actually, I’m wondering how many of his clansmen I’d have to fight to get to him,” Jerome deadpanned.

“Oh,” Layla muttered, giving him a look. “You’d best shelve those thoughts, Jerome. Hedon is from a Great Clan, and you are just a disciple and quite talented too. I’d hate to see your life wasted after all I’ve done to take care of you.”

Jerome smiled at her. “Your concerns are noted…” he said, nodding respectfully at her, “but I still wanna know.”

Layla wasn’t a warrior like him. There was an unspoken code warriors lived by. She didn’t also know what he went through so she didn’t think like one who had been wronged.

Layla studied him for a moment before answering. “You’ll still find a way to get this information even if I don’t tell you, wouldn’t you?”

Jerome shrugged.

“They have twenty slots each, while 2nd tier families have fifteen slots, 3rd tier families are the most abundant in Vorthe, they’ve got ten slots each.”

“How do you know all this?” Jerome asked in surprise, he only wanted to know how many Sprouts would be coming along with Hedon Alvric, not the whole expedition.

“My mom’s a Sage,” Layla said with a smirk. “And just so you know, she’s unto you.”

“What?!” Jerome shot out of bed as quickly as possible. He still remembered the Sage that appeared in his room and caused him to have a major breakdown with just a word so he shuffled up to his window and shut it close, so no one could pass through.

“I told you I wasn’t looking. My mind was elsewhere!”

Layla snickered at him. “Right. Elsewhere, like I’d believe that.”

She knew her mother didn’t need windows or doors to enter this room, with a thought she’d appear where she wanted to be. It was a lot of fun torturing the poor boy for a while though.

“You’re toying with me aren’t you,” Jerome limped back to bed and took out his storage bag containing the Sunfire stone.

Layla laughed mockingly at him. She got up from the edge of the bed, ready to leave. “Terra Praeta will be opened in a moon. Don’t get yourself killed.”

“You too,” Jerome smiled at her.

The moment she left, Jerome immediately started training. He exercised his perception for a long time, making it stronger with every scan. It was a torturous experience as he felt like his brain would explode. He had to take a breather from time to time so as not to damage his brain and nerves.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

The body of a sacred artist was self-repairing. They never should need elixirs or pills except in severe cases, or when their aptitude wasn’t good enough to advance to a new Realm. Taking elixirs and pills even in normal cases, however, would lead to unforeseen circumstances. That was why so many steered clear of them.

Nevertheless, alchemists still refine pills for sacred artists — you never know when you might need them. But so far he hadn’t needed them and he didn’t want to put himself in a situation where he would.

After a few more hours of crazy practice, Jerome took out the Sunfire stone as he thought of an idea. It was a crazy idea. And probably a very dangerous one.

“No one who achieved great things stopped because it just might be dangerous, let’s see if this works,” he muttered to himself.

~~~

Kilian Vorthe

“Disciple Jerome, Open the door!”

Kilian’s guards banged on Jerome’s door to wake him up. The maids had reported hearing a series of intermittent explosions coming from his room all night. They’d had to stay awake hoping and praying that the palace wouldn’t collapse on them.

Very early this morning, the explosions stopped, and they had cried out to the guards who ‘supposedly’ should be on guard duty but slept through the whole ordeal the night before. Kilian glared at their backs as he stood behind them in front of Jerome’s room.

He sensed Jerome waking up groggily. Kilian knew the twerp could hear the guards banging on the door, and he could sense the flare of pain behind his eyes. Kilian could never figure out how sacred artists subjected themselves to the torture they called ‘training’. At least take it easy so as not to destroy the very body you wish to strengthen.

Jerome was in serious pain and all he could focus on was the head-splitting headache he was feeling.

“Break it down,” Kilian ordered, and the door came crashing into the room the next moment, dispersing the slouchiness in Jerome’s eyelids. All this he observed with his more evolved mental energy. It did feel good to be the most powerful person in a room.

Kilian entered the room flabbergasted. Every single piece of furniture in the room had been burnt to ash. If he wasn’t concentrating on Jerome’s condition, he would have noticed it before coming in. Jerome himself looked quite disheveled with his long hair standing on ends and his skin covered with a fine sheet of soot.

One of the guards whistled to express his surprise. “It’s like a dragon’s den in here,” he remarked.

“More like a muddled pool of fish and dragon,” another chimed in.

The rest of the guards laughed loudly. Jerome glared up at them, and Kilian sighed to himself. He wasn’t going to take that insult lying down.

He coughed up a large amount of black plume as he stood up and said, “And the fingerlings should run as far as they can else, they become fodder for the dragon.”

The guards’ hostility rose in moments as they all stared daggers at him.

“That’s enough, all of you,” Kilian ordered, and they all retracted their gaze from Jerome. “For disturbing the peace of my home, Jerome, I should punish you severely. However, since these dumb heads,” he gestured at the guards, “didn’t do their jobs, they’ll be punished along with you.”

“Apologies, Lord Kilian,” the guards apologized with their heads bowed.

“I thought you were going to reduce the punishment,” Jerome muttered. “What kind of non sequitur is that?”

Kilian could sense the veiled irritation in his voice. But he wasn’t going to let him off. “You said what now?” he dared.

“Nothing.”

Thought so.

~~~

Abbott

“Remind me to teach this brat a lesson when we leave this place,” Abbott said. He was the head guard on duty the previous night. And like his colleagues, he had also slept like a baby when Jerome was bombarding the Palace with blasts of fire.

Ten Sprouts, including Jerome, crammed themselves into a dung pit, using their legs to loosen the dung. There was no real necessity in what they were doing, and it was torture. Their heightened sense of smell was constantly assaulted by the concentrated smell of dung, making it quite difficult to breathe.

“Do you think you’re man enough,” the brat replied, taunting him. Did he think because he was Lord Rihal’s disciple, he could get away with taunting him. Oh! he’s going to get it now!

Abbott smirked. “Let’s see if that silver tongue of yours can keep ya safe when we leave this pit. I’ll teach ya what respect is if it means bedding your mama right before your eyes.”

The guards in the pit burst out in wild laughter. Oh! That was a good one. If he could say so himself.

After a while, Abbott noticed he wasn’t cussing back and soon their laughter died down as they noticed something else. The essence around the whelp became chaotic as it reacted with his essence causing the space around them to compress and heat up, giving them a feeling of suffocation.

The whelp lunged at Abbott, but Abbott, fearing whatever technique the rascal was about to unleash, tried to climb out of the pit. His colleagues saw this and joined him, but before they could, the pit exploded, scattering dung everywhere.

~~~

Rihal

“You do realize that you’ll be meeting the Sovereign today, right… at the banquet?”

“They started it.”

Rihal sighed. Jerome truly had changed. He was beginning to resort to violence too quickly, just like the records stated about the other fated Dark Ones before him. He couldn’t tell if that was because of the darkness inside him, or because Jerome was bitter with him.

He once thought Jerome would be different, that under his tutelage the boy would have better control of his nature. But he was realizing that nature wasn’t something one could go against, and reality was more damning than the fantasies men conjured up for themselves.

“You’re changing, Jerome,” Rihal said solemnly.

Ash, who was washing Jerome’s hair, paused at what she was doing and looked up. She had dragged him away from Abbott not long ago so she could clean him up and prepare him for his meeting with the Sovereign.

“Should we leave?” she asked.

They were inside the women’s washroom with Seventeen and two other maids. Naturally, she knew these maids couldn’t be a part of the discussion Rihal was about to bring up.

Rihal smiled at her. He looked to the maids and nodded, signaling to them to leave. All three maids bowed and left with Ash. The door closed behind them leaving both of them alone in the washroom.

“They started it,” Jerome stated again. His anger, barely having subsided.

“Jerome, listen to yourself. You’re clearly losing it. Can’t you see your anger is getting out of control?”

Jerome raised his brows in surprise and his anger receded like a tide, causing Rihal to let out a breath of relief.

Well, that was easier than I thought it would be, Rihal thought.

“I’m sorry,” Jerome said, looking away in shame.

“That’s why I’m here — to remind you that you’re still human.”

Jerome nodded slowly and then he picked up a scrap of cloth from a small raised platform beside him. This was the maids’ washroom so everything was within reach. He stood up and used the cloth to cover his naked bits before bowing deeply to Rihal.

“And I’m truly sorry… for the way I’ve been acting since I got back,” Jerome said.

Rihal had no words, he was planning to have a conversation with his disciple but now it seemed he was worried over nothing. All the tension in his body slowly melted away.

“I was angry at you for not protecting them—”

“Jerome, I—”

“Please, Rihal. I need to say this. I need to get it off my chest. I don’t want to hold all that anger anymore,” he straightened his posture and sat back down in the bath. “I’ve been bitter for too long and that’s not who I want to be. I’m sorry for taking my anger out on you. It was childish of me.”

Rihal observed him for a while, emotions foreign to him welling up in him. But he soon found his voice and spoke. “I’m sorry too… for not protecting them. I should have been stricter with my eye. Do you forgive me, Jerome?”

Jerome looked up at him, slightly surprised. Rihal could see him searching his eyes. Perhaps for honesty. He nodded moments later. “I do, Rihal. I’m no longer angry with you.”

“Abbott didn’t mean what he said,” Rihal continued, trying to vouch for the guard. “At least not in the way you think. It’s just, the guards are more…loose with their tongues when it comes to cussing. They don’t hold it to heart.”

The moment quickly turned awkward as both of them didn’t have the slightest inkling of how to deal with the situation. Rihal couldn’t decide whether he should say something more or just leave Jerome to his bath. Even if he were to say something, what would it be? He racked his brain for something to say but nothing was forthcoming.

“I understand,” Jerome finally said, “and you don’t have to baby me. I’m not a child anymore…”

Rihal smiled. “But you are a child, yet you always act so mature that I forget you’re a child.”

Jerome snorted. “I wanna be left alone.”

“And now you act like a child, and I remember you’re a child and want to treat you like one,” Rihal said as he walked out of the washroom.

“He says he wants to be left alone,” he told the maids outside the washroom.

“Rihal,” Jerome called out and Rihal looked back.

“What’s an Epos?”

Rihal turned and walked back into the washroom. “How do you know that word?” he asked.

“The Sovereign mentioned it. Hedon used it at Blade’s Edge Canyon.”

“Well, that’s bad news,” Rihal said. Hedon’s father must have taken the embarrassment of his child really seriously if he went ahead and gifted the boy an Epos without thinking of the consequences.

Jerome turned to him to catch his meaning.

“If Hedon can use an Epos — granted it was given to him — you can’t beat him, Jerome,” Rihal declared. “No matter what you do.”