The clan archives, located deep beneath the earth of the city of Virsha, consisted of two subterranean levels. Supposedly. Whenever he asked, people would swear up and down that nothing else was hidden.

Xerion didn’t buy that, not one bit.

His visits to this sacred place of knowledge started at the age of seven, and continued throughout the years. As his grasp on the language’s written form advanced, his yearning for adventure grew in turn. Given the impossibility of venturing beyond the city’s walls, he focused that need into something more attainable.

Figuring out secrets.

What it meant in truth was simple: his tiny, grabby fingers made their way into every nook and cranny of the clan archives, and more besides. Much to old man Lindani’s displeasure.

He found not a trace of a hidden level, nor even a room. But something wasn’t right. Xerion developed a nose for those things, a special sense, and it was blaring whenever he found himself here.

He’d figure it out. Maybe not today, but at some point. He would find out what was being kept from him. Even if he had to trash the place in the process, despite the untold amounts of disgust that the sheer thought of such vile actions brought him.

Xerion’s musing came to an end as they finally entered onto the first level. The less exciting one. Not that he’d ever scoff at a text of knowledge, as all had their worth, but there was a fairly big difference between, say, “Top 5 Techniques for Shaving Your Sheep!” and something like, “Heavenly Demon’s Essence Conjuring Method.”

Both important, but in different ways.

Some books here would be relevant today, but not now. First came the methods, then he’d get to the research needed to create a truly potent ability.

Bookshelves and glass cabinets lined every wall of this spacious room, with nary a table or chair in sight. They were there, but placed in a hard-to-get-to spot, as a clear sign that visitors weren’t welcome. Old man Lindani’s work, of course.

Thousands upon thousands of books, scrolls, and tablets sat here, barely a smidgen of dust on any of them. Oh, how much knowledge did they hold, how much could they teach a person?

Not to mention the special stones and slips of jade, their use meant only for Practitioners. Previously barred from him, but no more!

That ancient technique of carving a flower out of an apple might not change his life, especially given the lack of apples for the past tens of thousands of years, but he wanted to know it, goddamnit! And now he could. Ahhh, how nice that was.

Xerion licked his lips in anticipation as they started descending to the second subterranean floor. Their journey through the spiral, winding staircase took a lot longer than he wanted, mostly due to Lindani’s limited mobility. His mortal nature meant that each recent year hit him harder than the last, the man’s hunched back more prominent each time he saw him.

His eyes scanned over the geezer. Each step he took was followed by a momentary pause. Lindani’s face betrayed no signs of his discomfort, still as proud and stoic as ever, but Xerion could swear he saw a tiny tremor running through the man’s hands.

He blinked rapidly to dispel the moisture trying to gather in his eyes. There was no love lost between the two of them, but Lindani had been a constant in his life for as long as he could remember.

Another one will leave me soon.

“In here,” Lindani barked, much to Xerion’s confusion. So lost in thought was he, that he didn’t notice they already arrived.

This door, he knew. Made of the same purple rock as the central pillar, with so many defensive sigils packed onto its surface that the mind spun upon their sight.

The geezer stepped forward, pulling an emerald insignia out of his thin, sparse hair. An unfolded scroll engraved upon its surface – the sign of the clan’s Keeper of Knowledge.

No pulse of essence emerged, no burst of power meant to scan, and yet the door swung open, as if on the sight of the insignia alone. Curious. How’d that even work? Maybe if he could…

Xerion shook his head. Later. Don’t get distracted. He snorted. More distracted, that is.

“Oi, yee brat!” Lindani grabbed him by the shoulder – still bare after the initiation ceremony – and pulled, forcing him to be at eye level with the old man. “If you don’t plan on showing the proper respect that this place deserves, then scram!”

“I’m sorry,” Xerion said and meant it. “I got—”

“Unimportant,” the Keeper cut him off. “You stay respectful or you leave.”

They entered. The room was small, maybe five paces wide, long, and tall, and very sparsely furnished. Three rocks jutted from the floor, all perfectly rectangular.

Upon the first one rested a cube of gold, small enough to disappear if he squeezed it in his palm. Something about it called to Xerion, his heart beating furiously at its mere sight. An illusory flame seemed to dance upon its surface.

The second housed another cube. This one wa—

Xerion lurched forward, his mind in disarray, his stomach doing flip-flops. He tried to move, to speak, to think, but there was this… buzzing, in his ear, and it was shouting and whispering and burning and—

A derisive snort, followed by a slap to his back, broke him out of whatever state he was in. That thing almost melted his brain. Dangerous, dangerous. He turned to the Keeper.

“A warning would’ve been nice, gramps.”

Lindani ignored him.

The last rock held not one, but two cubes, each shining with a monotone grey. Given his next-to-nonexistent knowledge of what these things were, their color told him squat. And yet. He somehow knew they were lesser than the other ones.

“Get on with it,” the Keeper said. “Hold onto your heart while touching the first one, and be sure to close your eyes when doing the same to the second, lest you lose your lunch. We’ll talk after.”

Xerion gulped, his palms growing slick with sweat. He wanted this. For years. So why was he hesitating now?

His breaths came in shallow and quick bursts as he stepped forward, ready yet not ready for whatever was about to happen.

Blast that. He steeled his resolve and closed the few remaining inches of distance with his finger.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

The cube felt smooth and warm and nice, making him think of home from years past. Then it grew hotter, and hotter, and ho—

Xerion’s legs gave way as a torrential outpour of information slammed into his heart and mind, squeezing into them contents which he couldn’t, he shouldn’t comprehend. Understanding didn’t come with this injection, and yet…

All was Fire.

It was everywhere. The hearths of people’s homes, in the forest after a storm, in the very air, each particle of it holding some laws allowing it to blossom at any moment.

And it was in his heart. In everyone’s hearts. Growing ever hotter with their emotions, egging them to act, forcing reason to the sidelines.

It couldn’t be tamed. But could be directed.

Minutes passed before clarity of thought returned to him. It was… a lot. Years would pass and he’d be nowhere close to unpacking it all. But time, he had in abundance.

“Good. Now the second one.”

Xerion grunted and got up, his eyes squeezed shut. He’d take heed of Lindani’s warning. The man spoke little, but when he did, it was better to listen.

This impartation was considerably easier than the first one. Mainly on the account that darkness took him the second he touched the mind-breaking cube.

When he woke up, an all-too-familiar coppery taste filled his mouth. Xerion touched his face and his palm came away red. Blood must’ve been leaking from his eyes and ears. Unpleasant. Nearly as much as the foot continuously poking him in the back.

“Would you give me a moment, you old fart?!”

“No,” Lindani said, his face impassive. “We still have things to discuss. And you’re fine. I’d know, I’ve seen this process dozens of times. Here.”

A towel dropped onto his head. From where did this codger magic it out from, he had no clue. Nonetheless, he used it to wipe his face clean and got up, his brain protesting at the sudden movement.

Ow, he thought and rubbed at his head. That hurt. Then he turned to Lindani.

“Well? Why aren’t you starting? Aren’t you in a rush?”

“I’m not.” He glared at Xerion. “But I do have better things to do with my time than to waste it on a half-witted boy.”

“I’ve spent more time here than half the city combined. If you call me ‘half-witted,' what do you think about everyone else?’”

The old man waved his hand dismissively. “You're at the head of a pack of utter imbeciles, which isn’t much of an accomplishment. Now come. We shall sit as I explain.”

“What about those two grey cubes?”

Lindani glared at him with such disapproval, it struck him harder than an essence power would.

“Fine. Sheesh. I’m coming, I’m coming.”

As they walked toward the out-of-the-way table situated on the second floor, Xerion checked the details of his primary method, and the new auxiliary one.

[Empyrean Heartfire]’s description didn’t change one bit, though he knew it now contained so, so much more than before. If he delved deep enough, he could surely find a way to start cultivating here and now, as foolish as that would be.

He was eager to begin, yes, but not to the extent to jump right into things without any forethought. No, today was the time for impartations and for ability creation. Cultivation could be unpacked tomorrow, with his assigned mentor.

On the bright side, the second Sui Scroll, the one detailing his newly-acquired method, was very interesting.

[All-Devouring Disposition] (Legendary+)

An auxiliary mind cultivation method created by the combined effort of Haitu, the Shadow of Winter, Galatus, the Forest’s Heart, and Hrajurav, the Earth’s Wrath. It was later modified and improved by Aluxus, the Empyrean.

The study of elements is a topic as old as time itself. Throughout the ages, many a sage tried to create a technique able to command them all. Not a single one succeeded. Some came closer than others, however.

This method takes a unique approach to gaining the authority needed to rule over the elements. It allows a Practitioner to imbibe ownerless elemental essences into their mind. Undergoing such a process will result in the refinement of the Practitioner’s mind, as well as the gaining of more and more sway over a given element, making it easier to wield it.

The modifications wrought by Aluxus, the Empyrean, made the method’s refinement of the mind centered on the Focus Attribute, instead of the original even spread.

Very resource heavy. Progress in this method is practically unachievable without using the required elemental energies. This downside is counteracted by the method’s indifference to the types of treasures and essences used – simply necessitating things of sufficient Rank.

Xerion’s first thought upon reading the wall of text had little to do with how impressive the technique was. It focused on the last part of the description.

That damned baldy’s gonna run me rugged, ain’t he? I can already imagine the mountains of contribution points he’ll ask for, to exchange for the necessary treasures. Well played, you old fart. Well played.

On the surface, in an administrative building reserved for the work of the highest-ranking leaders of the city of Virsha, the Grand Elder sneezed. Quite an unusual thing to happen to a Practitioner of his Rank, which made the man – already paranoid about his slowly failing health – scramble to get to the nearest healer.

Aside from that one… minor inconvenience… the method is amazing. Clearly designed with the wielding of Heartfire in mind, and given its incredibly high grade, it must bring amazing gains.

I do wonder though, what exactly qualifies as an “ownerless elemental essence?” Would it include everything other than hostile powers? Hmmm. Hmmmmm. Or, maybe—

A smack to the back of his head brought him out of his musings. He rubbed at it. Barely any force was put behind the strike, but no one likes to get hit. So he glared at Lindani. The man glared back.

“I will not be repeating myself,” he said and crossed his arms, still looking at Xerion like he was trying to punch a hole through his head.

Xerion got the message and sat down next to him. Lindani started talking without preamble.

“There hasn’t been a single Practitioner capable of wielding Heartfire since the Dawn of the Dark.”

Xerion almost jumped from his chair at the words. He suspected that was the case, but to have it confirmed in such a straightforward manner shook him to his core.

“…Why?” he asked.

“All living ones died during the Dawn, and no more reached the necessary Rank since then.”

“Yes, but why?” he pressed. “Why did no one reach it? There must’ve been an incredible genius in the tens of thousands of years since then, surely. It can’t be that hard.”

Lindani’s frowning face turned somewhat… sad. This might’ve been the first time Xerion saw such an expression on the old man, and it startled him nearly as much as the previous news.

“Some true prodigies, yes. They existed. We shall talk about their efforts and achievements later. As for the why, the answer is rather simple. All Practitioners that try to break through to the Rank necessary to command Heartfire die, instantly.”

Xerion was growing tired of repeating himself. Nonetheless, once more he asked, “Why?”

“Heartfire consumes them. Their minds might be strong enough to withstand its power, but their bodies aren’t. So they’re burned to death, devoured by the very thing they spent their lives cultivating.”

“Ah,” Xerion said, then more strongly, “Ah! Those grey cubes! Auxiliary body cultivation methods. They did feel weaker…”

He grabbed at his stubble, pulling on it in a nervous gesture. “But we should have… ah. The original method was lost, wasn’t it?” He waved his palm at Lindani. “Yes, don’t answer that. It’s lost. The clan had to start from scratch, with all its most powerful practitioners gone. Hmmm. So those… yes. The prodigies. That must be it, yes? They created those?”

Lindani didn’t look impressed, but neither did he look scornful, which was telling enough. “Yes. The original was lost during the Dawn. The techniques that we do have were created later on. Now come, you must choose one.”

"What? You mean, back to that room? But we were just there."

The geezer glared, as he loved to do. “The explanation takes longer in most cases. People are often in turmoil after hearing the news, and I try to be accommodating.”

Xerion sighed. "Lindani, please. I've known you my entire life. Accommodating and you aren't words that I'd put in the same sentence."

“I care little about your opinion. I thought you might like some time to process the fact your road to advancement has been forever cut off, and that you’re destined to never go beyond the peak of the Second Rank, but clearly, I was mistaken.”

Lindani stormed off in the direction of the cube storage room. Xerion followed.

"Well, thank you for your consideration, but— Wait. What'd you say? That can’t be the case. Surely… the prodigies! They must’ve tried another primary method, or somethin—”"

“Yes, that they did. None worked. Members of the Empyrean Clan cannot cultivate anything other than the [Empyrean Heartfire]," he said bitterly. "And even if they could, would you have chosen something different? Something… lesser?”

“Ah.”

“Indeed.”

The rest of their way there passed in silence. Xerion thought about all this new information, about the fact he was a Heartfire Practitioner that could never wield Heartfire, about the implications.

It didn’t impact him much. He expected such to be the case, and this was only the confirmation of his assumptions.

The way he saw it, there were two roads forward. He would go out and either find the original manual, or a place free of the void’s encroachment. Preferably both.

The thought of failure didn’t cross his mind. It wasn’t an option. He would succeed or he would die, with nothing in between. And that was that.