Arson was forced to increase the rate of poisons he accepted into his body. He hadn’t known originally that he only had a single season cycle to achieve a completely tempered foundation before his cells would lock up and no longer accept new basic mana types.
For him to travel as far down the road of Cultivation as his mother and her peers, he had many elements left to experience.
Shadow, water, light, gravity, air, and what he now knew to be an ancient representation of time, as well as creation were still left on his list of untested poisons.
He planned on a quick completion but knew the way his life changed the odds of a timely finish was low.
“Ok, Arson, what’s on the list?” He read over a task list he’d written on his overlay.
1. Rename clothing brand.
2. Open Blackhole brick and mortar.
3. Buy dilapidated nightclub.
4. Ask mom to teach me how to cook.
5. Finish Core.
6. Raid Augustine’s outer rim base.
7. Finish poisons.
By the placement of poisons on his list, he realized that maybe he needed to either complete many of the things above it on the list, or reprioritize his tasks.
After he thought a while, he moved poisons to second place, with the assumption that he’d easily be able to name his clothing brand, and make poisons his highest priority. With more thought, he summed up the list and took action.
He dialed his mother on his holo-watch. He could make this list smaller immediately with some courage.
“Hello, is everything ok, kiddo?” His mother’s voice came through the phone and he smiled to himself.
“Yeah, it’s not time for me to run back yet, but I been wanting to ask if we could cook sometime, didn’t want to forget and figured I’d just call,” said Arson. He didn’t know why he felt awkward. He just did.
“Oh, well yes of course we could, you should know better, join us in the kitchen anytime, buddy.” Arson’s smile widened and he danced in place for a moment, until he realized he was still dialed in with Jade.
“Thanks Mom. I’m going to get back to it.”
Arson let the sun set and sat crosslegged until the dump came to life around him. Then he began to attempt a new skill he was still in the middle of the creation process for.
Arson still hadn’t gained any more skills and abilities from his overlay, and had decided to practice with the things he already had access to.
A small bead of water began to form at the center of his crown above his head. The manifestation of his internal mana grew with every breath he took and eventually could be seen visibly in a spin.
Before long an orb of conductive waters imitated a sun above his head and the chaos begun.
By the time the orb was the size of a basketball, the nearly ten meter long tendrils had begun to lash out at nearby foes. The dense mana of the orb was like the light of a bug zapper to the possessed armor and weapons.
Arson meditated, and enemies ran at him from all sides. The armors and robots were flung in different directions the moment a tendril made contact.
Some were strong enough not to be blasted back by the contact of the explosive tendrils, and were instead wrapped up and tossed even further distances.
Arson focused on his skill and soon tendrils wrapped foes up and smashed them into one another, which caused even more hydraulic explosions.
Things continued like this for long enough that Arson could focus on other things. He brought up his overlay and went over his options for progression. He was ashamed that he barely ever looked at his overlay, but knew that his use of the powerful tool would change as he grew and it grew.
When he opened the Cultivation tool, he noticed many changes that he hadn’t before. Both in his personal characteristics displayed, and even his previously given info.
Name: Sovereign Arson Omni. Level: 0.1. Class: Unchosen. Race: Variant Creator. Bloodline: Heir of Omnipotence. Profession: Unchosen/Variant Builder. What the sparks is Omnipotence, read Arson to himself.
He didn’t know what most of the things on his screen were and now immediately regretted his actions.
“Am I going to have to check this every sparking day?” The question was rhetorical and Arson knew it. Apparently some of the things he’d accomplished in recent days had been new to him, but not new to the realm.
He read about the beams his eyes could project and learned that they were named Stars of the SunStream. He learned that he’d indeed gained an overcharge ability with his mana called, Storm Overflow.
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He’d even learned that the name of his first Armament had been changed, and now read simply as Cowl & Mask of the Sun Tomes.
Apparently when his hood was up, it could analyze his environment and even individual items. His mask had the alternate ability to further increase his perception during combat. As well as note potential weaknesses and even drink energy attacks aimed at his head.
He read more and then began to look over his overwhelming number of stat points. Dare he admit it to himself that he was afraid to spend a single point incorrectly and hadn’t spent a single point since he’d unlocked his cowl.
Nothing seemed normal about how he grew in power. He knew why he’d grown as a fighter. He wouldn’t have been able to contend with the Demon if he hadn’t been trained by Jade. Nor would he have won if he hadn’t fought nearly seven versus one every day while he trained.
He pushed himself so his rapid growth made sense. Martial combat made sense to him. It was his magic that he feared.
Lane had sent him dozens of captured videos of his night club rampage, and most of them surprised him. He didn’t feel strong, but people felt otherwise.
The comments that the videos Lane sent him made him feel like the villain of some movie. Even his fans commented on his actions and his crew like their direct interaction with society would be the cause of the realm’s end.
Due to how uncontrollable he felt under the effects of his power, he was in line to believe that Uni-Vare and mana could actually corrupt all they touched.
He hadn’t wanted to believe that all Cultivators at the top either had to overcome an inner corruption, or be overwhelmed by god-like abilities, but was now frightened by the potential of the outcome in his own life.
He didn’t want to lose what made him Arson, but sensed he already had somehow. He just needed those changes to remain positive.
He turned his thoughts and focus toward his soul and was once again surprised by the changes and didn’t know what to think. The sun that filled his soul space, now shifted in a swirl of many energies. The colors were deep and rich as they reflected the stars in their various shades. Arson smiled at the beautiful sight.
Was it the poisons of various elements? Or maybe it was how he trained with mana? He was no entirely sure.
He wanted to be the genius that everyone thought him to be. He wanted to be more than he was currently, and didn’t want to let anything get in his way. These thoughts alone filled his mind with images of his assumed barriers.
The image of 11 wands flickered through first. Followed by an aerial view of the dump. Then his friends as they stood in front of their completed warehouse.
Many things fought for priority in his mind. Yet he calmed himself and returned his entire focus to his skills creation.
He opened his eyes and in the same moment made a decision. He would become worthy of the gifts granted by his bloodline; no matter how good or bad, strong or weak, anyone felt he was, he would find what it was to be himself within the realm.
The storm within the sun shaped orb of conductive waters above Arson had grown to be the size of a large wrecking ball.
It swirled dangerously with every tendril created. More and more enemies stormed toward Arson as he was forced to turn up the intensity of the skill.
“This is not my end!” Arson roared as he put everything he had into the skill momentarily. The explosions the tendrils produced on contact with any surface in that moment blew apart many creatures simultaneously.
A wave of destruction bloomed outward in a circle and Arson rose to his feet.
The few that managed to make it pass the tendrils were obliterated by Arson himself as more conductive water orbs left his fingertips. Mana rushed into his body with every kill, yet he could still see a direct decline in the resource within his overlay.
He’d been challenged by his mother to stress his body’s use of mana as much as possible.
She’d already shown him in their training exactly how little of the resource he actually used. He didn’t have a large mana pool, just an incredibly high regeneration rate and vampiric skillset to fall back on.
“The mighty are shown what it is to be greater by things far impressive than themselves,” quoted Arson. His mother’s words fueled him with an inspiration he’d never felt prior to their conversations.
Even as he fought through the horde of enemies that surrounded him he thought about how much he’d grown because of Jade’s seemingly fathomless acceptance of Arson in her life.
He wanted to make her life better in any way he could. For that, he needed the ability to protect his friends, as their bond and the love he felt from Jade was irreplaceable. Nothing had made him feel better in his life thus far.
Then a group of olympian armors entered the area and things grew even more hectic. The new skill he developed seemed to sense the threat levels of the armors and focus-fired its tendrils. The destruction made Arson’s eyes go wide and he lifted off the ground. He thanked Xani everyday for the lessons in flight, and now used the skill to make a tactical retreat.
The olympian armors seemed to be unaffected by his current power and charged toward him like a pack of viking berserkers.
Arson dismissed his new skill and took flight toward the first dominion of magic. He was forced to fight the entire way there as his earlier actions had stirred a metaphorical bees nest of relic armors. Equipment that should have been inherited by descendants of the mighty Cultivators of the past.
Instead they were left behind to hone the skills of a handful of youths each night.
Arson also wanted to honor the grounds that led to where he was currently. The place meant for trash, had become a literal gold mine for Arson. The more he improved the land, the more he felt rewarded by his decisions.
When he landed, 11 wands formed, and Arson chose darkness. He readied himself for anything. His stance wide and his perception slowed.
Arson exhaled and in that moment two things happened at once. A portal opened beneath his feet made out of his own shadow cast by the seven moons, and the surrounding darkness.
Arson felt himself begin to fall, but his eyes took in the second oddity around himself.
For the slightest fraction of a breath, the figures around the wands changed. Creatures of pure nature and elements were revealed behind the men and women that normally showed themselves to be in control of the wands.
Arson’s heart skipped a beat and the fear froze him for long enough for him to begin to fall end over end into an endless pit of darkness. He gasped as the void around him attempted to fill his lungs with ether.
He was nearly consumed whole, but then his eyes flared to life. Streams of sunlight pierced the darkness and freed him from the intangible restraints.
Arson flew with everything he had toward the light above him.
The light seemed to grow dimmer and more distant, and Arson roared with frustration as he increased his speed tenfold.
He was once again plagued mentally by images of things he wanted to finish in his life, and nearly gave into the near drowning-like sensation that threatened to consume him.
“The mighty are shown what it is to be greater by things far more impressive than themselves,” quoted Arson once more. He defiantly yelled the words as he tore through the sky above himself. He broke the sound barrier for the first time as he exited the dark portal and into the skies above the dump with a whoop.
“Yeah!!!” Arson’s yell of exhilaration stretched across the sky as he tore toward the warehouse near the dump’s entrance. Unknown to Arson, a man watched the results of his poisoning nearby. Seneschal, was a very dangerous man, and reported to someone Arson would never suspect to be watching him.
“My Lord, you may have an issue on your hands,” said the man into the computer chip implanted in his ear.
“What kind of issue could my younger brother truly give me,” said the voice. The words vibrated into the man’s inner ear softly.
“We have a saying where your parents and I come from, it’s normally said to Cultivators without any apparent weaknesses or limits,” said Seneschal.
“And what exactly is this turn of phrase that is so unique that you feel the need to share it here…” Seneschal knew his master was irritated, and the young man only wanted the drone designs that Arson’s lead engineer developed and had sent him to acquire them.
This would normally be a simple task for a man of Seneschal’s skills, but the task only grew more difficult by the day. The group Blackhole, was completely focused, and their aims were directed at their own weaknesses.
May that be their physical body, their professional skills and manners, or even their most basic mental development, they were on the verge of unstoppability.
“If you can’t kill the parent, kill the child before they too block your path to godhood.”