Simon dabbed at his still damp hair with the coarse bundle of cloth he’d been given in place of a towel.

Absentmindedly he hooked a finger beneath his sweat-soaked collar and tugged. As if the pervasive heat could be released so easily. Uncanny and serene as this oasis might’ve been, it was humid as hell. And, although these cultivators' robes were somewhat comfortable, that comfort came at the cost of layer upon layer.

Quite frankly, it was far too many layers for his liking.

Simon, who usually prided himself on his ability to gauge people, was having a hard time getting a read on their prophesied prince. And going by the semi-dazed looks and furtive glances, Simon could tell the others felt much the same.

He was a cultivator, yet he didn’t claim the title of nobility. He was clearly someone of import, and yet he didn’t act like one. And then, of course, there were the things Simon simply couldn’t explain.

The clothes he’d somehow conjured from thin air, for instance. Extravagant, not to mention fitted, robes. Enough for all nine of them to slip into snuggly. Handed out so casually, as if the expense were nothing at all.

Even going so far as to miraculously produce little outfits for the children. It was confounding, improbable, and not something he could simply ignore.

Unable, or unwilling, to curtail his curiosity, Simon brazenly observed the young cultivator, much to Mingxuan’s evident disapproval.

He sat unmoving by the edge of the crystal-clear pool, legs crossed, and body relaxed. The only sign he was alive at all and not some flesh made golem—a cloth draped statue of muscle and bone—the slow rise and fall of his chest.

He was cultivating, Simon knew, though that was a lot like distinguishing a species of beast by the fact that it had more than two legs. Only taking the novels he’d personally read into consideration, already the list of ways in which one might choose to cultivate was immense—fictitious or otherwise.

To accurately guess as to the precise method he was using would’ve been impossible. Especially for Simon who was only witnessing such a phenomenon for the very first time. So far, all he’d been able to surmise was that it’s generally advisable to hang back when the air around them starts to stir.

Going by his, admittedly, limited observations it was something of a portentous sign.

Rarely did anything good come of it. Already, the dangerous aura that’d clung to him like a heavy cologne had altered considerably. Taking on a decidedly sharper, more domineering cast.

This was a wonder, seeing as the rippling waves of distortion which seemed to warp the very air around him had already been enough to make his hair stand on end. Now it was so overpowering as to make standing within a ten-foot radius of him a challenge.

It was fascinating, really.

That someone could be so unstable one moment, and then so ordinary the next. So outwardly unthreatening in the way that he walked and talked that you could almost forget, for a time, what he was truly capable of. The capacity for unspeakable violence he, apparently, held tightly in check.

The nightmarish brutality that lurked just beneath the surface.

The image of a thunderously collapsing hallway. The sounds of hundreds, if not thousands of terrified squeals abruptly cut short. That intangible force that made his bones feel heavy, while an insane string of maniacal ramblings haunted their retreat the whole entire way. He was just glad the crazy kid was on their side.

Simon felt it more than he saw it.

The sudden surge of that roiling, intangible energy. The aura pouring off of his body in consecutive waves. It made Simon glad he’d parked himself well out of the way ahead of time.

It tore at the surface of the azure pool, whipping it up into a wild frenzy. The very same lashing presence that was, apparently, intent on tugging their newfound robes from their backs. Simon tried to brace himself against the eerie tempest, but to no avail.

No matter what he did, the pressure of the boy’s aura remained overwhelming.

In a moment the agitated energy rose to a crescendo. Simon tried in vain to raise his arms as protection, though the physical barrier appeared to make little difference. Then, almost as soon as it’d begun, the storm passed. And in the next moment the young cultivator opened his eyes.

After a good long while spent staring off into the distance, a foolish grin plastered on his face, his eyes refocused, and he spoke up for the first time in hours. The first words out of his mouth were… not exactly what Simon had expected.

“And what exactly do you think you’re doing?”

image [https://i.ibb.co/rw6tMBB/IMG-2711.png]

Raina winced as Arthur applied the healing salve to the puncture wound in her side.

“Gah! That stings!”

“Yeah, well, maybe next time you’ll listen to me when I tell you not to underestimate the enemy.”

“But you’re always saying things like that! Besides, they were only rats! What? Am I supposed to treat every weak little pissant nobody like it’s the golden emperor reborn?”

“Ideally? Yes. If you actually wanted to live a long and healthy life, you would treat every opponent as if there were a chance they’d be your last, no matter how small or insignificant. Not that a penchant for wise decision making has ever been your particular forte. Regardless, clearly these weren’t your typical beast fodder, so my point still stands. You’re far too pivotal to our mission's success to be taking such unnecessary risks.”

“Aww! And here I thought you didn’t care!”

Arthur roughly slapped a bandage onto her wound in response. Raina swore savagely.

“If you two are done bickering, I believe I found them.”

Raina irritably tugged her tunic back over her midriff, glaring daggers at the spacial practitioner as she made her way over to where Edmond sat, surrounded by swirling rings of orange runes. Arther studiously ignored her glare, only further stoking the fires of her fury.

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

“Well, it’s about damn time!” Raina swore.

“Actually, I rather think I made excellent time in tracking down our lost flock, all things considered. And I must say, I don’t particularly appreciate your tone, oh fearless leader.”

Raina instantly deflated. Damn but she could use a drink.

“Sorry.”

“Apology accepted.”

“Right! Now, where exactly are the little brats? And please don’t tell me they’re dead, because I’d really rather not throw more of a temper tantrum than is absolutely necessary.”

“Yes well, before any of that, don’t you think it’d be prudent to render some aid to our resident swordswoman?”

Raina frowned, then glanced behind them.

Past the little nook they’d sequestered themselves in, and out into the vast city square beyond—lit periodically by blinding white sparks and the colorful flashes of aura manifestations.

The crashing sounds of weapons clashing in rapid succession echoed loudly off the giant buildings.

Periodically punctuated by the thunderous crack of stone shattering, or the ominous rumble of some structure or another collapsing in on itself. Every so often, the blurring silhouettes of three figures would briefly streak past: Viviana and what was left of that powerful team of rat beasts that’d ambushed them.

“Nah! I’d wager she’s got things well in hand. Now, tell me all about the kiddies.”

And so, Edmond did just that.

Eventually, Viviana came over to join them as well and, just as Raina had predicted, looked none the worse for wear. If anything, the aftermath of the fight had left her positively glowing—a rare, genuine smile on her face. The woman had always been a bit of a combat junky, and apparently that’d been a good fight.

It didn’t take long for Edmond to fill her in, and from there, it didn’t take much longer to follow the trail he provided. In no time at all, they were walking down a wide, dust strewn hallway, the peculiar sounds of running water only growing louder as they went.

Until, at last, they entered onto yet another inconceivable sight. An entire damned oasis hidden underground. And there, not twenty meters distant, were their charges.

And behind them…?

“Edmund…?” Raina said quietly, trying not to attract attention.

“Already on it,” he replied.

The man paused, a look of concentration furrowing his brow as golden runes began to appear all throughout the chamber—blinking silently into being like large fireflies.

Myriad little symbols that began to contract towards their center. Converging on where the children sat, still blissfully unaware. On them, and perhaps most importantly, on their erstwhile quarry.

“And what exactly do you think you’re doing?” said the boy, his accent posh and haughtily refined.

Raina nearly leapt out of her skin in surprise.

Where the boy, their target, had only moments before been cultivating, he was now staring directly towards them, eyes sharp and penetrating. That wasn’t what made her jump, however. Instead, it was the aura that the young man gave off which gave her pause.

Bright red and uniquely concentrated, it was almost syrupy to her spiritual sense, if not overtly powerful. If she were honest, it wasn’t so much that it intimidated her exactly—she was a seasoned mercenary after all; a soul cultivator at the peak of the foundation establishment realm—though it was just foreign enough to make her reticent to underestimate him.

“Edmund…! Any chance you could maybe wrap this up?!”

“What do you think I’m-!” the man clicked his tongue.

Arms held out before him and fingers spread wide, the tension in Raina’s chest relaxed as she noticed the runes glow brighter and their snail’s pace suddenly pick up.

The boy, oddly enough, appeared mostly unconcerned by the runes now rocketing towards him. He seemed bemused if anything, a condescending smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. At the sight, Raina actually began to sweat.

“Done!” Edmond grunted, sweat pouring down his face.

Raina just looked at the rune specialist with mounting concern. It was unlike him to struggle so much with a simple binding. Thankfully the results appeared to be business as usual. The myriad runes converging together into three concentric circles.

Spinning rings of archaic rune-work which, once they’d begun to orbit the boy, summoned a semitransparent barrier of golden light around him, hopefully preventing any means of escape.

“Well done.”

“Thanks,” Edmond gasped. “You know, I-”

“In nearly giving me a bleeding heart attack!” Raina continued. “What was that?! Decide to take it easy now that we’re near the home stretch, did you? Do I need to remind you how much we have riding on this?”

“I apologize, but his aura… it was like… like it was fighting me. It felt alive almost. I still don’t really know how best to describe it.”

Raina’s anger quickly abated, having already felt that same peculiarity for herself.

“Right well, we can assign blame another time I suppose. He’s secure though, right?”

“You know, I can’t help but feel more than a little bit insulted,” said the boy. “I am standing right here, after all.”

She could hear the smiling condescension in his tone from here.

“Yes,” Edmond replied, ignoring the little welp. “It should be secure,” he assured her, though he didn’t sound nearly as confident as she’d have liked.

“Viviana?” asked one of the kiddies, the dark-haired one with the bold eyes. “What’s going on here? What do you intend to do with the lord cultivator? He’s not a danger to you nor I, in case that’s where the misunderstanding lies. In fact, he saved all of us after we’d very nearly died. There should be no need for whatever this is. We’re all friends here.”

“Viv, would you please shut her up?” Raina commented, before she reached into her spacial ring and began retrieving what components she’d need for the soul ritual.

“Listen, little one. I can explain, but not here. Not in front of him,” she gestured towards the boy. “There’s more to this than you could possibly know.”

At this, the trapped boy only snickered to himself, leading Raina to question just what exactly he knew.

She would have to work fast.

With a jolt of apprehension, she nevertheless maintained a calm demeanor as she gathered up her tools and approached the binding circle. Despite everything she knew to the contrary, as she came within range of the boy, she fully expected him to reach out and tear away all their painstaking preparations like so much damp tissue paper.

Instead, he merely stood there and watched as she began laying down paper talismans and lighting charged incense.

He appeared more curious than anything, but it was a detached sense of curiosity, reminding her, somewhat disturbingly, of the few times she’d met the mercenary guild leader. An aloof sort of detachment that most often went hand in hand with indomitable, overwhelming strength. Her hands began to shake.

By the time she was finished with the ritual circle, a light sweat covered her brow. Despite her nervousness, however, she still considered herself a professional.

And so it was that, in short order, not only had her mental chant been prepared, but a few other minor protections had been layered over top of that. Just in case things actually did turn violent.

Before she’d mouthed the first syllable, however, the captive shifted his stance, then spoke.

“Ah, well. I suppose it’s about time we put an end to this farce. Shall we?”