“Was all that really necessary?” Tristan asked.

While he was not someone to care overly much about another’s feelings, something about that confrontation felt wrong. Luke had only spoken the truth, so from an objective, cold point of view it was the right thing to do. Educating people only helped them improve.

Eve was not cold and objective, the fact that she had been the first person to arrive was proof of that. She could not gain anything from a mentally unstable unconscious person, yet she still came. Tristan wondered if feelings were something worth protecting, all his experiences pointed in the opposite direction. Pain always preceded growth, and it did not matter whether it was physical or mental.

Luke shook his head, “You don’t understand how dangerous we are to the people in power.”

Tristan frowned, he knew they were dangerous, but not to a ridiculous extent. Luke’s father had been tier six and he had still been taken down. Hadrid was only alive because he had acquired leverage on the nearest Calderas, and then set up his organization. Tristan was not sure he could get leverage or set up an organization. He did not exactly inspire loyalty from people.

“How are we dangerous?” Tristan finally asked.

“Imagine for a moment that everyone in the Caldera is made aware of the potential a broken kern presents. The bulk of the worker caste is made of poorly treated tier zeros. A civil war would break out and life and death encounters would pop up everywhere. Few would survive, but all would attempt to exhaust their kerns in an attempt to survive. Some would, even if it was only five percent, the elders would now be facing two thousand tier ones.” Luke held out his arms, “It is not unreasonable that a few dozen would actually have a latent talent for violence. They would probably reach tier four or higher. Our Elders cannot stop one dozen tier fours, let alone thirty or forty.”

Tristan was skeptical of a scenario like that occurring. People were generally reluctant to risk their lives and the suppressed workers were likely to do no more than daydream. Those few dozen may fight, but they might also get distracted by the wealth the Caldera Elders would offer to recruit them.

Luke sighed, seeing that Tristan was unimpressed, “It is not that people can get dangerous that is the issue. It's the type of people who use this method who are.” He held up his hand and started counting off, “Of the four people who utilize this method, Rail, Hadrid, you, and I which one of us is healthy for their rule? They will kill us at the first opportunity they get, and Eve is a vulnerability.”

The answer to Luke’s question was none. Rail and Hadrid had shaken the Caldera’s leadership. If Hadrid had not killed Rail, the man might have paved the Caldera’s streets with the blood of their head families. Tristan and Luke were in the same boat, rapidly growing. They even shared the same affinities and forces as their predecessors. There was just one huge difference, they weren’t enemies. At the same tiers, they would be able to run roughshod over the Elders.

Tristan nodded, “That is true, though it is not what I wanted to ask you about.”

“What is it?” Luke asked, leaning back against the wall.

“The Steel Saint, he sounded familiar. I can do most of what is described,” Tristan said. Luke nodded to show he was following, “I confirmed he existed with that memory, but he was killing gods. How high do tiers go?”

Tristan had imagined that they would stop at ten. The nice round number made him satisfied. Clearly, other people agreed, as even coins were counted in tens and most warrior groups were five which fit nicely into ten. However, he had a vague idea of what a dragon was. The people in the Caldera feared the draconic species, some of the more notable specimens were basilisks who sat between tier seven and ten, drakes which were no lower than nine, and kobolds which were around four but were sentient and came in packs. A dragon would be greater than a drake, so above ten.

Conni’s story had a human killing the bigger meaner cousins of dragons, so tier fifteen maybe. Tristan was not sure how to quantify that number. After a creature was thousands of times stronger than he was, calculating it seemed pointless. However, that was not even the end. The Steel Saint had fought and killed gods, the exact ones most of the Caldera worshiped.

Luke shrugged, “There has to be an upper limit, even if it is just a soft barrier. Eventually, you will run out of tests to face and events that can hurt you. At that point, you will become complacent, and your skills will dull, after all with no threats a sharp sword is unnecessary. Then you will fall victim to someone weaker, but dedicated, and the cycle will restart.”

Tristan nodded. Even if the limit of the achievable tiers was more than ten, he could reach it eventually. The only question was, why? He wanted to be strong enough to tell everyone to leave him alone. Around here, that would be tier five or six, something that was becoming more and more likely as time passed.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“So what’s next on our agenda?” Tristan asked.

He wanted to go check up on Eve, but that was not an option at the moment. Conni had made it clear that he needed to be with Luke on the off chance he decided to get murdery. Tristan did not think asking Eve about her emotional state while being shadowed by the person who threatened her would yield results.

“We need to figure out what kind of force you’ve snatched,” Luke said, “That beating should have shoved you over the edge into tier three, is that something you want to keep a secret?”

Tristan waved his hand around. The speed he was able to do it was not significantly higher than before. At first, Tristan thought tiers were an arbitrary separation based on essence quantity, meaning a peak tier two and low tier three were nearly the same physically. A difference in workout routine could bridge the strength gap. Now he knew they were separated by the differences in the manifestation of essence.

Not all kerns were made equally, especially if violence was the goal. Dark and light kerns had very little combat increase at tier three, as their constructs were intangible. Dark was toxic while light healed, but they were limited to constructs. Tristan could make armor and weapons at tier three, making it a much bigger boost. He was sure a metal kern would give very little when it came to infusion at tier four, while light and dark excelled at it.

“Yes, probably best to keep it a secret,” Tristan said, “I should always have a surprise, my decay essence is getting too well known for that purpose.”

Luke gave a devilish smile, “I think we should see if you can make decay-edged weapons.”

“That’s horrifying,” Tristan said. The raw droplets were very dangerous, but if decay was released inside someone, they would melt like a puddle, “So how do you make things?”

Luke held up his hand. Tristan waited for something to occur, but nothing happened. He was not sure what a wind construct would look like, but he imagined that it would be something like the air elemental. A greenish translucent color, or maybe a wave above his hands like a heat haze.

After a few minutes, Luke sighed, “You know I’m not doing anything visible right?”

“Huh,” Tristan squeaked, his eyes widened, “What did you do to me?”

Luke started laughing, then he held his palm up to his face and squeaked an answer, “Helium! It's fun isn’t it?”

“Is it permanent?!” Tristan’s voice went back to normal halfway through the sentence, “Don’t do that again.”

Still chuckling, Luke explained, “It works the same as condensing the essence in your kern, just on the outside. Unfortunately, you lose control over it as soon as it's condensed. Which is a good thing for everyone because I could just surround myself with clouds of poisonous air that would never disperse.”

Tristan held his own palm up and concentrated. He wanted to create a knife, something similar to his old sword breaker. Everything was familiar, the essence collected in his palm turning silver. Normally there was a barrier there, but it was absent. It shocked him so much that he momentarily lost focus, causing him to push the essence out in the shape of his palm.

A thin metal sheath covered his palm, perfectly mirroring his skin. He could see his face reflected in the metal. After marveling for a few seconds, Tristan made a fist, crushing the paper-thin coating of metal. He tried to take it back in the same way Hadrid did, but nothing happened.

“How does Hadrid reabsorb his tools?” Tristan asked. If he was unable to do the same, then he would waste a lot of metal and time.

Luke shrugged, “You’re the one with the alloy force, I have no trouble reabsorbing my air essence so long as I can inhale it.”

Tristan grimaced. There was no way that he was going to attempt breathing in metal. However, it could have something to do with the tier four skill of infusing essence. Tristan lost control over the metal as soon as it was formed, while it was possible for Hadrid to maintain his connection through infusion. It was the only explanation Tristan could think of.

Well, he would just spend a lot of time with a depleted kern. A thought struck him, if Luke could make different kinds of air, could he make different kinds of metal? Tristan closed his eyes and concentrated on making a gold talent. It would be depressing if the original reason silver devils were hated was because they broke the economy. He opened his eyes when he felt something land in his hand. It was a silver disk, no markings adorned either face, so it would not ever be mistaken for a steel parce.

“You wanted to create money?” Luke laughed.

Tristan contained his disappointment, “Why can you make different kinds of air, but I can’t make different kinds of metal.”

“I don’t know,” Luke said, “But let me know if you ever succeed, I want a return on my investments.”

He was not sure what investments Luke was referring to. Not seeing any need to respond, Tristan focused again on the sword breaker. He had practiced with it quite a bit, making him familiar with every detail of it. This one was longer than his hand, and it took substantially more essence on the parts that weren’t in contact with his skin. He narrowed his eyes, there was a loss of essence while it was moving outside his body. It would be better to form the blade on his forearm to conserve essence.

A minute later, he was holding a knife, which immediately broke. Tristan’s original sword breaker had an extremely thin blade, this one was just as thin, but without a force holding it together. He would need something like the force of adamance to keep it together.

A feeling of weakness overtook him. Tristan staggered to the side of the table and sat back down. His kern was heavily depleted, normally that would not result in weakness, but it seemed it had a mental component as well. His brain was just not used to operating the extra ability. It was possible to train it, but he was not sure if right now was a good time to do so.

Tristan could not be sure how much he could improve before they finished opening up the fortress. Being in a mentally exhausted state would be lethal.

“Yeah, that part sucks,” Luke said, “A good meal will help alleviate it, and some sleep will get rid of it altogether.”

“Let's go get some food then,” Tristan said. Eve normally helped with food, so maybe he could get everything sorted out then.