Chapter 112: Seeds of Hope

“Hey, can you come take a look? I think I got the dimensions wrong.” Crelos called over, sitting back on his knees as he squinted at the edge of the wooden walkway.

Haku trotted over, giving him a long-suffering look. “I can’t keep stopping to help, you know? I’ve got my own work.” Glancing at the rune Crelos was working on, he smacked him lightly with his tail. “You botched the support rune—its size isn’t proportionate to the radius it’s meant to reinforce.”

Sighing, Crelos nodded and bent back down, his wand glowing as he swiped the rune clean. “Thanks. I’ll try harder. But, look, your brother’s runes are insanely complex. My own language only has eighteen letters, and he expects me to pick up one with fifty-two just like that?”

Haku smirked as he turned to head back toward the base of a cherry blossom tree, his tail raised in a casual wave. “You don’t need to understand it. Just copy it. You can at least manage that, can’t you?”

“Yes... and hey, quick question—can you tell me the four basic principles of multi-layered spellcasting?”

Haku stopped, frowning. “Uhhhh, no?”

“Exactly. So quit being a dick…” Crelos grumbled, refocusing on the rune.

Haku rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue. “Just finish the arrays. I’ll check them over once you’re done.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned back to the tree, continuing to scratch runes into its base.

Crelos glanced around, letting out a quiet sigh before diving back into his work. ‘I can’t afford to be left behind. Even if he can’t help, the least I can do is give this place my best.’

Slowly, the Pavilion began to transform under their hands, the first tier marked with the intricate and carefully inscribed arrays of their work.

Outside the Pavilion, the assembly grounds stretched open before it, an area linking the lodge, Pagoda, and Pavilion in a wide expanse of green.

Darius stood at the center, hands clasped behind him, watching the children’s first attempts to absorb mana. His messy black hair, with a streak of white in his bangs, caught in the breeze as he observed Tomp’s efforts.

"Focus on your breathing, Tomp. You're letting your focus slip. Breathe with the cycle—make it instinct. Only then can you begin to sense water’s true nature."

In the center of a shallow pool, Tomp sat cross-legged in the lotus position. His skin glistened with an oily film unique to the Black Tongue Tribe, a mark of his toad bloodline.

His greenish-black hair clung damply to his forehead, the boy's face was strained, but slowly his breathing settled, the water around him calming as he began to find his rhythm.

"Good, good." Extending his mana sense to examine Tomp’s dantain, he smiled, 'only six, yet his technique is impressive. Werefolk are truly born for cultivation. If demons had such a foundation, they would have ruled Panglai… Born on the edge of breakthrough—a rare gift.'

From his initial observations after the confrontation with Hershel, Darius had realized that each of the children hovered on the brink of forming a core. Their natural affinity for mana and their internal auras were the mana equivalent of a cultivator’s qi sea, fully formed and ready for the final step.

Darius’s gaze swept over each of them, seated and focused, their faces marked by young determination.

"Remember, everything begins with the breath. Until you master that, do not distract yourselves with anything else. Once you form your core, you will be able to read your scrolls, so do not get left behind."

After his demonstration with the Elemental Forge Matrix, he had imprinted the foundational breathing techniques of each child’s unique cultivation path directly into their minds. Their current task was simple yet crucial: learn to draw mana into themselves, filling their dantians, pushing closer to the moment of breakthrough.

As he paced, his gaze fell on Leek, who sat with intense focus, his small face set in an almost comical seriousness. A faint scar caught Darius’s eye, curving across the boy’s arm—a reminder of his origins. 'The Ashpaw Clan… even I’ve heard of them. The perfect war slaves.'

Leek, though still small now, would one day grow into a behemoth. With his bear bloodline, he was destined for the immense strength and fierce spirit that defined his kin. For now, though, his current path, marked by the Inferno Titan Body Technique, would be a grueling journey. Darius felt a pang, knowing the hardship the boy would face. 'Your path will be painful, little one. I only hope you won’t hold it against me.'

Moving his attention across the children, he smiled proudly, 'I wonder… who will be the first?'

His gaze lingered on Triss, her slender form framed by her blonde hair, sharp features and multi-colored feathers on her forearms. 'She’ll be the last, no doubt. Who would have expected one of them to wield two elements? A pity she doesn’t remember her background… Her tribe must’ve been extraordinary.'

Within her dantian, crackling purple lightning mana pulsed, but along its edges, faint wisps of yellow earth mana occasionally sparked, hinting at a rare body type.

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'Her dual affinity will double the time required to cultivate her Skyforge Lightning Sovereign Technique, yet her potential will put her leagues ahead of the others—if she can find the patience needed.'

“Damn it.”

A faint curse pulled his focus to Tem, seated in her own puddle. Her brow was furrowed, her breathing uneven, her face mirroring her chaotic thoughts.

Walking over, he stood before the girl and observed, “you cannot force it."

Tem clenched her eyes shut, her expression tightening even further, clearly fighting to quiet her mind.

“You’re anxious, distracted. Why waste time forcing the same approach when it keeps failing?”

Her eyes snapped open, the frustration evident as the beginnings of tears shimmered at the corners. “Are you saying I should quit?”

Darius squinted at her before bending down and flicking her forehead.

“Ow!”

“I’m saying you need to quit forcing it. Impatience will get you nowhere. Calm your mind.”

He leaned closer, pressing a finger to the spot he’d flicked, infusing her with a thread of his water mana. A cool sensation washed over her, soothing her nerves and stilling the pounding of her heart.

“Cultivation is a long path, Tem,” he continued, his tone softening. “Each step must be taken with purpose. For now, I want you to focus on the sound in your mind. Match your breathing to the rhythm of the waves.”

The cooling mana carried the gentle hum of the ocean into her thoughts, each wave rhythmic, soothing, like a heartbeat in her mind, drowning out the chatter.

After a few breaths, her face relaxed, her heartbeat finding its natural rhythm. Seeing her settle, Darius nodded.

“Now, imagine yourself as you breathe. Fill your mind with your own image, every breath aligning with that picture of yourself.”

With renewed focus, Tem began to visualize herself seated within a vast, empty space. At first, the image was blurry, but she persisted, her patience growing as the picture sharpened. Breath by breath, her mental self matched the rhythm of her physical form, synchronized to the steady pulse of the ocean.

Darius could feel the shift, her emotions stabilizing as the flow of her blood increased, each trace of tension melting away.

“With your breath and image in sync, allow yourself to empty into the void. Let go, leaving only the pathways I’ve imprinted in your mind. These meridians will shape your form now.”

His words washed over her, like a steady mantra that took root deep in her mind. Gradually, her mental image faded, leaving only an outline, dark and empty. With each breath, her meridians glowed faintly, sapphire threads of mana tracing a delicate pattern through her body, igniting her channels.

‘She has it now,’ Darius thought, watching her closely. ‘All she needs to do is maintain this image.’

Satisfied with Tem’s state, his gaze then shifted to Jass, who sat nearby, her fractal eyes closed as a faint breeze circled around her, a clear sign of her growing connection to her technique.

'A natural. Good, good.'

Next was Kilt, the largest of the group, and his brows raised slightly as he approached. 'Impressive. Like a fish to water… or perhaps for him a mole to earth? No, that doesn’t work.'

Below him, Kilt sat cross-legged, his body subtly vibrating. The dust around him trembled, moving in rhythm with his breath. The earth mana itself seemed to respond to his presence, humming in harmony as if celebrating his every inhale and exhale.

‘Good. Looks like I can move forward with my plans for him.’ He then turn to Lint, and his smile faded. ‘But you…’

Appearing beside the ten-year-old, Darius saw the boy’s small frame drenched in sweat, his tunic clinging to his skin just as stubbornly as his black hair stuck to his forehead.

‘Perhaps Triss won’t be last after all.’

After a moment’s thought, he settled down in front of him, crossing his legs and closing his eyes. Reaching out, he placed a hand on Lint’s forehead, establishing a link between their minds and creating a shared space.

Inside their mental realm, Darius stood over a bewildered Lint, who, upon seeing him, quickly straightened his posture, instinctively adopting a submissive stance. “I’m sorry. If you just give me more time, I’m—”

“Quiet.”

The authority in Darius’s voice was enough to silence the boy instantly. Lint dipped his head, his posture almost ingrained, slipping easily into the role of subservience.

“Out of everyone in my home, I know you the least, Lint.” Darius’s gaze was steady, assessing. “Who are you?”

Lint began to shake, his whiskers twitching nervously as he struggled to respond. "I am… your student."

“Not yet,” Darius replied evenly. “At this rate, it could be said I have taught you nothing. Only once you have truly learned can you call yourself my student. So… who are you?”

“I’m—I’m… I don’t know what you want me to say…” Lint’s voice wavered, his small frame trembling.

“Are you just a slave?” Darius’s words dropped like venom, his voice thundering as his presence seemed to grow, towering over Lint’s mind.

“Did I offer the path of a Sovereign to a mere slave? Tell me, Lint, have you deceived me into wasting my time?”

The world seemed to close in on him, Darius’s words squeezing the air from Lint’s lungs. Frantically, his eyes darted, searching for an escape as his heart raced. Then, Darius’s next words struck something deep within him.

“If you hate yourself, then give up now,” Darius said, his voice suddenly quiet but unyielding. “A slave cannot exist in the realm I am building. But understand this, Lint.” Darius’s aura softened, the darkness of the void around them gradually giving way to a gentle glow. “The hate you feel isn’t for yourself. It’s for your choices. So make a choice, Lint. Are you a slave, or will you become my disciple?”

Tears began to spill from Lint’s eyes, his entire body paralyzed, as if his mind had shut down in pure panic. “You… you don’t know me…”

“Speak up,” Darius commanded, his tone challenging.

Raising his face, Lint’s voice grew louder, almost defiant. “You don’t know me!”

Darius leaned forward. “Then tell me. Who are you?”

Lint’s chest heaved, his whiskers quivering as his emotions finally tore free. “I was good at what I did! I behaved! I survived!” His voice trembled with raw pain. “They all died, and I didn’t—that makes me better than them, doesn’t it?! Why should I even want to be free?! Tem’s a fool. They’re all fools! The only free beastfolk I’ve known are dead! Die free, live free—what does it matter? Why should I care?!"

Looking accusingly and helplessly to Darius, he almost begged, "did I do it wrong then? Did I watch them all die just so I could live with no punishment?”

Lint’s voice cracked, his words breaking as tears ran down his cheeks. He fell to his knees, hands limp at his sides. “I told them… I told a human where my village was. He said he was a trader… showed me a vision orb… I’d never seen one before.” He looked up at Darius, his eyes hollow with guilt. “So I told him. I told him, and they came. I killed my parents…”

He sank, curling into himself, his voice barely a whisper. “Why should I live freely, when I killed my own family? I deserve to be a slave, we all do for living."

Darius observed Lint in silence, sensing the crushing weight the boy carried. ‘If he doesn’t overcome this, it will darken his heart, twisting every step of his cultivation. Even if he succeeds, he’ll only walk toward ruin, becoming a demon of his own making.’

Without hesitation, Darius crouched down, wrapping his arms around the boy. “I got my parents killed as well."

Lint’s brow furrowed, a flash of confusion in his tear-streaked eyes as he pulled back slightly. “You don’t need to lie to make me feel better...”

Darius shook his head. “When I was twelve, I’d just stepped into my own cultivation technique. I was filled with pride, confident that I was untouchable.”

Lint wiped his nose, his full attention fixed on Darius’s words.

“Haku was captured, and because of my reckless confidence, I brought disaster on my family. I nearly lost my life, but my mother… she sacrificed hers to save mine. And after that, I watched my father die, unable to save him, before I was thrown to the far side of the world.”

Lint stood abruptly, almost frantic. “Then how? How can you ask me to carry on like this? How can you smile, knowing you’re just like me?”

“Because for me, Lint, guilt has only one purpose.” Darius’s voice grew resolute. “My pain, my rage, my sorrow—they all exist to fuel one thing. To kill the man who took my father’s life. To kill the one who sent a vampyre to kill me and instead murdered someone close to me.”

Darius held Lint’s gaze, then, with a thought, dissolved the mental world around them. As their awareness returned to the training field, both opened their eyes, reality settling around them. Lint wiped the lingering tears from his cheeks, his breathing slower, steadier, as his heartbeat quieted.

“When I finally kill that man,” Darius continued softly, “I will have honored my mother and father. My failures—though I’ll carry them always—will never hold me back. I’ll use them to grow stronger.”

Lint stared, almost dazed, into Darius’s calm azure eyes, the clarity there easing his own turmoil.

“Make the choice, Lint. Make the choice you know you secretly want. Embrace those around you, accept that you’re not alone, and that you do, in fact, deserve to live.”

The quiet stillness of the training field, where faint auras of each element hummed softly, was suddenly broken by the sound of a young boy’s sobbing.

The other children stilled, their breathing exercises momentarily forgotten, their techniques paused as they watched, each face reflecting a flicker of recognition. They were witnessing one of their own begin to accept the shared weight they all carried—the pain of survival.