Chapter 49: Submerged Secrets

Darius glanced at Haku, who hesitated at the water’s edge, clearly out of his element, "we are adding swimming to your training regimen." With a decisive breath, Darius murmured, “Blessings of the Zephyr.” A cocoon of green wind mana enveloped him, the air around him shimmering as the mana swirled visibly.

Haku watched intently as the mana swirled around Darius, a question pressing in his mind. His thoughts reached out to Darius, 'can you please teach me some martial techniques?'

Darius, feeling a familiar frustration bubble up, rolled his eyes, though only the trees saw the gesture. He shot back through their mental link, 'I've already explained this, Haku. I can't teach you martial techniques. Your cultivation method is too overbearing; it rejects any other influences and will unfold new abilities for you on its own.'

Haku’s tone carried a hint of dejection as he mused, 'I hope I get something powerful, like your Solar Tyrant's Fist or your Echoing Thunder Palm.'

'The techniques Wu Chen unlocked were all related to his bloodline. It seems the Celestial Beast Soul Mantra is not a set cultivation technique and develops based on the practitioner so don't be too worried, whatever you unlock I'm sure will be useful no matter what.'

As Darius stood before the beast graveyard, he began to focus on the water's surface, memories of his initial training in the Blessing of the Zephyr technique filled his thoughts. Converting the ancient Sky Peng Blessing, a technique he "acquired" from a fellow cultivator from his previous life into a technique suited for this world, he had focused on mastering the flow of wind mana to mimic the seamless and natural aura of the Sky Peng, a mythical beast that ruled the skies of Penglai, it's wingspan covering entire nations.

The Sky Peng Blessing from his past life was a formidable martial technique with three distinct layers. In its first stage, the technique primarily served as a movement technique, granting the user increased agility reminiscent of a bird darting through the sky. This layer also provided a minor defensive barrier, a subtle shield of energy that enveloped the user, deflecting minor attacks and environmental hazards.

As one's mastery deepened to the second layer, the technique evolved significantly. The users movements became even swifter and more fluid, and the protective barrier grew in strength and provided a detection system, effectively making the user invulnerable to stealth attacks.

The third and final layer of the Sky Peng Blessing represented the technique's ultimate mastery, where the practitioner could command the winds across expansive distances. At this stage, the user became attuned to the subtlest vibrations carried by the wind, able to detect conversations and movements across the breadth of a continent. This mastery not only provided formidable defensive barriers but also allowed the user to navigate the air currents with the ease of walking on solid ground.

'You have to understand, Haku, it's not as simple as just picking a technique from a box. All my knowledge from Penglai is essentially useless here, especially since you're practically a new species. I wouldn’t even know where to begin with predicting your future. I'd hate to teach you something that might conflict with your growth, even if I could. Now, stay hidden, but make sure nothing follows me down there,' Darius instructed, his gaze steady as he prepared to dive.

Haku's voice wavered slightly, reflecting his unease. 'Are you sure about this? It doesn’t feel right. Maybe we could find a graveyard above ground instead?'

Darius retracted his cloak back into the Brooch, his tone resolute. 'Sometimes, gaining something means taking risks. If I have any troubles, I am confident, I can at least escape alive. Don’t worry.' Without waiting for a reply, he plunged into the dark waters, his elderly guise shifting back to his teenage appearance.

'At least?,' Haku murmured, left to watch over the swirling surface. Invisible in his ghost-fire form, he remained vigilant at the edge, his instincts on high alert.

----

Far across Gaia, on the southeastern side of the supercontinent, Rancito Cordoba hummed with energy, its streets alive with magitech that brightened every corner. The city's heart thriving around the Mage Tower, a towering structure revered not just for its commanding presence but as the pulsating core of urban life. Here, amid the hum of busy shops and the beauty of innovative architecture, the city's lifestyle was most vibrant.

In a secluded chamber at the top of the Mage Tower, Rainslif Crowley focused intently on a swirling, storming array. The room was stark, empty except for a single pedestal in the center, where an array of stars glowed with a dark spectral light. Patterns of color danced across the surface, casting eerie shadows on the bare walls. "It's been four years, Trayton, four years and you're telling me you still haven't found him?" His voice remained steady, betraying no emotion as he fixed his gaze on the turbulent magical display before him.

Behind Rainslif, a figure shrouded in crawling black smoke stood, its pale white eyes the only unchanging feature in its shifting form. "This one has no excuses," Trayton rasped, his voice sounding as if it emerged from a grave.

Rainslif let out a heavy sigh and with a swift motion of his hand, he dispersed the glowing array. He turned away from the pedestal, his expression somber.

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Trayton's form flickered, retreating slightly as he spoke with a harsh surprise, "Tower Master advanced?!"

Rainslif Crowley, his eyes; the pupils now erased, completely swirled with a deep green, offered a slow, knowing smile.

He examined his own hand thoughtfully before responding in a steady tone, "Have I ever told you about my previous master, Trayton?"

"This one has not been told."

"He was a brilliant man, an Adept. His tower was my home for years before I ascended," Rainslif began, a reflective tone in his voice. "Having reached the peak of his potential, he chose to spend his remaining years mentoring his students—quite the rarity. Most mages at their peak indulge in every pleasure their power can afford."

Trayton's form shifted, making room for Rainslif as the mage paced past him, his story unfolding with each step. "I was quite fond of him. He granted me access to every resource, every bit of wisdom he could provide," Rainslif shared, his tone tinged with nostalgia. Halting suddenly, he turned to Trayton, curiosity in his tone, "Do you know how a mage advances through the Arcane Ascendancy System?"

"This one only knows up to the insta-caster stage, Tower Master," Trayton responded, his voice rasping slightly.

Rainslif tilted his head, a hint of amusement in his gaze. "Given our contract, I suppose lying isn’t an option for you. At least you’re familiar with that much; it’ll save us some time."

Continuing along a winding corridor, Rainslif resumed his tale. "When I ascended to the fourth stage, like any mage poised to climb higher, I faced a choice: follow the well-trodden path or forge my own. To ascend further, I needed to begin setting my base rune." He paused to open a door as they rounded the corner.

"This one is ashamed to ask, but what is a base rune? These words are not known," Trayton's raspy voice broke the silence, his form shifting uneasily.

They stepped into an ornate sitting room, walls adorned with portraits and paintings. At the center, a large table held a four-tiered game set. Rainslif settled at the table, gesturing towards the intricate game.

"A base rune," he began, his voice echoing slightly in the hushed room, "is the culmination of a mage’s understanding of their element from the first four stages. It's a mystic process where a mage imprints a rune inside their soul, setting the course for the remaining stages of the system."

Opposite Rainslif, Trayton stood with his form shrouded in persistent, swirling smoke. "This one understands."

Rainslif's gaze was sharp as he elaborated, "There were two choices for imprinting my base rune: use a commonly known, proven runic language or create my own. Each choice carries its own risks and benefits. The proven language guarantees success with no risk of failure, but it limits your potential to the 5th stage. Creating your own language, however, leaves your potential unbounded, and if successful, your power could be tenfold stronger compared to using the common languages."

Noticing confusion clouding Trayton's eyes, Rainslif asked, "Something bothering you?"

"This one is confused, Master," Trayton responded, his tone tinged with uncertainty. "It appears you had no true choice. There would have been no benefit to you in choosing the common language."

"With greater power comes greater risk, and that is where my teacher and I finally began to diverge," Rainslif explained, his tone reflecting a mix of nostalgia and tension. "He wanted me to follow the common path, but I was determined to forge my own. You see, my potential is capped at the 6th stage. Creating your own runic language carries no guarantees; even if you succeed and reach the 5th stage, as you approach its peak, your rune is tested. If it fails to prove a true path, your soul is destroyed. The common path would have at least guaranteed reaching the peak of the 5th stage, extending my life by another 200 years."

"To this one, it seems your master cared deeply for you."

"Yes," Rainslif chuckled, his laugh carrying a touch of irony, "you might think so, but in reality, he was a jealous and cowardly man who chose the common path. So, after I imprinted my rune and ascended—even though he was a peak Adept—I easily killed him." As he spoke, Rainslif casually moved a glowing orb on the game set, and the room echoed with the muffled shouts and screams of battle as the orb engulfed another.

"The point of this story, is ironically I understand now what that fearful master of mine endured—the approach of the end is like being a caged animal with no escape. To reach one's limit, Trayton, is a truly dreadful ordeal."

From the top of the four-tiered game set, an orb moved independently, descending to merge with another and growing brighter. Rainslif's eyes widened as he observed the maneuver, "Aleis counter?"

Turning to Treyton, he continued with a firm tone, "In two years, I will be awarded a second stage Tower. You have until then to find the Valdene boy. If you have not located him by that time, I will starve you of crystals until you are dust. Do you understand, Vampyre?"

"This one understands. But master, this one holds no fear of death, yet this one is certain to fail in this task. Given a hundred years, confidence would be mine, but Gaia is vast, and his traces have vanished."

Rainslif twisted his hand, materializing a small red vial. "It took three years for that creepy bastard to become available. If not for the sensitive nature of this matter, I wouldn't have waited to employ him. Crafted by the mad alchemist himself, this should enable you to locate him."

Rainslif tossed the vial to Trayton, whose large, pale white muscular arm emerged from the swirling smoke to catch it. "The boy's blood? But how? This one was told all traces were destroyed."

"Yes, after my initial scouring of the area, I failed to discover any traces of the boy; everything appeared destroyed. Once I returned to the tower, I sent a request to an old colleague who owed me a favor. With a convincing cover story, I persuaded him to perform a viewing ritual for my eyes only. It's then I discovered that the boy had suffered significant blood loss, collapsing in a pool of his own blood. I returned to the site, collected a soil sample, and preserved it for the mad alchemist. Fortunately, there was enough to replicate for this sample."

"This one is impressed; humans truly are astounding with their creations. With this, finding him will be simple."

"Go. And two years, Trayton. After that, I will no longer need to stay in this tower, and I will find him myself." Suddenly, Rainslif's aura erupted, swirling with white and green. His eyes ignited emerald, and his veins began to glow with a similar hue, his presence exposing and overwhelming Treyton like a raging, twisting tornado.

Treyton stood with pale, scarred white skin. His muscles were well-defined under the eerie glow of the chamber, contributing to his bulky physique. His bald head, set between sharp, double-pointed ears, made the absence of a nose—replaced instead by skull-like hollows—all the more striking. His mouth, filled with sharply pointed teeth at the front and oddly large, flat molars at the back, gave his jaw a pronounced, fierce look. His attire was minimal, consisting only of tattered black shorts that hung loosely around his waist.

"This one will not fail you." As Rainslif's aura receded, bringing a visible sigh of relief, Trayton cloaked himself in his characteristic black smoke. He then slowly seeped into a crack in the wall, his body merging with the smoke and disappearing into the shadows of the room.

Sitting alone, Rainslif turned his attention back to the game set. His gaze fixed on a specific orb. Deliberately, he moved it, aligning and merging it with another adjacent orb. As the pieces came together, he murmured thoughtfully, "What secrets does your son hold, Jarek?"

---

Haku sat motionless at the water's edge, his eyes reflecting the dark, swirling surface. The ghostly flickers of his form blended with the mist rising from the swamp, rendering him nearly invisible. Minutes stretched into what felt like hours as he scanned the murky depths where Darius had vanished. His ears twitched at every subtle sound, his instincts sharp and alert.

An unease crept up his spine, a feeling foreign yet familiar—danger was nearing. Haku's gaze hardened, his form tensed as he extended his senses further into the dense swamp air. The silence of the graveyard was suddenly oppressive, his ears picked up the faintest disturbance, a ripple in the natural flow of the swamp's eerie atmosphere.

Without warning, a powerful aura surged through the stagnant air. Haku's fur bristled, his ghostly flames flickered more intensely around him as he prepared to confront whatever was approaching.