“Where the bloody hell have you been!?” The small girl shrieked in fury, damn near louder than a pulsar.
“Hey now, I can explai—”
Rahm was hit by a laser beam wider than a van. It smashed into him, throwing him backwards through the wall, and propelled him into the pulsar outside. He hit the temporal barrier past the sidewalk and was slowly smashed into a tiny flaming Rahm cube. He disappeared into the light with an escape of pressure like a gasp, that Jordan assumed was the star burping.
Jordan turned back, blank faced, towards the furious cat-girl before him. If she thought this level of violence was enough to impress him, she was sorely mistaken.
It’d been a long commute after all.
The youth in question stood a bit taller than the Brat herself at five foot nothing, and her beige colored tail had its fur sticking up on end as it madly swept back and forth. Hands gripped in the air like a cat looking for a scratcher, but were otherwise normal save for the claws that kept popping out from the fingertips. Rage dilated her yellow cat-eyes, that Jordan assumed would otherwise be slitted.
She began to fuss at her clothing after her momentary freak out, which Jordan felt looked almost straight out of a low-level ‘female adventurers’ kit. Light, mundane-looking leather armor with metallic studs sat over white, well-worn robes. It was used as an underlayer, but split in front of her legs revealing a hide skirt covering her hips, with long metal-covered boots completing her ensemble.
Her outfit stood out from the gaudy attire of the Gods in every way save one—she had a giant red gem plastered on her chest. The laser beam that had, hopefully, annihilated the Brat’s Grandfather permanently had come from it, and it was still slightly steaming. Jordan liked the gem, if only for the catharsis it had given him.
The only true drawback to her features, really, was a large burn scar just above one of her eyes, framing the outline of a brow ridge. It had a tattoo covering it, but the ink was weirdly disjointed, almost tribal in appearance, but none of the lines connected. It was like it had been made to be broken?
Finished composing herself, the young lass turned her head slowly to face Jordan—a sharp little canine sticking out adorably—as her twin ears, furred and elongated in cat like fashion, twitched in annoyance from their otherwise proper location on the side of her head. The woman was quite cute, Jordan noted, but only now realized in growing embarrassment that he had been giving her a not-so-subtle once over.
“And who, the fuck, are you?” Her voice was high pitched, young, and probably delicate if used properly. Currently the snarl twisting her lips and rage trembling her body had an equally potent effect on her mouth.
Jordan looked at her, then turned back towards the Rahm-sized hole in the side of the house with a screaming pulsar shining through, and then back at her. He then curtsied politely.
“Forsaken Fool Lady Freyhell Aureliana Hortensia-Kellham the Repentant.”
Did… I really just say the whole Brat’s name? That’s easier than I thought it’d be. Jordan was pleased to see that his strategy of speaking without thinking was beginning to bear fruit.
“Horrid Hells, brat, I wanted your name not your full damn title.” The cat-girl spat, causing Jordan’s eyebrow to twitch irritably. That was his word for his flesh prison, damnit.
Before he could admonish her, however, the gem on her chest popped up, revealing a furry face poking out of her nonexistent bosom.
“Gah! W-what is that?” Jordan cried out.
The woman raised an eyebrow, and then smiled sadistically. “Charlie. Attack stance.”
The small creature leapt out of her clothes, having inexplicably fit there to begin with, before landing in front of Jordan like a damn Pokémon ready to battle. It slowly bobbed back and forth—ruby eyes narrowed as it made adorable mewling noises while it awaited its bloody order.
The creature, ‘Charlie’ as it were, was a long-haired, four legged, weasel like creature. It was about the size of a Boston Terrier, and its triangular face was accented by an absurdly huge red gem that sat in the middle of its forehead, spilling out energy that swirled like horns to the side of its face. A long tail whipped behind it excitedly as it made tiny noises of aggression towards Jordan.
Jordan… turned red as his body began trembling. No. Oh god no, not… not this! Anything but this! Anything! He shook, and fell backwards onto his ass. His breath came out rapidly—heated and heavy.
The woman cocked her head in surprise, before covering her ears with a growl.
Jordan squealed like a tea kettle. It was inevitable, really.
“H-how… how can something be so cute!? How!?” Jordan begged the tiny creature, but it just sat back on its haunches. Charlie looked back towards its master in confusion, concerned at its prey’s actions, and she shrugged back at him. Inquisitively, the critter approached Jordan, causing his breath to hitch in his throat—a second squeal traitorously fighting to escape him.
The adorable little marmot then leapt onto Jordan’s lap, cocked its head with a tiny mewing noise, and twisted back in on itself. It dug into the fur of its side, white with a slight tinge of green, before pulling out a piece of parchment.
It held the paper in its little mouth, brandishing it towards Jordan, who blinked in confusion towards the creature's owner. She shrugged again, and Jordan squinted to read the nauseating lettering on the small card.
“Name… Charlie… Monster type… Carbuncle… hereby allowed… adorable factors with the range of… this… this is a cuteness permit!?” Jordan shrieked.
The small creature chuckled, sounding like light bells, before burying the paper back into its fur and jumping off of Jordan’s lap to rejoin his master.
“Ah… wha?” He’d just been cutely sassed to within an inch of his life!
The cat-girl approached, but paused to wrinkle her nose next to Jordan. She stared down at his lower half before sighing. “Let’s get you into some clean clothes, shall we? Sorry you had to travel here with that jackass.” She gestured behind Jordan as she helped him up.
“What about—” Jordan turned to look back at where said jackass had disappeared, and wished he hadn’t.
“Ahahaha! THIS IS NOTHING! THIS IS FINE! A WARM, AGHH, SUMMERS DAY!” Rahm screamed in the distance, pulling himself out of the pulsar, regeneration constantly counteracted by the crushing force of gravity. Yet still he pulled against space itself, arms breaking and reforming, skin shredding and regrowing, screaming and laughing, all while merrily making his way back towards them like some scene out of a horror flick.
“Yeah he… he does that." The cat-girl said, before muttering, "And he’s one of the sane ones.” Jordan stared disbelievingly as he was led to a back room to get changed and cleaned up.
One of the sane ones? He scoffed internally. Seeing may have been believing, but somethings couldn't be unseen. Like old man parts.
Flashbacks, reminding Jordan of some of the other reasons he didn’t like going to the gym, plagued him. He was grateful that he hadn't added another memory to that at least.
----------------------------------------
The girl was, unsurprisingly, Kioko—Rahm’s apprentice. She was almost nice, too.
“I’ve been up here for five fucking years because you forgot me, Master!? While treating this damn brat!?” The cat woman pounded on the table screeching at a regenerated, fully decent, Rahm.
“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad, is it? I just forgot a little—”
“I couldn’t leave dammit! My passport expired after a week you incompetent old fool!”
“Wh—you could have trie—”
“You told me to wait here for you to return and some of us don't care for mass carnage against Spirits!”
“Well, you should have sent me—”
“FIVE HUNDRED AND TWO!”
“Two?”
“Two.”
“Er…”
“That’s how many messages I sent you, asshole! I was going to leave it at a hundred, but the mailman was literally the only person I could speak with!” She growled menacingly, before like a switch was flipped, she gave a giddy smile and sweetly said, “It helped that he was quite cute, though, ho ho ho!”
Jordan raised an eyebrow at her exaggerated breathy laugh, but she spun instantly towards him glaring murderously. “You got a fucking problem brat!?” Jordan’s eardrums rang.
“N-no ma’am.” He said without thinking. Thankfully, it was the correct response as she relented just as quickly.
“Kioko, listen, Aury has been through a lot you know—”
“Shut. Up.” She said, before adding with the slightest nod of her head, “Masterrrr.” She then grimaced, as though mortified by the soft purr she'd given.
Rahm, for his part, clammed up as instructed. He twiddled two sets of thumbs innocently as the cat-girl stood there, claws gently scraping into the wood of the table they sat at, treating it like a cat scratch to relieve stress.
Which she did often, Jordan surmised. Looking around the house, he could see very little that hadn’t been clawed at.
It’s almost like he left a pissed off cat in a house for five years, Jordan concluded.
Beyond the authentic cat-damage, the house was beautifully designed. The living area was wide, sprawling, and vaulted. The walls behind them, one giant seamless panel of opaque quartz, diminished the hate glare from outside enough to allow Jordan to remove his sunglasses.
The rest of the home had an open design, the kitchen and dining area easily visible from his location, as a set of stairs sat to the side of the room, showing that this place had a second story and basement. Jordan supposed there could’ve been additional stories further up, because as nice of a place as it was—it was practically a Millennial Tiny House compared to the palaces around it.
The group sat there quietly for a time, save for the angry breathing of Kioko. This was thanks entirely to the large sheet of translucent, sparkling steel that had been nailed unceremoniously to the hole in the wall Rahm’s body had made. A miracle material, used like cheap plywood.
Jordan drank some tea pondering this and more.
Thankfully, the delicious liquid had been provided by Rahm’s apprentice in a lull between her furious shouting and stress scratching. While he rested, he tried to stay out of sight and mind lest he incur her kitty-girl wrath—which he felt she was quite justified in, considering Rahm’s carelessness.
However, as the taste came to his lips, he detected something peculiar. An oddity to the drink, like a hint of #^$&*# Fffrrr Ththththth, Umno hehe ha ha! AHH TA Nnnn mmmple!s’s kaHaHeHEMmm.
“W-what the hell is wrong with her!?” Kioko shouted, taken aback. She could barely be heard by the sudden noises filling the air.
Rahm winced and covered an ear melodramatically. “Well, I don’t think she’s ever had the full strength stuff. I didn’t expect her to react quite so…” he waved a free arm at the collapsed heap on the ground.
The cat-girl blanched as Jordan writhed on the floor screaming in ecstatic agony as energy onto the heavens thundered through his veins like celestial heroin. God’s divine plan shown in the back of his skull where his eyes were focused as a kaleidoscope of sunspots poured through his brain tickling—
“Oh, I… ahhh, I may have used your… extra strength… mix.”
Rahm’s dark skin turned ever lighter colors of ash as he slowly put down his cup. “You… may have?”
“Well… you just climbed out of the pulsar, Master! Even you’d need to recover your energy from that! And you never said anything about her being sensitive—”
They both jumped as Jordan kicked the table while in the throes of tea bliss.
“Er… I appreciate that Kioko, but ah… maybe let’s put this stuff away for now, okay? I’m sure I’ve got some lower strength stuff somewhere…” He leaned in close to Kioko and whispered, “and lets both agree not to tell her mother, eh?”
Both ‘adults’ quietly fled the room as Jordan screamed out to God. No bushes burned in answer, but Charlie did come by to lick his face reassuringly. Jordan found it to be an acceptable substitute.
TEA IS THE BEST THING EVER, the Great Truth ROARED in his soul, and Jordan worshipfully acknowledged it onward and to perpetuity, forevermore.
----------------------------------------
“Tea is the worst thing ever.” Jordan complained while down from the most ridiculous high of either of his lives as he rested his head against the table. Something cold began to slide off of his head, and he mewled in protest like a Carbuncle.
Rahm re-settled the bag of ice toppling over from its balanced position on Jordan’s skull with one hand, while gently patting his back reassuringly with another. The bag was small and light, but apparently contained an ever-frozen glacier the size of Alaska from what Jordan had managed to piece together from the inane commentary of the two ‘adults’ nearby.
“Sorry about that sweety. On the bright side, this serves as an excellent primer for your cultivation!” He said cheerfully.
“I hate all of you. So much.” Jordan moaned into the air, before adding, "Except Charlie. He's cool." A tiny mewl answered him cheerfully.
Kioko chuckled at Jordan before turning serious as she faced Rahm, “You’re... going to help her cultivate though? Truly? Isn’t she your, er, family?”
Rahm nodded, but said nothing.
“But…” Kioko faltered. “Didn't you say you’d never train another Freyhell after… crap, what was his name again?”
“Marinus.” Rahm answered quietly.
“R-right.” Kioko winced. “Er, so what happened?”
Rahm grew still before growling. “You know damn well what happened.”
Kioko threw her hands up defensively, “No, not with him! I mean, why are you training this brat?”
“Don’t call me that.” Jordan mumbled. “Only I can use that word.” The two ignored his reasonable, and obviously righteous, request.
“Well…” Rahm sighed dramatically. “You know she’s why I, kind of, forgot you were up here.”
The cat-girl glared, but didn’t start screaming so Rahm took it as a good sign to continue.
“And well, I grew attached. Years by her bedside and all. She’s special, Kioko, she’s—”
“Forsaken.” The cat girl stated. “She told me when she came in. It's the only thing that makes sense—I can’t see another way one of her kind could be up here, though how you came up with that loophole...”
Rahm didn’t meet her gaze. After a few moments, Kioko’s tail stopped swishing angrily, and she huffed. “Well, where’re we heading to then? You can’t tell me you plan on helping her cultivate up here after all.”
“Huh?” Rahm replied, “Well of course we will! It’s fine. I gave her a Holy Resistance potion, you see—” He leaned forward, two of his four elbows jutting forward in a ‘buddy-buddy’ gesture.
“You’re kidding!” Kioko glowered at him before paling. “…you aren’t kidding. You… you can’t do that! Horrid Hells the kid should have gone up like a fucking candle the second she got here! Freyhell or not, Holy fire is Holy fire! And what the fuck is she supposed to do with Heavenly Essence pouring through her? Reduce her Core to ashes? Did you forget how Demonkin work, you old fool?”
“Well, I never said I’d have her use heavenly essence.” Rahm folded both sets of arms petulantly. “You just assumed that.”
“Assumed…!?” She squeaked, “What bloody else would you use up here!?” She slammed down on the table, eliciting a cry of pain from Jordan, whose head bounced on said table. The bag of ice began to plummet, but one of Rahm’s arms absentmindedly fixed it, and the two continued to speak, ignoring his small sounds of anguish.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
“Well, I was going to use… my secret stash.” Rahm sheepishly gestured a hand towards a back room.
Kioko’s eyes widened larger than the cul-de-sac outside. “Are you serious!? Assuming it doesn’t kill her outright—and I can’t even see how it won’t—you’ve been saving up cultivation materials for centuries Master! Why… why would you use them now? On her? You know what that could cost you? And by the Devas, if the Enforcers find out?” She paled.
Rahm sat quietly, mute once more.
“She… really reminds you of him, doesn’t she?” Kioko said quietly.
“Who? Marinus? Don’t make me laugh.” He snorted.
Kioko stared through him. “I know about him, Master. It’s okay.”
“You know about him.” Rahm said quietly. Dangerously.
He stood up suddenly, genuine fury showed on his features as his white, coarse hair bobbled ominously, gleaming in the light with static energy.
“What?” He snarled, “You think because you read some history books, you know about him? You think that makes you qualified to speak about him? To me? I have shits older than you, girl.”
He jabbed three fingers towards her. “You know nothing.”
“M-master… I’m sorry, I…” Kioko silenced herself at the look Rahm gave her. Jordan didn’t see from his position kissing the table, how the light of Rahm’s eyes shown through the flawless obfuscation of his glasses. He did, however, notice how Kioko’s tail wrapped defensively around her trembling legs.
Jordan turned his head to look at Rahm, causing the ice bag to finally fall off. Rahm was taking deep breaths to calm down.
“Hey.” Jordan said weakly. “Old man.”
Rahm turned down to look at him. Struggling to compose himself for a few moments, he finally said, “Yes, Aury?”
Jordan kicked him in the shin.
“STOP FUCKING YELLING, YOU ASSHOLE!” Jordan screamed, violating his own command, and sent Rahm stumbling, cursing all the way, out of the room.
Even as the old man gripped his wounded leg, making a show of furious retreat, Kioko saw the small smile on his face as he disappeared from view.
“You really are a big softy…” She whispered, shaking her head as she walked over to replace the bag of ice on the Brat’s head. Jordan sighed happily, soothed at last.
----------------------------------------
It didn’t take long, thankfully, for Jordan to make a full recovery.
The hangover caused by the ‘drugs’—or whatever the effect had been—was easily the worst he’d ever felt in this or any lifetime. So when it came time for dinner, Jordan opted to take an offered Sustenance Potion and be done with it all. He wasn’t going to risk a second episode.
Sitting at the table, Jordan attempted to pass time by making polite small talk with the cat-girl, in between the bouts of her growling and glaring that she sometimes broke out into. It felt too much like having a conversation with a pissed off cat for his tastes, but he was eventually spared the excruciating need to continue false pleasantries when Rahm re-entered the living room carrying a chest.
The damn thing looked like a treasure chest straight out of some pirate movie too. It was large and made of a heavy dark wood with edges trimmed in gold, but it wasn’t pristine like the world outside. Bits were chipped off, and places where gems had once been embedded showed only the empty silhouettes of missing wealth. It was beautiful, but had a ransacked feel to it.
“About time, Master." Kioko chided. “What was taking so long, anyway?”
Rahm set the chest down with an almighty ‘THUMP’ onto the complaining table. Jordan backed his seat up in case the whole thing went under. With his burden released, Rahm turned towards his apprentice, grinning like the old fool he was.
“Well, I ah, ha, may have had a little trouble, but nothing I couldn’t—”
“You forgot the combination again, didn’t you?” Kioko immediately cut to the chase.
Rahm flinched, arms folding defensively before sheepishly rubbing at what hair he had remaining on his head. It once again sounded like boulders in the middle of an earthquake, with sparks flickering off his head like flint striking against stone. What the hell is up with that damn hair? Jordan thought.
“Yeah, you got me. I had to tear off all the defensive wards.” Rahm gestured to the missing ‘gems’ of the chest, at least solving one mystery for Jordan.
“Anyway, I just need to finish the final lock, and then I can pop this open.” Rahm sagely nodded before getting to work.
“Wait, why are you doing it out here!?” Kioko demanded, but Rahm ignored her. She scooted away several yards in a flash, and Jordan decided to join her.
“Oh, come on, it isn’t that dangerou—”
As the glowing purple glyphs hovering in the air danced and spun to the man’s four-handed efforts to spin the lights in some arcane unlocking attempt, the whole chest began to glow. The glyphs sputtered out, and an explosion of light blasted into Rahm, instantly turning everything waist up into a crispy fried mess. Jordan looked away as the old man casually regenerated himself, clothes and all this time.
“Hah, see? Hardly worth—”
A second explosion followed. Jordan was convinced the old man was just doing this to show off.
In all, there were eight more explosions, each one a different light and a different effect. One froze Rahm, another electricuted him, and one even pelted him with globules of acid. While they all did substantial damage, Jordan found himself meeting Kioko’s eyes on the side as they both blankly stared off trying to ignore the boisterously laughing Rahm.
“He’s one of the sane ones?” Jordan quietly threw Kioko’s words back at her.
“Yeah… he really is, kid.” She replied defeatedly.
*CRACK* A final snapping noise filled the small home, signifying Rahm was done regrowing his spine. Again. Jordan and the cat-girl turned to finally look at the mess of a man himself.
He grinned and said, “Hah! Nothing to it at all. This is why I don’t bother remembering these infernal combinations—it’s just as easy to break the prismatic wards.” He waved three times over before popping open the chest. It should've been four times over, but one of his hands was busy regrowing.
Jordan didn’t have to wonder at the contents for long. The old man took one look at the chest’s internals, nodded in approval, then spun the whole thing around to face his audience. Grabbing the bottom, he lifted it up, and dumped the contents unceremoniously onto the table.
Sitting in the middle of the table now was a small pile of glittering items, magic and power radiating off of their many forms. Jordan felt he knew the true quality of items here, if just because each one seemed to have the resonance to them the golden coin—the Crown, had shown. Concepts woven into the material.
Rahm reached down and picked up his three choices simultaneously. The first, was a white vial with an azure-colored metal wrapping around it. It glowed softly, like it had clear, glittering liquid made of condensed light residing within. Looking at it brought a blush of embarrassment to Jordan’s cheeks, and he wasn’t even sure why.
The second item was a feather, contained in a transparent quartz case. It was wreathed in orange flame against its red coloration, constantly consumed by its own fire only for its small motes of ash to recondense and reform itself, hale and healthy. The flames repeated the process in an endless cycle.
The last item the old man held was a crystal. It looked like an unfinished piece of art; half cut and half polished without a defining pattern, but it didn't seem very impressive until it was moved. Like shaking up an unmixed beverage, particles of light moved about inside it, until tiny discharges of lightning flashed from within. The clear, sky blue crystalline material immediately began to look darker as rolling storm clouds formed and swirled around. It filled the house with the smell of impending rain.
Surprising Jordan, however, Rahm then reached into his pocket and pulled out a fourth item that hadn’t been in the treasure pile. It was an arrow of solid white light, that didn’t even look special until Rahm jiggled it. Jagged arcs of plasmic energy began crawling on its surface, crackling loudly yet moving unnaturally slow. The thing radiated danger, and produced an incessant growl like a power bank ready to explode.
Rahm held each one up to examine them, getting a blast of energy from the arrow that gouged a chunk of his face off in the process. He didn’t seem to mind though, instead he nodded in approval and turned to look at Kioko.
“Alright, I’m gonna go get started prepping. It should take me a few hours, so while I’m gone, drain the girl’s tank, ‘kay?” With that, he turned to Jordan, gave an exaggerated wink that looked pointless behind his sunglasses, and turned to head out through a side doorway.
Jordan spluttered as he left, turning a bright crimson that easily outshone the feather in the old man’s hands. Kioko chuckled softly at the sight before addressing Jordan.
“Easy kid, easy. He didn’t mean like that.” The girl nodded towards Jordan’s nethers dramatically. Completely unnecessarily in Jordan’s opinion—that was a place that should never be acknowledged!
“Bwha, erf—fine! Cool! T-then, what the hell did he mean?”
“Right, so he only gave me a quick run down about your ‘situation’ while you were… indisposed. So you don’t remember how Experience works, yeah?”
“Er… I guess no? The old man mentioned something about it on our commute here. I suppose it's… like a real tangible thing.” The idea that experience was a thing that existed was just weird.
Kioko nodded. “Yup. So when he said drain the tank, he meant he wants me to run you through using up any available Experience you have, if we can, before we begin the cultivation process.”
“What? Why?” While Jordan had accepted that he’d likely have to develop in whatever manner suited his situation—or the opinion of others—but that didn’t mean he actually wanted to! He wanted a chance to look over his damn character sheet and make a choice, at least. Why hadn’t he done that already?
Oh right, I was on my way to do that until I dropped Catella on my head, and got side tracked. Stupid sibling love bullcrap. Jordan grouched internally, but his face must have reflected his thoughts as Kioko scrunched her face quizzically at him.
“So… he didn’t explain any of this to you, did he?”
“Explain what?”
Kioko let out a sigh. “Where do I even begin with you, kid. So, you know that you need to cultivate to reach Level One, right?”
Jordan nodded.
“Good. Do you know what the process entails?”
He shook his head.
“Great.” She said through gritted teeth. “So your Core has five Attributes, has anyone explained them to you?”
“Er… not as much, no. I think Catella was trying to but she, ah, forgot half way through the giant list.”
“Wonder-fucking-ful. Ugh, just give me a moment, would you?” The girl stood up and walked into the kitchen. After a few minutes of banging around, she returned and sat down with what looked distressingly like a bottle of vodka and shot glass. After pouring a drink for herself, she sipped at it and flushed slightly. Breathing deeply, and more calmly, she proceeded to explain the mysteries of the universe to Jordan.
“So, running through real quick, you’ve got your Circuit, Spirit, Control and Potency. These are the measures for your Cores reactivity, resilience, finesse, and strength when it comes to Essence management. They're what the old man is going to help you improve. Your fifth Core Attribute, the Special Attribute, is your Bloodline, which can be complicated but for our case here—just know it's an overall measure of the ease with which you’ll cultivate later on in life.”
“Oh, I have an ‘s’ in that, I think. That’s good right?”
She nodded, waving a hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, that’s great for you. It isn’t as important as folk make it out to be, but it’ll help you later.”
Jordan deflated instantly. “What do you mean it’s not that great?”
It was literally the only good thing he’d heard he had!
She rolled her eyes to the tone in his voice. “Easy brat, don’t get so defensive.” When Jordan growled at the continued use of his word, Kioko narrowed her eyes at him and hissed. Satisfied when that cowed him, she continued.
“Fine, listen up then. Your Bloodline Attribute determines how much power you inherit from your lineage, and helps in cultivation peripherally. In truth, it's more that once the level of cultivation you reach exceeds your Bloodline Rank, it becomes more expensive and time consuming to move on. It’s not a hard wall like people make it out to be though. Your Grandfather, an Immortal—meaning he cultivated past the Level Six barrier—was a Bloodline Rank [D] himself.”
“What do you mean was?”
She waved off that statement too. “After you break through the barrier, things change from what I gather. It becomes trivial for Immortals to purify their spiritual roots, which lets them raise their Special Attributes. That's normally impossible before that. It's also why most noble families with high Bloodline Ranks are descended from Immortals.”
“So… does this give me anything special!?” Jordan was getting a tad bit shrill.
“Well, you get more inherited Talents I suppose, but other Special Attributes give bonuses as well. Those with a high Aptitude Attribute learn Skills quicker, and those with a high Appearance Attribute will have more potent or more powerful starting Qualities. Without looking at your status I can’t really tell what you’ve got unless you remember your other Special Attribute Rankings?”
Jordan shook his head sheepishly. Why was the only thing he had in this stupid Brat’s body just being waved away? Did he seriously have nothing cool?
“Oh, cheer up kid, it isn’t that bad.” Kioko said, noting Jordan’s pout. “Bloodline Rank is useful for your longevity as a cultivator. It may not be the most important thing out there, but that’s because there’s never going to be one way that's better than all the others.”
“Urgh, but I want cool stuff! I want cheat powers, and not to just be a stupid weak little Brat!” Jordan shouted out, only to quickly blush and look away. He hadn’t meant to actually blurt that out loud.
The cat-girl scoffed. “There are a lot of things to wish for in the world, kid. You could do better than desiring power of all things.” The judgement was as thick as the smell on her breath, but Jordan ignored both with a sullen glare.
Kioko chugged the rest of her glass with a wince before refilling it. Without looking back up at Jordan as she poured, she said, “Look, I… I get it, okay? I know what it’s like… to feel helpless. Trapped in your own body.” She drank quietly, lost in a moment of recollection.
Jordan cocked his head with a scowl. “You… do? I find that hard to believe.” She looked barely older than he did (now at least). What would she know of being trapped in a flesh prison?
“You know… given your Conditions, there is one Skill that comes to mind. It might… fit you well.”
“This isn’t some girl-power-thing, is it? I want something useful please.”
Kioko’s face remained blank but her tail swished behind her irritably. “When I was your age, kid, I was dealing with… a lot. I picked up a Skill or two in Oneiromancy, and it helped out. Even went on to form a Specialization in it.”
“What’s oh-narrow-mancy?”
“Oneiromancy is the magic of dreams. Of the mind.” She tapped a finger on her scalp. “It can mess with perception, create illusions, draw on emotions, weave the fantastical into the reality. Those with… Conditions such as yours almost always have affinity with it.”
“What do you mean, conditions like mine? I’m fine thank you very much! Also, no offense, but I don’t think illusions are going to be useful for me. If I have to do magic, then I want fireballs, dangit.”
Kioko smiled as she pounded her drink. After wiping her mouth clean, she looked at Jordan, winked, and then… disappeared.
What the hell is it with invisible cats today? Where the fuck did Kio… Ki…. K… where did who go? Wait…
Jordan sat alone in the room. He was pretty sure he’d been alone the whole time in fact. Would Rahm bring his apprentice out soon? He hoped they’d be nice.
“Gah! Holy fuck women! You need a damn bell on you!” Jordan shouted out as Kioko suddenly appeared nearby. She’d been there the whole time, of course, but he’d… forgotten her? Was she like memory manipulating hallways?
“Hooo ho ho ho! Not useful, ey? Hah! Shows what a brat knows.” The slush-cat poured herself another damn shot.
“B-but, oh whatever! Sure, fine you can go invisible and… mess with my head, I think? Ugh, I hate that feeling!”
“You can feel it? Huh, you definitely have an affinity for it then. Most wouldn’t have even noticed I was gone. Especially considering the upgrades I developed for that Skill.”
“Wait, really? Oh for fu—don’t tell me the only thing I’m going to be good at is stupid illusion magic! This is such bullshit!”
Jordan smacked the table, but Kioko scooped up the bottle and shot glass to protect them. He hated magic builds! Hated them so damn much! And now, it wasn’t even an actual magic build he was going to be stuck with, was it? He was going to have to learn illusions that couldn’t even do anything on their own!
Kioko tsked at him and he huffed haughtily in repy. He knew she was jus—
“Back the fuck off brat.” The cat-girl growled.
“Er, sorry I didn’t mean to activate that, it ah, sort of just happens.”
The girl waved her hands dismissively, but Jordan managed to calm down. He’d… already agreed he’d learn whatever was most viable, right? He’d just have to deal with this, even if it meant he couldn't be a kickass tank.
“Alright, let’s learn this then. How do I start.”
“That was a quick turn around.” Kioko narrowed her eyes at Jordan. Given who she was apprenticed under, Jordan didn’t blame her suspicion.
“Well… I don’t have a lot of time to get my class, or whatever. I don’t know what I can or can’t get so I’ll… take what I can get, I guess.”
Kioko sighed as she sipped at her latest drink. “Listen kid, that’s a pretty messed up way to look at things. Do you even know which Class you’re aiming for?”
“What? Hey, it’s not like I have much choice here, okay? And… no, I don’t.”
Kioko shook her head. “Fine. I’ll teach you the Skill, if just so your Experience isn’t wasted, but nothing past that, okay? Rahm wasn’t sure how much you'd saved up and I don’t have a Chasm to check you with. Besides, you need to get an idea in your mind of what you’re going for in the future. You can only learn so much outside the scope of your Class before the costs start ramping up.”
“Er… wait a minute, is there a reason I have to spend my experience? Can’t I just, save it, or whatever?”
She shook her head again. “There’s a finite amount of Experience you can hold onto. Your, ah, tank as it is. The cultivation the old man’s going to run you through is going to imbue the Experience of those relics into those Attributes I told you about. So if we don’t use what you got now, it’ll be wasted.”
A finite XP limit? Goddamnit, of course there’d be fucking anti-grinding mechanics. Still, if items can just grant experience…
“These items… can literally grant Experience? How is that not broken as hell?” Not that Jordan was complaining. Would he be able to get more later on?
“Those items are sacred relics, brat. They’re designed for Immortals to use, not for NPCs like you. If it doesn’t kill you in the process, in theory it’s about as big of a waste as you can possibly get. Not to—er.” She looked like she wanted to add on to the statement, but stopped abruptly.
“How is it a waste?” Jordan asked, visibly offended.
“Well, those items are designed for cultivating within Ranks mortals like you and me can only dream of. You can’t even use items of this level outside the Celestial City—PIEA would drag your ass back up here for trial if they found out. You’re also on the easiest stage of cultivation. This is like using a Colossal’s Warhammer to sculpt a fucking pebble.”
“What the hell is peeya? Er, wait, can all this get me to the higher stages then?” Jordan was determined to abuse the hell out of this while he could.
“The Pax-Immortalis Enforcement Agency, and no you can’t. You’ll stop naturally once you hit the [E] Ranks of the various Core Attributes as you’ll have to formulate a Class to continue. That’ll take a large amount of Experience invested into your Pattern, meaning a number of Skills and Specialties learned, and that whole time your Core is going to be virtually useless to you.”
“Useless? What the hell do you mean now?”
It was Kioko’s turn to look visibly offended as she slammed another drink, before pouring the next one sloppily. “I mean that until you power your Core—as in gain a Class you ungrateful brat—you won’t be generating Aura or drawing on your Core for any of your Derived Attributes.”
“I’m not ungrateful! I just… don’t see what the point of this is. Why am I here? Why are we even doing this?”
“You have a time limit, yeah? And from what I gathered—you haven’t cultivated at all. It would probably take you a year to reach the [E] Ranks of your Core normally, so my guess is that’s why Rahm cooked up this stupid scheme. Because why bother ‘training’ you when he can just shove magic up your ass.”
“W-what? Is all of this just to help me get going a tiny bit faster?”
“You said it kid.” She slammed another drink. Jordan eyed the bottle enviously, until the cat-girl burped in the most adorable fashion, making Jordan blush slightly. Kioko glared at him, before saying, “Alright, Imma go drain my tank before we go drain *hic* yours, ‘kay? I’ll be back in like five minutes or whatever, don’t do nothin’ stupid brat, Charlie will be watchin'.”
“Hrrrr.” Jordan ground his teeth before muttering, “…stop calling me Brat. That’s my word.” She ignored his small protest as she sashayed awkwardly out the room.
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After Kioko returned, she took Jordan to the back ‘gardens’ of the house. Unsurprisingly, there was an entire forest just sitting there beyond a sliding glass door. Nearby the porch, was a sandy garden with rocks splayed out and a little waterfall. It was the kind of picturesque scene Jordan would’ve easily associated with Eastern style meditations.
That image in his mind was ruined, however, by the wanton destruction around him. Every tree had been mauled, and the sand lacked the smooth lines and delicate patterns it should’ve had. Footprints, gouges, and even full body imprints of what clearly looked like Kioko were everywhere. Most of the rocks had been torn out of their peaceful resting spots and thrown violently. Judging by the state of the side of the house, her target seemed obvious.
Jordan just hoped she hadn’t used the place as a litter box too.
Within that ‘serene’ atmosphere Kioko spent the next few hours guiding Jordan through the expenditure of his internal Experience. He’d assumed it would have been difficult, or overly esoteric, but his previous experiences with the Crown and his own… fire, made it easier to grasp the essence of concepts themselves. Listening to her voice, he became lost in the moment as though entranced.
Weaving his experience along the pebble strewn river of his internal pattern, he poured the energy of his being into the lights, based on her instructions. He watched as the energy slowly shifted, more pebbles forming and glowing, until a new constellation formed in his mental reflection. Like living through a dream—it was as easy as automated Brat eating.
He had learned his first Skill since coming to this world. [Memory Obfuscating Stillness]. And it was everything he’d grown to expect.
“What the fuck do you mean I can’t move or do literally anything while I’m invisible!? And people won’t fucking forget me because that parts a fucking upgrade? What the fuck kind of power is this? Why the flying fuck didn’t you fucking tell me it was so fucking useless! I want my fucking experience back!”
Jordan articulated his frustrations with a crude elegance that did little to impress the swaying cat-girl. She just smiled sweetly before sending Charlie to chase him around the garden.
Eventually, however, the old man emerged and announced that it was time to cultivate.
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