That man’s words sure had a profound impact on the atmosphere of this camp, eh? Gaius took apart a Breaker artefact and inspected it, trying to figure out what each line stood for. His hard work had evidently paid off, as he was beginning to understand why qi acted in a certain manner when channelled in a particular pattern. It had been a long and arduous journey, but the little boy was pleased with how he wouldn’t be a dunce in front of his little sister anymore. It had been nagging at him for many days, but now that he had somewhat resolved this problem…
Gaius couldn’t help but chuckle to himself at that thought. That said, although he was improving his personal strength by improving his understanding of artefacts, this endeavour felt somewhat lacking compared to the nearly neurotic drive by virtually every other Harvester to cultivate. That lot was already hardworking enough before the Last Star dropped by with his words, but their previous efforts now looked like laziness compared to what was going on right now.
Air hummed for the umpteenth time as yet another Harvester advanced from Soldier to Squire. Gaius himself never noticed it, but when someone became a Squire, some odd phenomenon would follow. They took all kinds of forms, but the most distinctive characteristic, to Gaius, was the onset of a sudden tension in the air. Anything else that followed was apparently unique to their mantra and personal circumstances, but if the boy had to couch it in terms of communication, it was the equivalent of the cultivator yelling through a unique medium to announce his or her growth.
Gaius’s advancement apparently took after his preferred style of action. Stealthy and abnormal to boot.
After mentally mocking himself a few times, Gaius reassembled the Breaker. He wanted to draw some sigils of his own next, instead of relying on the manual, but Gaius’ instincts told him that if he still wanted an intact tent to sleep in, sigil practice was not a good idea.
His hands were itching to practice, however. No matter how many times he practiced his striking and moving routines, Gaius couldn’t get the urge to draw a sigil out of his head. The little boy couldn’t remember how it felt like to have a new toy, but the desire of wanting to …create a sigil randomly was probably similar in nature to a child receiving a new toy.
After making sure that Nakama was sound asleep — the people involved in her unsealing had all went for the auction earlier — Gaius snuck out of his tent. He didn’t want to wake up Nakama, and he certainly didn’t want to be spotted by a passing sentry or Harvester either.
His figure flitted through the darkness quietly, while noting an increased security presence. Presumably, the authorities were still concerned with possible issues of theft and what the United States called grand larceny, given the items sold off at the auction earlier. After all, a great deal of the items brought by the senators were passed down to their children in Heritage Basestation to ensure their survival.
After crawling around a little snowman that seemed to be recently built and sneaking through a sentry pair’s blind spot, Gaius finally reached the Open Duelling Grounds. It was the more popular counterpart to the Sheltered Duelling Grounds, when it came to the holding of picnics and romantic getaways. This was the first time he came here in person, and frankly speaking, he could have used the Stellar Core’s camouflage ability for a far simpler trip.
But practice made perfect, and in Gaius’ opinion, being invisible wasn’t as useful as remaining undetected altogether. It was convenient and useful, but as the snowpyres had demonstrated, there were ways to see through invisibility. It was for the best that he took the hard way; Gaius felt that the ability to turn invisible was better used when fighting others.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
He surveyed the area, and after making sure there was no one present, he began to draw a circle in the air. Qi trailed after his outstretched finger, and the line of energy lit up as the circle formed.
An enclosed shape was apparently the base on which a sigil was drawn. Gaius had made that connection after looking through the basic guide, but again, he didn’t understand why.
But as he continued to dab on lines and shapes into the small circle, he was beginning to understand why he didn’t understand. It wasn’t that he was dumb, or an idiot. Rather, just as how there was a difference between memorising and knowing, Gaius was singularly unable to comprehend the core mechanisms behind these sigils. His understanding of them had been crippled; so, Gaius had to resort to memorising and experimentation.
As for why his understanding had been crippled, Gaius could only chalk it down to the intervention of a god…he hadn’t forgotten how he was seemingly summoned over to Orb to begin with. No matter how the little boy looked at it, the god who had ignored him for what seemed like days on end was never mentioned in the creation mythos of this world. Gaius himself couldn’t remember the appearance of that god, but he was certain that he was neither the Human God Anren or the unnamed Demon God.
Slapping on a set of small triangles with an air of completion, Gaius tried to recall how the Paragons he’d seen in the Battle of Empyria fought. They had been trailing behind their creators, and then used as and when needed. The little boy had been using them, but only by physically throwing these sigils, which turned solid when deemed complete by their creation.
Crushing these sigils would also work, if their target was the user, but Gaius didn’t really want to try crushing that little circle he’d came up with randomly. He’d included any and all commonalities that offensive sigils, so it would probably do some damage.
“Take one,” muttered Gaius. “Sigil interior populated by triangles; the expected result is a self-expanding, non-propelled fireball. Time to activate, five seconds…GO!”
The sigil lit up and shot skywards, and the boy counted down silently in his heart. A second passed, and another.
Gaius glanced up, confused. It had been thirty seconds, but nothing had happened yet.
“A misfire? A dud?” He glanced skywards again, and then sighed. Sigils were made of energy, so they were not susceptible to gravity. At most, it would eventually stop, but the chances of it coming down were essentially zero. It seemed that there was a problem with the sigil he’d just tossed into the sky; it was back to the drawing board.
Hours flew by as Gaius continued to experiment. None of the sigils he’d tossed up had seemed to work whatsoever, even when primed to detonate. The boy could fly up into the sky to check, but doing so seemed particularly dangerous.
He yawned, holding up what was going to be the last sigil for the night.
“You know what?” said Gaius, speaking to no one in particular. The guards had long retired, leaving only the mandatory sentry pair and patrol at the tent sites of Heritage Basestation. “Let’s just toss this onto the ground and see what happens. Take three hundred and forty-one. Sigil populated by Excitation and Wildfire patterns. Time to activate…fifteen seconds…GO!”
The little disc soared across the Open Duelling Grounds, and a brilliant light lit up the place as it embedded itself into a small mound of snow.
Throwing himself onto the ground, behind a slightly elevated patch of snow, was all Gaius could do before all hell broke loose.