7th of Season of Fire, 57th year of the 32nd cycle
Newt spent his first day at the Chamber of Healing in quiet cultivation. Within his realm, he arranged fire-attributed runic arrays along the lava flows, often thinking about the two nearly identical energy capturing spell formations Dandelion had shared with him.
They would take up vast swaths of his realm, and if he were to one day switch to lava, like he knew he would, those areas would become forever useless, a dead part of his realm.
I need to learn how to fuse and separate spiritual energy of different attributes. The energy of my realm is so incomparably vaster than the sliver I can use for my techniques that filtering the desired element and feeding the rest back into the realm itself won’t change anything.
“Unfilial child!”
Besides, I have a feeling I’m using my elements more or less equally, just at different times, so any change to the balance should be minimal. I have to ask Master and Elder Flameax how to merge my two energies into a single attribute. They shouldn’t—
A soft chime snapped Newt from his cultivation. He opened his eyes, a sound identical to the one that echoed in his realm still ringing in his physical ears.
The awakening spell formation is incredible. I can’t believe someone figured out how to make a spiritual bell to awaken cultivators from their trance. Why don’t they use it in the energy gathering chamber?
“Come in!” Newt had two theories to answer his question even before he finished uttering the words.
He would have continued contemplating the question, but the door opened with a nearly inaudible click, and Obsidian entered the room.
“Hello, Newstar. How are you feeling?” the tall man said, his face revealing the unasked puzzlement of ‘what the hell did you do and how?’
“I’m feeling perfectly fine, but the healers insisted I have to stay here for a week, so they could keep an eye on me, just in case I decide to spontaneously combust again.” Newt chuckled and rolled his eyes. “As if I would do something like that to myself ever again.”
Obsidian nodded and licked his lips.
“You wanted to talk about something?”
“Yes.” Newt tried to sit, but something pulled him back the instant his back left the mattress. He turned around, looking at the bed with a perplexed frown.
“Mandatory bedrest,” Obsidian answered the unasked question. “Until the healer in charge allows you to get up, a spell formation will keep you in bed.”
I’ve been here for two days, and this is the first time I’ve noticed it. Newt felt blood rush to his cheeks in embarrassment. Cultivators really are like rocks. You leave them wherever, and if they have cultivation to catch up on, they won’t move for days or months.
“Um, I’m sorry I’m not getting up. It’s not a show of disrespect—” Newt started rambling, and Obsidian smiled, a bit of tension bleeding out of him.
“Relax, what did you want to talk about?”
“I’ve been to a soother and asked him about Jasmine and Roselilly.” Obsidian twitched when Newt said that, but the youth kept talking. “He said that we probably can’t help them with mere words.”
Obsidian nodded. “They said the same thing to me.”
“Yes, but did they mention provoking them into resolving their own problem?”
Obsidian’s gaze drifted upwards, trying to recall what he had discussed with his soother months ago.
“They did,” he dragged out the words, then his speech picked up speed as the memory grew clearer. “But when I asked how I was supposed to do that, they didn’t think of anything.”
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“I gave it some thought.” Newt smiled. “By sharing a dorm room, we are the members of the same team. Sect rules state that teams may accept new missions as long as at least half the team is present when the mission is assigned. Meaning, you and I can sign up for a mission and go on our own.”
Obsidian stared at Newt. “Why would we ever do that?”
“To force them into action. Your sister will follow if you tell her you’re off.” I hope. “Missions are dangerous, and she won’t let you go on your own if there’s half a chance of you not returning. I don’t know about Roselilly, but I hope they at least try to stop us. That should give us an opportunity to talk reason with them. But the key is to really want to go, and for us to be willing to leave, even without them. Even if it’s dangerous.”
Newt faltered under Obsidian’s glare. “We need to show determination and commit to what we start. That said, we should pick an easier mission, one we could hopefully complete with just the two of us. You know. Just in case.”
Obsidian nodded slowly. “Right. We don’t know anything about each other, and we should go pick a mission we can complete together. Easily. Because the sect issues those all the time.”
“We have three months!” Newt blurted. “That’s enough time to get to know each other’s skills and filter the missions we could complete. We can start training as soon as they let me out of this place.”
“They will probably ban you from sparring and performing strenuous activities for a month or two, but your plan is…” Obsidian struggled to find the right word. He wanted to say solid, for Newt’s sake as much as his own, but the word got stuck in his throat. Newt’s plan was iffy at best.
“… more substantial than anything I have done in all these months.” Obsidian admitted. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I have some questions, though. What can you tell me about the missions? Are they real problems that need solving, or artificial, prepared in advance by the elders to challenge the younger generation?”
“That depends. Nobody will just hand over resources to you. You have to make progress of some kind or contribute to the sect. We have regular, bi-monthly outings into the Savage Wood. Elders lead large groups in airships, and wait for us to return while we gather whatever it is the sect needs from the wilderness.”
Obsidian folded his arms and shifted in place.
“Sometimes seniors escort us, sometimes not, depending on the area’s dinos. Then there are the danger zones. The sect owns a number of mines, areas with unique resources, and even special locations with denser spiritual energy, each housing colonies of various spirit beasts. I don’t know why elders don’t exterminate the spirit beasts, but disciples are in charge of gathering the resources. Like for the Savage Wood expeditions, the reward is usually half of whatever you collect, with bonuses for outstanding performance.
“Finally, there are the sect-owned secret realms, in which disciples train for treasure hunts in more hostile secret realms. Those are usually reserved for the core disciples, and inner disciples practically stand no chance to visit them.”
Newt listened patiently, expecting Obsidian’s list would be longer, but a silence hung in the air, turning more awkward.
“Are there any crafting missions? I’ve seen disciples doing odd jobs here and there, are those missions too?”
Obsidian nodded. “They are, but such missions are for outer disciples alone. Most disciples practice one of the supporting occupations, and you can earn spirit gems working, much like you would in the guilds. From time to time, elders issue a bonus for crafting a certain type of item, pill, potion, or whatever. That’s rare, and even rarer is the event where the sect can order you to craft something, the compensation is even better than when elders make requests, but crafting is mandatory, but I’ve never heard that happen.”
Newt had read about both types of request in the sect rules. Explorer’s Gate also reserved the right to conscript all its disciples in a sect war, but those should be exceedingly rare.
“I’m a formation scribe. You?”
“Novice blacksmith. I’m focused on heavy weapons, but I can make swords and daggers just fine. Jasmine is also a smith, focused on armors, and Roselilly is in the Chamber of Healing.”
Obsidian opened his mouth, but left them to hang a moment in hesitation.
“What did you do to wind up here for a while? I heard a rumor you injured yourself in the Chamber of Instruction.”
Newt looked to the side, avoiding Obsidian’s gaze.
“I experimented with a technique. I guess I had a sudden bout of inspiration and seized it without thinking. The next thing I knew, I was spewing blood, my head was spinning and I could barely get up.” Newt swallowed a lump. “Master told me I blew up my lung and a part of my heart.”
Newt looked up at his new roommate with a strained grin.
“I promised not to do it again.”
Obsidian nodded slowly. Very slowly. “How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
Obsidian whistled.
“Please keep the noise down,” the wall said in a choppy voice, and Obsidian covered his mouth while Newt stared at him blankly.
“You’re really seventeen?”
Newt nodded.
“Small world, I’m seventy-one.”
It was Newt’s turn to gape.
“Jasmine is seventy-one too. Roselilly is twenty-eight.”
You’re ancient! How in the world can’t you deal with your own problems? Why are they drinking their pain away?
Newt wanted to shout a whole lot of things at that moment. Fortunately, there were too many, leaving his tongue paralyzed.