Inner Systems

Steelheart Conclave

It was common practice among the Steelheart Conclave's Inner Disciples to use their moons as a training ground.

So it was the case with the Chosen Bol of the Mithril Golem Bloodline—#7 all-time on the Lifting Stones as a Minor God. A ten-foot-tall behemoth of living-steel flesh.

He set down the Heaven-Grade Spirit Steel bar he'd been deadlifting—the mountains tied to both ends crashed heavy to the ground, raising mushroom clouds of dust.

He headed over to his bench, panting fumes, joints creaking. And noticed his scrying glass glowing white-hot. Frowning, Bol picked it up.

The scene resolved to one of Zane approaching the Lifting Stones.

"This is the new guy?" rumbled Bol, his steely unibrow crinkling.

He'd heard whispers that a great talent was coming. He was not sure what to make of this 'Zane', and the fact that he would split time between here and the Azure Flame.

Dedication was one of the Conclave's pillar values.

His brow rose, though, as he saw Zane make his lifts.

There was a saying in the Conclave that a man's true heart showed when he pushed himself to his limits. Few men could manage such a feat; most only thought they did. It was a rare person who could dig out every last ounce of their physical potential.

Every disciple of the Conclave knew what they were looking at, then, when they saw Zane lift. It was the case with Bol too. He grunted in appreciation.

It seemed like a new pound-for-pound talent had come to the Conclave.

It would make for good motivation for Bol. With a new fire in his heart, he returned to his workout.

***

Two Elders in loincloths stood in a barren planet, puffing mouthfuls of gas. Oil dripped down their muscular frames.

They were twin brothers of the Leviathan lineage, and this desolate exo-planet served as their sparring arena. This morning, they were wrestling. Their records were exactly evenly matched.

On their rest break, they crowded over a scrying glass, looking over the latest big lift.

"By Nüwa's wrinkly ass," swore Elder Bentclaw, shaking his head.

"That's some freak strength," said his brother Straightclaw. "Good form, too—straight legs. The lad's a natural."

He nodded.

"Welcome to the Conclave, young one," he said. His fangs showed in his smile.

***

Inner Chosen Ylcaraz of the Mantle Wyrm Bloodline, #3 all-time in the Gravity Gauntlet, hummed at the sight too.

In a matter of years—perhaps even months—she would have a new challenger, she knew.

She smiled. It was always good to have new strength join their ranks. It only made them all stronger.

It would spur her to work harder, too, now she knew there was someone like Zane chasing.

She clipped back on her moon belts and waded into the quicksand.

***

Across the Faction, the reaction was similar.

But that was the way of the Steelheart Conclave.

It was true that for some Chosen who'd worked their whole lives for a Stele rank, only to see Zane shoot past—they felt pricklings of envy.

This, they knew, was a natural thing. Only those of weak mind would turn such feelings into bitterness. The strong mind did not allow them to take root. Instead, it used them as fuel.

That was written into the founding myths of the Steelheart Conclave itself.

They all knew Thalgrim Titanborn was the runt of his pack. But he made a model of himself, never complaining nor raising his voice in jealousy.

He kept his head down, worked hard, and grew to be one of the strongest of all time. He celebrated the powers of his blood brothers, and they celebrated him in turn. The Conclave grew stronger together.

That was the Steelheart way.

***

Zane and the Barbarian Sage went off to the teleporters, backed by massive cheers.

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

By then Zane had mostly healed from that last Trial—he just had broken shoulder bones that were still knitting together.

The Barbarian Sage just slapped a bandage on it and called it a day.

"Just a scratch," he said cheerfully. "You'll walk it off. Let's head to your new home, eh? You'll love it!"

It ended up taking a solid thirty seconds of teleporting to get to the Barbarian Sage's home—it was quite far apart from everything else, in a misty region on the very edge of the Steelheart system, it looked like.

A string of planets, some much bigger than others. They were linked in a loose arc—and Zane and the Sage were plummeting toward the closest, biggest one. A dark, misty, mountainous thing.

Zane's first impression upon teleporting in was that if this were a movie, this would be the treacherous range that heroes passed through to get to the other side.

Dense mists shrouded barren desolate peaks. It was dark, even for night. Hoots drifted through the gloom—but a deep undercurrent of growling almost drowned them out, cut up by shrill screeches. Where the moonlight struck Zane could see canyons delving so deep there seemed to be no bottom. The mountains between them gleamed—massive chunks of jagged steel interspersed with streaks of dense black stone.

Flowers with shiny metallic leaves bloomed all over, looking toward the moon. And everywhere Zane looked there seemed to be red eyes glowing through the darkness…

"Home!" said the Barbarian Sage, stretching out an arm. He grinned. "Ahhh… alrighty. I'd introduce you to a few pets of mine, but they're mostly asleep at the moment. This is their home too."

He gestured vaguely to the giant stretch of land before them. "A few of 'em will drop by to visit, I'm sure… for now, let's get you to your cottage."

He took a leap and bounded deep into the mists. Zane followed along. They used the mountain range like a set of enormous stairs—it didn't take long before they got to the highest peak.

There they found a few ramshackle cottages, each just big enough for one. A forge. A campfire with an array-circle scribed around it—but that was all.

"Eh," said the Barbarian Sage, scratching his head. He seemed to realize it didn't look like much.

"The planet's my home," he explained with a shrug. "I just keep these things here when I get guests. Or when there's some big thing I've got to scry, like that Ten-Man Challenge you did. Good work, by the way!"

He patted Zane, chuckling.

"Lots of nights I'm out there—sleeping under the stars." He gestured vaguely into the wilderness. "That, or out in the broader galaxy hunting… home is wherever you're comfy, I say."

Zane considered his new home. It had a quaint feel to it, he supposed. It might take a few nights to get used to all that screeching, but Reina said he slept like a rock.

The view from up here was quite nice—you could see lesser mountain ranges stretching in all directions, shrouded in mists and steeped in clouds. Many winged wyvern creatures drifted down below. There were little flashes of red and white where dragons spewed fire, here and there, and he saw distant hordes of what looked to be wolves pouring over mountainsides like a quicksilver tide, chasing some unseen prey…

Even at night, there was a liveliness to the whole place.

Then the whole mountain began to rumble.

Zane blinked.

It seemed worst at the base. But it was spreading up fast until the peak was beginning to teeter like it might fall over.

Something was coming.

"Ohh boy," said the Barbarian Sage, frowning bushily. "Hold on to something!"

Something was winding its way up the sides of the mountain—something enormous.

It broke through the mists in one huge lunge, and towered over the two of them.

It might have been the biggest serpent Zane had ever seen. It had nine golden eyes and razor-sharp scales that caught the moonlight in ripples. It screeched—a sound of many awful overlapping Monsters, like its throat was a portal straight from Hell.

Fluffy the Eldritch Nightmaw Serpent

Essence Level 623

Zane blinked at it for a moment, not quite sure what to do.

Then it attacked the Barbarian Sage.

It lunged—wound its way around the Sage, like it meant to squeeze the man to death. Its horrifying jaw unhinged and out came a tongue laden with razor-spikes. It licked the Barbarian Sage; acid saliva flicked everywhere.

The Sage began to laugh. "Stop it—that tickles!"

He successfully fended off the beast. Then Fluffy began to rub its scales against him. It dipped its giant head for the Barbarian Sage to pat.

"This is Fluffy," said the Barbarian Sage. "Err—"

Fluffy had come over to Zane, a low hiss starting in its throat. Its eyes narrowed.

Then it screeched.

Zane's ears went white for a second. He felt all his hairs fly all the way back, buffeted in a sudden hurricane wind. The sound was so awful it was nearly an attack; it tore open little rifts in reality.

He just stood there blinking, not much fussed.

Fluffy assessed the effects on Zane.

Then it licked Zane too. Sparks flew off his skin where the razors touched, but it didn't hurt. It was surprisingly gentle for a razor lick. It put its massive head down next to him, and Zane gave it a pat, too.

"She likes you!" chuckled the Sage.

He waved goodbye, and Fluffy wound her way down the mountain. Vanishing into the gloom.

"Fluffy there keeps things in order around these parts," said the Sage. "She's also got a nose for rare heavy metals. She might bring you some to eat, from time to time—but we'll get to that later."

He yawned. "Let's hit the straw, eh? You've got a big day tomorrow! Your training's about to begin!"

***

Zane got his own shack.

It was a spare little thing. Nothing like his place on Stormhaven—there were no servants or anything like that. But it was clean, and there was an array around it that set up an invisible, extremely high-voltage electric fence—the Barbarian Sage promised it would keep out most of the life-threatening stuff.

Zane yawned, peered through a hole in the roof as he drifted off.

He saw a mass of moons high above, several clustered around one distant planet. He wondered what that was about.

Now that he took a closer look, the Sage's home System looked rather odd. The other planets were much smaller than this one. Some were nearly flat, like a pancake, while others looked like shells. Some teemed with volcanic activity. Then there was that one odd planet with dozens of moons—they were all lined up in a row, each bigger than the last, all made of a pure-black substance.

Weird.

He supposed he'd find out what that was all about.

***

The pale morning light didn't do all that much to parse the everpresent mists. But the dark horizons had gained a pale teal gradient, which was welcome.

The Barbarian Sage wasn't much of a cook. But he had lots of raw meat on hand, and he handed Zane a healthy bone. They ate, ripping off bloody chunks with their teeth—it was surprisingly nourishing. Each bite exploded with essence. The Barbarian Sage started rambling about that one time he killed a Void Dragon by punching a sun into its face, and Zane listened and nodded.

After they finished—

"Righty!" The Barbarian Sage rubbed his hands. "Now your training officially begins—I've got so much planned, I can hardly wait! But before we get to the good stuff, we've got to take care of some old business. That is—refining those last two organs of yours. Lungs and Brain. Lung first."

He tapped an Interspatial Ring and took out a chunk of bloody spongy meat. Meat rife with Titan Rhino Bloodline.