When Hudson exited his mindscape, the Sage and the broken crystal were gone from the pavilion. He walked out and examined the flat mountain top; the other participants were still sitting and meditating quietly.

He found his own empty patch of grass and sat down. He had many things to process, and didn’t even know where to start. The whole adventure – misadventure? – with “Sal;” his gains from the trial, and how to even use the sigil he went through such pains to get; what will happen next when they return to S.E.C.T.; and the Sage’s ominous words at the end.

He looked up at the alien sky and felt how small he was in the universe. How small he had felt when the Sage had exerted a smidgeon of his authority.

It was frustrating but Hudson had to acknowledge the truth in the Sage’s words. He was indeed a frog in the bottom of a well. A small frog in a small well.

He had a tiny glimpse of the world outside his little well, and it was wide and dangerous… but also full of wonder and power. Was this what it meant to be on the path of cultivation? To risk his life to gain new strength, climb higher, and see new vistas of reality?

It was clear that the Disciples had their own agenda. They were fighting a war against the silicates – a war he hadn’t seen at all, so it didn’t feel that real to him – and they needed soldiers for that war. That was Hudson’s take on the Sage’s final words, anyways.

He looked down at his hands and clenched his fists. He hadn’t chosen the path of cultivation, but he wasn’t going to let others continue to make choices for him. He was done waiting around for things to happen to him. He had left that passive mentality behind in the ravine when he smashed the wall with his sledgehammer, killing another participant and almost killing himself.

He would go his own way, or he wouldn’t go at all.

He continued staring at his clenched fists. He had seen others leave the pavilion looking at the backs of their hands. He thought of the sigil of Rooted Strength, that the Sage had helped him impart on the tree in his mindscape. The incomplete version of the sigil came easily to his thoughts.

There was a mental effort – like the turning of a gear in his mind – and then strength surged into his body, up through his feet, his legs, and into his trunk and arms. An incredibly detailed tattoo of two dark-brown roots appeared on each leg, curling up from his feet and around his ankles to mid-calf.

He wasn’t even cultivating his breathing technique, but it felt as if he could smash rocks with his bare hands. But he knew instinctively that he couldn’t move his feet while he had the sigil activated.

A familiar whisper echoed across the mountain top in all of the participants’ ears, and Hudson lost his concentration. The tattoo on his legs faded quickly from sight, and the feeling of unbreakable strength flowed out of his body.

“It is time for you to return. Gather with your fellow participants and exit the north gate.”

Hudson stood up, and noticed the participants from his trial also rise and begin to gather towards one end of the mountain top. He assumed that was the north end, and walked over to gather with them. The more injured grasshoppers were being assisted and/or outright carried by their fellows. The other participants – the ones from other trial groups, other vassal planets of the Disciples – they remained seated in their meditative poses. The Sage had not spoken to them.

Cor walked up behind him and gave him a friendly slap on the back with his good arm. Hudson turned and smiled at the older man.

As they filed through the north gate and onto the stone steps leading down off of the mountain, the stifling presence of the Sage lifted, and Hudson felt it was okay to talk again.

“You good?” he asked Cor, motioning to the arm in a sling.

“Fitter than a fiddle,” Cor replied drily. “How about yourself? You were in that pavilion a lot longer than most.”

“I’ll have to tell you the full story some time… but let’s just say I had a slightly different experience. I ended up in my mindscape, negotiating with the silicate who called himself “Sal”... ended up even talking to the Sage afterwards…”

Cor stopped and grabbed his arm tightly, looking intently into Hudson’s eyes. “You talked to it?”

“Yeah,” Hudson said. “And it tried to put something in my mind, but it wasn’t successful.”

“This is very important,” Cor said. “And it might not be too late. Are you certain? There’s nothing in there –” he let go of Hudson’s arm and poked him in the head “–that shouldn’t be?”

“Well…” Hudson was about to make a joke, but was taken aback by how serious Cor was and decided not to. “I’m fine. The Sage confirmed it.”

Cor nodded, and then motioned to continue walking down the stars.

“They do that. Put things – themselves – in people’s minds. Drives people crazy.”

Cor was quiet for a moment. “I’ve lost good men that way. Those things – the daggone silicates – they’re bad, you hear?”

“You don’t have to convince me,” Hudson said, and shuddered, thinking of the giant, tentacled form of Sal. “Is that what you fight? Back on earth?”

“We don’t fight them on earth, but on other worlds, yes,” Cor said.

“So… why come here and get a sigil from one that’s been captured or broken?” Hudson asked. “I wanted to ask the Sage that question – if these silicates are the enemy, and so dangerous, why are you pushing all of these new cultivators into contact with one?”

Cor looked at him sideways. “You really gotta ask the question? There’s only ever one answer to those types of questions.

“Power. They do it to get more power.”

Hudson couldn’t argue with that. The greatest rewards came from the greatest risks. But it still didn’t sit quite right.

“So is that why you’re here? To get more power?”

Hudson knew that Cor didn’t cultivate – had refused to, basically, and been very leery of accepting the piece of Philosopher’s Lotus from earlier in the trial. Yet he had seen Cor go up and touch the crystal himself – it didn’t seem to add up.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Cor grimaced and sucked on his teeth, thinking for a moment before answering.

“Yes, that isn’t my main mission, but was an optional objective. The Elder said that she put something in my mind –” he tapped the side of his head “–to help protect me. I didn’t really want to do it, but it was an order.

“I almost didn’t follow through. It took a lifetime of discipline to not try and destroy that already half-broken silicate into a thousand pieces… and then to take some weird magic power from it.”

Cor spat to the side of the stone-stepped path, into the trees rising out of the fog.

“I don’t want anything from those disgusting sons of guns that have killed my friends and driven others insane. But I sucked it up and did it… and after all that, ended up with something useless.”

“You didn’t get a sigil?” Hudson asked.

“I got one… just not what I imagined. Not what the Elder thought I would get,” Cor said glumly. “Now I’ve gone and consorted with the enemy, and all for naught. Actually, it’s even worse than that. I’ve gone and messed up one of the few precious things still left to me.”

Now Hudson was curious. “Is it really that bad? You tell me yours, and I’ll tell you mine.”

Cor laughed, his deep chuckles cutting through the damp mist around them. “Not if you say it that way. You make it sound like we’re a couple of tween girls sharing our boy-band crushes.”

Hudson chuckled himself. “Then how about a tactical sharing of information, to better plan for future engagements?”

“Much better. But me first – age before beauty and all that.”

Cor angled his good arm around and a look of intense concentration came over his face. A detailed tattoo flashed into view on his arm and wrist, picturing a man in a boat, holding a simple wooden rod with a line leading down into calm water.

“Is that…a fishing boat?” Hudson asked hesitantly.

“Yup. And there goes my last hobby, the final bastion of peace I had in my life,” Cor grumbled. “Now I can’t get the boat out without work following me out there.”

“A sigil of the dao… of fishing?” Hudson asked, incredulously.

“Yes,” Cor said, the irritation clearly showing on his face.

“Wow.” Hudson couldn’t find much else to say. Sal had really screwed him over on that one.

“Have you tried activating it?” Hudson asked. “What does it actually do?”

“It makes me want to go fishing, for one!” Cor said. “Do you see a lake anywhere around here? A pond, maybe? Or a river? Nothing. Not even a puddle.”

“Maybe it will make you better at catching fish?” Hudson asked hopefully.

“That would be even worse!” Cor complained. “Listen: it ain’t about catching the fish. It’s about getting away from your boss, your ex-wives, your kids, all of that. I don’t want to be one with the dao, pulling fish out of the lake like sardines out of a can.

“When I go out on the lake, I want a cold drink, a salty snack, and the occasional – occasional! – bite on my line!”

Hudson smiled as he listened to Cor continue to complain in increasingly colorful terms. The stone stairs were starting to flatten out and grow less steep, and soon enough, they transitioned to a flat stone path. It was difficult to see far, with the thick mist surrounding everything, but it appeared as if there was a wider space up ahead where the rest of the participants were gathering.

“Clara! Vince!” Hudson called out to the two ahead of them on the path. They turned their heads and waited for Hudson and Cor to catch up.

“How did it go?” Hudson asked the grinning Vince.

“Fantastic! Check this out,” he said. He lifted his hand up, and a look of intense concentration covered his face. The faint outline of a tattoo appeared on his wrist – one of dark, scarlet flames – and a small, intense flame appeared above his hand. Despite being small, the heat from the flame was intense, and raised the temperature in the surrounding area noticeably.

Clara smacked Vince on the back of the head. He lost his concentration and the flame disappeared.

“The secrets of the flame are not to be shown to outsiders,” Clara said. “Stupid rooster.”

Vince ignored her and just kept smiling, the excitement from his gains in the sigil challenge unable to be quenched.

“And you too, Clara?” Hudson asked.

She nodded, a sly grin creeping onto her face. “My path has progressed. Soon enough you will face a challenge from me… After I consolidate my gains, of course.”

She looked him up and down. “And you too, I suppose… if you got any… But it’s no permanent shame if you failed. You must simply try harder.”

Hudson almost rolled his eyes, but instead, he stopped and concentrated on his sigil. Strength surged up through his legs into the rest of his body. He activated his cultivation technique as well, and motioned to Clara with his hand.

“Hit me.”

Clara raised an eyebrow, but didn’t hesitate to activate her own cultivation technique and launch herself at Hudson, striking him directly in the chest with a straight punch. Hudson didn’t move an inch.

She grunted once, then shook her hand out to lessen the pain in her fingers. “You will make an excellent punching bag,” she said, then turned and continued walking down the path.

Vince and Cor burst out laughing. “Technically… she’s not wrong,” Vince said. Hudson was still rather irritated.

After a few more minutes, the stone path emptied out into a wide courtyard where a formation was carved into the stone. It looked very similar to the same formation that had created the portal that had brought the participants to this sigil challenge area. After all of the participants had gathered in the courtyard, they didn’t have to wait more than a few seconds before a small, black portal ripped open in space.

Hudson craned his neck and looked around quickly, seeing all of the people he expected to see except for George. It was perplexing – if he wasn’t here, did he not go through in the first place? Or was he stuck on the course somewhere, like the other members of S.E.C.T. that they had tied up and left in the fortress.

Before anyone could even walk towards the portal that had opened, a few people fell through and onto the ground: Kenji, Eustace, and Beatrice. Well, that answered one question – what would happen to the people stuck and who didn’t complete the trial and receive a sigil.

The small portal closed, and then immediately afterwards the formation on the ground activated. The intricate swirls shone with a sharp, silver light for two seconds, before gradually reducing in intensity to a dim glow.

A massive portal ripped open in the center, and this time it was obvious that they were all meant to go through. Some of the S.E.C.T. members who had defected from George’s group helped to carry Kenji, Eustace and Beatrice through the portal. Neither Qian nor Suzume had helped, but Hudson still frowned.

Those people hadn’t fought with them at the fortress against those three. They might have defected from George’s group, but only because it offered the most benefits to them. Their loyalties were very clearly still with S.E.C.T. and the other young masters of their generation, and some of the clever ones were likely thinking about what came after the trial – trying to score a few easy points now with their peers before the trial ended and they all returned to earth.

They may not have been against him before, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t stand in his way in the future.

Hudson had been last to enter the sigil challenge, and he found it only fitting to be last to leave. He paused to take one last look around, activated his breathing technique, and stepped into the cold, inky blackness.