I didn't sleep more than a handful of hours that night, the ominous energy permeating the entire village keeping my senses on full alert. Fortunately, my cultivation trance was deep enough that by the time the first morning rays peeked over the horizon, I felt somewhat refreshed. A cultivation trance was no substitute for sleep, but it could temporarily replace it for a few days. I figured I would catch up on some sleep inside the wyvern carriage—assuming the driver hadn’t taken off in the dead of night after the Wind Walker appeared.
I stretched my legs out from the hour long sitting position and swung them over the side of the bed. The wood floorboards creaked under my feet as I climbed out of bed and I froze, memories of my hanging flashing through my mind like a barrage of fists to the gut. For a moment, all the air had been sucked from my lungs and replaced by an ocean of boiling rage.
The moment passed, and I took a deep breath, clearing my thoughts with a quick shake of my head. I hadn’t brought anything with me on the trip, so I left the room empty-handed. Other than the clothes on my back and the artifacts in my storage ring, I had yet to collect any belongings in this world. I resolved that once I reached the Alistar Duchy, I would find a smithy that crafted armor and weapons to my standard. While hand-to-hand combat was fine, I missed the feel of a powerful, masterfully crafted weapon weighing down a closed fist. There hadn’t been much time for that in Sealrite, assuming a blacksmithery even still existed in the ruined city.
I sighed and opened the door to exit the sparse inn room, stomping rather ungracefully down the rickety stairway to the main lobby, where a giant table had been set up with dozens of different foods. Unlike the previous night, no candles were lit. Instead, window shutters were opened wide to allow the morning’s fresh air to waft in, carrying with it the scent of warm bread. The lobby resembled a bar more than an inn, with a large countertop barricade at the back where the middle-aged innkeeper sat upon a stool, a book in hand.
Aside from the larger table, which took up at least half the lobby space, there was a smattering of other wooden tables and chairs. All were etched with the marks of countless travelers, yet empty, save for one in the corner where a man groaned at the sound of my approach, likely still getting over his hangover. A barmaid, much younger than the creepy innkeeper, swept the floor, a hum dancing on her tongue.
Nida was already seated at the far end, four plates stacked to her left as she devoured some type of meat from the fifth. She looked up as the final step of my descent let out an irritating screech. “My lady, I see you’re up at the crack of dawn. As usual.”
I took the seat directly opposite the young tigerkin. “I have yet to spar with you for nearly a week now. I’m rather curious how much you’ve improved without me.”
She sighed and ripped off a piece of meat. “For how overwhelming you are in most fields, you are not very good at small talk.”
I quirked an eyebrow. “Why would you say that?”
“Never heard you small talk with anyone.”
“Is there any need for me to partake in that type of social convenience?” I asked, reaching over to grab the same type of meat Nida was eating after recognizing it as chicken.
“I suppose not,” Nida considered, mouth full. “So you do know how?”
“Of course,” I responded with a soft chuckle. “It is not that hard of a skill, my dear Paragon.”
“Sometimes I forget how old you actually are,” Nida muttered. “What I know and what I see are so different. It’s hard to tell what you know, and what you don’t give a rat’s ass about.”
“Give a… what?” I put down my food to just stare at Nida. “Is that an expression here?”
She shrugged. “Is in the Beastlands.”
I leaned forward in my seat, food forgotten. “Since we have a second, do tell me more about your homeland. My home world also includes therianthropes, but I spent very little time in their company. Most human settlements in Ordite are not fond of nonhumans.”
Nida snorted. “That’s not much different here, though the hate is mainly directed at my kind. Not so much the elves or the dwarves.”
“Dwarves?”
“Very sturdy folk. Bit smaller than most. Extremely talented blacksmiths,” Nida said, grabbing a bread roll from a nearby basket of assorted pastries. “Anyway, the beastlands is what Lysorian and Caecilians call it. Back home, most just call them the tiger islands. They’re located just south of Lysoria off the coast of the Ozmian Sea. Other beastkin exist on the islands too, but we rule it. The other kin are simply not as strong as we are and always lose in the Arena of Kings.”
I motioned for her to continue, sipping some water.
“Our kind is closer to our primal roots than humans, elves, or even dwarves are. Each tribe worships a different tribal god, who represents the animal god we are descended from. I am obviously part of the tigerkin tribe and a descendant of Shairon, the tiger god. Every decade the leading tribe hosts the Arena of Kings to decide which tribe should lead the islands against their enemies.” She shrugged again, swallowing a mouthful of food I was surprised her mouth could handle. “It’s a pretty old tradition since the islands aren’t at war with any other nation. We aren’t part of whatever bullshit agreement that Knight was talking about in Sealrite, but I’d guess the lack of conflict between human nations has cooled their aggression against nonhuman folk too. Our only enemies right now are the sea monsters invading our islands and killing everyone. It’s not so much of a war as it is unannounced massacres.”
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“Fascinating,” I said, finally leaning back against the chair. That Arena of Kings tournament sounded enticing. “How strong are those that participate in the Arena of Kings?”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Each tribe puts forth their strongest warrior. The last Kings tournament I attended I was only a teenager, but from what I remember, they were all absolute monsters.”
“The Gold realm?” I asked hopefully.
“I apologize, my lady. But I was too young at the time and I have never had an affinity toward heart energy or mana. Becoming a Paragon was what pulled me from my life of uselessness,” Nida responded, her eyes burning with the undying flame of loyalty I’d been spotting in her gaze more and more often.
“When is the next tournament?” I questioned, returning her to the main topic.
“Next year, I believe. My unc—” she coughed. “The tigerkin tribe leader’s ten years is ending soon. He was weakened pretty badly in a monster hunt a few years ago, so the other tribes are really vying for that position. They haven’t been able to get it since the current leader came into control.”
“How strong was he, before he was weakened?”
“He was definitely in the Gold realm,” Nida said. “I couldn’t tell you about his heart ring stage, but he was, by far, the most powerful of them all.”
Ashwash, I cursed silently. I’d been hoping at least one of the warriors on the islands would have been in the Platinum realm. The training I could have received from combat practice with someone of that realm would have been invaluable to my progression.
“What’s wrong with him?” I didn’t bother beating around the bush. Duke Alistar had needed to die, but perhaps I could turn this tribe leader into the next platinum core user instead.
“He lost an arm against Fishman who was leading a wave of sea monsters. It was unfortunate, but the tiger tribe has many strong potential successors to take his place if it comes to that. There’s one I heard broke into the gold realm the last time I was on the islands,” she said.
“Huh,” I muttered, finishing off a slice of toast. After a few moments of comfortable silence and chewing, I asked, “I never did ask—how did you end up in the slave dungeons?”
Nida’s movements slowed until she came to an abrupt and complete halt. She lowered her hands to put the chicken leg halfway to her mouth back on the plate. “You are not the only one to meet with betrayal at the hands of those you trust.”
I was about to ask further when Nasq came bumbling down the old staircase with a massive yawn, followed closely by Brianna, who wore her brain hair up in a messy bun.
“Oh, this just looks delicious,” the noble lady exclaimed and hurried to find a seat next to Nida. “I am absolutely famished.”
Nasq, ever the finder of balance, sat to my left. “Good morning, my lady.”
I glanced at the twenty-something mage and nodded in greeting. “It is indeed. Once we finish eating, we will find somewhere to train before heading back to the carriage. I want to test your and Nida’s progress before completing our journey. I will be needing the both of you at a level approximating high silver soon enough.”
“What about me?” Brianna chirped in, wrinkling her nose at some kind of cheese I didn’t recognize. It was blue and had a putrid smell that spread instantly after she lifted it into the air.
“Put that down,” I chastised, fanning a hand in front of my nose. “It smells absolutely repulsive.”
Brianna sniffed. “It’s just cheese.”
“It is not cheese,” the innkeeper interrupted in a voice that was dry and cracked, like the sound of bones grinding against each other. It sounded nothing like the previous night. Then, though ominous, it had still been smooth and cooing. Now the innkeeper rasped and, as I turned to look at her, I was surprised to see the whites of her eyes had turned pitch black.
While I’d been distracted with the food and the talk, the woman had somehow managed to leave the safety of the bar countertop and gotten within nearly a half dozen feet of our table. I forced myself to relax and not jerk to my feet. Whatever was happening was bound to happen the moment we’d entered the inn.
Nida and Nasq, however, were not of the same opinion as they both leaped to their feet. A spear seemed to materialize from thin air to appear in Nida’s hands while bursts of blue flames soared from Nasq’s palms like hungry fish.
“It is flesh of a Wind Walker,” the black eyed woman rasped, limping toward us like a puppet on strings. Whatever, or whoever, was speaking to them was certainly not the innkeeper. “Of the Wind Walker from the night.”
I reached over and took a purple fruit before sinking my teeth into it. “Who are you?”
It bore its gaze into me just as a broken smile stretched across the woman’s features unbidden. “The rumors do not do you justice, Soul Weaver. I can sense the true foundation within you, unlike the other mortals of this world.”
I blinked at that and frowned. My core began to circulate energy, ready for the seemingly imminent fight about to break out.
“You did not answer my question.”
It…she… laughed. “I am naught but a mere messenger of the Human Sire, oh great Soul Weaver. I am only a lowly servant of the System. I come bearing a message from the Sire of humanity.” The voice paused speaking, though the innkeeper’s mouth remained open. “I am told you may better recognize the term as Progenitor of Humanity. He awaits you at the top of the pinnacle mountain. When you are ready, he requests that you go see him.”
“Wait a moment,” I blurted, deciding to finally stand. “How did you know I would come this way?”
“He knows most things,” the creature controlling the innkeeper said with a deep, grating chuckle. Another length of silence passed as it went quiet. Figuring the possession was over, I drew on heart energy and was about to skewer the innkeeper for being a used vessel when the crackling voice spoke again. “I nearly forgot. The flesh of a Wind Walker releases a scent as a mechanism of self defense. Though its taste is exquisite, fighting off the rest of its pack is quite the nuisance." The woman waved goodbye as the darkness left her eyes. "The Lord wishes you good luck and hopes you enjoy his gift of monsters."