The Aether God: Chapter 4 - A Vision of Greatness

This is my son, my own Telemachus, to whom I leave the scepter and the isle, well-loved of me, discerning to fulfill this labor by slow prudence:

To make mild a rugged people, and through soft degrees subdue them to the useful and the good.

Caladrius School South District: Residence Hall 5, Dorm 31

Cerulean kicked off his shoes before pivoting on his right tip-toes and flopping backward onto his bed. He layed in thought for what felt to be many hours, though only a few minutes had passed. High-noon nether starlight reflected off the nearby residence halls, illuminating his blue bed-sheets through a large window. The glass glistened, dotting his peripherals with blindspots as he stared at his ceiling. He held his right hand toward the ceiling, tilting and rotating it as he looked at the ring on his pinky finger.

Within a few minutes, his mind had finally calmed. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath while clasping his hand firmly. As he opened it back up he relaxed, letting his arm fall back onto the bed.

“Both of my lives have been given a second chance. While I currently can’t figure out or unravel any of the mysteries of my resurrection, I can only move forward… I should ascend my way back to the Divine Plane and continue my work… My birthright…”

Cerulean shook his head for a few moments.

“The only way to get there is to increase my rank. If I were on the Divine Plane I could become a lord within a few seconds with this constitution… If the bends weren’t a thing… but because the Ether here is so thin, I have to claw my way up from nothing. The Stygian Plane is the lowest, and thus weakest, of the planes… Not counting the Enigmatic Plane… What the hell…”

The Seven Planes of Existence in descending order were the Divine, Primordial, Exalted, Mythic, Temporal, Stygian, and Enigmatic Planes. Each of the planes was a planet orbiting the physio-ethereal core in the center of the universe. The lower the plane, the closer it was to the core. Those of the Stygian Realm knew nothing of this though, as they could not peer very far into the expansive universe.

“The artists of this realm are so far behind the Divine Plane in every way. They only know of the ranks within the first liquid stage of cultivation… They don’t even know about the void element... It’s hilarious that they refer to it as attributeless… Imagine calling a lord artist Sectmaster… HAH!” Cerulean laughed. After he was done laughing, he continued to smile and shake his head slightly. His smile would go away, and come back again as he thought about it. This situation was extremely ironic to him.

“What even… What am I going to do?”

Cerulean began pondering. He was done with his Thursday lecture, and thus had the rest of the day to spare. Because he had been avoiding his fellow disciples, he hadn’t gone with them to any of the other school districts to shop, train, eat, study, watch duels, or go to a club. He hadn’t coagulated his thoughts, or devised a plan of how to treat his fellow disciples. Luckily, he was only a first-year in his fourth week of learning and training. Because of this, the other disciples didn’t know him so well that they would notice minute alterations in his behavior. As long as he pretended to sleep during lectures and make jokes, they’d think everything was normal.

“I’m gonna need to first get out of this valley and figure out where the hell I am, time-wise, in relation to my other life. I only know a few snippets of stygian geography and history, so I’m going to have a hard time comparing anything. Plus they only let venerable and above cultivators leave… not that I wouldn’t be able to now… Once I get outside, my best bet is finding a soul beast… Are there even any in this realm, or even on this plane? There are artifacts but…”

Each plane was divided into multiple realms, often separated by large bodies of water. The Stygian plane was divided into the Phlegethonian, Lethian, Cocytean, and Acheronian Realms.

“I’m assuming that I’m in the Acheronian Realm at the moment, based on the problem I answered on the board earlier. If I remember correctly it’s closest to the Lethian Realm… it’s a shame that beings born in the higher planes can’t descend to lower planes… I guess it would be easy for one to just massacre everybody here… And thinking about it, it’s insane that any history at all from this backwater plane made its way up to mine. Crazy…”

He started pondering the current state of affairs within the Great Valley.

“The Legendary Sects are probably going to come after me if they just figure out anything about my constitution… right? I get it that they’re super elitist, but pushing every other institution down just because they start getting powerful makes no sense… Well, they are all stronger cultivators… But I guess they hardly even have to because they keep the techniques, formulations, and whatever else they know secret. Plus there aren’t even very many cultivators outside their sects that can leave the valley and hunt beasts or find treasures… Their tradesmen also only sell their weakest manuscripts to everybody else, and share basic information with the schools. I guess it makes sense that they don’t have to do much to remain on top… Soooo would they come after me if I shoot up to the lord realm too quickly or would they try to earn my favor? Are they battling against each other, and would team up if one sect gets too powerful? Are some like that and some not? I hate politics…”

The Legendary Sects were very well known for their extremely elitist attitudes, but that was much because there were so few examples of poor disciples actually becoming stronger than their own youngsters. In some ways, they literally were just stronger than the poor. Elder Roshi was probably one of few people to become a master out of the millions of residents. And the reason they hated him could have also been construed to be because they thought he was wasting his potential by rejecting their offers. Maybe they didn’t mind much that he was just powerful in and of itself. However…

“It’s extremely annoying though that the sects in all of their power and glory have been keeping all their knowledge to themselves, and staying aloof on their mountains. It’s not a problem in and of itself, but it’s caused tens of millions, if not many more deaths over thousands of years. Since the sects and families of the South Haven have to defend their own territory, raiding master and lord beasts that roam between the mountains and southern forests slaughter people almost every night. Wouldn’t a coalition of Legendary Artists be able to wipe them out with a few years of effort? The Ruling Assembly also deploys guards to the North, East, and West districts by paying them with taxes levied on the South Haven. However, those guards are almost entirely South Haven residents. It’s not the descendents of Legendary Sects that constantly die to beasts and crime. Furthermore the Legendary Sects aren’t taxed because their residencies aren’t within the valley. What do their descendants even do after graduating? The more I think about it, the worse it gets.”

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The Legendary Sects only mobilized their artists when there were beasts strong enough to threaten the entire valley. Ironically, this made many of the Great Valley residents revere them as powerful saviors. Because of this, they didn’t mind the elitist attitudes so much.

“Every meaningless death in the valley can practically be attributed to the Legendary Sects. If this were a paradise devoid of beasts, I’d think less of it, but they feel their knowledge to be more important than literal lives below. They prefer venturing out into ruins and procuring artifacts that they’re too stupid to use. What an absolute joke... Even the lower sects and families often support each other. They only haven’t shown their true faces because nobody has stirred the pot. They’re wolves disguised as sheep… Is it possible that they have saint or spirit artists, but are hiding the existence of such ranks? Lastly, how many novices and apprentices have to live and die in this little valley because Daddy Ruling Assembly won’t let them go outside? While I have my own plans and will eventually leave, I may as well leave my mark…”

Cerulean had finally sorted out a plan.

“I’m going to empower the disciples of the Caladrius School. They will, in turn, empower their families in the South Haven. Since those families have friendly relationships with the lower sects, they will also become stronger. The entire power dynamic will shift and less people will die. To hasten the process I’ll need to diffuse countless elixirs… I need so many crystal shards… Should I acquire the help of a guild?”

In the Great Valley, guilds were institutions of like-minded tradesmen. Once a group registered with the Ruling Assembly, they could purchase a building in the Scholar District. There, they would live, eat, study, and craft. They usually made a living by giving lectures and selling their goods in the Trade District. Some individuals who loved the guild life had ranks in two of the trades. They were called Gurus. Those who had a rank in all three earned the title of Sage. However, no Sage existed within the Great Valley.

“While it won’t be hard to prove my worth to an alchemist, If I want any artists to listen to me, I’ll probably have to earn their respect through dueling. Afterward I’ll have the Caladrius School obliterate the Zapthrax and Phoenix Schools at the Interscholastic Duels. I might as well start by raising my rank a little bit.”

Cerulean sat up and closed his eyes. His mind began to flutter, sorting through his vast knowledge. Absorption and condensation techniques were the basis of Artistry, and as such he had spent hundreds of thousands of years learning, as well as creating them. Ethology was, in many ways, the easiest yet most difficult of the trades. This was because manuscripts, unlike rune lexicons and elixir variants, could potentially have an infinite number of permutations. They were easy to draw, and had no specific form. Thus, the more free one’s mind, the better they were at creating manuscripts. However, it was a bit difficult because one had to simultaneously assign an arbitrary order and methodology to the patterns they made. Figuring out the best way to do so took expansive openness, but also intellect, control, and labor. Luckily for Cerulean, he was the greatest Ethologist in the universe, at least at one point in time. While he was entirely new to utilizing cultivation, he was second to none in understanding of cultivation. He was like a doctor of the ethereal body, one that had mapped it down to its every capillary. He understood its very essence. A most powerful manuscript came to mind - he took a deep breath and began to circulate his Ether.

“Spirit Aetherial Absorption Technique: Ferro-Ethereal Resonance - Art 1: Attraction.”

As soon as Cerulean’s mind traced the patterns, the Ether around him began to churn and swirl. It was not just of one element, though… it was of every element. The circling energy began to form smoke-like tendrils that elongated and twirled, spiraling into his nexuses. As the swirling continued, it became more powerful and circulated faster. He soon seemed as if the center of an inverted gyroscope as the whirlwind around him grew bigger and bigger. The smoke-like tendrils became large currents, and his nexuses all-consuming wormholes of Ambient Ether.

………………………

Caladrius School Central District: Court 1

The many elders of the Caladrius School outer district were convening for their monthly meeting. They were all seated in a large auditorium, worriedly conversing amongst themselves. Anxiety in the room was quite palpable. Soon though, a man with a commanding presence stepped out onto the front stage. He was the headmaster of the Caladrius School, Aberforth Whitehorn. He donned white-glowing robes, and wore a large blue stole over his shoulders which draped over each breast. His robes had a matte-white seal of the Legendary Whitethorn Sect, and the stole had a seal of the Caladrius School on each side. He was a Lord Artist.

“Welcome. I know many of you have been anticipating this meeting, and may have mixed feelings about it. You must remember that the decisions I will be sharing with you today were agreed upon by the Caladrius School Board of Inner-Court Elders, as well as the Interscholastic Committee…”

Many expressions in the auditorium changed, displaying their grievances. Elder Roshi was among them, and he was particularly dejected.

“As some of you may have heard, we will no longer be housing outer-court disciples after the Season of Temperance. Furthermore, all remaining disciples that are currently in their first and second years will be expelled. All of you will direct your resources to our inner-court disciples. This policy will take place immediately after the Interscholastic Duels, and Final Rankings. We will be letting them finish this year as normal, out of great kindness. The Caladrius Scholastic Duels will continue as usual, and they will have their normal mid-year break during the Season of Intemperance.”

Upon hearing the statement, a murmur of dissent rippled through the assembly of elders, transforming the auditorium into a forum for open discussion. Various figures rose from their seats to voice their concerns, including Elder Roshi, who contributed to the discourse respectfully.

“Headmaster Whitehorn, isn’t expulsion a little harsh? My disciples this year are particularly interesting, and I believe they have a bright future ahead of themselves. While I’m not saying they will become Lords, Masters, or even Venerables, they still may become protectors of their families, or guards within the valley. Perhaps they may even work for your Whitehorn Sect! Many of us elders also have students whom we have been teaching for multiple years. Would expelling them not be tantamount to smacking us elders in the face?”

As Elder Roshi spoke, many heads in the auditorium nodded. However, Headmaster Whitehorn couldn't help but suppress a smirk. The corners of his lips twitched upward ever so slightly, demonstrating a hint of satisfaction at the evident distress of Elder Roshi. Dorian's discomfort brought a sense of gratification to the headmaster, a feeling he relished with quiet amusement.

“We will not be retracting any of the aforementioned policies. We have wasted too much time, and too many resources on weak, talentless artists. To continue to do so would be an even greater smack in the face! Furthermore, the acceptance of attributeless disciples has been most burdensome. They have no potential at all. They are akin to the etherless. Perhaps they will do well as novice runeologists. Dorian, perhaps you may serve well to direct them to the guild lecture halls. They will have no place here!” After speaking, the headmaster smirked. As if tired of wasting his time, he turned to exit the stage.

Suddenly, in the middle of his strut, the entire auditorium became enveloped in an eerie occurrence. Without warning, the Ether surrounding them began to spiral into a swirling vortex, its pull immediately frightening the educators. Though the phenomenon did not hurt them, it evoked a horrifying, primal fear within. Every last elder stood and prepared for battle, conjuring barriers and various elements in their hands, with which they were ready to defend themselves. However, just as suddenly as it came, the vortex ceased, leaving the room in a state of stunned silence. They stood perfectly still, none of them willing to move nor lower their defenses.

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