The phenomenon of perfect Tier advancement requires an awakened to only absorb energy cores perfectly aligned with their element or concept, thereby maintaining, or in some special cases, increasing, the purity of their cores, which grants them greater power and mastery over their awakened paths.
From an unidentified grimoire, looted from the Amorack ruins in the kingdom of Unoros.
Currently shelved in the Palace Library of the Sunstone Kingdom.
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[Juvenile Silver Rithclaw, Tier 6]
Aodhán froze as the creature dominantly walked into the clearing. A silver haze swirled around its body like a cloud, but it was focused more around its claws and metallic protrusions.
The man limped towards him, shouting words Aodhán could barely understand, but when he reached him, the man grabbed his shoulder with a free hand and shook him hard enough to rattle his bones.
“Pull yourself together, kid; you had a chance to run, but you lost it. Now, buy me some time, so I can kill this thing.”
The man’s words snapped him out of his fear, and Aodhán’s eyes slid to the bundle on his shoulder. His eyes widened when he saw that it was an unconscious man, only a few years older than he was.
Aodhán gave a shaky nod in response as the man limped past him, and he took a determined step forward. He couldn’t defeat this monster, but he could buy the man enough time; he just had to distract the monster until the man provided a solution.
With a wave of his hand, a storm cloud appeared above them, and the next moment, it expanded to cover an area of about 10 feet.
Thunder rumbled out from within it as lightning flashed, and the wind came alive, scattering dust and dried leaves every which way.
Rain poured down, snuffing out the encroaching flames even as the earth shuddered with each deafening boom of thunder.
The Rithclaw seemed to raise an eyebrow at his display, thoroughly unimpressed, and a moment later, it dismissed him as insignificant.
Its eyes moved to the man who had already managed to injure it once, as evidenced by the smoking bruise on its shoulder.
The man was crouched a few meters behind the boy, hastily searching through the contents of his bag. The Rithclaw narrowed its eyes in suspicion. It was young but smart enough to know a dangerous prey when it saw one, and if it was to survive this hunt, then it had to kill the man first.
The Rithclaw prowled forward, but Aodhán moved to block him, and two bolts of lightning appeared in his hands.
The Rithclaw snarled at the threat and, with an enraged growl, rushed towards him instead. The bolts of lightning shot towards it, and just as it raised a claw to swipe at the energy, it suddenly changed trajectory and exploded on its head, leaving behind a scorch mark the size of a baby's fist just under its left eye.
The Rithclaw roared in anger. It hated tricks, and it hated opponents who employed them even more. The boy was a weakling who used tricks to fight against worthy opponents; therefore, it had to kill him.
The Rithclaw rushed at Aodhán with speed, too fast for him to follow, and only his fast reaction saved him. An attack that should have taken his neck instead tore into his chest, causing him to stumble as pain blinded him and blood splattered out of his chest.
He was unable to dodge the next swipe, and it tore through his arms like a hot knife through butter, stopping only when it reached bone. Aodhán almost blacked out.
He fell to the ground in pain, oblivious to the claw that aimed at his neck this time, but suddenly, a large ball of flame exploded against the Rithclaw, and the man called out, “Play time’s over, silver; I’m the opponent you want.”
Aodhán opened his eyes to see the man holding a ball of flame in one hand and a large, round object the size of a football in the other. As the Rithclaw rushed towards him, he widened his stance, pulled his right hand backwards, and when the Rithclaw reached a satisfactory distance, he threw the object at it, followed by a finger of blue flame.
The flame struck the red object just as it neared the Rithclaw, and a massive explosion rocked the entire clearing, throwing the monster into the air and slamming it against a tree several meters away.
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Aodhán, who had just forced himself back to his feet, was thrown to the ground, but it was the man who suffered the most as he was launched backwards by the force of the explosion and slammed into a tree half a dozen meters away.
Still, the Rithclaw wasn’t dead, and as Aodhán ran to help the man, it roared, its eyes burning with hatred and madness as agony ravaged through it.
It’s entire body was burned as if it had been doused in gasoline and set on fire; the metal protrusions on its back were bent, and its right hind leg was broken. Still, it rushed at them, its silver canines exposed as it snarled.
Aodhán managed to summon a bolt of lightning that he shot towards the Rithclaw, but it completely ignored his attack, and the next instant, a paw slammed into him, throwing him backwards.
He rushed to his feet, but the monster slashed at him again, gouging out muscles and tissue from his back. Agony ripped through him in waves, and only the threat of death kept him from blacking out.
He turned and saw the roiling storm he’d created at the beginning of the battle. As if it could sense the impending threat of death, the storm had intensified, and multiple arcs of lightning flashed within it with barely restrained fury.
The storm seemed ready to explode, as if all it awaited was a word from him, and with all the energy he had left, Aodhán called lightning from the storm and directed it against the Rithclaw.
What happened next was beyond his wildest dreams; instead of a single large bolt of lightning, lightning of various hues poured out of the cloud in a wave and descended on the attacking Rithclaw.
The entire clearing flashed with an extremely bright light, leaving an afterimage that left him blind for several seconds.
When he finally regained his sight, the only sign of the Rithclaw that would have taken his life a minute ago was a silvery metal core surrounded by ash and scraps of silvery metal.
Aodhán let out an agonized gasp as adrenaline receded and pain ripped through him with full force. Too tired to even move, he lay on the ground, breathing roughly, when something landed gently on his chest, and he cracked an eye open to see the man standing above him.
He looked better than he had a minute ago, but he still had several wounds on his chest. Aodhán looked at the silver core the man had placed on his chest, and without hesitation, he absorbed it.
Silvery energy flowed through his pathways like molten metal, and when it filled in his core, it surged out, moving through his bones this time around and filling them with energy.
His fatigue and wounds disappeared as the energy rushed through him, and he sighed in relief as his pain disappeared like a foggy dream.
Aodhán smiled as the energy settled back into his core. He felt denser than before, and though he looked skinnier, the power flowing through him had increased significantly, and he felt like he could finally crush a rock with his bare hands.
Tier: 4–38.9%
Aodhán also noticed that the energy required to reach Tier 5 was almost double the amount he’d needed to reach the 4th tier. After absorbing the Tier 6 core, he’d expected to be pushed to the peak of Tier 4 or even breakthrough to the next tier, but it had barely brought him halfway.
He opened his eyes to see the man staring at him with a wistful expression, and when he noticed Aodhán’s gaze, he said, “It’s at times like this that I wish I hadn’t reached my limit, where a single advancement could have rid me of this pain.”
Aodhán had no idea what the man meant by limit, but he sympathized with him anyway. If he’d had any cores left, he would have given them to the man so he could advance and be rid of his pain.
The man chuckled quietly at his expression before he went into a coughing fit and spat out blood. It took a minute before he regained himself, and after taking several deep breaths, he said,
“My apologies. My name is Unrid Brystion, and when I get home, I’ll burn an incense stick in Roal’s name to thank him for sending you to us.”
“Uhm, my name is Aodhán Ashoka, and I want to get out of this forest.”
Unrid stopped himself from chuckling to prevent another fit and instead smiled before asking, “You must be from the Gishan village then, just past the Barren strip.”
Aodhán didn’t bother confirming or denying Unrid's assumptions; instead, he asked, “How did you know?”
Unrid scoffed, “It’s the only way into this part of the Warren woods aside from the Warren; besides, you share their complexions.”
Aodhán smiled in response, as if he’d been caught, but Unrid soon frowned and asked. “If you were heading to Warren, why didn’t you take the normal routes? You also don’t seem to own any clothes.”
Aodhán wanted to lie but decided to tell half the truth instead. “I came into the forest to advance, but I got lost, and when the horde made their way into the forest, I had to ditch my belongings in order to survive.
Unrid’s eyes darkened at the mention of the horde, and he sighed wearily. “The forest is not supposed to have any creatures above the second tier, and with the harvest festival coming up in a few weeks...
He trailed off for a few seconds before muttering. “This is a disaster; I would have to inform the mayor and..." His voice trailed off again, and Aodhán glanced at the unconscious man laying a few feet away from them.
“How is he?” he asked after a moment of silence. His question dragged Unrid’s mind away from the thoughts of monsters and the harvest festival, and with a sigh, he replied. “He’ll live.”
Unrid paused before slowly standing to his feet and saying, “Come, I can get you something better to wear, then we can set out when the day breaks.”
Aodhán followed him as he walked towards a large bag filled with camping gear and kits. He looked much better now, and Aodhán suspected that he would be completely healed before the end of the day.
Unrid gave him a long black jacket and a baggy green trouser that was too big for him, but he tied it to his waist with a short rope Unrid handed him. There was no footwear in the bag, so Unrid gave him that of the unconscious man since they would be carrying him to the village anyway.
After he was completely dressed, they both sat in silence and waited for the night to pass.