Chapter 15: Eraiteis

Each meeting, each sight, old or new, changes us inexorably. Slight or impactful, they leave words in our hearts.

A Knowing imparted.

-Wolf Under Stars

After the Ritual of Age, returning to our tribe took little more than four days. We were stronger now and could endure many hours of running. It was a noticeable improvement that left us satisfied.

When we arrived at the village, our markings were immediately worked upon us under the supervision of older Hunters and two Magus Runemasters. The process for the markings was a time-consuming process that would last for more than two weeks. A black needle made of Xeonite, the strongest metal we knew of aside from the fallen star metal, was cauterized by refined Fire Essence. It was then dipped into the mixed sap of a Nature Tree and a Bright Tree along with shavings of Conduit Metal.

The lessons I received while I was still a Magus disciple and my time in the Magus library gave me some knowledge of the purposes of these materials.

The sap of Nature Trees which were rarer than even Ever Trees had a high affinity for Nature Essences. Bright Trees on the other hand, grew on Light Essences which fell from the Sun and the stars.

These two Essences were part of the non-volatile Essences and could easily be channeled through Conduit Metal. The more volatile Essences include Fire and many of its Synergetic counterpart Essences.

The markings on a Hunter’s body were not simply there for the indication that we were true Hunters. They were there for enhancing our bodies.

“Eraiteis,” we call it. The word has multiple meanings in our language, but I suppose the closest meaning to it would be Runic Enhancements.

That said, I fainted on the first day of the Eraiteis process not even two hours into it.

Demona and among its various body types suited for battles, especially Hunters, have a strong capacity for pain. A lesser man in that regard would have fainted in the first three minutes. Brother Leaping Fox and Brother Ronat were no exceptions. They fainted right before I did.

Make no mistake though, the process of Eraiteis for a Hunter was far different from the normal Runic Enhancements. The “ink” of the Runic Enhancement was far from the norms, being that it included shavings of the Conduit Metal and both the sap of the Nature Tree and the Bright Tree.

In the initial stages of Eraiteis, this ink was seeped into our blade-ridges and the lines of runes from the language of Knowing were erected by the cauterized black Xeonite needle—both inside and outside of our blade-ridges, which were by now like bones to us.

At the end of each stages of Eraiteis, we were bleeding and panting for breaths as the powerful sap of the Nature Tree and the Bright Tree were worked through our skin and bones. The blade-ridges we had grown were needed for the special Eraiteis. They helped us survive the potent sap of the “Essence Trees.”

In the Demona race, we also had body types like the Wraithborn except we didn’t have random appendages like the Wraithborn, of which I was also a part of. It was the charm of being a half-blood.

There were the Demona who were born with a Builder body, in which they had seven fingers and a thumb that could be used for dexterous labor. These builder bodies lacked combat potential, resulting in a thin and somewhat short body figure, but they were generally more intelligent, had better capacities for learning, and were far more skilled in professions. There’s many specific words in our language to refer to the body types, but I won’t bore you with them.

There was also the Balanced body, of which Dance of First belonged to. They were similar to humans except for the two horns on the heads of the females. Of course, that was discounting the usual smattering of skin colors from the darker hues of the color spectrum. Some of said hues include shades of purple and dark blue.

Another type were the various Enforcement bodies. They were usually born with scales that protected the vital areas and a few rare ones were born with scaled tails that they could control like their own hands. It served both as a dangerous weapon and as the pride of the Enforcement Demona. In this type, both males and females could be born with horns.

Then, there were the Hunters, the rarest of all body types among Demonas. Compared to the growth of the other Demona, we were far ahead. Our capacity to learn was only slightly inferior, and if not, equal to the Builders.

Just like that, an excruciating painful week quickly passed by.

With a week’s worth of initial stages finished, we had the basic lines of runes inside and outside of our blade-ridges and the nearby skin. These would serve as the focus for the Runic Enhancements.

“Well, Brother Wolf. Here is to another week of pain,” said Leaping Fox as we left the workplace of the Magus Runemasters. He rubbed at his sore blade-ridges, which in turn had caused his whole body to be in pain.

I let out a small empathizing laugh. I was in the same situation as him. Beside me, Brother Ronat was gritting his teeth, an obvious sign of his discomfort. “At least the most painful part is over,” I said.

“I think I am going to go to bed now despite my aching pains and despite it still being early. I wish to flee to my blissful dreams where pain is outlawed,” Leaping Fox said. He made an exaggerated yawn.

Brother Ronat gave a gesture of farewell to both Leaping Fox and me. “I will see you later too, Brothers,” he said. “I have something to do.”

We said our farewells to each other after that. Well, it wasn’t exactly much of a farewell since all of us eight Brothers lived in the same home.

I thought over my experiences today. It wasn’t much. Most of the morning and afternoon, I had spent my time in the darkness called unconsciousness while being worked on by the Runemaster. Barely five minutes in, I was already gritting my teeth in pain, and after three hours, I had fainted from the shock. The only consolation was that I had endured the pain for an hour more than the previous six days of the Eraiteis.

Then again, that wasn’t really a consolation. That was more like a penchant for pain. One more hour of pain rather than two hours.

For lack of better words, the injection of the “ink” into my blade-ridges was a rather alarming process in the first day. My blood had Surged at the intrusion of the ink and had fought against it for quite a while. And though I call it Surging, that wasn’t necessarily the correct word. It was more of a pseudo-Surging, for I did not have a Surge and no Magus could sense it.

Still, it was a very bloody initial process. I had bled three times more than what both of my Brothers did. In the first two hours of my lingering consciousness, which I was dearly trying to hold onto, I had to forcibly control my blood, directing a strong force of will. It was like quelling multiple sparks of rebellions in my body with only a small metaphorical stick to threaten the rebellions.

Putting these thoughts out of my mind, I hurried onward. I had to go drop by to see Dance of First. I had not paid her even one visit yet even after a week had already passed after my return from the Ritual of Age. She would forgive me though. I had an excellent excuse. I had been confined to my bed and was moaning in agony for the first four days of the Eraiteis process.

With the excuse—reason, I mean—set in mind, I went to look in the first place Dance of First would be prowling on a fine early night such as this.

I looked first in the small clearing where she liked to haunt. It was a little way off west on the path to the northern forests and had a few fields of flowers to sport. My luck didn’t hold as she was nowhere to be seen there.

Then I went to look for her in the eastern clearings. She liked to wander in her free time a lot. Setting a brisk walk, I arrived at the opposite clearings within a few minutes. I was lucky this time. I suppose the second time was the charm after all.

In the eastern clearings, Dance of First stood still, her eyes closed. In the month which I had not seen her, she seemed to have grown perhaps a few inches. A growth spurt most likely. She was nearing her eleventh year of age, after all.

Her stillness was soon broken by a small movement of her left arm which traveled slowly behind her head and sable colored horns which were crowned by rings of petals made into a circlet. A rhythm under the moonlit night began. And as if following her rhythm, the shadows cast by the moonlight moved in response, though I knew that wasn’t true.

A slow half-twirl started as her left arm followed the right arm. And as if come alive, her raven- colored hair, beckoned by the half-twirl, the rhythm dance she had begun, transformed into a darker shade of viridian, though I knew that was impossible.

I felt it then. Even from this far away, possibly more than a hundred feet away, I felt the tingle in the back of my mind. She was Surging.

My blood, as if transfixed by the scene, urged me closer. I obeyed, following the slight nudging of my blood, though I knew that was merely an excuse. It was a poor excuse of an excuse. I Knew my blood after all. I knew it well.

I moved softly, my steps lighter than a leaf in the wind as my boots traveled across the grass. There were barely any sounds made as I moved closer toward Dance of First. There was only the light silence of the night and the light silence of her dance.

I sat down on a rock behind her. Not too far, not too close. Just the right distance.

I watched her in that silence as she entered into her Surging. Her twirls came with more frequencies by now, both her arms moving to a tuneless rhythm I could not understand. She twirled, but she never moved away from that fixed spot.

A gentle wind blew past, brushing her hair slightly. It revealed her closed eyelids, underneath which no doubt laid her verdant colored deep-set eyes which always seemed to be slightly downturned. Like the eyes of a cat or that of a sheena.

Still dancing to that tuneless rhythm, perhaps of her own making, perhaps of the moon or perhaps of her surroundings, she moved. As if the light of the moon had solidified into drops, scattering ripples across a pond.

At the back of my mind, the nudging grew stronger.

And the flowers, the reminiscent pink Caranathus, the Amaranthus with its shy red, and multiple others began to sway, following each of her movement. It was as if she had bewitched them, though I knew it to be untrue.

It was merely a part of her Surging and the Nature Essences gathering around her as she absorbed them, transforming them into her Anima through her Surge.

Still, to me who had long ago lost his Surge and could only see the redness of the Blood Essences, it was as if the bewitched flowers themselves were dancing to her tunes. To the dance she displayed before them.

A dance of first, the thought entered my mind.

Silently, unwilling to break the mood, I continued watching her. For how long I sat there considering her moonlit figure, I do not know. Perhaps an hour. Perhaps minutes. Time was relative.

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In her Surging, she never once opened her eyes.

I mirrored her. Not the dance, but her closed eyes. My senses became sharper. I followed the tuneless rhythm with a silent humming. I could hear the softness of the night, its gentle sways. And for a strange moment, I had the urge to howl to the moon, to howl under the stars. I shook the urge away. It was the heart of the White Wolf influencing me.

There’s something to be found in the silence of the night, under the moon and the stars. A something that is different for everyone, a something that could change each step you take. It could come alone, in pairs, or even more.

What I found in the silence of the night was, as always, a silent affinity. It was something that was only found when I was with Dance of First. I realized; she had grown on me. It was not a startling revelation though. It didn’t descend upon me like a bolt of thunder from nowhere. It slowly crept up on you.

My heart quickened for a beat. Something in me told me to flee.

I stood up and made to leave, a retreat which I half-heartedly attempted. It failed. And I was left standing upon the rock with my back turned to her.

“Leaving so soon, Brother Wolf?” her voice called out. On her face, there was always that hint of smile when she met me, and I her. Her eyes sparkled with a hidden amusement. “You should at least escort your younger Sister home in this darkest of nights…or visit her sooner than a week late.”

I made a slow turn, standing calmly on that rock. Calmly, but somewhat still comical. Stupid comical. A slow exaggerated turn of my head upward. “It’s hardly nighttime, and I had been busy lying in bed from the agonies of the Eraiteis.”

Only a “hmm” was let out. She made a slow twirl, her arms still tracing that unknown rhythm. She was Surging to something only she could sense—I could still feel the slight nudging against my mind.

I hopped lightly off the rock. “You have grown…taller, Sister Dance of First.”

“Alas, time does that to a youth, or would you have preferred I grow shorter?”

“Hardly, at least I will not be three heads taller than you then.” I paused. “Horns included, of course.” Then I smiled, a curl of the lips which she always pouted at.

She danced a full revolution, and the flowers around her swayed in tune. A small trill of a laughter. “At least you can spar words with me, Brother. All the Magus disciples I am with have their heads loose and their hands shoved into their brains.” Her lips curled, returning my own. “Well, I suppose I should go easy, considering the fact that more of them are…males.”

There was a long pause before she said the last word. I knew the true reason behind that pause. It was not just a jab of words aimed at me.

My time in the Magus library, as a Magus disciple after my Surge had been broken, and upon growing up to be a little more perceptive, I knew that there was a tension between the Magus disciples and in the deeper currents of our tribe.

You see, there were more Wraithborn Magus than Demona Magus. Far more. Our Demona tribe was not highly receptive to being born with Surges. And as always, the minority and majority. A troublesome situation when you were part of the minority like Dance of First in the group of Magus disciples; there were only a few friends you could rely on then.

I feigned an exaggerated thinking posture, resting my hand against my chin. “I think reading too many books may have had more of an impact on your mind than I thought. Surely you counted wrong?”

“You say that, but I had already started reading books when you began your first loving touch with your blade-spear.”

I shook my head. “I would not say a loving touch. Perhaps more of a friendly touch?” I asked. “I was just starting out, after all.”

She tilted her head slightly. The dull tugging at the back of my mind stopped. She had stopped Surging. “You say that as if your blade-spear was merely a friend in the beginning, then a wife in the end.”

I shook my head dolefully. “My Brothers have been spreading too many tales to you of my relations with my blade-spear.”

She smiled her slight smile. “I am the only friend you have outside of your Brothers. The rest of your friends are your weapons.”

I opened my mouth to retort, but there was no chance given.

“Grandmother Moon Bird does not count.”

My mouth closed off its own accord then. I could tell that she was a little angry at me. She was poking more words at me than was usual.

“Well,” I started, “that is because you are the only friend I need.”

“Brother Wolf,” she said in mock sorrow. “How far you have fallen.” She shook her head. “After having undergone your Ritual of Age, you now use flattery to escape?”

“No, no…just facts.”

“More and more flattery. I am disappointed,” she said, moving closer toward me as if about to deliver an execution. She moved closer until we stood only about two hands apart. The distance was close enough that I had to look down to meet her eyes. “You look…changed, Brother.”

I waited as her voice trailed off.

She moved a hand toward the blade-ridges on my forearm. It hovered for a few seconds, hesitating, unsure whether to touch the blade-ridges.

“Don’t,” I whispered. “You will cut yourself.” It wasn’t a lie. The blade-ridges which angled out like multiple curved blades were sharp enough to cut through her skin even with a light touch.

She still moved, not even paying attention, as if transfixed by the glistening red blade-ridges which grew from my forearm. I had extended them to about half a hand’s length, though its full length were up to a little more than the length of a hand.

I retracted them instantly. There were no sounds made from the retraction. It was as easy as bending a finger. Smooth and silent. There was only a faint trace of a white scar line left on the forearm. But even that would be easily looked over even at a closer glance.

Her hand rested on my forearm, a soft touch, cool to the sensation. Her hands weren’t rough as mine, calloused from years of wielding weapons. “I feel as if you are going further and further away from me.”

I arched my brows at her, mock-like. “Where would I run away? You would leave every stone upturned and shattered in your wake.”

It wasn’t one of my best retorts.

For some reason, this night, I was not up to sparring words with her. I felt muddle-headed, as if I had lost too much blood. Like a Bristle that had eaten too much Skyweed.

“I suppose…” she said half-heartedly, a trace of sadness also in her voice.

It compelled me to say something. Anything for the one who had grown up along beside me, who had offered her companionship, who had befriended me, befriended me long before I had bonded with my Brothers.

“No need to worry. I plan to stay here for a long, long time. And perhaps even become the lead Hunter,” I mused. “I would not leave my Brothers and you for anything.”

A silent, implied promise.

It was a lie.

But back then, I had been so sure of it.

She removed her hand from my forearm and gone was that cool touch. “I will be with you too then.”

For a long time then, I sat in silence watching her practice her Surging, at the swaying flowers, at the tuneless rhythm she danced to, a rhythm I could not hear. I thought of how she had befriended me in my time alone, where my ignorance had made me into an outcast.

A Dance of First, indeed. I admired at the name. It truly had some meaning to me. Just like how Teacher Embracing Flower had to me.

They were stories I would not share though.

We all have secrets we aren’t willing to share; a little piece of darkness that has long been buried.

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A week passed by quickly and after my Eraiteis, my upper body was no longer plain to the eyes. They were full of Runic Enhancements. My legs, of course, were also no exceptions.

The runes on my blade-ridges acted as the base which converted the Light Essences and Nature Essences, empowering the upper body and the lower body. Each time I was under the sunlight, and where nature was, the base runes on my blade-ridges would gather the Light Essences and the Nature Essences, storing them in my body.

I could not, of course, see these Essences. The same goes for my Brothers who did not have any Surges of their own. We could, however, feel these Essences as a powerful strength rested inside the Runic Enhancements marked skin-deep onto our bodies and legs.

And like everything else, there were limits to the storage capacity of these Runic Enhancements and our bodies. Still, it was another facet of the power granted to the true Hunters.

With these newfound abilities, my Brothers and I put them into good use.

We were split into two groups of four Hunters. One group consisted of Eagle Above Skies, Little Bird, Big Bird, and Big Bear. And the second group consisted of Leaping Fox, Hidden Shade, Brother Ronat, and lastly, me.

Upon the voting that occurred amongst ourselves, I was elected the leader of our little group whereas Eagle Above Skies was elected leader of his little group.

Truthfully, I wasn’t really surprised by the election.

Leaping Fox only shrugged, saying it was a pain, while Brother Hidden Shade and Brother Ronat did that silent shrug of theirs…without saying anything. Thus, I was elected in such a fashion.

Finally settled in, we would be slowly given tasks which progressed in difficulty. From hunting the strongest king of the northern forests, the Multis Gargantuan, to gradually hunting even more difficult beasts, and to hunt for rare materials requested by the tribe.

We had settled in as the Eleventh and Twelfth Groups in the Hunters section. With Hunter included, there were now a total of 49 Hunters in the Piercing Moon Tribe, a paltry number compared to the more than three thousand Demona and Wraithborn that were in our village.

Thus, we set out for our first task. Not even a task, but more something akin to that of a small initiation.

To display our strength against the Multis Gargantuan, worth 150 points, the strongest creature in the northern forests.

We were full of confidence

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“Speed Runic Enhancement, Brothers,” I said. “No need for any reinforced strength, eh? Our natural strength should easily suffice.”

“Heh, Brother Wolf,” Leaping Fox said from beside me. “I don’t even need the Speed Runic Enhancement to beat you. I can kill the creature alone myself.”

Behind us, Brother Ronat and Hidden Shade merely stayed silent.

We looked at our first target that would become the sacrifice to our newly initiated four Hunters group.

The Multis Gargantuan, worth 150 points.

A huge creature that was more than sixty feet tall. It wielded two half-broken tree as its weapon in two of its four hands.

“I call the first of its arm,” I declared, holding my true blade-spear to in one easy grip. It was a massive weapon that was eight feet long made of the finest materials, only inferior to that of the Cruel Moon Piercer wielded by Hunter.

“Not if I get there first,” Leaping Fox smugly replied.

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AN: As usual, hoped you enjoyed the chapter!

If you see any mistakes or inconsistencies, do tell. I will move to rectify them.