Karzaia laid her head against the side of the brass bathtub in the inn’s depths. The innkeeper scolded her when she returned for failing to come back in a day or two, and Karzaia apologized by paying for a month worth of nights at the inn.
She’d also dropped the three coppers necessary to pay for the bath to be drawn, so now she lay in the scalding hot water after wiping herself down with a rag. It was a great relief to her to be clean for the first time in over a week, and she found it pleasant that she didn’t need to worry about money for a while because of the rewards from the Dungeon.
She’d also had the necklace Namaik dropped analyzed at the trading post, where she found it was a technique repository for shukuchi. If she worked at mastering the technique while wearing the necklace long enough, she would gain the sub-Talent. As drops went, it was of the highest quality.
Of course, the amount of training necessary to gain the sub-Talent was… somewhat excessive. Nonetheless, the technique was worth it, considering how deadly it had been in the past. Selling the materials she’d gathered while hunting the battlefield orcs had given her another two gold and five silver, further expanding her personal wealth. It still wasn’t nearly enough for passage on a ship to another continent, but she felt confident that she would be able to gain from other Dungeons later on.
She did find it disappointing she couldn’t return to the Dungeon. Her affinity was now at Tier 9, meaning she had surpassed the upper limit of those allowed in the Dungeon. Her Talents, save for Soul-Forging, were all below her affinity, so she would need to train them up in the near future, to keep them from falling too far behind.
She also needed to prepare herself for the Trial. Fatenheim’s Trial was one of character. Depending on what aspect you chose to challenge, the Trial would give you a differing reward, matching your build and path in life. The four tests one could select were Courage, Compassion, Humility, and the Gauntlet. Courage, Compassion and Humility were all straightforward and easy to understand, if difficult to face. However, the Gauntlet, which gave the greatest rewards, was considered to be the ultimate test of character for a youth. It was also the only one of the four that could result in death.
No one who went through the Gauntlet spoke much of what they had experienced, but they all said that it tested every aspect of who you were, breaking down and reforging your spirit in a purer, more intense form. While the Talents and potential of a second affinity were valued as rewards, the true reward for those who passed through the Gauntlet was the strengthening of their soul, making them more likely to reach greater heights in the future.
Karzaia intended to challenge the Gauntlet. It wasn’t like she had confidence in her success. Quite the opposite. She was well-aware her that she had an abundant number of flaws, likely more than she was aware of.
No, she simply believed that challenging herself now would prepare herself better for the future. A large part of her believed that the harder the test, the better she would become.
She looked at her status with a mix of joy and dissatisfaction with herself.
Karzaia Manthein
Title: Heir of the Hooded King, Mark of Manthein
Affinity: Soul (Tier 9)
Talents: Soul Sight (Level 8), Soul-Tempering (Level 7), Soul-Forging (Level 9), Mana Well (Level 8), Qi Sense (Level 6), Meridian Purification (Level 4)
Cultivation: Path of the Crushing Soul (Early Mortal Formation Stage)
The only change from the last time was her affinity’s Tier. Soul-Tempering would require that she expose herself to mana or qi contaminated with Fire to rise any higher at this point. While enduring the pain of using Soul-Forging still had an effect, she knew from her uncle’s explanation that when it reached 10, it would stop growing from the use of her other Talent entirely unless she reforged her body and spirit in the agony of Fire.
This would continue until she had reforged her body with Fire, Wind, Metal, Wood, Earth, and Water. Fan’ar had spent a great deal of coin researching her Talent on another continent so that she would have this knowledge before she underwent her Trial and he lost the ability to teach her until her Journey was over.
She knew from his explanation that each reforging of her body would raise the Talent’s level limit by ten, until all six were complete and the limit rose to 100. Depending on how she exposed herself and the intensity of what she endured, her level would increase appropriately during the reforging. It was even possible to gain near-immunity to the related affinities, if one endured enough.
She wasn’t looking forward to it, though… some of the things Fan’ar had done to her as part of her training had left her with broken bones and damaged organs. If it weren’t for Fan’ar’s unique affinity, she would have died during her training a dozen times over.
Without Fan’ar on hand to heal her, she would be forced to rely on potions and her affinity-boosted natural regeneration. While her Soul affinity had the effect of greatly increasing her body’s toughness and regeneration, it wasn’t nearly as effective as the Flesh or Life affinities. From what she’d been told, at higher levels, her tempering Talent would make her incredibly difficult to hurt. However, at the moment, the advantages were relatively minimal. Her bones were difficult to break and her flesh did not give way to a blade as easily, but to those above her Tier, it would be barely noticeable.
The way an individual’s body was enhanced by their affinity differed. Her Soul affinity enhanced everything relatively evenly, with her regenerative abilities and general endurance being the most enhanced. Fire affinity tended to increase physical strength the fastest, and Ice tended to enhance the speed of thought of its users greatly while slowing their aging at higher Tiers.
Every affinity had its advantages and disadvantages. Soul Affinity’s greatest disadvantage was the pain she suffered when she used it, which could be distracting at times. Fire’s greatest disadvantage was how it unbalanced one’s approach to life, making the user more aggressive and prone to violence unless they learned to control it. Ice tended to numb emotions and reduce empathy, making it difficult for the user to be able to understand others, often leading to social problems.
She knew her Uncle’s Flesh affinity was often fatal for those who failed to understand their own bodies, as it was fundamentally geared toward changing the shape of the user’s own body. Mastering it had required him to learn anatomy and biology to ensure he didn’t shift into a shape that could not maintain his ability to live.
In Karzaia’s case, she had to learn to master her reaction to pain. Moreover, soul pain never went completely numb, no matter how her tempering Talent leveled or she became more skilled at touching the edges of her own soul. She was assured that she wasn’t damaging her soul by using her affinity, but she knew the soul energy involved normally was something only touched or harmed in the most extreme of battles.
The body and the mind were shells that protected the soul, but also conduits to damage it, in the right circumstances. However, attacks that could damage the soul without the affinity in question were usually only seen past Tier 50. Nonetheless, torture and sufficient levels of mental corruption could damage the soul over time. That was, in fact, the basic aspect of how her tempering Talent functioned. The more she suffered, the more her soul became resistant to the effects of forces outside of herself.
The body and mind only strengthened as a side-effect, in opposition to how most other tempering Talents functioned. Body tempering Talents worked by harming the body in specific ways to build up a resistance to the stimuli in question. Mind tempering Talents worked by inflicting various levels of psychological pain, overworking the brain with complex tasks, and forcing the individual in question to face mind invasions.
All three types of tempering Talent strengthened the mind, body, and soul. However, depending on which they were focused on, the strengthening was more concentrated on one aspect in most cases.
As such, Karzaia’s tempering Talent was more difficult to level than a body or mind tempering Talent. Pain severe enough to damage the soul just slightly enough that no permanent or long-lasting damage was done over time. Without her Soul-Forging Talent, it would still be level 2 or 3.
The Trial will probably get my Talent to 10, given what I’ve heard about it… but after that, I’ll need to go to the Inferno Layer Dungeon or Daznal’s Volcano, The Trial’s test of character was directly inflicted on the soul, so it was a perfect way to train the Talent on the side while gaining a reward. The only downside was the not insignificant possibility of death if she chose the Gauntlet.
The Inferno Layer Dungeon was closer than Daznal’s Volcano. However, it was also much, much more dangerous. Daznal’s Volcano was the home of a fire dragon who didn’t mind visitors as long as one made an offering of gold. However, Inferno Layer Dungeon was a demonic-themed Dungeon whose base recommended Tier was 23.
She would have to consider her options after the Trial.
She rose from the bath, pulling a towel off the bronze pole set into the wall next to the tub. Karzaia’s otherwise smooth backside was marred by a jagged scar over her shoulder blades, left behind after the Trial of Manthein, after she was healed. The damage had occurred when shards of bone from her shattered shoulder had punctured the skin from within. A few unnaturally pale spots stood out across her chest where acid drops had eaten through her skin during the battle with the drake.
She was unsure why her uncle had not repaired the damage, as he had with her training injuries. However, she wasn’t foolish enough to question him.
She willed her casual dress out of the ring once she was dried off and put it on over her naked body. Her underclothes would be washed with the rest of the laundry in the early morning.
She strapped a pair of leather sandals on to protect her feet before heading for the cafeteria.
There weren’t that many people in the dining hall, as it was slightly before dinner time. Those that were there were mostly adventurers who had returned from a day in the Dungeon. Some of them had burns or cuts marring their flesh, telling her that their party didn’t have anyone capable of healing.
There were only three waiting staff in the dining hall. Two were women too young to be working the sheets, and the last was an older man who seemed to be overseeing them protectively.
From what Karzaia understood, the night waiting staff were also prostitutes, as adventurers frequently needed to let off steam. However, the day staff were usually in training or earning coin on the side, their main work somewhere else.
A nearly pure-blooded dwarf sat near the entrance to the kitchens, drinking from a large brown bottle of spirits, his face a little red around his round cheeks and bulbous nose. A battleaxe sat at his feet, waiting to be picked up if anyone made a move on the young girls or tried to cause some other trouble. At night, he would be switched out with one of the other bouncers, whose primary duties would be dealing with the nastier drunks.
Karzaia stopped one of the girls and ordered a double helping of the orc steak and a large mead, handing her the coins necessary for the purchase along with a two copper tip. She then sat at one of the tables nearer the kitchens, relaxing with a sigh, enjoying the lingering warmth from the bath.
Half an hour later, she was feasting on the orc steak, filling her belly to restore herself from the exhaustion of her battles and the long delve.
“You sure are a hungry one, aren’t you? What, did you have a brush with death in the Dungeon or fail the Trial?” A young, arrogant-looking man with sharply pointed ears and sky-blue eyes in a leather jerkin and linen trousers asked as he sat next to her, not bothering to ask permission.
She could tell by the length of his ears that he had partially awakened his elven bloodline, so he had probably passed the Trial, though she doubted he had passed the Gauntlet. Green flows of mana surrounded him to her Soul Sight, which probably meant he had the Nature or Wood affinities. Nature was the more powerful and rare one, so she thought it unlikely he had it. Wood was more common, as it was a base affinity.
“I completed the Dungeon… though the boss nearly killed me,” She responded, not bothering to hide it.
His eyes widened, then he glared at her accusingly, “Impossible. A brat on her Journey couldn’t possibly have crossed the battlefield, much less faced down a High Ogre!”
She examined him, noting that his affinity was probably around Tier 7, meaning he probably wasn’t a very dedicated adventurer, given his age, which looked to be in his mid-twenties. A dedicated adventurer in their twenties, if they only made the minimum effort to train their affinity, should have had it around 12 or 13, and one who had trained with intensity and took risks might reach up to 25.
It was most likely the elven bloodline he’d awakened that had stopped his growth. Even those who reached half-pure with an elven bloodline had centuries to live, even without sorcery. That led to many of them taking a more long-term outlook on their futures than was really sensible in as dangerous a place as the Nine Lands. It was why most people encouraged their children to aim for the draconian or daemonic bloodlines if the had them, as both races were only a bit longer-lived than humans at the same Tier. It led to a sense of urgency and an inherent knowledge of the fragility of life that those with strong elven bloodlines tended to lack (though there were exceptions).
“I don’t care what you think. I know what I did, and I don’t need to prove anything to you,” She said coldly, dismissively. He was not clan, and he was impolite. She saw no reason to treat him as a fellow person much less pander to his prejudices.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
He snarled, his fist lashing out toward her face, but a simple jab of a knife-like palm deflected the blow over her shoulder, cracking his wrist badly. She followed this up by grabbing his arm and using the last remnants of his momentum to throw him to the floor head-first. He hit with a thud, knocked unconscious.
The dining hall went silent, then there was laughter and whistles from the few others inside. Apparently, the elf wasn’t well-liked, and it was obvious a lot of people took joy in his humiliating defeat.
Adventurers that didn’t challenge themselves were rarely admired or liked, after all.
“Child, you should be careful. He might be weak, but his father is influential in town,” The bouncer commented.
“His father?” Karzaia queried.
The dwarf took a long swig from his bottle, then explained, “His father is one of the three council members for this town. That kid is used to getting away with a lot because of that, and his father dotes on him.”
Karzaia looked at him, uncomprehending. She had no concept of the parental relationships formed outside the clans, a blind spot that most clansmen had to one degree or another.
The dwarf sighed, “I forget yall clansmen don’t get this kind of thing. Around here, parents tend to treasure their children excessively, because there is no clan to raise the kids. No one around here would trust a stranger to help raise their kid like in the clans. The result is, people in power tend to favor family members, and you end up with them abusing their position to enrich their families instead of working for the greater good.”
Karzaia tried to fit this idea into her concept of the world, struggling with the idea of a ‘family’ that had a form dissimilar to those that had raised her. It seemed to her that the clans had a better idea when it came to raising children, if such imbalances occurred when parents were allowed to raise their own.
However, the practical consequences made her focus on the young elf coldly. She formed a soul dart, increasing its density until it was almost physical. He was below her Tier in affinity, and he was unconscious. He also didn’t appear to have a tempering Talent. She could probably kill him without leaving any mark on his body.
A second later, she sighed and let the dart dissipate, causing some others around her to release the tension that had built up in reaction to the intensity of her bloodlust. She didn’t realize it, but when she’d almost decided to kill him, she’d released an aura of murderous intent that had suppressed anyone with a Tier below hers in the room, which about half were.
The dwarf narrowed his eyes grimly, Just what kind of monster is she? I’ve never felt that kind of killing intent from a kid so young. An old soul?
A moment later, the dwarf shrugged and went back to nursing his bottle of liquor. There were more important things in life than speculating about strange girls with odd affinities. Drinking himself into a stupor was a far more important task than paying attention to Karzaia.
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“Some girl dared to hit my son?!” An older elf roared at his servant, a human-looking man with brown eyes in worn clothes.
“There was some sort of altercation and Master Leverial attempted to lay hands on the girl in question. The witness accounts state that she went no farther than knocking him unconscious,” The servant replied respectfully.
“Fool! I didn’t ask you for an opinion on what happened! The only thing that matters is that someone dared to harm my boy!” The elf spat.
“Master Viriel… my apologies. What is your desire?” The servant said, after some hesitation. Like all of Viriel’s servants, he was well-aware of his master’s pettiness. He was also a pathetic man who had stopped growing after he purified his bloodline, much like his son. Most of his servants were of higher Tier than him, but because of the authority he held over the town as a councilor, they dared do nothing, lest the guards suppress them.
The town of Fantenheim was one where the Council had absolute power, backed up by a guard force of former adventurers, most of whom were over Tier 20 (a necessity for dealing with the local monster hordes). Despite the regular destruction of the town, a core of permanent residents continued to revive it, and those permanent residents selected the Council. The presence of the Dungeon and Trial ensured there would always be visitors and coin flowing through the town, so it made sense to evacuate to undereground shelters during times of disaster and rebuild afterward.
Unfortunately, that meant that a man like Viriel could have an unreasonable level of authority for his Tier and abuse it ruthlessly for his nepotistic desires.
“Bring the girl here. Let the guard play with her for a few months before selling her to a slave trader. No one will miss one more girl on her Journey,” Viriel said dismissively.
The servant’s lips twisted in disgust for a moment before he hid his expression, bowing his head in assent.
A few minutes later, he made his way to the guardhouse, where he asked for a private meeting with the guard captain.
The guard captain, a man with the horn of an oni and the height and musculature of a dwarf, sat behind his desk and looked at him with concern, “Zi, what is going on that you felt a need to ask for my help?”
“Councilor Viriel just gave me the order to have the guard imprison the girl that defeated his son and use her until the slave trader comes,” He replied wearily. Zi served Viriel because the elf had paid to outfit his son as an adventurer in exchange for Zi’s service and for his son to bodyguard the young Master. He had no emotional attachment or feelings of loyalty, so he had no problem with being blunt.
The guard captain looked disgusted, “Twenty years as a councilor, and he is already acting like his predecessor. This is why we should enforce the rule that all councilors have to pass the Gauntlet Trial. Those who pass that Trial would never act the way he does.”
“But he has the support of the merchants, and without the merchants, we can’t keep the town going as it is,” Zi said bitterly. He would love nothing more than to see Viriel lose his position.
“It wouldn’t be hard to get the merchants to let him go, though. There are plenty of candidates who would represent them just as well, and they would probably ask for less in the way of bribes,” The guard captain commented.
“It might be time for that,” Zi assented. As much as he wanted to keep his word and be loyal to his salt, there were limits to everything. It was the first time Viriel had decided to take things this far, though he had influenced rulings by the town judge for his own profit a few times, as well as getting his son out of jail on over a dozen occasions.
“I’ll make the preparations, though we’ll need to keep it out of the ears of Viriel’s younger brother. If that greedy idiot hears we are making a move against him, he’ll alert him straight out,” The guard captain said after thinking for a few seconds.
“Best to keep it to old Layla, the innkeeper, the gnome at the trading post, and Rizick from the weaponsmith’s place. Having those three on our side would be enough to pull him down,” Zi concluded.
“Yeah… the armorsmith, Grez, is an elf. He’ll probably warn Viriel if we try to pull him into this. The ones who purify their elven bloodline tend to stick together,” He replied, his eyes gleaming with eagerness as he anticipated the look on Viriel’s face when he stood before the judge in chains.
__________________________________________________________________________
Fatenheim’s judge rubbed his temples with his fingers as he looked at the reams of evidence about Viriel’s various schemes and wrongdoings on his desk. He very much wanted to ignore them, but the signature of three of the town’s more wealthy permanent residents, as well as the guard captain Willim made that politically untenable.
Vainus Rec Varatein was, like all ‘Recs’, an exile from his clan. Most of the permanent residents of towns like Fatenheim were either exiles or their descendants. The Rec in his name signified this and was imprinted on his soul, making it impossible to hide from the Truth Sight Talent most clan gate guards possessed.
He was not a particularly upright person, despite having risen to the position of judge in Fatenheim’s community. He was simply neutral to all the factions of the town as a whole, meaning he wouldn’t favor any of them over the others. He was not, however, adverse to a bribe or two on the side. He did have expenses, after all.
Viriel was one of his best sources for such bribes, what with his sons all being scum who couldn’t keep their hands off the female adventurers and clansmen on their Journey. It could be said that more than half the judge’s personal assets came from those bribes…
… but he knew very well that he couldn’t afford to let Viriel off this time. Though he was a councilor, he was merely one of three and the other two had wanted him gone for a long time. The petitions and evidence on his desk only made it impossible for him to pretend to be neutral if he avoided punishing the elf.
With a sigh, he stamped the petition, approving the trial for a week from the day.
So, without Karzaia’s knowledge, the consequences of her arrogance failed to come back to her.
__________________________________________________________________________
Zharn Island, four years ago
A massive black-furred fox the size of a mountain snarled in rage as a giant golden falcon with lightning surging around its wings dove toward it. Voidfire burst out of the fox’s four tails, surging toward the diving falcon, only to be dispersed by a wave of golden lightning. The two creature’s clashed, blood spraying from both as the falcon’s beak ripped through the fox’s shoulder and the fox’s fangs briefly found purchase in the hawk’s breast.
Where the blood of the two powerful qi beasts fell, some plants died, others were twisted, and yet others grew at abnormal speed. Lesser beasts died merely by being touched by the aura of the two rulers of nature, their qi extinguishing lesser souls like they weren’t even there.
The falcon, a Heavenly Crown Peregrine, surged back into the air, preparing to dive once more. The fox, a Miasma Cleansing Divine Fox, stood fast, the blood flowing from its wound stopping in moments, its shoulder sealing itself shut, though it could not heal completely. The Peregrine cried out, a surge of of its divine lightning purging it of the miasma that had tainted the wound in its breast. However, the damage was done, and two bare spots, blackened and weeping pus, remained on its chest.
The Peregrine unleashed waves of golden lightning that blasted the thick verdure around the fox to gray ash in an instant, and the fox unleashed a thousand bolts of voidfire, showing off its connection to the greater Dao of the Void and the lesser Dao of Fire.
This time, the lightning was dispersed in an instant, though hundreds of bolts of voidfire were first extinguished in the process. The Peregrine squawked indignantly as three bolts of voidfire slammed into its chest, knocking it out of the air.
However, neither of them was so weak as to be significantly harmed by strikes at a distance. They were too equal in power and resistant to one another’s abilities to be truly harmed without a direct clash of bodies.
Still, the Peregrine was humiliated, having misread its opponent’s second move so miserably. It cycled its qi in the way its ancestor had instructed it, and it quickly extinguished the flames that had consumed a dozen of its massive feathers, giving it a somewhat leprous appearance for the few seconds it took for the vain creature to forcibly restore them.
It shrieked and dove, and the Fox rose from the earth, running upon air to meet it well above the island. This time, claws met beak in mid-air, and both creature’s were thrown back, the Fox slamming into the earth, leveling several kilometers of forest. The Peregrine fell to the earth a short distance away, also crushing a large swathe of forest beneath its body.
It was difficult to say which had gotten out of the exchange worse, as sheer momentum had been on the Peregrine’s side, while the qi density and raw mass of the Fox had overpowered her opponent. Both were bloodied all over this time, as their auras had clashed as much as their bodies, resulting in the damage being spread evenly around the entirety of them.
These beasts were both at the height of what could be achieved by a pure qi beast in this Realm. The only way for them to progress at this point was to defeat and consume an equal or depart the Realm entirely. As such, their clash was inevitable, as they lived in the same region.
This was the ninth day of their battle, and the completely bare southern half of the island spoke of its intensity in craters and still-burning pits of voidfire.
Unfortunately for the Peregrine, the Fox recovered first, consuming the miasma created by so many deaths and converting it to qi, the unique ability of its race. It surged toward the Peregrine, its jaws open as it bit deeply into the raptor’s neck.
The raptor, on the ground, could not recover its qi quickly from the heavens as it normally would have, so it was unable to resist effectively. It surged divine lightning around it, expending qi to try to blast the fox away from it. However, the fox, determined to end their battle, merely bit down harder, ignoring the seeping burns that formed on its flanks and the top of its head due to the reaction between their Daos.
A moment later, there was a snap that shocked all the remaining creatures on the island as the fox bit through the raptor’s neck, finally ending a beast that had existed for almost fourteen thousand years.
The fox viciously dug into the dead Peregrine’s chest, ripping it open to find its core. A moment later, it grasped the golden crystal in its teeth and swallowed it hole, claiming its prize before any of the lesser creatures could interfere.
The Fox turned to a cloud of black smoke and flowed through cracks in the earth a moment later, seeking the cavern at the lowest levels of the island, where the miasma of the Death Dao was at its strongest. Once there, it began cultivating the core, ignoring the cries of the four black-furred kits it had left behind.
It loved its kits, but it had had hundreds of kits over the centuries, and its battle above had killed thousands of its descendants. The loneliness and fear of its children had little effect on the ancient creature at this point.
The bravest of the kits, a female with luxurious black fur with silver streaks around the ears and a crescent moon-like mark on her forehead, approached her mother and began to cultivate the excess that the ancient creature could not process. It endured the pain of touching on concepts of the Daos it was not yet ready to touch, desperate to become strong enough to survive on its own.
The kit was soon the size of an adult fox, then twice that size, a second tail emerging from its rear end. However, blackened blood seeped from beneath its closed eyelids and out of its ears, expelling the miasma her young flesh could not yet process.
Still the young fox burned with determination, rising just long enough to move away from her mother before curling up in the corner to consolidate her gains. It would be some time, years, before she awakened again, but when she did, she would be ready to survive.
Her mother ignored her, just as she always had outside of feeding, and her siblings slowly starved, unable to approach their mother at all, too fearful to take the risks their sister had.
___________________________________________________________________
The Day of Karzaia’s emergence from the Trial of Manthein
The young fox awoke, surrounded by silence. The yaps of her siblings could no longer be heard, and her mother’s powerful presence was no longer next to her.
She felt lonely for a moment, but the process of evolving had awakened her ancestral memories to an extent, lending her a maturity beyond her experiences. Her golden eyes searched the darkened cavern, finding only the bones of her siblings and a single black crystal of miasma where her mother had gone through her own evolution.
To most, the crystal of miasma would have been toxic, but, like all her kind, the young fox was born with a deep connection to the Grand Dao of Death. To her, miasma was a source of qi, not a toxin that would ruin her cultivation forever.
She quickly made her way over to the crystal and took it in her mouth, swallowing a moment later. She lay down once again, this time for a shorter sleep, knowing that when it was over, she would have the power to survive outside the cavern.
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Vires, God of Will and Strife, observed the young fox, sighing in exasperation that it hadn’t starved with its siblings after all the effort he’d gone through to drive their mother to abandon them. It was so frustrating that the Maker forced him to watch over a mere beast, to report on its actions and pretend like it mattered in the grand scheme of things.
Like most of the young gods, he had no understanding of why the Hooded King’s soul was so dangerous. He was also short-sighted enough not to learn from the past, so he had never bothered to research what had happened to his predecessor.
He would much rather be encouraging a young prince to murder his older brother and father to take the throne or meddling in the mind of an ambitious cultivator to make him more likely to steal resources from his rival. He found those aspects of his work as a god quite enjoyable, even if he often irritated the Goddess of Compassion and Serenity, Mifuala as a result.
The young fox was one of three ‘seeds’ he was required to watch by the Maker. The other two seeds were humanoid, and one even managed to get himself killed in the collapse of a sub-Realm a year before. It was his hope that the other would get herself killed soon so he could spend more time on his games.
The fox should already have died. The only logical outcome of a fox kit, even one of such a powerful bloodline, being abandoned at that age should have been death. Instead, the creature had dared to cultivate its mother’s aura during her rise, putting itself in a state of enlightenment where the system provided sustenance to prevent starvation. It’s second tail, which normally wouldn’t have grown in until it’s first century of life, was proof of the creature’s success, as well.
There was little chance the creature would die before reaching true adulthood now, to his frustration. Moreover, with the Peregrine dead and her mother gone, she would be in the upper ranks of the beasts remaining on the island when she emerged on the surface.
He so wanted to be free from responsibility so he could go back to playing with his toys…
He took a deep drink from the bottle of divine nectar at his right hand, his expression sour as he contemplated what he might do to accelerate his freedom from this boring task.