Chapter 5 Messence Elemental Affinity

The group resumed their journey towards the city on foot. All of their horses had been killed during the attack and some carriages were destroyed by the devastating battle between Helthor and Beldrex.

"Uncle, what is that ring? You seem cautious while playing with it." Gyro inquired. He curiously gazed at the golden ring with crimson jewel crown that Helthor kept on playing with his fingers.

"Ahh... This—is the Telemystic Ring left by my opponent earlier. This—allows Mysticians to send messages over long distances." Helthor introduced.

"Woah! There's an item like that? How does it work?" He marveled at the ring, thinking of the cellular wireless technology in his home world.

"Well, it's simple. Every Mystician has a unique Messence signature. The owner of the ring can ask anyone to imprint their signature into it, so he could send any messages using that unique signature. This white jewel crown on the ring is called Telemystic jewel which can record those signatures." Helthor explained.

"Eh? Then, anyone could use other's ring? Surely, there's some kind of security in it right?"

"Of course... Upon binding, no one other than the owner would be able to use it. Unless you know how the ring was crafted and unseal the binding." He grinned mysteriously. As a Grand Master Mystic Forger, Helthor was one of the few who could do so. He caressed the ring; it could help them lose their trail.

After unsealing the binding in the ring, Helthor then sent a cryptic message to someone.

«Missed the fallen king... Pursuing to the Eastern Kingdoms.»

He grinned after sending the message. They were currently at the south of the continent while the Belford Kingdom was at the north.

Meanwhile, Gyro checked the system log. He had heard a notification earlier.

«Congratulations Host for completing the mission: Survive the Bandits' Raid. Reward: 20 TsP.»

'Oh Great! Now, I have 175 TsP. Hmm... I can't wait for the affinity test...' His elemental affinity had been disturbing his mindset, so he must know it as soon as possible.

'Trii, how much Messence do you require to analyze my elemental affinity?'

«I just need at least 1 Messence.» Came Trii's cold reply.

'Okay then, please convert 10 TsP and analyze my elemental affinity.' He blinked faster than normal, expecting compatibility with Mystic Wind.

«Converting 10 TsP to Messence... Successful... Analyzing Host Mystic Elemental affinity...»

«Ding! Congratulations Host, you have great compatibility with Mystic Lightning. Host's status updated.»

'Great! Hahaha!' He was ecstatic to know his element and was satisfied with it. Lightning perfectly fit his style, which leaned more on dexterity, speed, and great hand-eye coordination. His affinity would supplement those aspects.

He was hoping to acquire the Mystic Wind Element, guessing that Speedy Mysticians was most compatible with it, but Mystic Lightning was even better. Not only would it boost his dexterity and speed, but its attack damage would also be on a different level.

Of course, all these were speculations. He had read a lot of cultivation novels and played several virtual games on Earth depicting these similar elements. Asking Trii about it would require him to spend some of his all-valuable TsP; so he should investigate each element in the future instead of relying on the system's spirit.

He glanced at his status to confirm his new Realm. Sure enough, he became a Lightning Novix. He only needed to gather Messence to level up to Iron Novice Mystician.

*Sigh*

'I need to find a Mystic Meditation Art sooner to start gathering Messence.'

'Trii, could you explain why my Middle-Level Trick was only at an early stage?'

«Of course, Host. Trick Level has four stages: early, mid, high, and perfect.»

'Oh?! You didn't ask for TsP for the info, huh?' He was surprised he wasn't charged with TsP.

«All info relevant to the system will be freely given. The Host just needs to ask the right question.»

'So, that's how it is.' He could now see the pattern. He didn't have to spend TSP to learn all system-related information like functions, stats, inventory and others.

After asking Trii, he reviewed his tricks. The basic trick Gravity Pull was already at the perfect stage; the Throw Down basic trick was at 90/100 high stage. Guessing from these numbers, he wouldn't be able to learn the middle or advance tricks unless he mastered the basics. The only exception was the Middle-Level Trick which he won from Trick Spin.

Previously, he found the Trick Tree in the system. Trii explained that those tricks were personally created by the God who had brought him in this Mistikahl world. Of course, he could create his own trick or follow those Trick Tree in the system.

As he browsed through the Tree, only Gravity Pull, Throw Down and Shooting Star Break Away were greened. The rests were grayed, indicating he had yet to learn them. He shook his head in frustration. He couldn't learn most of the tricks because his Yo-yo was too primitive—the most basic one. Gyro couldn't even perform the basic Sleeper Trick.

He decided to spend 10 TsP and upgrade the Throw Down Trick, promoting it to perfect stage. As he walked following the group, he performed the Trick.

Swoosh!

Tst!

Sure enough, he was thrilled to see an improvement on the Trick. The Yo-yo rotated faster and its downward speed increased by a notch. Flicking his wrist before it reaches its unwinding, recalled the Yo-yo with a swirling screech against his palm. He was exhilarated seeing that. He had no practical uses for this trick, but it was one of the basics, so he had to learn it.

Then, he decided to tackle another basic trick, the Forward Pass. It was, in a sense similar to his Middle-Level Trick, but it would start at the side of his body rather than at the front.

Their group could finally see the silhouette of the City after two days of marching the almost desolate road. Fortunately, they didn't encounter more inconvenience aside from sleeping in the open.

As they approached the majestic city, Gyro saw countless people parading towards the City Gate. Some were in a group while others trod towards it alone, dragging their weary body, probably due to the long journey they had taken. He also noticed merchants with their wagons lined up, waiting for their cue to deliver whatever business they had.

Their group also followed the line. It was only then that Gyro noticed several teenagers around his age with expectant  eyes. He guessed that these youths were also aiming for the upcoming Mystician test.

Up above the archway of the city gate, painted in glowing tuscan-sun letters, was the name of this majestic city: Zelleor City.

It was one of the 25 cities in the Aventhor Kingdom.

Glancing up further on the bone-white city walls, Gyro sighted rows of archers slinging their long bows with their sharp and vigilant eyes, surveying the mass of people flooding the city.

He then scrutinized the guards at the gate. Five guards had swords and the other five wielded spears. All of them were emanating mysterious auras. He was guessing these guards were all mysticians.

Gyro was suddenly interrupted by one of the guard's voice.

It was their cue.

"Fifteen Mis for the three of you." The guard in-charge intoned in a smooth yet snappy voice.

Gyro could hear a well-practiced speech, guessing the guard had been doing it for a long time. He then saw Helthor took out his purse and counted 15 shiny silver coins. Seeing his curious gaze, Zyra whispered, "Mis is Mistikahl World's currency—named after it."

After paying the entrance fee, which could have feed an average family for three days, they followed the rests of villagers to a small, cheap hotel in the outer section of the city.

The Zelleor City was divided into three sections: outer, inner and central section.

The outer section was where the lowest rung of the society lived. It was commonly known as the "SLUM" where all sorts of people clustered. People who lived by the edge of their knives and momentary pleasure of the flesh. People who lived in the shadow; people who took every opportunity for their shady business; and people considered as dregs of society.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Beggars could be seen at every corner, and hookers could be heard whistling at every possible client.

Gyro felt his stomach lurched. He almost vomited at the rotten smell of decay wafting through the air contaminating everything. He couldn't help but wonder if, in any world, poverty was the number one problem plaguing the society of men.

Gyro breathed a sigh of relief when they entered the hotel they would be staying in. Somehow, despite its ordinary and cheap appearance, the hotel had a fresh atmosphere preventing whatever unwanted things outside to slip in. Then he perceived the glowing crystals on the walls which illuminated the hotel. 'Ah! Mystician...'

Of course, even a cheap hotel could hire some Mystician to ward their territory of "Everything" unwanted.

"Each person, one Mis per night. Additional 1 Mis per meal if you want to dine in." Nydelein, the fat female hotel Manager and owner, informed the group. She was wearing a chef's garment, so Gyro guessed that she was also the hotel's Chef.

Helthor smiled and handed 9 Mis to the Manager. "We'll be staying for two days, and we would like to have breakfast on the morrow."

Gillard and the other villagers followed and paid for their rooms.

The Manager snatched the coins on the desk which seemed to magically disappeared right after. "Bart!" She hollered.

Clang... Clang...

The cacophony of dropping silverware reverberated from the kitchen, then scurrying footsteps echoed.

Bang!

A skinny boy stumbled on the kitchen door as it swung with a thud. He didn't it mind, though. Shooting up as if nothing happened, the boy bowed to the Manager with a smile. "Madam, what's your command for your lowly slave?" The boy enthusiastically asked, grinning.

"Damn you, brat. How many times—do I need to tell you that you can't call yourself a slave? Want me to kick you a** again?" Nydelein glared.

"Hahaha... But I am your slave you know." The boy Bart reasoned.

"Guests don't mind this brat. He likes spouting nonsense every time. I found him in the streets—starving, a few years ago. Since then, I took care of him, and he helped me here in the hotel. He didn't have a memory of what happened to him, though. Sigh... He must have suffered a lot to have lost his memory." The Nydelein gazed at the Bart gently.

"Oh! It's okay. Gy here lost his memory too. They could have the same experienced. It must be the fate for them to meet. Hahaha." Helthor cackled.

"Oh really? You heard that Bart; you should be friends with this little gentleman here." She resumed her commanding tone.

"Sure... Sure... Hello! Call me Bart the Brat. Let's be friends. Hahaha." Bart grinned extending his hand towards Gyro who clasped it bashfully, muttering "Gyro" in a timid tone.

Gyro still had a hard time when dealing with other people except for Helthor and Zyra. His old personality always took a hold of him.

"Gy has a shy personality, so please bear with him," Zyra spoke in Gyro's behalf.

"That's good, I like shy people. Hahaha." Bart exclaimed. His warm personality seemed to have affected everyone's mood.

"Alright, that's enough fooling around. Go, bring our guest to their rooms."

"Gaddy got'it! Let's go! Everyone please follow me towards your palace chambers. Hahaha." Bart's energetic high pitch voice echoed.

"Hahaha! I like this kid." Helthor chuckled, following the hopping boy.

"Really? I like you too My Lord." Bart swerved and grinned at Helthor.

"Hahaha. It seems we need your bubbly attitude to lighten up the mood. These kids are nervous about the upcoming test." Gillard, the man from the village commented.

Aside from Gyro and Zyra, ten other kids came with them for the test.

"Oh, you mean the Ziroth Academy Mystician's test in two days?" Bart naturally knew about the test. It was the topic of every kid in the Slum these days. Even Aunt Nydelein had been nagging him to take the test and see if he was fated to be a Mystician.

He wasn't considering it, though. As he knew, those Mysticians were brutal and bloodthirsty. He reasoned that if the price for gaining strength was him becoming a killing machine, then he would rather live as an ordinary human.

Bart was a smart kid, and he had speculations that his amnesia might have been caused by the same people Aunt Nydelein prompting him to be. Hence, he didn't want them to find him again and maybe kill him—for good.

"Yeah! That one." Gillard answered.

"It has been the talk of the city. I don't understand why people are going crazy about it. Clearly, those Mysticians are..." He didn't finish his words.

"Hmm? You seem to have a bad impression of them, Bart? You can't be blamed, though. There are black sheep in the flock as well. Well, everyone has reasons for trying to become one. Say, for example, Gyro here... He had lost his memory and believes that by becoming strong he could recover it... and finally, remember what had happened to him or what circumstances he fell into in the past." Helthor explained.

For the first time, Bart went silent. He was mulling over Helthor's word. 'Remembering the past!' He had been deftly avoiding this topic. His reasoning was simple: he couldn't live with the past. A lot of good things would be waiting for him in the future; he should shape himself in the present and prepare to embrace the future as they unfold before him—gradually.

On the contrary, the past had been a part of his short life. 'Or perhaps, to successfully move forward, I would need to peer through the distant past?' Bart shook his head, clearing his mind as they stopped in front of a door.

"Alright, for those with key number 5, here's your stop." He pointed on the door, then said, "Let's continue..."

Bart returned to the kitchen after ushering the guest. He was absentminded, not knowing that he had returned in front of the sink. It was only until his hand felt the cold water that he snapped out of his reverie. 'Revisit the past?' He sighed.

• — • — •

The next day, Gyro awoke with a start. The warm sunlight refracted in the glass window of his hotel room, kissing his pale skin. He just had a bad dream. The brutal scenes of their battle against the bandits had become a nightmare.

He scrambled down the hotel and asked for clean water to clean himself. Then, he waited for the rests to come down and have breakfast. They had free time to explore the city because the test wouldn't start till the morrow. He had a clear destination, though. The city public library.

Being new to this world, he was like a hungry cub, starving, thirsting and craving—for knowledge.

"Gy, are you sure you want to go to the library alone? I can accompany you there if you want." Zyra asked with concern.

"I'm okay Zy, thanks. I know you have something to do as well... I will do this sooner or later so I better start now." He smiled.

"Hmm... You seem to be adapting well. Good luck then." She waved her hand.

They had separated in the inner section central plaza. It was a circular plaza with a huge monument of a man holding a saber. According to the description on the monument, he was Dozulav Zelleor. The former Emperor of Aventhor Empire hailed from this city of Zelleor. Later, the city was named after him.

He strolled towards the direction of the Library. He had previously asked the hotel owner Nydelein about it. 'It's time to learn more about this world.'