Ooh, this is nice, Joram thought as he [Delve]d the ship from his cabin. He hadn’t wanted to risk sneaking into the propulsion room or having someone stumble onto him as he concentrated.
The structure of the ship was, what he guessed to be, rather standard. He’d watched a few of those “how it’s built” shows that had featured mega structures back on Earth, so he wasn’t totally unfamiliar with the general design structures of large vehicles and vessels and such.
He was surprised, however, that this ship also used giant propellers to get its thrust. It was just that they, in turn, were moved by what he’d consider a magitech engine.
It was a fantastic design that was wonderfully put together. The alloys used in the construction were also fascinating, so he took his time to memorize its structure and composition with Autohypnosis, one of the skills Altaea had taught him, as well as one of his favourite.
Once done, he leaned back onto his bunk until he fell over and lay there, sprawling. He then idly checked the Network, making sure that everyone was healthy.
Xixi and Zanth seemed to be having fun, while his mother and Zaleria were doing something relaxing. Grammy… was still stable.
Avi seemed to be focussed on something, while Bail Lian certainly was. Probably deep into a book already. Wentian gave off a mixture of vibes that reminded him of the thrill of a sparring session. Lastly, Mo Yu seemed relaxed, almost sleepy.
Well, what else to do? He wondered, looking up at the deck head. He retrieved a pair of AR glasses, put them on, then powered them up. A moment later it was linked to his omni-tool, giving him the time: 0932.
Welp, that went faster than expected, he thought as he realized that it hadn’t taken all that long to [Delve] the ship.
Joram discarded the thought of joining Wentian in the sparring room as soon as it came. He didn’t want to bring attention to himself like that, especially since he’d enrolled as a crafter.
Joining Bai Lian in the library was tempting, but he wasn’t quite in the mood to read a novel or some poetry or something. He wasn’t certain, but the likelihood of him finding a book on crafting in there was almost infinitesimal.
Which either left him wandering the ship, possibly getting into unwanted social situations where people wanted to talk with him, or joining Mo Yu up on deck and seeing if anything interesting was happening. Heck, he could probably pump her for more information about the Laws she was familiar with.
He nodded to himself as that thought came to him. He was indeed behind the curve when it came to studying the various Laws, so getting someone who’d studied them to tutor him was a solid idea.
Joram then concentrated a bit more on Mo Yu, getting a better idea of where she was in relation to him, and found that she was likely still above deck. Remembering the layout of the recreation area, he decided to change his attire.
Off went his standard shirt and pants combo, and on went a white tank-top and a pair of dark grey cargo-style shorts followed by a pair slip-on sandals. Even though he no longer had the toe gap that made wearing flip-flops such a pain, he still didn’t particularly like them. So, sandals it was!
Just before he left his spacious cabin, he felt a surge of annoyance coming from Mo Yu, soon followed distinctly by the words “silk pants”.
He paused, wondering where that had come from before recalling that it referred to a spoiled rich kid. Was someone bothering her? He shrugged, opening the door and heading out. It wasn’t like Mo Yu was a child, unable to deal with her own problems.
He paused every now and then to admire the various works of art on his way, taking mental notes on the techniques he could discern. If he wasn’t wrong, the cost of the artwork in his hallway alone could probably feed a small city for a month.
Joram shook his head as he continued on his way again, then paused when another thought followed by more annoyance came through from Mo Yu.
‘Moyra!’
That made him blink. Had she just made a frenemy? He wasn’t sure how that could happen so soon after they’d boarded, but supposed that anything could happen.
He continued admiring the art, pausing to smell some orange flowers whose petals looked like flames. There were nice enough that he gave them a quick [Delve], making a mental note to add it to the old catalogue of flora he’d started to make way back when.
But then it became hard to concentrate as Mo Yu’s annoyance continued to grow until it felt as though someone had turned on a heat lamp in front of his face. So, he picked up his pace, getting a bad feeling about it, especially when feelings of frustration, annoyance, disgust, then shame started coming through in waves.
* * * * *
She was having a terrible time of it.
It seemed that Garros had gotten a boost of confidence after she’d given him her “name”. He and his posse hadn’t stopped asking her questions since. What made it worse, was that they’d continued ordering drinks and draining them, giving them more and more liquid courage.
“Hey, why don’t we get out of the sun? I’ve got a spacious room that would be great for some quiet conversation,” Garros said, his cheeks reddening slightly, giving away what he really meant by “conversation”.
“No, I’m quite enjoying the fresh air, thank you,” she said, keeping her voice pleasant through a supreme effort of will.
“Aww, come on. We’re both first-years, we should get to know each other before starting classes together,” Garros replied smoothly, though his impatience was starting to slip through.
“I’m fairly certain that won’t be necessary. I’m confident that we won’t share any classes,” she said, still not looking at the boy.
Garros scooted his chair over so that he could lean in closer to her before he spoke again.
“Ah, but didn’t you say that you were interested in arrays? I’m sure we’d at least meet there, even if you’ll only be taking it for the theory aspect,” he said, his tone managing to be assuring and condescending at the same time.
“What makes you say that?” She asked coldly, no longer able to keep her feelings back all the way.
Garros looked over to his friends who just shrugged and shook their heads before turning back to her.
“Array classes are only about theory until you reach Tier 2,” he said, a smirk in his voice. “I’m certain that you’ll reach Tier 2 before graduating, but seeing as how you haven’t even reached Teir 1, I doubt you’ll get much from those classes.”
Mo Yu took a long and deep breath, resisting the urge to slap the kid into tomorrow.
“So, why don’t I take the time to give you personal lessons, eh?” He asked, making it sound as though he was some sort of saint condescending to teach a street urchin.
I guess that answers my question, she thought, remembering her earlier musings on human nature. It seemed as though men everywhere thought that they were entitled to claim any pretty face they saw.
“No need,” she said, smiling at the boy as she finally turned her head and opened her eyes to look at Garros. He was much too close for comfort, leaning over as he was. She didn’t fail to notice where his eyes were glued. “I’m sure that my young master will be able to tutor me sufficiently well.”
Which, honestly, was probably true if what Joram had told them was true.
As soon as she mentioned a young master, Garros’s face took on a cold look, his sneer becoming more pronounced.
“What? A mere servant dares to lead me on, then talk back to me?” He demanded, his voice growing louder at the end, drawing the attention of the surrounding students who began to murmur.
Mo Yu just about blasted him into a thousand pieces then, but reined in her temper when she recalled that she needed to keep a low profile and not cause a scene or any issues for Joram.
She wasn’t sure how powerful Garros’s family was, or how much trouble they might bring should she scatter his remains, so she chose to endure.
“I’m not sure how you interpret it where you come from, but from where I come from, when someone politely refuses you dozens of times, it in no way constitutes leading someone on.” She replied coldly as she stood up so that he wouldn’t be able to continue to leer down at her.
“What, a mundane servant wants to argue with a noble? A Mage, even?” He demanded, trying to stand as tall as he could, just managing to equal her height, which surprised her a bit because she had been considered tall back home. Then she remembered that the people of the Waeryn continent were, on average, taller than the people back home.
She almost ground her teeth when it registered that “mundane” referred to non-cultivators, what people called “mortals” back home. Usually referencing someone who had no talent for cultivation, a grave insult to be sure.
Instead of engaging further with the drunk, she turned to walk away, but came to a stop, startled, as she felt Garros grab her shoulder.
“Where do you think you’re going? We’re not done here,” he said, now outright hostile.
She sent a small prayer of forgiveness to Joram and her ancestors for not being able to keep her word as she prepared to relieve Garros of the burdens of life. She turned, her Qi gathering so that she could use it, but then stopped as she saw Joram striding up to them from behind Garros and his lackeys.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Mo Yu didn’t know what had caused Joram to appear early, nor did she know what had caused his anger to swell to the point where she could feel murderous intent radiating off him like waves of cold air being blown off a glacier, but seeing it stopped her cold.
Had he somehow felt her own murderous intent? Felt her own preparations to destroy Garros?
She began to sweat as she thought of Joram’s anger. At how she’d participated in the destruction of his home and family. Was he thinking of that time? Thinking of how she’d been there and how she was going to kill someone now?
“Oh? Seems like you have some self-awareness after all,” Garros said, sounding pleased beyond measure with his “success”. “Then you can come with me and make up for your failings,” he said, grabbing her left shoulder and giving her a tug.
Ancestors, I’ll be joining you shortly, she thought as she saw the fury now plastered on Joram’s face, as wave after wave of murderous intent blew off him in waves. She closed her eyes.
“Say, has it gotten colder?” Rodellin asked from behind Garros, getting murmurs of agreement from Salion and Isamar.
Mo Yu felt the air shift as the onlookers started to step back from the confrontation just as Joram walked past Garros’s shivering gang.
“Let’s go,” Garros said as she began to feel him tug at her shoulder, but stopped. “Who’re you?” He asked, his head turning to look at Joram who’s hand was now gripping his wrist.
“I believe the young woman said ‘no’,” he replied in a cheery tone that very much wasn’t cheery at all.
“Get lost, mundane. This doesn’t involve you,” Garros sneered, then jerked as he tried to pull her away.
“Ah, but if you insist on harassing my good servant any more, I’ll have to get impolite,” Joram replied in that same cheery-not-cheery tone.
Mo Yu took a breath and opened her eye a crack, daring to peek at Joram’s expression, then turned white.
She’s spoken with Bai Lian about her interactions with Joram, trying to get more information on the Aneath Clan’s strongest survivor. Bai Lian had mostly focussed on how nice and forgiving the young master was. She’d expounded on his broad-mindedness, of how she’d been taken by how farsighted his vision was.
It had taken a few more conversations for her to finally get Bai Lian to speak of how terrified she’d been of Joram at first. Of how he’d made her go through all the dead, finally picking out Mo Yu and Wentian- for which Mo Yu had profusely thanked her for.
It had been the conversation Bai Lian had had with Joram on a mountainside afterwards that had brought it home to Bai Lian. The conversation about vengeance and slaughter. Bai Lian had not only feared for her newly returned life, but the lives of her family members, her sect members, and their families as the realization came to her that Joram was capable of wiping out them all. At less than eight years old, he’d already reached the Earth Realm and the equivalent realm in Mental Strength. What, then, would he be able to do in another ten years? Twenty?
And that was before they’d suspected him of being a Reincarnator. How much faster then would he grow? What ancient secrets did he bring back with him into this life? He was now in the Heaven Realm, and probably just as strong in Mental Strength. Not to mention that he also cultivated a body tempering technique.
So, coming back to the moment, she saw Joram’s face and couldn’t help but quake.
“What, you’ll cry on me when I have you beaten?” Garros said, derision heavy in his tone.
“Ah, it seems that you misunderstand something,” Joram said, his jaw barely moving. “I’m giving you the opportunity to leave.”
Joram then lifted Garros’ hand off her shoulder and flicked it back to him, causing his own forearm to smack him in the face.
It was then that Garros’ friends snapped out of it and tried to loom and look threatening. For his part, Garros’ face turned red, now contorted by rage.
Clueing in a bit, Mo Yu stepped back and away from her reclining chair, not wanting to get in Joram’s way. Her body flooded with relief as she realized that he hadn’t been angry with her, but was instead angry for her.
“I warned you!” Garros yelled as he gathered his Qi into his hand before striking Joram in the face, just on the left side of his nose just under a pair of glasses he was wearing with his right fist, the sound of bone breaking clearly heard.
There were cries of astonishment, surprise, and fright as Garros lashed out, those close enough to the fight able to feel that Garros had used Qi to empower this strike.
For his part, Joram’s head didn’t move in the slightest.
Garros stared, an uncomprehending look in his face, for a moment before the shock wore off and he began howling in pain as he staggered back. His good friends took one look at Garros, then at Joram’s unblemished face, then took off like an antelope from a pack of lions.
Mo Yu couldn’t help but crack a small smile at the sight.
“Let’s go,” Joram said, holding out a hand for her to take.
She looked at his hand and realized that it would completely engulf her own if she took it, then lifted her head again to look him in the eye.
Then smiled and took his hand.
* * * * *
He was glad that nothing had happened to Mo Yu.
The sight of the legendary “womanizing silk-pants” had stunned him at first, as a living cliché tended to do to some.
He’d been worried at first that he might have to fight the kid, but then felt that the kid had only just stepped into the 2nd Tier. Which, really, shouldn’t have been unexpected. Most of the first-year students were coming here in their youth, to learn and grow. Sure, some had already stepped onto the path of true cultivation, like the idiot in front of him, and that gave them an edge over other students.
An edge that the kid seemed to be eager to exploit.
Once he’d heard the kid insulting Mo Yu, treating her like he was inherently superior and because of that she needed to obey him… well, he’d lost his temper a bit.
“Are you all right?” He asked Mo Yu as he led her by the hand back into the ship.
He was just glad the kid was weak-sauce.
“Thank you for your help,” she replied meekly, her head down.
He slowed his pace a bit, urging her forward so that she was walking beside him instead of behind. He looked at her face, the picture of meekness. He looked at her closer as he came to a stop, looking for any other clues to support what he was sensing from her.
Aside from her having difficulty meeting his eyes, she seemed OK, so he shrugged.
“You know,” he started, then cleared his throat. He’d always had a hard time keeping his voice level after a confrontation of any sort. “You don’t have to put up with that. If you run across someone like that in the future, well, just don’t kill ‘em. Or cripple ‘em…” he said, finishing off lamely.
Mo Yu looked up again, this time meeting his eyes and blushed slightly.
“I didn’t want to cause any problems for you,” she said quietly. “I heard them talking about how influential their noble families were,” she said, looking away again.
Joram sighed. What kind of crap clichéd encounter was that? He thought, shaking his head.
“I realize that this world is governed by the strong,” he said, scornful at the idea that might makes right. “But you’re plenty strong enough to defend yourself. Don’t worry about anything coming my way. You just take care of yourself.”
He finished, not quite able to keep looking her in the eye after saying that. Especially when more colour spread across her cheeks.
“Let’s go find something to do,” he said as he turned back to the hallway, then realized that he was still holding her hand as he started walking.
* * * * *
Avi was chowing down excitedly as she watched the action go down through Joram’s AR glasses, watching on her own pair. She wasn’t sure why he’d kept them linked to the omni-tool network, but she was glad that he had. She’d been notified then his glasses had connected, and had idly took a look at what was going on.
It had been boring at first, as all he’d really done was nerd out over some, albeit nice, artwork. She’d sent his video feed to the upper corner of her own glasses so that she could continue her own reading.
After seeing the magitech that the Academy used, she’d rushed back and had thrown together her own tablet, copying the aesthetic design, but using technology instead of layered enchantments. It was actually pretty easy, as all she really needed to do was stick an omni-tool into the base of the metal backing that held the diamond plate in place and calibrate the holographic emitter to only display over the diamond.
The end result gave her a rather robust “tablet” that looked almost exactly like the ones she’d seen.
Anyway, the point was that she was reading at a small table, enjoying the fresh air when the shit hit the fan.
As quick as she could, she’d brought up Joram’s feed and watched the show while bringing snacks out of her storage ring.
She was leaning back, a smile on her face after witnessing the “fight”, taking a sip of tea when the second incident nearly had her spraying her tea over the table and out her nose.
The one-two combo of Joram’s declaration that he’d take care of any fallout for Mo Yu and him realizing that he was still holding her hand had been too much for her.
“Are you all right, miss?” Someone asked in concern.
“I’m good, just went down the wrong way,” she said, waving it away. The person nodded, an understanding look on their face.
I’m an AI who built their own body, and even I get it! How can he be so dense!?
* * * * *
She sat in her small cell, staring at the young kids all around.
She was alone in hers, a measure of “luxury” they’d given her. She would have preferred to be with he children, able to comfort and hold them instead of watching their mostly vacant looks.
Tillia reached out a hand and stopped her cup from falling over as another wave rocked the ship they were in.
They’d been at sea for months now, giving her plenty of time to know when to catch her cup before it could fall and break. They weren’t happy if they had to give her a new one.
She looked down at her hands, still bound by those shackles she’d woken up with last year. It made some things difficult, other impossible to do. Her only hope when she looked down at her hands was the silvery glint of light reflecting off the ring Joram had given her before….
Tillia raised her head, trying to see anything out of the small round window across the hall from her between two cages. She supposed that their captors didn’t want to risk anyone escaping, however slim that possibility might be.
With her magical cultivation sealed by the black shackles, it made meditation to pass time incredibly boring. When cultivating in the past, she would often be shocked at how much time had passed when she came out of her meditations. Now, about the only thing she could do with her mana was cycle it in her Core. Which, honestly, got boring very quickly.
Which had pushed her to instead explore other ways to keep herself occupied. She couldn’t sing any more, as one of the higher-ups amongst her captors had gotten sick of it and had subsequently sealed her voice. That person, Fu Jian, had been put on her “to-kill” list. After the other children had been beaten for crying because Tillia couldn’t sing to them to calm their hearts, Fu Jian had been put at the top of her kill list.
So, she’d done the only thing she could think of and began to meditate, focussing on that small spark of Mental Strength that she had. She remembered conversations with Joram about Mental Strength, Psionics, and how he’d explained things to her. Like building your inner world to contain your Knowledge Sea.
Which, really, was more visualizing your latent Mental Strength in such a way that you could first fortify yourself, then strengthen yourself, then grow.
He’d claimed that the traditional way of first expanding, then filling in that space was a bit backwards, as that led to strength without the ability to wield it properly. Or, how had he put it? “Inefficient to the point of being unable to move a spoon without using a tornado.”
Her mental avatar smiled at the memory, glad for something to smile about.
Tillia focussed again, using part of her will to rotate her Mental Strength, while the other part of her mind focussed on trying to compress that power as best she could. What Joram had described wasn’t that helpful, as he hadn’t actually been teaching her how to cultivate her Mental Strength, just using her as a sounding board.
But some things had stuck, others had even become the foundation on which she now built her power.
If Joram couldn’t find her, or had the power to save her, then she’d do it herself. She didn’t know how long it would take, especially given how insanely difficult her progress was. But she’d do it. She would not only escape, but she would save the other children and bring them home.
She loved Joram dearly and respected his ability like no other, but she didn’t know if he had even survived the attack on the Clan. She feared that she was the only adult left.
So, she would do it.
She would grow until she could tear down those sects responsible for this hell down to the bedrock, leaving no foundation from which they could ever rebuild.
So it was that Tillia smiled without knowing as she dug through her memories to the sensation she’d had whenever a vision had appeared in her eyes. Not the part where she looked at a person, but at the underlying… feeling. That strange, almost unknowable something that came with it, that tantalized her with what she intuitively knew it could give.
And as she focussed on that, she kept churning her Mental Strength, compressing it again and again. Refining it, purifying it, tempering it.
She would do what needed to be done.