An army of trees—that was a lie. Dear brother, had Arawn realized that those Treants were nothing but an illusion, he’d have killed you. You better hope he never escapes the underworld, or I doubt I’ll be able to save you again. Damned fool! Why provoke that madman over a dog?
~Gwyddion, God of Illusions
Druid of the Gods
The room was in chaos. Shelves, tables, podiums, nooks—had vestiges scattered across all surfaces. It appeared to lack any kind of order at first glance. Randomly picking up the closest one, Crow activated it and saw that the technique covered a person from head to toe in stone-like bark. When the recording showed how the ability worked, Crow felt like he’d entered the soul of another person, and it was as if he’d activated the ability.
“Woah, that was amazing…” Crow breathed out and picked up another and another.
Every time he experienced a new technique, it was like a bolt of lightning surged through his brain, and euphoria followed. After Crow went through a dozen in quick succession, his head spun a little. A dangerous part of his mind wanted to try activating several at once, but he quelled that thought.
Shatter Finger, Royal Slap, Belt Blade, Web—these things he experienced and could almost sense his hands moving to activate each. Not even the Source energy flowing through his body escaped him—it opened a part of his bloodline, but he couldn’t explain more than that. The epiphany that followed allowed him to see how the Source existed within him.
Several roots on his Heritage expanded, growing downward at a fast pace. Crow, buried in his thoughts, didn’t feel the searing pain as those roots went below his waistline.
In that first half-hour, he went through anything he touched, expanding on the enlightenment and trying to understand his own thoughts on techniques. Based on what he knew, Crow felt he could use what he’d gained to create his own techniques, but Gavin had once told him that doing so was unfathomably hard. Despite that, Crow felt like the knowledge was there, but he lacked insight into his own strengths. He realized what he lacked was the answer to the age-old question—what did he want to be when he grew up?
Time was dwindling, but he thought of something. Examining the room from top to bottom, he went through every section until he’d memorized everything. Once done, he sat down on the floor and scanned his memory, filtering out things that had no appeal until the room had several areas highlighted in his mental space. If Gavin saw what Crow was doing, he’d lose his mind—this caused a smile to spread across his face.
First, he reviewed Shock Strike, which harnessed lightning in each strike. It didn’t matter if it was the fist, foot, knee, or elbow; it should shock the flesh and force muscle contraction. Crow liked this kind of technique best because it was highly versatile—it was all but worthless on a Hunt. Beasts had thick skin and fur, so while it was at the top of his list, he had to discard it.
The Hunt was dangerous, and dozens of clansmen never returned. He needed something that would aid in his survival, and because of that, he reviewed the choices he’d made, quickly eliminated a dozen or more.
“Should I forsake all elemental abilities?” He muttered to himself, trying to think through the best choice for now. This was a topic Gavin drilled him on endlessly. Mana was impure Origin energy, designed to curb the overwhelming power of Origin. The more one had an affinity for an element, the easier it was to use specific techniques and spells, but it also meant they had a greater purifying ability for that type of mana. This purifying process was the principal reason a cultivator should not rush climbing the tower—rushing destroyed potential and foundations.
All things had mana within them—including rocks and air. It was the essence of a thing that tainted the mana—a stone’s essence turned its latent energy into Stone Mana. Cultivators were no different. It was their physiques that affected the energy inside them. A physique on its own was nothing special, but it influenced elemental affinities. Physiques also lacked permanence, meaning they evolved with the cultivator. While fighting Munro, Crow had sensed a strong wood affinity in him, which meant that he’d probably achieve a high perfection with that Bark Skin technique.
The issue was that Crow had no idea what his affinity was, and while he felt a strong connection to the oak, it didn’t mean his elemental affinity was Wood. Hindsight was great, but it was wasting time. He decisively removed all elemental techniques. Leaving him with only a handful of choices.
Sadly, Crow was fully aware that rushing this choice was not good either. Had his Source followed a normal course, his clan would have tested him and assess how best to focus his training. It was information he regretfully lacked right now.
Rulaney clan was a unique existence among the Druids because they focused on spirit energy, which was almost as close to pure Origin as they could get. Wind was the closest element to spirit, and so their clan mainly focused on wind-based techniques and cultivation methods.
They were also the reason for Crow’s current predicament. Mica Rulaney, the White Lady who attacked him, infused him with a massive amount of spirit energy—energy that lacked elemental affinity. He was sure there was probably Wood Mana in there, too, because he absorbed a lot of energy from inside a forest when he awakened. Truthfully, even within his Source and the Heritage, he didn’t sense any affinity towards wood either. It left him in a conundrum.
It didn’t matter. The wood-based techniques did not use pure wood mana, but some combination of derivative elements. Vine Whip was close, but it used plant mana—energy tainted with three base elements. Wood was one of them, but this ability was most likely mortal grade because it used the lowest form of mana.
Mana also had grades, and the five base elements were mid-grade. Mixing these into other mana, like plant mana, tainted it further, making it low-grade. High-grade mana included were natural and powerful elements, but it wasn’t always easy to classify them. The best way was to determine its Origin purity. The known high-grade mana types were lightning, wind, ice, light, and dark. Crow knew there were others, but these were the ones most known.
Origin was the purest form of energy, so maybe a fourth grade existed.
“This won’t do…” Crow sighed.
*Take a movement ability, dummy.*
“Huh? Who said that?”
*Your teacher calls me The Librarian. Based on your thoughts and pressing needs, take a movement technique. The best one in that room is Stepping Across Tombstones—it doesn’t require Source energy to train. I’d recommend learning it without your Source first.*
“This…” Crow saw the technique in his mental map, and it was one of the few remaining on his list.
Curious, Crow picked it up and experienced the expert. He traveled across a graveyard, stepping lightly on tombstones as he was a phantom himself. Each step was quiet; Crow could not hear even a whisper of movement. Each step covered distances mortals couldn’t. Even the decaying wooden crosses didn’t crumble underfoot, which meant the master had mastered it to a point he probably stepping on air.
*Not air—spirit. You can’t do that part without using your Source, but the rest you can. Senior Ghost Frog designed this technique before he could humanize. Hopped around like the little frog he was.*
“Ghost Frog? Never heard of him. But I thank you for your guidance. You are right, this is something I should choose. Compared to the footwork uncle was teaching me, this is like several grades higher.”
*It truly is. That is a low sky grade technique, but the conditions for mastering the various parts require you to train in graveyards with large amounts of ghost mana—or yin energy, if that is your preference.*
“Is that cold energy?”
*In terms of mana, it’s two steps beyond Ice Mana, but it’s also combined with Spirit Mana. Ghost mana is purer than either of the two combined, but even more deadly. Senior Ghost Frog had a natural affinity for Ice. You do not. Just don’t rush into an ancient graveyard to practice, and you’ll be fine. The older a graveyard, cemetery, or tomb is, the more vicious the ghost energy.*
Unconsciously, he gripped the vestige in his hands, feeling it pressing against the scars on his palm. Crow wanted power, but he understood that power without foundation crumbled under pressure. Movement and footwork was one of those foundations. Despite his initial reaction, he still went through the rest of his list.
Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
“Thank you for your guidance, senior. You said two steps beyond Ice Mana—what’s between ice and ghost?”
*Frigid. Ice Mana is powerful, but if you are ever struck with a spell using Frigid Mana, the mana will invade your body. It is so cold that it feeds off heat, spreading through its target like poison. They literally call it Ice Poisoning.*
“That is scary. How do you fight that?”
*If you are of equivalent power, you can use your Source to force the mana out, but the poison will take some time to remove. That isn’t even as scary as Ghost Mana—it can freeze the soul. However, you probably shouldn’t know this information yet, and I doubt you’d find anyone who can master it in this realm.*
The more Crow learned, the less he wanted to know. He really had been a frog in a well.
“Does senior have any advice on which spells I should look at?” Crow asked as he stepped out of the techniques room with his movement ability in hand. The moment he crossed the threshold, a barrier came up, and Crow could feel a repelling force from it.
Immediately he stepped into the spells room and waited for the Librarian to answer.
*Do you have a fate?* The Librarian finally asked in response. Crow remained silent, not sure if he should answer. *I mean no harm. Instead, I want to make a deal with you, and I can guarantee you will not suffer for it.*
“I’m sure you’ve already guessed by my hesitation, but it’s a matter of trust. I don’t know who you are, not really. Gavin said you can’t speak or at least made it seem like—”
*He’d be right. To him, I cannot talk, not like this. I’m a remnant will of a Druid from a long time ago. The Librarian is really a Clockwork man, but I’m in here with him. Through totems, it links him to you—all of you. The stronger the Heritage, the stronger the connection—therefore, we can speak.*
“Your name?”
*Arawn.*
“Like the God of the Dead, the Underworld King—that Arawn?”
*Oh, good. I don’t need to explain who I am. Ever felt betrayal?*
“Maybe. I’ve felt helpless. Unable to fight. Unable to-to-to… kill.” Crow suddenly admitted. It wasn’t something that he’d intended to say, nor did he realize he felt that way. He wanted to kill, wanted to end the lives of those that crossed him.
*You really are an impressive kid—such conviction at your age. Betrayed or not, you know what I feel. Sealed away in the underworld, I can only watch as the one that betrayed me continues to root out all my anchors to this realm and the ones above it. I want my vengeance and freedom. But it is not a story you are ready to hear, and even as an unfated, speaking of it will cause ripples that others will feel. You may not know it, but I’ve waited tens of thousands of years—waited for someone like you.*
“Are you an ally of Druids? I won’t betray them.”
*My disciple helped found the Druid Order, him and his son—Llyr and Manannan. My turn for another question. Do you ally yourself with Amaethon?*
Crow had focused some of his recent studies on the gods and knew who Amaethon was. He was the brother of Gywddion, who was the God of Illusion. He even had the title Druid of the Gods, implying his thirst for knowledge was on the same level as the Druid Order itself. Amaetheon also had a sister, Arianrhod, who was the Goddess of Rebirth and Fate. He had a suspicion she was at the center of this.
Llyr and Manannan were both part of the Tuatha De Danann and gods of the underworld. Manannan had made a name for himself when he separated humans and faeries into separate realms, but Crow hadn’t known that Llyr was his father. Both also had statues in the Plaza of the Gods, but they knew almost nothing about Llyr. Only now did Crow realize that even the gods weren’t above scheming.
*How about it, will you help me?*
“I am weak. You sure you want to pin it all on me?”
*I’m willing.*
“I am not aligned with Amaethon, but I’m sure you know he is a god worshipped by Druids. I need more if I’m getting involved in this conflict.”
*It is difficult to say without causing you trouble. Would you believe a woman was at the heart of all this conflict?*
“I assume you mean Arianrhod?”
*She is a rare beauty, but no. Amaethon stole one of my hellhounds, the red-eyed and white-eared bitch that birthed all my hounds. He also took a roebuck, but it was a simple beast, and I cared little for it. During my pursuit, I summoned more of my creatures to kill him, but as I was hunting him, his brother showed up, bringing an army of Treants to stop me. Defeated, he sealed me in the lowest level of the underworld.*
“And the dog?”
*Gwyddion and I have no enmity, and their sister begged for mercy, as it was Amaethon who was in the wrong. So I live still, but I long knew a conflict was imminent, so I put a sliver of my will in this place.*
Crow found the story outlandish, but only because it didn’t sound like the type of conflict gods would have. He’d seen some references to Cad Goddeu or Battle of the Trees, which Arawn talked about in that brief explanation. The idea of getting involved in this story intrigued Crow, but the consequences…
“I’m willing to help, but you know that any aid I can render will be a long time coming.”
*Boy, does it look like I’m going anywhere? At worst, I waste time in my boredom—if you haven’t noticed, I have a lot of that. In another thousand years, your clan may forget about this place too. At which point, I really might end up on the losing end of all this.*
“Since we are both agreed. What is the deal you are offering? Be clear, because if I feel you are misleading me, I’ll end this arrangement, and I trust my instinct very much.”
*How old are you? Already so damned cautious.* Arawn laughed. *It is simple, I will help you get stronger through the Librarian, but you must never speak of my existence. I’ll know if you do through the totems, so no vow or anything is necessary.*
“So a gentleman’s agreement?” Crow’s brow furrowed. He hadn’t expected that.
Arawn chuckled in Crow’s mind, and it was like he could feel the god shaking his head in exasperation. *What happened to you to mistrust? It’s fine—better than fine. It means the chances of you succeeding go up tremendously. Just keep faith with me, and I won’t mistreat you. Should you free me, I’ll even accept you as a disciple. Now for the first part of my promise, give me a moment while I use the Librarian to swap out a spell for you.*
Crow saw it happen. On the table right in front of him, another vestige dropped onto it out of thin air. Cautiously, he approached and tapped it, feeling the heat rising off of it. After nothing happened, he picked it up and sent his Source into it.
Power transferred from the vestige to his mind, and his eyes went silver before emitting a faint ethereal light. Knowledge poured into his mind with the force of a waterfall, causing a splitting pain down the center of his brain, trying to forcibly rip the two halves apart. A scream tore from his mouth as his body collapsed, folding downward until his hands and knees slapped against the ground. By the time he came to, drool was pooling on the floor in front of him.
*Sorry, it was better that I didn’t warn you. It keeps you from resisting. Hurry and leave the room. There are only a few seconds before the barrier drops.*
Crow didn’t hesitate and stumbled out of the room. “What?”
*Don’t respond to me, your teacher is nearby. You need to listen. That spell, you won’t be able to use it fully yet. It is a high sky grade spell, and it focuses on… concealing. It, too, is a spirit-based ability and has too many branchings to explain. Take your time and digest it all. As an archer, it might end up as your signature move. I’ve spent a lot of energy getting that to you, so I must slumber for a bit. Your first task… during the hunt, look for Moonstones. I need at least a dozen.*
Not sure what to do, Crow just nodded slightly, still trying to clear the fog from his mind.
*Good, one last thing before I go. There is a feature of The Librarian that your elders aren’t aware of. It accepts books, techniques, spells, and stuff like that. You can exchange them for merit points, which allow you to purchase things, such as selecting new spells or techniques. Good luck, kid. You may not believe me, but I hope you succeed because I’d sincerely like to have you as my disciple. I like your temperament.*
Crow panted a few more times before he felt the dizziness in his head fade. He knew that what he’d just felt had affected both mind and soul.
Mortals felt that the Source and Soul were the same, and the two were so intertwined that it wouldn’t be wrong. But to a cultivator, that difference was massive. Damaging one’s Source wasn’t nearly as catastrophic as damaging the Soul. A few pills, a healing ability, or even just cultivating was enough to repair the Source, provided it wasn’t crippled.
A Soul lacked those solutions, and only time could repair it. Assuming his vitality wasn’t ruined in the process, which would greatly decrease the time he had to repair it.
Spells and Techniques formed within the Mind, Body, or Soul. This was the second thing a cultivator had to know. That distinction was important because Mind, Body, and Soul were linked as tightly as the Source and Soul. Everything pivoted around the Soul, and this more than the Source, acted as a limiter to power.
Overdrawing the Source using Mind or Body abilities also hurt and potentially damaged the Soul. Overdrawing was something that was only used in dire circumstances, or by doing something stupid like activating a vestige above his ability.
Soul abilities were very rare, and most Druid spells and techniques used the Mind more than anything else. Even more rare than Soul abilities were Soul-type treasures, those things could start wars.
“Have you chosen already?” Gavin said after seeing Crow walk into the lobby absentmindedly.
“I think so—hey, I saw something in there. Did grandpa really create that Royal Slap ability?” Crow asked, his curiosity stronger than his patience.
Gavin burst out laughing. “Niall and your father clashed a lot because they are similar. Your grandpa’s temper has just mellowed some in recent years, but if anyone believes he has become weak or become less than he was, they won’t like the ending.”
“You avoided the question,” Crow said with a frown, and Gavin laughed again.
“I’ll just say this… weapon or fist, your grandpa is a monster to fight against. If he approaches you with an empty hand and uncurled fingers, he’s the gods’ damned devil.” Gavin said and absently rubbed his cheek. Crow gave him a strange look, and Gavin instantly put his hand down. Both of them stared at each other for a few minutes before Crow slowly nodded.
“P-please tell me that’s not the skill you chose…?”
Crow involuntarily laughed but shook his head no, and the old man sighed in relief. “Finally, a sensible descendant. What did you choose?”
“This one,” he said, and tossed over the vestige.
Gavin glanced at it and blanched. “I misspoke. Why is that ability still here?”