Ren awoke suddenly, his hand pulling and slashing his golden knife before him, as he jumped out of bed. He glanced left and right surveying the room as his fight instincts slowly calmed down. He was alone in a strange room, with bandages wrapped tightly across his chest. He touched the soaked bandages, bringing his fingers to his nose and sniffed a potent medicinal smell.

Good. Besides, if it had been Cynetox Inferno, his torso and core would have been long dissolved by now. Wiping the sticky ointment on the bed sheet, he glanced across the room. Nothing looked the least bit familiar.

“Where am I?”

His memory remained foggy, but after a few seconds, he remembered arriving at the village of Greendale. And then waking up to an attack from assassins. The latter memory made his already tense muscles bunch up some more, his mind whirling while his already strained senses searched for any signs of battle. All he picked up was a mix of muffled conversations, snores and quiet moans from the surrounding rooms.

The battle seemed to be over, but Ren could not remember how he got back to this infirmary. Or was it another guest room? He had no way to tell. In fact, the last memory he had was of standing in his residence’s lobby, full of giddy excitement at the prospect of joining the battle outside. And then …blank. His brows furrowed into a deep frown at the abruptness of the memory. It felt incomplete.

But that made no sense. Quickly scanning his database logs, he was dumbfounded to see that nothing had been recorded past that point. The uniformity of the blackout even among vital logs designed to function through critical failures, alluded to his current situation being very unusual. More than that, it was supposed to be impossible!

In a panic, he dove into the redundant databases he used for disaster recovery. Surely, they would contain something that could explain what had happened. Much to his horror, he discovered that not only were the databases devoid of memories from the night's events, but all the backup data they had once contained had been utterly erased.

Wasting no time, he immediately initiated a full system backup of his memory and software. That was way too close to oblivion’s edge than he was comfortable with! Without sufficient backups, critical damages he received could prove fatal without a baseline to work off of. There was also the increased risk of a personality wipe and Ren was not ready to cede control of his body anytime soon.

Grabbing the chair by the desk, he wedged it underneath the door’s handle as an added security measure while he plotted his next move. Placed carefully on the ground beside the bed was his badly damaged shortsword. It was caked in blood but Ren mentally thanked whoever brought him to the room for retrieving the weapon with him. It wasn’t the best crafted blade he’d ever had, but from the nicks, chips and blood on its surface, it had served him well.

“I guess you’ll be needing a bath and some oiling,” he tutted, examining the blade. “Maybe some sharpening too.”

The faster the better. It had already stayed way too long coated in blood and the sooner he cleaned it, the less chance of oxidation and rust he’d have to deal with. But that would have to wait since the only person he knew with the proper tools was Kala. That helped him decide his next move; he’d have to make his way back to their shared building right away. He needed a shower and change of clothes as well. Plus, he felt too exposed in this room as it was.

Walking up to the door, he listened carefully for any signs of foul play. Only after determining no ambush was waiting to be sprung on him did he extricate the chair from the door knob, and carefully step outside.

“Rotting vines, you shouldn’t be on your feet!”

Ren looked up to see a frowning woman holding a basket of linens, walking towards him. He looked around, confused. “Yes, you. Don’t act invisible now,” she rolled her eyes and cursed under her breath. “Health is truly wasted on the youth,” she sighed deeply as she balanced the basket on her wide hips.

“Hours ago, I thought you were dead with how unresponsive you were. Now you wake up and the first thing you do is grab your sword. To do what exactly? Get yourself skewered again?” she snorted. “The attack is over, and I will not have you undo all my stitches. You hear me!” she poked her hand into his chest.

“Apologies,” he tilted his head in greeting at the feisty healer. “I just needed to relieve myself.”

“Oh.” she calmed down rather quickly, before harumping. “Well, don’t just stand there. Can’t have you soiling yourself in the hallways. The privy chamber is behind me at the end of the hall.”

Nodding in thanks, Ren moved past her in the direction she’d indicated. He watched over his shoulder as she entered a room to attend to the patient within, and he took the chance to backtrack towards the infirmaries exit.

Once outside, it took him a moment to get his bearings. He was glad to see that he was still in the Temple district, just a few streets away from his building. The mental map he had been updating throughout his time here played a major role in leading him back to his room’s building in no time.

The streets were a mess. Burnt husks of buildings smoldered, filling the air with acrid smoke and jagged pieces of glass and metal littered the streets. Here and there, patches of upturned soil soaked in suspicious liquids gave off wafts of congealed blood.

His eyes followed the tell-tale signs of brutal battle and he twinged in envy at missing the glorious spectacle it must have been. Although the air smelt like death, there were no bodies lying around. The presence of the men and women he’d passed, still working at this ungodly hour with an undertaker's grim persistence, explained the lack of corpses.

He made it back to his building without much hassle, apart from having to make a few detours around mounds of collapsed debris. Climbing up to the building’s third floor, he was awash with the sombreness permeating its walls. Although he had been here for just a couple of nights, he knew there were always a few people awake throughout the night. Cultivating, laughing or just chatting with friends, to his sensitive ears it was never truly as quiet as it was at the moment.

Pausing to inspect his room door, he was pleased to see that the paralytic agent on the knob hadn’t been disturbed. Taking out a brush, he carefully swept the powder off the knob and into a collecting case. Next, he yanked the door open and darted in, catching the falling pin between his thumb and forefinger. Even better. Some skilled professionals might have found a way to bypass the toxin on the knob, but the exact placement of the pin would have been difficult to replicate.

Shutting the door behind him, and jamming it closed with his room’s chair, he collapsed on his bed placing the sword within easy reach. Now that he was in the safety of his own room, he utilized a small portion of his mind to examine his body for hidden issues. The first thing he noticed was the damage to his heart and lungs. Someone must have stabbed him thinking it was fatal.

Ren was more worried about the lingering wisps of foreign essence in his body. Pulling out his knife, he placed its blade on his chest, ready to make an incision to let the Essence leak out in a botched attempt at bloodletting, but a better idea popped into his mind.

Why not try to collect this sample for future examination? Maybe even see how the radiated Qi interacted with this energy in controlled combinations.

Resheating his blade, he moved the energy towards his core, planning to trap it but he received another surprise instead. Within his core, flashes of lightning bubbled within the energy mixture of Qi and nuclear radiation.

‘Huh. How did that get in there?’ If this was the equivalent to a human’s hangover, Ren absolutely hated it.

The presence of lightning in the surprisingly stable energy mix could only mean that he had introduced the lightning essence during the hours missing from his memory. From what he could see, the Qi mixture was overwhelming the lightning essence, eventually absorbing it but retaining some of its properties. Not having much use for caution anymore, he let the last remnants of lightning in his body join the energy mix in his core.

That was when another unexplained oddity of the night came to his attention. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

Ren was done with surprises from the night but they just kept piling up. One of his core’s compartments was sealed with an encrypted message using one of his unique keys. The key was pages long and only he was aware of its contents. Without it, no one else would be able to decode the message and extract the protected message within.

Providing the key to the encryption, he was able to examine the message that had been marked extremely critical. It informed him in no uncertain terms that he was not to tamper with the sealed compartment, no matter what. He frowned in confusion at the message. Receiving such a dire message from a version of himself that he could not remember, and without proper context, was honestly irritating.

His patience was already worn thin and he contemplated the pros and cons of disregarding the warning. Being ignorant of the night's events gnawed at him, but logic eventually pushed him to trusting his self-message. As a compromise, he allocated a percentage of his mind with the task of monitoring his core for unexpected changes.

“I just hate not knowing,” he chewed his lips, trying to curtail his growing curiosity.

To distract himself, Ren decided to go through the bags of repossessed items he’d earned during the early portions of last night’s battle. He went through the coins first, separating them by value and placing them neatly on the bed. In total, he had grown 31 gold, 56 silver and 300 bronze richer. Or 31 gold and 59 silver. Ren smiled in satisfaction at the haul he got for a few minutes of action. He split the money into two, placing them into individual bags before moving on to inspect the other items he’d collected. All in all, there were 8 Bracers and 5 rings of varying quality.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

All eight of the bracers had the same design as the one used by the assassin archer he’d fought against, so Ren deduced that they were all capable of doing the same. Picking the least dented of the bunch, he strapped it on his wrist and tried to activate it. Like his previous attempts, nothing happened.

“Activate!”

“Shield!”

“Essence Shield!”.

None of his verbal or mental commands elicited the slightest response from the damned bracers. Ren frowned, wondering what he was doing wrong. Did it work on intent? Or maybe he needed to use essence? That would be troublesome. He glanced at the trapped energy mix in his core before shaking his head. The energy mixture was highly experimental at this point, containing Qi, Essence and nuclear radiation. There was no telling what kind of damage he would incur if he tried moving it through his body.

Ren shifted his attention to the rings. The first one was a plain black band with no engravings. He tried commanding it to work or using his will but it just sat idly on his fingers. He moved on to the next two rings which were both silver and inlaid with red crystals. Getting the same result, he checked the last two rings, one of which was a plain gold band and the last one was gold as well, but had engravings and a large diamond affixed to it. None of them created any magical effect making Ren groan in disappointment.

“I guess I’ll need a second opinion after all,” he mumbled. “Might even have to sell them all. There must be a black market around here somewhere.”

He placed the rings and bracers inside a sac he had procured from a dead acolyte next door, and shoved it deep underneath his mattress. Looking out of the small room window, he organized his thoughts. The morose violet sky was speckled with orange hues, as the first rays of the morning sun struggled to break through.

Nearby a flock of birds tweeted cheerfully in their daily devotion to the new day. Ren enjoyed the sound of their music until the sonorous gong of Temple bells chased their song away. The bell tolled rhythmically six times, confirming the time to the weary citizens of the ravaged district. Despite the rough night, dawn had come.

Ren remained by the window, letting the scent of the morning air wash over him. Minutes later, a cheerful ping notified him that his full system backup was complete and he sighed with relief. What a strange day. He wondered how much longer would be the polite length to wait before disturbing Kala from her sleep. Not long later, a knock on his door interrupted his thoughts

“Honored Ren, are you awake?”

Ren silently grabbed his sword and checked his daggers before responding.

“Algor?” he asked, moving to one side of the room before quickly jumping to the other side on padded feet. No way was he falling for that trick. Ren had killed too many people behind barricades by triangulating their positions from their response.

“Honored Ren! You are awake! Kringle’s benevolence reaches all. Can I come in?”

“How much coins am I paying you for rent?” he asked, still suspicious of whomever was on the other side of his door.

“Huh?” The voice asked in surprise.

“How much?”

The voice hesitated for a few seconds before replying in a low tone, barely above a whisper.

“Honored Ren, you are donating 90 bronze to this old man in exchange for guidance within the Temple and a humble place to lay your head”

Ren snorted, finally relaxing before removing the chair barring the door, and swinging it open. Algor looked genuinely relieved to see him on his feet. He eyed the bandages on his chest as Ren stepped out of the way letting him into the room.

“I should get a refund if last night’s fight is a regular thing around these parts,” he teased, gesturing for Algor to take a seat on the desk chair.

“Absolutely not! Honored Ren,” Algor began, before running his hands through the scruff on his chin. “I mean, that scale of attack is not unheard of in the village, but it is usually sanctioned by the Village Lord publicly, and is restricted to the estates of the warring Families. But an unprovoked attack on Temple grounds? Never has that happened in my lifetime.”

He slammed a closed fist on Ren’s desk, in righteous fury. Ren had never seen him so upset and Algor took deep breaths, calming himself before speaking up again.

“Investigations are still being conducted, but I heard it was an assassination attempt on the Grand High Priest!”

“Really? It looked like a battle from where I was sitting.”

“Well, of course Honored Ren. Whoever planned this made sure to keep the majority of the Temple’s fighting force occupied. They sent their low level assassins to distract and cause mayhem, while their elite assassins attacked the Grand High Priest. I hear Village Lord Bethshe has assigned her First Consort to flush out the perpetrators. By Kringle’s will, justice will prevail!”

“Consort? Is that a political title in the Village?” Ren lifted an eyebrow in question.

“First Consort, honored Ren. Historically, all Village Lords of Greendale, have always had a Consort who was a fighter responsible for managing the Lord’s personal guards. The current Village Lord has 2 husbands and the first one is a formidable warrior,” Algor’s voice was filled with deep respect. “It is said that the First Consort is the strongest Qi cultivator in the Village, barring the Village Lord herself.

“Stronger even than the Grand High Priest?” Ren asked, curious as to the strength needed to lead the temple.

“Ah, it is public knowledge that Grand High Priest Harald is in the 8th Tier of Qi cultivation. However, his fighting style is … unique, so he is not usually considered among the strongest Qi Cultivators in the village.” Algor’s eyes shifted uncomfortably as he spoke, looking over his shoulder towards the closed room door.

“Oh?” Ren leaned forward, his curiosity fully piqued. “How so?”

Algor hesitated for a bit, before shrugging to himself and continuing with the conversation. “Honored Ren, under normal circumstances, I would not divulge this information to an outsider. No offense you see, you are like my very own brother…”

“None taken.”

Algor inclined his head in acceptance. “But, after his fight yesterday, word of his Holiness’ prowess is sure to spread throughout the whole of Greendale. You see, the Grand High Priest has always been a bit eccentric. He created a skill theory called [Foreshadowed Karma] while still an Acolyte. Back then, he claimed it could help intuit where his opponent would strike, but no one believed him because he was a lousy fighter. Then he received a Greater Blessing from Kringle and everything changed,” Algor continued, pulling a flask from his robes and drinking heavily.

“Last night, a group of 10 Qi Masters cornered him on his way to the Temple, and attacked. Honored Ren, you should have seen it,” said Algor, with a wistful look in his eyes. “I had just finished my Temple duties and was rushing back to meet a friend at our favorite tavern when the shockwave from the fight threw me against a building. The aura from the assassins was so heavy, I could barely breathe. Though I stood several thousand steps away, I felt death's caress against my neck from the second hand effects of their techniques. But that was nothing compared to what these old eyes witnessed after straining to lift my head. I have never felt more worthless, than in those few moments.

The Grand High Priest made a mockery of their attacks. His movements were so smooth and controlled, that arrows meant for his heart, bounced on the lapel of his robes and entrenched themselves in the eyes of another assassin. A fireball meant to roast him missed by a hair's breadth and struck a nearby Kefo instead, the animal taking the arm of another assassin in its rage. I even saw him stumble mid fight, his belt knife comically twisting away of its sheath, and slicing the neck of a crouched assassin performing a summoning. Only the Venerable Kringle knows the exact heights the Grand High Priest’s skill has reached, but from the ease with which he dealt with an ambush of elite assassins, it must be close to peak mastery.”

Ren was fascinated by this Harald fellow. It sounded like he had somehow quantified a predictive model of probabilities, enough to simulate true foresight. However, even the best probability models were never a hundred percent accurate, so Ren was curious about how close Harald’s skill had come to doing just that.

The room fell into silence as Ren thought through the real world applications for such a skill in his old world. How much easier would it have made his assignments if he had that under his toolbelt? The only sounds in the room came from the swishing liquid inside Algor’s flask. Looking at the pensive old man, Ren was reminded of a question he hoped to get answers for.

“So how did you find me in all the chaos of last night? Thanks for that by the way,” Ren said with a small bow.

“Amitabha honored Ren, but I can not take the credit for that. I understand some Acolytes gathering the dead and injured, found you barely alive and brought you to the healers pavillion. It was mere luck that I stumbled across your room while looking for some old friends. This morning, when I stopped by the pavilion once again but you weren't there, I rushed here hoping you had been released and not … perished. How do you feel?”

“I feel good, all things considered,” Ren replied, absently rubbing his bandaged chest. “Algor, I need to get stronger. I don’t want to be that helpless again.”

“Good, Honored Ren. That is the way of the warrior! That brings me to why I came to see you today.” Algor pulled a drooping satchel from his waist, staring at it longingly, as he handed it over to Ren. “That was delivered this morning by a runner from Diviner Estrid’s retinue. It contains the promised 20 gold and cultivation token. If you really want to get stronger, you will need to re-establish your cultivation.”

Ren pulled the bag open, running his fingers through the shimmering gold coins within. He pulled a round silver token with a black lanyard out of the bag and examined it. The token had a depiction of the blind Deva he saw outside of Diviner Estrid’s building, and it weighed more than it should have. Ren realized the token was charged with essence based on the slight energy emanating from it, and his eyes shone in anticipation of finally beginning his growth to power. His enthusiasm was doused shortly after, when he realized he didn’t know where to start. Algor must have seen something on his face because the old man sighed before offering more advice.

“Ah, my honored friend. You always look so competent, your aura blazing through like that of a seasoned warrior, that I sometimes forget about your amnesia. I think it is best that you attend the beginner cultivation classes we provide to the public, before using that token. I teach some of these classes so I know it will give you the best chance to utilize the opportunity of the cultivation room properly.”

“And how much do I have to pay for these classes?” Ren asked apprehensively, eliciting a pained expression from Algor.

“Honored Ren, these classes are part of the core services we provide for free to help our community. Our faith demands we give back and help the needy when possible. I could never charge you for the classes!”

Ren just smirked at the flimsy denial. He was sure that the Acolyte would have found a way to swindle some coins out of his purse, if the old man could find a loophole. Ren appreciated this because he always found it easier to understand self-serving conmen better than boundless altruists.

How could you trust someone whose motivations defied logic and any sense of self-preservation? It was a wonder humanity had survived for so long. Well, at least this world had other species. He was looking forward to seeing how each one’s thought patterns deviated from the other.

“I believe you, old man,” Ren playfully replied, his mouth stretched into a wide smile as he rubbed his palms together.

“So when do cultivation classes start?”