Ren was grateful no one else could see him over the next few minutes since he spent it digging into the pouch and slurping the remnants of the Pie with reckless abandon. Eventually, he had gotten as much as he could salvage from the pouch and he sighed wistfully. He wasn’t really hungry like normal humans got. The food wasn't actually going to be digested for energy at all either as his body didn’t need it. He just enjoyed eating delicious things and wished he had more of the treat to satisfy his cravings. Wiping his hands on the remains of his torn shirt, Ren focused on drawing in essence from the air.
Woah.
The mix of energy in the air was incredible. He had noticed it in passing earlier, but he had been too busy fighting and escaping for his life. Thick syrupy white strands of Essence sailed through the air, with such blinding purity that put the best Cultivation Rooms in Greendale to shame. Rich Azure Blue spools of Qi wove throughout the whole chasm as well, restricting the erratic movement of the Essence in the room. Compared to the Essence, there was easily twice as much Qi in the air.
Excluding these two types of Energy that he was familiar with, there was one more type of energy that occupied only a tenth of the room. It was a deep purple, some sort of Indigo colored energy. It only hung on a small section of the ceiling, but its presence exerted pressure on the Essence and Qi. Both energy types stayed far away from the path of the Indigo Energy. The few times the oppressive energy came across the White Essence or Azure Qi, it devoured them leaving nothing behind.
“Seeing” Energy was one of the advantages Ren realized he had over the natives of Greendale. He originally attributed this ability to the array of sensors built into his body. However, he was not so sure anymore. Whenever he tried to narrow down which of his sensor’s was actually picking up the energy signatures in the air, he came up empty. The more time he spent in this reality, the more uncertainties he faced. Ren loved every second of it.
With a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes, Ren sought to harness the power of the abundant Qi in the hallway, aware that such an opportunity might not present itself again anytime soon. He focused on drawing the Qi through the channels in his left palm, but the Azure energy remained unyielding, lazily circulating around the cavernous hallway. Undeterred, Ren stretched his palm, positioning it beneath a stream of Qi that slowly drifted overhead. Still, there was no response.
A deep sigh of disappointment reverberated within the recesses of Ren's consciousness. All this while, the insistent yammerings of the voice had been a distant drone in the far reaches of his mind which he promptly ignored. But with his failed attempt at pulling in Qi, a higher level energy than his current Tier 1 Essence cultivation, he could feel the exasperated emotions roiling off the deranged presence. Even now, he could feel it claw its way forward, trying to assert itself. But Ren forcefully suppressed it, unwilling to entertain the ramblings of the code glitch. He still didn't know how to properly address the crazy voice. Did it have a name? Bleh. That could wait. Ren was in no hurry to converse with the voice at the moment so he focused his attention on cultivating.
Seeing no reaction from the Qi, Ren reluctantly shifted his focus to filling his core with Essence. He centered his mind, then concentrated on pulling in a stream of the radiant energy. This time, there was a discernible response as the Energy gradually permeated his pores. A buzzing tingle coursed through his body wherever the Essence touched, and his pores, skin, and meridians greedily absorbed the elixir-like substance, akin to the cracked earth of a parched desert soaking up much-needed rain. Ren had to fight the temptation to surrender to the blissful relaxation that washed over him, as pure euphoria flowed through his Meridians. The energy accelerated the healing process throughout his body, eventually reaching his ephemeral Cultivator's Core, which overlaid the physical core housing his nuclear plant.
Ren's Cultivator's Core consisted of nine individual Chambers, and in his mind's eye, he observed the white Essence trickling into the First Spherical Chamber of the core. As the Chamber filled, a sense of satiation washed over him. Typically, this marked the point where ordinary cultivators would cease their cultivation. But Ren knew from experience that he could continue channeling Essence into the Chamber. Since the other eight Chambers in his Cultivator's Core staunchly refused to accept any essence until the first Chamber was fully refined, the pressure of the excess energy would inevitably build up, compelling a fraction of the surplus Essence to breach the boundaries of the ephemeral Cultivator's core. This spilled Essence would then find its way into the physical core, eventually becoming radiated from the nuclear plant.
However, today, Ren had different plans. Since ample Essence permeated the air within the now cavernous hallway, he resolved not only to fill the first Chamber but to also engage in the uncomfortable process of refining the Chamber itself. Ren fixed his gaze upon the first Chamber, satisfaction blooming within him as he noted that approximately half of it shone with a solid white hue. This was a testament to his previous arduous efforts of refinement.
The refinement process entailed filling the Chamber with Essence and then employing sheer Willpower to force the accumulated Essence into the walls. It was an inherently uncomfortable procedure, akin to having an insatiable itch that remained just out of reach. The Cultivator's core resided in a space between reality and an alternate plane, and during refinement, each infusion of Essence into the walls elicited a profound sensation of formication—a prickling sensation reminiscent of numerous insect legs scuttling across the surface of the core.
Ren had observed a significant correlation between the refinement of the Chamber and its capacity to store Essence. Drawing from his knowledge acquired in Greendale, he understood that once the Chamber reached full refinement, it would possess twice the storage capacity compared to its unrefined state. When the Chamber achieved its fully refined form, it would emanate a blazing radiance, amplifying the cultivation aura he emitted and broadcasting to the world that he had ascended as a Tier 2 Essence cultivator.
However, that distant goal seemed far from reach, as over half of the First Chamber still required refinement. Beads of sweat trickled down his face, a testament to the intensity of his focus on perfecting the Chamber. He was so consumed by the task at hand that he neglected to question why his body was perspiring without his conscious consent. Nonetheless, as he pulled in and cultivated every ounce of free Essence within the room, four hours slipped away unnoticed.
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A wave of dizziness washed over him, yet Ren dismissed it with a disdainful snort. It appeared to be a subtle reminder from the universe to cultivators, nudging them to rest after prolonged cultivation sessions. However, as an engineered entity, Ren had no need for sleep, unless it was necessary for updates or troubleshooting. Even then, he would simply enter controlled hibernation.
Rising to his feet, Ren advanced toward the bridge, steeling himself for the treacherous journey deeper into the Vault. The bridge lay before him, secured by a colossal spike driven into the stone ledge that had recently been his cultivation ground. The occasional gust of wind, stirred by the swift-flowing water beneath, caused the bridge to shudder at irregular intervals, adding an element of uncertainty to his precarious passage.
Wasting no time, he stepped onto the rickety bridge, a giant smile playing on his lips as random gusts of winds played with his balance. The thrill of the challenge was extremely satisfying to his psyche. However, Ren noticed that the previously irregular wind gusts were coming in increasingly consistent waves. He wondered at what could—huh?
[ —can stand before our blades, BEHOLD OUR MIGHT! ]
“...”
[ When blood spills, we smile in thrill, BEHOLD OUR MIGHT! ]
Ren cringed and shut off his audio receptors. It unfortunately didn't help in blocking out the sounds coming from the crazy voice. "For the love of blades, shut up!!! What on earth is that horrendous noise? Are you trying to summon demons with your wretched singing?"
[ Watch them flee, from death's embrace, BEHOLD OUR MIGHT! ]
The off-key singing was simply unbearable. How could such a dreadful sound emanate from a presence devoid of physical vocal cords? Unfortunately, with a significant portion of his consciousness dedicated to navigating the treacherous bridge, Ren was finding it increasingly difficult to ignore the grating wails of the voice. ‘Shut Up!’
Gritting his teeth, he continued his precarious journey across the roaring abyss as the swaying nature of the bridge tried to steal his balance. The bridge, held by weathered ropes and interspersed with worn wooden rungs, buckled under his weight but continued to defy gravity by the slimmest of margins. Step by step, he moved forward, a giant smile gracing his features even as random gusts of winds threatened to push him off the edge. Each step he took elicited unsettling creaks from the aged structure, making him question its integrity.
As Ren ventured further, the wind gales intensified, whipping through the narrow chasm below and threatening to sweep him away. The bridge trembled under the force of the gusts, making his progress even more treacherous. He tightened his grip on the ropes, feeling the fibers strain against his weight.
A flicker at the edge of his sight was all the warning he got before a cascade of deadly arrows stormed out of the walls on either side of him.
Shit
In a split second decision, he leaped into the air, his body twisting mid-flight as he narrowly avoided most of the projectiles but one had bounced off his spine, and another had pierced his left cheek and was embedded in his jaw. He landed on a slippery rung, his hands flailing in the air in an attempt to regain balance.
With barely any leverage, and the bridge swaying wildly from his abrupt escape attempt, he teetered on edge as his foot slowly slipped forward. For one heart-stopping moment, he dangled precariously above the chasm, not daring to twitch a muscle lest he lost his last shard of balance.
Summoning every ounce of strength and willpower, Ren managed to pull himself back up onto the bridge. Nervous excitement coursed through him as he processed the near-fatal mishap. The arrow sticking out of his jaw was a nuisance that restricted his movement and had to be worked into his calculations. But he decided to leave it be until he got back on stable grounds.
Ren paused and paid closer attention to the walls on either side of him. They looked as smooth as ever without giving any indication of where the arrows came from. That wasn’t good. Since he could not see the arrow slits, he had to assume that every inch of wall left between his position and the end of the bridge, had more arrow traps waiting for him.
The one good thing about the trap triggering earlier, was that he had noticed that none of the arrows flew below the bridge floor. The arrows from either side had come from ankle height and above. With this in mind, he slowly lowered himself on the bridge floor. Grabbing a hold of a semi-decent wooden rung, he let his feet dangle above the chasm, as he lowered himself beneath the bridge.
Clutching the rung tightly with both hands, Ren swung his left hand forward, firmly grasping the next rung. Satisfied with his grip, he released his right hand and propelled himself forward, repeating the process. With each swing, he inched closer to the end of the treacherous bridge, his progress measured one perilous leap at a time. Suspended beneath the bridge, the gusts of wind grew increasingly ferocious, as if enraged elementals sought retribution for his audacity. Buffeted from multiple directions, Ren's engineered hands clung resolutely to the wooden rungs, refusing to relinquish their grip.
In the ensuing minutes, Ren's focus narrowed to a single objective: securing a firm grip and propelling himself forward. The world around him faded into insignificance, eclipsed by the intensity of his concentration. Lost in a unique trance-like state, he immersed himself in the rhythmic motion of swinging. Nothing else mattered.
Somewhere amidst the flow of his movements, he heard the swishing sounds of projectiles piercing the air, swiftly followed by the resounding clash of metal against stone. A few arrows flew perilously close, yet none found their mark as he deftly swung his way towards the end. Allowing himself a fleeting moment of self-congratulation for devising a successful strategy, he swiftly redirected his focus back to the task at hand, aware that complacency could prove fatal.
Grip. Pull. Swing.
Grip. Pull. Swing.
Grip. Pull. Sw –
There wasn’t any more wooden rung to swing to. Instead, he felt a rough stone beneath his palm. At long last, he had made it over to the other side of the bridge!