Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS
Time seemed to have passed in a rush as Han waited his turn for the measurement. He found himself continually glancing to the stage, where Riverfiend and his Vice Sect Leader still stood resolute, as if they were completely unbothered by the assassination attempt that had just taken place. At the end of the line, all he was met with was a delightful anti climax. The Tovus holding the scanner simply waved it at him and told him that he had passed.
A wave of relief flooded through him, and he nearly went limp from the adrenaline that had been released in those anxious moments. He walked off to the side, thankful that he had made it one step closer to his goal. He wondered what the third stage of the examination would be. There couldn’t be too many more, right?
While waiting for the rest of the entrants to file through the lines, Han idly listened to some of the results of others. He watched those who were rejected for various reasons, because of low receptivity, because of blockages. What he found most curious was a woman who was rejected for having exclusive receptivity for extant miasma. Did this mean that they did not intend to train new entrants in the extant arts used by the Vice Sect Leader? He found it odd, but supposed there had to be a good reason for the decision.
He looked around, and for the first time since the event had started, he spotted one of his friends. Among those who had already passed was a lanky farsei woman of Bountian heritage who was casting arrogant looks at those around her. Despite her pompous demeanor, she wore a cheap martial robe that had visibly been resized several times in the past. A bruise was forming on her face where she had clearly been punched. Han rolled his eyes at the sight.
Qian had been the younger sister of his best friend when he was younger, so as a child he had gotten to know her quite well. Their parents had insisted they allow her to tag along when they ran around the neighborhood on little adventures. Even still she had become a part of their friend group. He wasn’t shocked that she had made it through the first round. Her physical strength was lacking, but out of everyone he knew, Qian had to be the most vicious. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she had thrown dust in her opponent’s eyes or some other dirty trick. He jogged over to her.
“You made it through?” he asked.
Qian finally noticed him, arching an eyebrow.
“So you’re here too, Han? A shame.”
Over the years, Han had become inured to her scathing remarks, and they didn’t even annoy him anymore. It was simply how she interacted with others. It was amusing how different she was from her brother in terms of personality.
“Where’s Tai?” he asked.
The two of them had wished to make it into the sect together. Qian shook her head, pointing a finger towards the crowd of failed applicants.
“He got his ass beat in the first round.”
“Damn. Did you see how anybody else did?”
“I lost track of Asri, but everyone else got the cut in the first or second round.”
She met his gaze, her face bearing an odd expression that Han found difficult to place.
“It looks like it’s just the two of us,” he said softly.
Han gave an awkward laugh, scratching the back of his head.
“I hope the others can join us after the next exam. Say, what were your thoughts about the assassination attempt earlier?”
Qian’s eyes brightened with excitement as she recalled it.
“It was amazing. I can’t wait until I have people who want to assassinate me.”
Han gave her an odd look. Out of everyone he knew, Qian was certainly the strangest. What was even going on inside of her mind for her to say such a thing?
‘Well, whatever,’ he thought, chuckling. It was certainly not unusual for Qian to say such things. In fact, it was expected of her.
He glanced back at the lines awaiting the receptivity test, which were each on the last few entrants.
“How many of us do you believe they intend to take in?” he asked, looking at the group standing nearby him and Qian, numbering probably thinking over sixty.
The young woman beside him rubbed her cerebral dantian as she considered the question.
If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
“Perhaps there are only two examinations, and they intend to take whoever passes?” she suggested.
Han snorted derisively, shooting her suggestion down.
“There’s no chance. What would such a new, small sect need with this many disciples?”
Qian responded with a silent glare, and Han uncomfortably looked away.
“Well, um, perhaps you’re right,” he said awkwardly.
She was still glaring at him.
“Ah, anyway, it looks like the Vice Sect Leader is preparing to speak again.”
This finally caused her to shift the direction of her gaze, and Han sighed with relief. He felt like spending even just a few minutes alone with her had shaved years off of his lifespan.
It did indeed seem like she was preparing to speak, however. The Vice Sect Leader stood at the edge of the platform, watching as the final entrants underwent the test. She silently watched as the last ones split into two groups, joining those who passed and those who failed. Han suddenly realized that not a single person had tried to sneak into the wrong group this entire time, too intimidated by the presence of so many powerful martial artists. Han smiled, looking forward to his future. Finally, she addressed the group of those who remained.
“The sixty two of you who remain have shown that you have the will to fight and the capability to learn our arts. Should you wish, we will accept you into our Redwater Sect. Remember this, though: once you are a part of the sect you will always be a part of the sect. There will be no leaving, no backing out, and additionally…” a dark look filled her eyes as she gave a bright smile. “The Redwater Sect does not grant traitors the right to live.”
She raised her arms wide as if offering a welcoming hug to them all.
“For those who wish to dedicate their lives for true power and a higher cause, we welcome you to join us. We will be departing for our sect as soon as we finish cleaning up our supplies. You have until we leave to make your decision.”
At that, she hopped down from the stage and started ordering the sect members to pick up the banners and deconstruct the heavily damaged stage. Han’s jaw dropped as he found himself gaping in shock. Was that really it? Could that really be it? Where was the pomp, the fanfare? Would there really be no tournament, competition, or test of skill to determine whether one would make it into the inner and outer sect? It seemed far too simple.
A pang of pain from his wounds brought Han back to reality and reminded him how close he had come to failure. Then he realized that he really had made it in, and a flare of excitement welled up from deep inside of him. He had successfully joined a sect, he was going to be a real martial artist! It was a culmination of his lifelong aspiration, and also a chance, a true opportunity to escape the fate of a poor worker from the slums of Canvas Town.
Han suddenly sensed a gaze, and turned to see the smug gaze of Qian glancing at him. He sighed, knowing what she expected from him.
“I apologize. It seems that you were correct.”
“And you were?”
“And I was wrong.”
Qian’s smug grin expanded into a full smile while Han grumbled internally. How childish could she be? She was only two years younger than him. He decided to salvage his pride by changing the subject.
“Are you still going to join, even though Tai failed?” he asked.
Qian scoffed at the thought.
“What does my idiot brother’s failure have to reflect on me for? Of course I’m joining. Do you intend to reject them?”
There was something in her eyes that once again Han found difficult to parse. He shrugged, knowing it had been a foolish question.
“I suppose not. Well, that’s fine. He’ll probably try again next time, and we can mock him from our higher realms.”
“Indeed,” replied Qian, her head held very upright. Han could tell that she was aiming for an imperious look, but the bruise on her cheek ruined it.
He laughed at the sight, and Qian flushed slightly.
“Well,” he said, “we should still probably say goodbye to him before we leave. Your parents, too.”
Qian nodded in agreement. While Han’s own parents did not care enough to bother showing up, both of Qian and Tai’s parents had done so, wishing to be able to say goodbye to their children if they managed to make it in.
As he watched them fuss over Qian, Han felt slightly jealous of her. He wondered if he would ever see his own parents again. It was unlikely. Neither he nor they would probably care to bother doing so.
Han’s brooding was interrupted with a clap on the shoulder. He whirled, seeing the smiling face of his best friend. Tai looked deep into his eyes for a moment, and despite his smile, Han could sense his friend’s disappointment.
“You take care of Qian, alright?” asked Tai. “Keep her out of trouble.”
Han chuckled in response.
“You know that’s impossible.”
Tai’s smile softened, becoming more genuine.
“Avoid involvement in the criminal side as much as possible, too. I’m worried they’ll use you as scapegoats.”
It was something that Han had avoided considering, but a very real possibility. The Hadal Clan also occasionally sold out their own members to the Justice Office to avoid sentences for their core members.
He forced another laugh, clapping his friend’s shoulder as well. Both of them watched Tai’s parents continue to fuss over his sister.
“Don’t worry,” Han said. “I’ll soon become a core member, and I’ll protect all of us.”
Tai met his eyes, stretching a hand out.
“I’ll hold you to that, brother,” he said.
Han clasped it with a smile.
“I’ll see you around, brother.”
Toval: [The Canvasian god of life, Toval is an ascendant with a fixation. Like all of the other deities of Canvas, Toval is said to have moved to the Frontier to create works of art. He created most of the plants and animals on the planet, designing them to his own tastes, which tend to be of the monstrous variety. He created the fiends of Canvas, which form miasmic treasures inside of themselves. This was part of Ceirra's inspiration for the functions of the Seiyal progression system. Toval is also credited with the creation of the Tovus and the alterations upon the Seiyal inhabitants of the Crucible, resulting in the creation of the farsei. Despite the grudge that Feruul of the Pantheon has with him, Toval cares not for the matter because he does not care about whether or not he is worshipped. He simply continues his artform deep within the jungles of Canvas. It is said that Saaya asked him for advice when she was first creating the Reth.]