The humid air of the Undercity clung to Kael like a damp shroud. It was a stark contrast to the crisp mountain air he'd gotten used to during his years of studying. He adjusted the simple, brown tunic that disguised his lithe frame, a practiced gesture that belied the icy calculation churning beneath the surface. His features, while possessing a certain unassuming charm, were carefully neutral; the eyes, a jade, that could easily glaze over with feigned politeness, held the coiled intensity of a serpent watching its prey.
Kael, the humble merchant, was a performance he'd perfected over the past four years. He even had a catchy jingle he sometimes hummed while polishing his wares, mostly mundane trinkets he picked up at a fraction of their worth in the outer markets. But beneath the layers of studied humility laid the core of Xylos, his 'creator'– a being of terrifying power, built not upon kindness or shared history, but upon brutal, unwavering self-reliance.
The memories were like shards of ice stabbing into his mind; glimpses of Xylos’ ascent – a snake, cold and calculating, dissecting the very fabric of cultivation to forge his own path. No ancient masters, no whispered family secrets. Just raw grit and an unyielding will. The contrast with the humans he encountered daily, so reliant on the echoes of their ancestors, was almost grating. They spoke of 'talent,' an excuse for their own lack of dedication. Kael knew better. There was only the relentless pursuit of knowledge, the grinding down of limits with an implacable focus.
He moved through the labyrinthine alleys, a shadow among shadows, the sounds of the Undercity – the clatter of gambling dice, the hawking of illicit goods, and the low hum of illicit energy – washing over him. He had meticulously mapped the Undercity, knowing every hidden passage and forgotten corner. The auction he was heading to tonight was no ordinary affair. Whispers of rare artifacts and forgotten treasures had drawn him here, but more importantly, it was a chance to connect with a network of clandestine buyers and sellers. Information was the real currency, not the glittering gold and jade offered for sale.
He adjusted the worn leather satchel at his hip, feeling the reassuring weight of the few carefully chosen items within. One was a seemingly ordinary stone, but to Kael's enhanced senses, it pulsed with a faint, almost imperceptible energy. It was a component for a formation he was studying, a variation per say. He had learnt from his Progenitor's memories. Innovate, and you will realize rules can be broken, and systems that don't have to be followed. It was a simple sealing technique using formations, necessary to suppress his demonic aura. To fit in per say. Something no human would ever invent, since they had no need. Only a shrewd viper like Kael would need it. He was after all not their kin...
His bag, also carried a collection of alchemical ingredients and a handful of forged tools he'd crafted in the dead of night, the heat from the forge a silent echo of the burning focus that consumed him.
He reached the unmarked door, a dark recess in a wall plastered with faded posters. A subtle knock, three short, two long, and the door creaked open revealing a narrow passage dimly lit by flickering lanterns. A gruff voice, barely above a whisper, greeted him. “Name?”
Kael’s lips curled into a polite smile. “Kael, of the Serpent's Scale. I believe I have a reservation.” Even in the dim light, his eyes glinted with an unnatural intensity. The merchant facade was firmly in place, but beneath it, a cold snake was coiling, ready to strike. He was not here to haggle over trinkets tonight. He was here to expand his reach, to gather more knowledge, to unravel the secrets of this world, and perhaps, one day, surpass the power of the one who gave him life – the cold, calculating serpent, Xylos. Tonight, the auction was merely a stepping stone. His journey had just begun.
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The cavern hummed with a low, expectant thrum. Torches cast flickering, greasy light on the rough-hewn walls, illuminating faces both eager and calculating. The air hung thick with the scent of dust, incense, and a faint undercurrent of something musky – the smell of ambition. Kael, with his unnervingly calm demeanor, moved among the crowd like a predator in a herd. He was a polished obsidian mirror reflecting the ambitions of those around him, but with a chill that no other possessed.
His face, smooth and almost unnervingly handsome, betrayed nothing. His eyes, the color of jade, flickered over the diverse gathering – heavily armored cultivators, their auras barely contained; robed scholars, their expressions sharp and intelligent; plump merchants, their fingers twitching over well-guarded pouches. He could smell their greed, their desires – the thirst for power and the hunger for riches. He was a merchant amongst merchants, but he was far more.
Kael’s company, ‘The Serpent’s Scale,’ was a relatively new player in the cutthroat world of resource acquisition, but he’d already earned a reputation for reliability and for a certain unnerving efficiency. It was a front for something far more complex, a stepping stone in a long, meticulously crafted plan that simmered beneath his placid exterior. He was a blood clone of Xylos, and the fragmentary memories of his progenitor, the cruel genius, coursed through his veins. But where Xylos’ ambition was a raging inferno, Kael's was a cold, persistent burn.
He wasn't here to gain Xylos' approval. The very notion was ludicrous. His master wouldn't even register the acquisition of a formation study, seeing it as beneath his notice. No, Kael's drive was far more ancient and intricate, born from the very essence of his existence and the fragmented echoes of Xylos' mind. Others might crave power for itself, or for the grand, romantic dreams of immortality. Kael was not so naive. Power was a tool, not an end.
There it was, on display at a makeshift platform, a set of weathered scrolls bound in faded silk - "The Architect's Grimoire: Advanced Formation Studies." Kael had already mastered the basics, but this went far deeper, delving into the intricate mechanics of manipulating energy and space. His existing knowledge was a child's drawing compared to the masterful calligraphy contained within.
He watched as the bidding began, a feverish exchange of precious herbs, rare beast cores, and even sealed letters of introduction to powerful sects. Greed and desperation were palpable, each bidder willing to risk everything for an edge. Kael, however, didn't flinch. He didn't raise his voice or display the slightest hint of eagerness. He simply waited for the opportune moment, when the initial frenzy had settled, and casually placed his bid - a single, perfectly cut gemstone, the size of a robin’s egg, pulsating with concentrated spiritual energy. The merchant in charge, a heavily scarred man with a cynical glint in his eyes, paused, his eyebrows raised in surprise before nodding in acceptance. Kael's offer was not the highest, but its quality and contained power could not be ignored.
The scrolls were his. He took them with a smooth, almost languid motion, his touch light and cool against the aged silk. Another purchase, another step in a labyrinthine strategy that remained hidden from even the most perceptive. The others, caught up in their immediate ambitions, wouldn't suspect that this quiet merchant was building something far more significant than a successful trading company. They wouldn't grasp the depth of his planning, the relentless patience that was a hallmark of his existence.
He wouldn't record his plans in a diary, or even share them with his few trusted lieutenants. They were etched into his very being, a secret code only he possessed. His silence was his greatest weapon, his calm demeanor a mask concealing the cold, calculating mind of a true schemer. For Kael, persistence wasn't just a virtue, it was the only path to the outcome he desired. The formation studies were just one piece of a complex puzzle, a single thread in the tapestry he was weaving. He moved with the quiet grace of a serpent, patiently waiting, meticulously planning, and building his power in the shadows, out of the sight of the noisy and shortsighted. The world would never see him coming, not until it was far too late.