Elian changed his pose for the following day’s Tribulation, his fifth one. Instead of crossing both arms above his head, he only used one and held the other close to his chest, protecting it with his body. The Tribulation descended twice, slamming hard on the armguard and helmet he bought yesterday.
“Didn’t hurt much,” he muttered, coughing from the dust clouds rolling around.
The runic scribbles on the ground a foot radius from him were wiped clean as the soil got compressed. The giant palm imprint was more noticeable today. As he stood, he noted the deep indents left behind by his knees. He’d have to find another place for tomorrow because he couldn’t draw a defensive magic seal here.
Checking his gear, he found the metal plate of his armguard got warped by the impact. “And I just bought this yesterday,” he said with a sigh. “That’s what I get for being cheap. At least the helmet looks—oh, a couple of dents. Maybe Casimir could hammer these out.” Borlen’s nephew was a self-taught blacksmith and carpenter, in charge of all repairs for their pilgrim group.
Elian didn’t splurge on armor because he didn’t need it. He was plenty tanky due to his Divine Bestowals. Weapons would’ve helped him more. The armguards and helmet were for protecting body parts hit the most by the Tribulation.
His right armguard was unscathed because he didn’t block the Tribulation with it. Removing it revealed bandages covering his arm. “Should I have placed the seed in my left arm instead?”
Floramage Gideon told him not to disturb the wrappings soaked in special liquid fertilizer for at least a day. But Elian couldn’t help himself. Just a peek. He wanted to see how it was growing as a consolation to the gnawing pain, like that caused by his cleaver, and the eerie wriggling inside his flesh. He couldn’t meditate last night because the plant symbiote taking root was too distracting. Borlen offered him a strong ale to help him sleep soundly, which he took and got rewarded with a headache.
There were splotches of blood on the bandages as Elian uncoiled it. According to Gideon, the acid concoction was slow but long-lasting, nibbling away his flesh for hours to help the tendrils of the plant spread. The acid didn’t affect plants, Gideon added. The floramage seemed too prepared for this that Elian suspected there were other ‘test subject’ customers before him.
Gently pulling away the last layer of the bandage, a faint green light pulsed. Inside the notch in his flesh, ringed with scabs, the seed of the Guardian Exactor Vine had a mane of hair-like tendrils. Elian immediately wrapped it again, fighting the urge to dig it out of his arm.
He couldn’t get the disturbing image out of his head. This must be why Gideon told him not to open it. That madman had several plant symbionts on him.
“I’ll get used to this,” Elian coaxed himself. He got used to dragon bone shards etched with Kymorathi soul words sewn beneath his skin for a perpetual protective barrier. This was nothing.
He placed his left hand on the seed and called up its attributes.
Guardian Exactor Vine | Plant Symbiote | Level:0
Health: 100/100
Energy: 25/25
ATTRIBUTES:
Attack Power: 10
Magic Power: 10
Armor: 160
Magic Resilience: 10
TRAITS:
(Germinating)
His symbiont got roped into his Covenant with the Gods and had its own display. The same applied to summons like Manifested Armor. Attributes of Aether constructs would be based on the Aether mage’s mastery of magic, concentration, and quality of Aether in the surroundings. On the other hand, the stats of a Living Armor symbiont were mostly affected by how well it was taken care of by the host.
The attributes of the Guardian Exactor Vine were as Elian had expected, knowing it was essentially a mutated Revulsion Dread Sapper. The Sapper of Black Flint Valley absorbed all attributes from its prey and would take on their characteristics. Elian had once encountered a Sapper that had eaten a group of mages some time ago. The abominable plant could cast spells and was incredibly resilient against magic.
What if I gave my pet plant lots of Armor? That was Elian’s thought when he agreed to Gideon’s offer.
Making a hardened cocoon, he could not only protect himself—he could even root and heal in the middle of battle—but he could also protect others. Or why just him and his allies? Cocoon his enemies! See how they’d try breaking out of that. He could do a lot of things if the Guardian Exactor Vine worked as advertised.
The question was how much Armor his pet plant would drain from him, and how tanky it could get. Still some growing to do before he could assess it.
----------------------------------------
The plant symbiont wasn’t much of a distraction during class. Elian’s arm had become swollen and hot throughout the day. The bright side was that it masked the writhing pain, turning it into more preferable persistent numbness.
What was distracting were the noisy people around Jadewell. She constructed an Aether replica of the earrings she wore. A damn good copy, from the sound of it. Elian remained seated under the canopy of the Creation Tree, not bothering to insert himself into the group.
Students a few weeks their senior could make various forms, even up to four or five simultaneously. But none could construct something with such intricacy and precision. Jadewell had a hard time making multiple forms. Understandable because she was just starting this part of the training. And yet, she managed to copy her earing almost to perfect dimensions. This was just a few days from awakening her Aethersense.
“That’s because you’re a Khaero,” said a woman with veiled hair. Elian guessed she was from Sarhat given her mahogany skin and the design of her clothes. She must have traveled here to learn the foreigner’s ways of Aether Magic.
The Dagalan let out a croaky laugh, his fangs showing as he opened his mouth. “The blood of your Aether mage ancestors manifest in you.”
Can skill be inherited? Elian wasn’t too sure about that. There were certain special Bloodlines on Fellenyr, but that wasn’t what the students were talking about.
Being born into a family of Aether mages was an advantage in terms of education and environment, not because of inheriting skills through blood. A large part of Jadewell’s success was her hard work. She must’ve struggled to meet her family’s expectations.
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Elian thought Jadewell would be offended being told her success was because of her family—he would be pissed off in her situation—but she looked… happy.
He misunderstood the situation. Jadewell wanted to be recognized as a Khaero. Despite interacting with a lot of people, both on Earth and here on Fellenyr, he was a hit-or-miss reading them.
What about this guy?
Thorren approached with a wave. He also didn’t join the other around Jadewell. “What are you drinking there?” He pointed at the bottle filled with muddy green liquid beside Elian. “An elixir that helps concentration? Care to share a swig? Storm God knows I need it.”
“It’s a nutrient solution,” Elian replied. Gideon gave it for free. That crazy floramage was really experimenting on him. “This is for the plant symbiont I bought yesterday.”
“A plant—what was that?”
Elian decided to show Thorren rather than explain. He unwrapped the bandages on his right arm, grinning as Thorren’s face twisted in horror at the sight. He didn’t expect this guy to be squeamish.
“A pa-parasite plant?” Thorren backed away. He leaned on the Creation Tree’s trunk and started to gag.
“A symbiont could be a parasite,” Elian explained, holding his laughter. “But it could also have a mutualistic relationship with the host, like this one. It’s a give-and-take thing between us. Are you familiar with Living Armor?”
“I’ve seen a couple of people use them at the Stage of Devotion.” Thorren wiped his mouth as he stood straight again, scrambling to piece together his façade of toughness. “That… thing. Is it a Living Armor yet to grow?”
“Not a Living Armor. Don’t have the money for that. Can think of this as a cheaper version of it. I take what I can get.”
“I respect your efforts to explore various avenues for surviving Tribulations,” Thorren said. “In my case, after I received the Magistrate’s Boon—and don’t tell our teachers about this—I went to Vigor Hill and studied body tempering. I was advised the basic training offered was comprehensive enough for a student to continue learning on their own. I had no intentions of proceeding to Steelskin Forms. After a month there, I switched to the Path of the Immaterial to set myself apart from other Penitents on the Stage of Devotion.”
“You can make a name for yourself as the Penitent wearing Ather armor. Color your constructs with something eye-catching. Not just solid colors like blue or red. Have different shades or combine contrasting colors for a striking appearance.”
“Yes…” Thorren nodded, gazing into the dark sky of the glass walls. “A brilliant suggestion you make, friend. And a name to go with the color scheme. I can hear the crowd shouting… I don’t know yet. Can you think of a good name for me?”
“I’m not good with names,” Elian said, remembering the fiasco that got him Cursed with Tranquil Corrosion instead of obtaining its Boon counterpart. “Sorry for not being of much help.”
“Your suggestion with colors for my construct was help I appreciate.” Thorren leaned closer and lowered his voice. “There’s something else I hope you can help me with. I can’t seem to focus on gathering Aether. I managed to achieve Aethersense in a short time because of my meditation training at Vigor Hill. But I’m stumped in this next stage of learning.”
“I think you’re forcing it too much,” said Elian. Thorren’s temper tantrum yesterday was proof. “We meditated for Aethersense, right? In a trance, our mind is different. Our mindset is also different. Time isn’t really there. But now, while gathering Aether, we’re not in a trance. We can feel the hours go by without progress. You’re becoming impatient, expecting to be done with the task quickly.”
Thorren looked like he was constipated. “I’ll… admit it is as you say.”
“I guessed right? Let me guess some more then. Because of your impatience, I assume you’re trying to impose your will on the Aether. Just like we didn’t force Aethersense, it won’t do you good here forcefully gathering Aether. Just relaxed plucking from your surroundings. Impose your will after you have the Aether to mold.”
“Relaxed plucking?” He had an unconvinced expression. “I’ll try that. Many thanks, friend.”
Elian continued gathering Aether in two points, one visible and the other hidden. An inch above his finger, he had a spherical Aether construct the size of a ping-pong ball. Inside his pocket, he was already trying to make a cube. Then he kept adding faces as he stabilized the form.
After lunch—pilgrims donated food to the students—Varmisal gave a lecture about visualization. He also asked Jadewell to share her experience with the class. Elian thought she’d be shy. Again, he was wrong. She was in her element explaining to the class that anyone passing would think she was a teacher. A very insightful lesson she gave. Varmisal soundlessly clapped after she finished, showering her with praises. Only then did she turn red and hide behind her hair, crouching beside a tree to make herself small.
The advice she shared was quite helpful, giving new insight even to Elian who had more experience than all the students combined with Aether Magic. He was always welcome to learn new things. It seemed to have helped Thorren too.
“I’ve succeeded.” Thorren showed Elian that he could now gather Aether after the class finished.
“That’s great. See, you were just too impatient. Your obstacle was yourself.”
Thorren smiled a bit wistfully. “I do have a habit of holding myself back. Again, many thanks for the help, Elian.” It was the first time Thorren called Elian by his name. Thorren walked a few steps to the door but then stopped and turned around. “Say, are you free this afternoon? Perhaps you can accompany me to the Stage of Devotion.”
Elian thought it’d be an interesting trip. “Are you going to join? How many Tribulations have you passed?”
“Fourteen. It’ll be my fifteenth later. Since I reached ten Tribulations, I’ve participated there.”
“Yeah, I’m free. I haven’t seen how the Stage of Devotion thing works though I’ve been here for almost a week now.”
Each of the six hills around the main temple hill has its own Stage of Devotion. These amphitheaters were open for the entire day but started filling up only late in the afternoon when classes had ended and Penitents were ready to apply what they’d learned for the day. Thorren and Elian went to Vigor Hill.
“It’s the most crowded Stage,” Thorren explained. “Most lucrative for gathering support.”
Thorren’s cousins were waiting outside Vigor Hill’s gates. Four of them, all red-haired too. Did everyone in Rakhon have red hair? Couldn’t be right or they’d have lots of genetic problems. The eldest cousin was fifteen and the youngest was a two-year-old boy in her arms. Elian thought better than to ask why these children were with Thorren. He had expected Thorren’s cousins to be around his age or older, a group of warriors searching the world for their fortune.
“We’ve brought your armor,” said Nelisha, the eldest. She passed her youngest sibling to the second youngest so she and her next-in-line brother could help Thorren suit up.
First was a heavy tunic threaded with protective scripts. Next was padded armor filled with the wool of Gurner Buffalords. Thorren explained those beasts native to Rakhon had magical fur that muted the strength of strikes. Last were steel plates embedded with enchanted gems. Nelisha and her brother struggled to secure the plates on the padding. Elian volunteered to help them.
“These are hand-me-downs from my father and uncle,” said Thorren.
“You’re very prepared,” Elian said. “The Stage of Devotion also gives protection to the Penitent. I’m sure you’ll get through it no problem.”
“I hope so,” muttered Nelisha as she double-checked the ties and straps.
“Don’t worry, Nelisha,” Thorren said. “I also have this.” He reached inside his tunic and pulled out four cylindrical pieces, each the size of a thumb, secured by a chain around his neck. “Interlocking glyph stones. My uncle spent a fortune acquiring five. He lost one in an accident. He wore this when he… uh. I wear it now.”
“Wait, let me look at that,” Elian said as Thorren returned the necklace inside his clothes. “Their order is wrong.”