A strong citric smell woke Zamian from his sleep. As he slowly opened his eyes, the young cultivator was greeted by a ceiling carved with dozens of odd drawings, which he immediately recognized as his and his mother''s handwork.
Memories of her holding a younger version of himself on her shoulders and of his father mocking said drawings, laughing at him, made the young cultivator chuckle.
Feeling the soft bedding beneath him and the blanket of leaves covering his body, a relieved smile adorned Zamian’s face. ‘Home,’ he thought.
"Zammy, wake up and eat something, darling," a voice, modulated and slightly high-pitched, reached his ears.
Zamian beamed, turning to look at the speaker, feeling a wave of calming numbness wash over him. A glance at the figure revealed a hovering red text.
[LEVEL 4 - MORTAL TIER - ?? PATHWAY(IMPURE)]
Beside his bed, an olive-skinned man with small eyes and a cleanly shaved face stood holding a wooden tray. The tray bore a cup and two bowls—one filled with orange juice and the other with assorted fruits and grains. The man, whose long hair cascaded down his back, was smiling with a hint of concern in his eyes. He wore a purplish-silk robe, an unusual choice given the typical greenish or brownish attire of the Sanctuary.
"Hey, Dad!" Zamian greeted, sitting up and taking the tray to his lap, completely ignoring the text.
"Hey, darling!" Zamian’s father spoke gently, crossing his legs one over the other.
The man placed his hand behind Zamian’s head, caressing his son''s black hair while humming an odd tune, sounding like a marching chant. As the melody unfolded, Zamian unconsciously trembled, his eyes growing moist.
"How are you feeling, sweetie?" Dante inquired, his nose brushing Zamian''s hair. "You need a bath, Zammy. You''re a grown boy; must I remind you every time to clean yourself?" He chided softly, punctuating his words with a kiss on Zamian’s hair.
"Come on, Dad, it''s not that bad. You sure smelled worse back in the day," Zamian chuckled, rolling his eyes and assessing his state. "I guess... I am okay. Why wouldn''t I be?" He mused.
Zamian shrugged, thinking of no reason not to be okay, and continued sipping his juice and nibbling on grains. He attempted to recall the events of the day, resulting in only fuzzy and sporadic memories of conversations with his friend Bohlo and a mysterious woman. Or two. Maybe three, he wasn’t sure.
"What time is it, Dad?" Zamian asked, his tongue rolling absently inside his mouth.
"Just past the last mealtime, honey. You got here after the midday meal; why do you ask?"
"I... I don''t remember how I got here."
"Did you get drunk?" Dante raised an eyebrow.
"Wh- No! I don’t drink. You would have me whipped."
"Not something so drastic, no. But you''d have some explaining to do," he said, smirking. "So, what is it? Did you eat some poisoned plant?"
“Now you’re just messing with me,” Zamian gave a wry smile and scratched his head. "But I''ll find Bohlo later; he must know. I was with him."
"Oh, okay, sweetie," Dante hummed, still gently caressing Zamian''s head.
"...And how are you feeling, Dad?"
"Hmmm... I won''t lie, I was a little worried when you didn''t come home earlier,” he pouted, “And you''re right! I had to ask Bohlo to look for you. Let me see, what else,” Dante said, placing a hand on his chin and looking thoughtful.
Zamian observed this while finishing his meal, still smiling.
"Oh! I also got a little angry when I ran out of tea. Almost lost my mind." Dante snapped his fingers and nodded slightly, giggling by the end.
"Dad, I''m sorry! Did you have... Another episode?" Zamian looked at his father with a concerned gaze, setting the tray aside and standing up. "Don''t worry, I''ll bring some tea leaves now. It must be hard for you to manage without them."
Before Zamian could move further, his dad laughed, the gentle sound echoing warmly.
"Oh, Zammy, did you really forget? Sweetie, you brought me tea leaves. Well, one tea leaf, but it''s big enough for two days. Maybe three. Oh, and thank you!"
"Wh-I did? That vermin, what did Bohlo do to me this morning?" Zamian laughed in exasperation. "Did that guy slip some essence drug into my food? Did he force-fed me a poisonous fruit?"
"Language, Zamian Greenfield," his father scolded
"Sorry, Mom," Zamian blurted out reflexively.
"It''s okay. Come, let''s drink some tea. It’s rare for me to spend quality time with my son. You usually are locked in that room reading some old books. Still so young, but behaving like an old man," Dante laughed, again humming the odd tone.
Zamian followed his father out of his bedroom, going to the previously empty living room, where a ceramic pot—the only one in the house, as far as he knew—sat atop glowing gray leaves, which emitted a substantial amount of gray smoke and smelled like wood ash.
"Wow, did you have to use Gray''s Opaque to make tea with that leaf?" Zamian recoiled slightly, looking at his father.
"Uh-huh," the man nodded nonchalantly.
"Aren''t those leaves, like, super expensive? One-month-of-your-old-wage kind of expensive?"
"What can I say? You brought me a nice gift. I guess you scammed some merchant for that leaf, Zammy. I know you don''t have the money to buy it, not after buying so many books. And if you had stolen it," he gave a forced chuckle, "You wouldn''t dare come home, no matter how drugged or drunk you were."
Zamian shuddered at the thought. He certainly wouldn''t dare face his father''s wrath in case of robbery—both his parents hated thieves even more than murderers.
Settling next to the steaming pot, Zamian motioned to open the lid, only to have his hand slapped away.
"Ouch!"
"Patience."
"I just want to look."
"It’s hot, Zammy. You could get hurt."
"Come on, I''m an Enlightened. I can handle hot," he smirked, moving his hand toward the lid again.
Observing his father''s wry smile, Zamian fortified his hand with a layer of essence inside and out before lifting the lid. ''Better safe than sorry,’ he thought.
Reddish smoke billowed from the pot, carrying the fresh scent of apples. As he inhaled the reddish smoke, memories of the morning''s events came flooding back, his thoughts in disarray. Out of instinct, he expanded the White Dot on the corner of his vision, looking at specific lines of text.
STATS POINTS
Body: 15/20
Mind: 30/40
Soul (!): 08/20
(!) Your soul is injured.
NEW REWARDS
Abyssal Leaf
Description: A fallen leaf from the broken realm.
QUEST LOG
Last Quest: Get home before dinner time
Reward: Abyssal Leaf
Status: Completed
Main Quest: Destroy an Unholy Sapling before the end of the month
Reward: Special Physique (??)
Status: Ongoing (14 days left)The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Side Quest: Fully heal your soul
Reward: Ancient Astral Seal
Status: Ongoing
As Zamian inhaled more of the red mist, he felt overwhelmed by the worst headache of his life. Clutching his head, he screamed in agony, collapsing and writhing on the floor.
Meanwhile, his father sat cross-legged, eyes closed, mumbling under his breath. A palpable pressure emanated from him, making Zamian feel as though his body was dissolving.
Sometimes, the pressure was akin to a swamp slowly devouring everything, other times it felt like dropping from high heights, a sense of dread consuming the young cultivator’s mind.
The smoke swirled towards his father''s nose, eyes, and mouth, and the features of the man changed perceptively. His muscles swelled while his skin roughed up.
Zamian tried to crawl closer to Dante, but could only tremble on the floor. "DAD! WAKE UP! DAD!" He shouted as a static noise filled his ears.
Dante kept absorbing the reddish smoke, and Zamian noticed the text above the man’s head flickering, transitioning from red to green, changing little by little, and finally settling on a new line.
[LEVEL 4 - MORTAL TIER - CREATION PATHWAY]
Zamian had no time to react to the changes; because as soon as the text stabilized and his father ceased absorbing the smoke, the red fog rushed at him, searing into his eyes, mouth, and nose.
The red fog dominated his vision and sensations.
Paralyzed, he suddenly saw the red fog become a black space filled with motes of multicolored lights. The majority were white, interspersed with pale green, and a few as crimson as blood. There were also other hues of red, pink, brown, yellow, purple, and several colors difficult to perceive.
These motes moved erratically, forming a humanoid shape surrounded by a dark green halo that emitted constant waves, which caused some motes to flicker violently, bringing Zamian spikes of pain even in the current state, while others began to fade, offering a numbing sense of relief. Some white motes shone brightly, slowing the advance of the green waves.
From the periphery of this peculiar vision, a red mist surged—the color similar to some motes of lights inside this dark space—- and swiftly consumed the green halo and infiltrated the gaps between those particles.
The fading motes took a red color, and the flickering ones stabilized. Soon, new red motes formed, and the humanoid shape was then predominantly made of crimson red motes, followed by white and green.
As there was no more space to accommodate additional specks of light, the red mist dispersed, allowing Zamian to open his eyes to the sight of dissipating red smoke and a wall of white text.
+40 Soul Points (!)
(!) Your Soul is fully healed. Expanding Soul Stat Cap → 48/48
Completed Side Quest: Fully heal your soul
Reward: Ancient Astral Seal
Status: Completed
+52 Soul Points (!)
(!) Your Soul Stat Cap has reached a milestone → 100/100
Initiating a breakthrough…
Breakthrough attempt failed (!)
(!) Please upgrade your stats.
After the final message, Zamian’s vision cleared, and the red fog spread throughout the surroundings, yet it did not leave the living room.
Zamian stood up, feeling neither the previous headache nor any pressure emanating from his father. He slowly walked over to where the older man sat cross-legged.
Settling beside him, Zamian analyzed his father. ‘Cultivating. I can’t interrupt. But… He looks safe. That’s good,’ he sighed in relief, before focusing on himself.
''What is happening to me, though?'' Zamian pondered, shaking his head in confusion. ''How could I forget so much? What kind of mess is this?''
He glanced once more at his father, confirming the man’s condition, before willing the White Dot to expand.
STATS POINTS
Body: 15/20
Mind: 28/40
Soul (!): 100/100
(!) Please upgrade your level to increase your Soul Stat Cap.
NEW REWARDS
Ancient Astral Seal
Description: A Star Seal guarding your Astral Self.
''A seal? Where is it? What about the leaf...'' He walked to the pot, confirming it was empty of either tea or leaf, before glancing around at the lingering smoke. ''Now it’s all smoke. I’m sure this red mist healed me, and more importantly, stabilized my father.''
Zamian tapped his body, searching for the seal. He recalled a rough texture on his hand when he completed the side quest to arrive home—he believed that was the Abyssal Leaf.
The reward of his first main quest, about reading books, was a technique, and the change signalizing the delivery had been instantaneous—a line of text appearing above people''s heads was hard to miss.
Finding nothing tangible, he closed his eyes instinctively. Zamian was certain something had changed. Having dealt with the mysterious White Dot and these texts for almost two years, he had come to understand the significance of the stats.
Body stat represented his physical health and condition. He hadn''t been exactly sick in these two years, but there had been a lot of fatigue from doing chores. This stat had improved from 12 to 20, but he believed it was only because of a routine of exercises prescribed by his father.
Mind was the stat he liked most; it seemed to help him cast techniques faster and also improved his reading speed. It had increased from 25 to 40, and the young man suspected it also could influence his state of mind, like how patient and calm he could be, though he wasn''t entirely sure.
And then there was the soul stat. At first, it was a mystery to Zamian, starting at 10 points. Cultivating essence seemed to have no impact on it, and only by becoming an Enlightened did it rise to 40.
When one becomes an Enlightened, they can learn a cultivator’s technique—usually the Everbark Technique that Zamian and Bohlo used before—and gather more essence inside themselves. Because of this, Zamian guessed this stat symbolized his attunement with essence—how quickly he could cultivate and how much essence he could hold.
Now, he was fairly certain it related to his cultivation and some mysterious specks of light.
Once, his father had explained that essence existed beyond the physical realm; it was connected to places only the Verdant God and other divine beings could see and touch. While mortals felt essence as energy to be gathered to strengthen their body and power their techniques, only to be spent and forever lost, for more powerful beings it was like a cup filled with water—even if you drank the water, the cup would still be there to be filled again.
Closing his eyes to try his luck, Zamian thought about the space he saw before, surprising even himself when he saw a dark place full of motes of light. ‘That was easy,’ he thought.
The young cultivator tried to command these motes, willing them to move and replenish his essence.
Nothing happened.
He then attempted to touch them, to reach a little closer, but to no avail. He even tried to distinguish how many there were, only counting enough to know there was much more than only one hundred, which was the number on his soul stat. Zamian could just look at them, moving while they formed a generic human figure.
''But why multicolored? My Soul and my essence should be green. I am a Nature’s Path cultivator, even if I’m an unfaithful one,'' he thought, leaving his trance and taking a deep breath. ‘At least father is stable.’
His father’s body shook at that moment, startling the young man.
Dante opened his eyes, his gaze still unfocused as he shook his head after a moment.
Standing up in front of his father, Zamian gripped the man''s shoulder. "Are you alright, Dad?!"
"Hm," Dante grunted and nodded slightly, closing and opening his eyes in a frown.
Releasing him, Zamian stepped back, watching his father with an eagle eye. "Are you sure you''re okay?"
The older cultivator, his voice raspy like dry leaves scraping across the ground, contrasting with the previous tone, spoke, "Don’t worry, kid. My mind is clear and my body is healthy. In fact, I feel better than ever," said the previous Lord Chosen, while tousling his hair into a wild disarray with one hand, using the other to rip his robe and open the chest segment.
Zamian muscles relaxed, an unknown amount of tension leaving his body.
“I don’t know how much time we have, kiddo. Did I break anything this time? It sure looks like I evaporated someone’s body here,” Dante let out a self-deprecating chuckle, looking around at the red mist spreading through his living room, and slapped his hand on the wood floor. As a dark green light flashed across the room, two intricated wooden chairs emerged from the ground.
Both Dante and Zamian sat down, the older man’s eyes shining green while he surveyed the room again. Stomping on the floor, small holes appeared on the ground, a gentle wind moving all the mist below. After checking everything twice, he looked at his son, making the boy feel like a myriad of vines had entered his skin, and were brushing against his soul.
Dante winced and harrumphed, his eyes turning brown again.
“How long was my episode this time, Zamian? Had you left me alone for years?" The white-haired cultivator asked, frowning and massaging his eyes.
“Wh-No. No. Years? I was here yesterday. Did you forget?”
“Yesterday? I guess I lost a few more memories, kiddo. We can’t be on the same timeframe here.”
“Dad, what kind of blight are you talking about? You’re a Chosen, there’s no way you can’t tell the passage of time. Come on, don’t make me more worried,” looking at his father’s smirk, Zamian massaged his temples.
“Boy, I’m feeling a little better seeing you this anxious and annoyed," he laughed, a bestial sound echoing through the room.
Zamian rolled his eyes, relaxing even more on the cair. "Did that red mist put vermins on your head?" The young man joked, his instincts telling him everything was okay—instincts he barely noticed.
“I can only hope," Dante shrugged, "But let me stop joking. Do you still have that thing inside your head?”
“My super brain?”
“No, I mean the useful and helpful one,” Dante grinned
Zamian felt his heart warm, and he snorted.
“The White Dot, yes. We talked about it. If you’re feeling better, I can tell–” Before he could say anything else, his dad raised a hand.
“No talking about your mysterious gift with your unstable father, remember? The less I know, and the less anyone else knows, the better.”
“Yeah. Could you please just say whatever you want to say? So much happened—is still happening—and you aren’t even letting me talk.”
“Some fathers would beat their kids up if they ever talked to them like that, did you know?”
“Please, Dad. Just say it. We have a lot to talk about. I encountered the Cleric Chosen, and my soul was injured. Then I found something that stabilized you, and maybe that can even heal you! I need to answer a trial, and we have a little less than a month for the Nurture Ritual to end. A lot, right?” As Zamian spoke, he felt a little overwhelmed—too much had happened.
“Ohh boy, if that’s it, you are in for a huge surprise, then.”
“What surprise?”
“Because you left two things out of that list of yours. And kiddo, one of them makes me shudder,” Dante gave a toothy smile.