《Waterstrider》


 1- Arrival

    Spacedock, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    As the airlock door opened, the first thing I noticed was the stench.


    It is not as noticeable on a ship, where the small compartments allow for the air to be easily and regularly filtered and recycled. On a structure as large as Tseludia Station, the odor of Staiven body emanations is rampant. I¡¯ve heard that few races can detect the scent of miasma, though at that moment I could not be particularly happy about my own ability to do so. It was as if a wall of musk slammed into me, and I was distracted for several moments as I was forced to adjust to the radically different air.


    Soon, however, my eyes finally registered my surroundings. Tseludia¡¯s docks are designed in a rather organized manner, far more functional than the elegant architecture I am so used to from my own culture.


    The passageway was roughly twenty meters wide, stretching far off in either direction along one of the station¡¯s six spokes. The walls and floor were composed of a variety of materials, welded and forged together in a bizarre way with seemingly no attention paid to aesthetics at all. It almost seemed as if it would be flimsy, though I do not doubt it was composed of various supermaterials for very specific purposes.


    Though their science lacks in various other fields, the material science of the Staiven people far surpasses that of my own. The patchwork design of the hallway irked me, but I let the feeling pass. When visiting foreign territory, one must adjust to their peculiarities. It is not as if I could have expected a blind species to care about visual aesthetics, after all. The fact that the station has lights at all showed how much effort they put in to accommodate alien races such as my own.


    The passage was busy, filled with passerby of various races, some of which I had never seen before. The other passengers who had been on the ship with me for the seven-year journey were still blearily stumbling around as they finished awakening from suspended animation. While they shambled around in the hibernation bay, I had made my way to the exit airlock, easily dodging the line that would inevitably start to form behind me.


    Suspended animation technology does not function on my people, so I had spent most of the long voyage in meditation and training. For most of the voyage, the crew had taken shifts to be awake, and I had little to do.


    Standing before me was a Staiven official dressed in a tight fitting uniform.


    From a distance, or if one squinted their eyes, a Staiven looks somewhat like my own people. Two feet, two arms, a head with two eyes, a mouth and a nose. When one looks closely, the differences become all too apparent, however.


    They have yellowish skin that builds up in flaky clusters that fall off as they go about their day. Their hands and feet operate via hydraulic pressure rather than muscle, and white chitin plating covers all of their joints, as if they had small armored pads on their elbows, shoulders, and finger joints. The ¡®eyes¡¯ of the Staiven were solid spheres of a single color, but rather than organs for sensing, they were used by the race to filter miasma from the atmosphere and collect it. I had spent a great deal of time with Staiven over the past seven years, and had long since gotten over my instinctive revulsion to their appearance.


    The security officer¡¯s eyes were a deep, brilliant vermilion hue. On instinct, I locked gaze with them as he inspected me, turning to the captain of the ship I had arrived on. They spoke for a bit in the Staiven language, and I had difficulty following their conversation. I had put effort into learning the language, but it had yet to pay off.


    I merely waited until I was addressed.


    After some discussion the official turned to me. My eyes once again immediately snapped to the brilliant red spheres within his orbitals, but I forced my gaze away. In his hands the officer appeared to be fondling an oddly shaped gray object, which I quickly recognized as the preferred interface device that his people used to access computing systems.


    ¡°So,¡± he spoke suddenly, squinting his eyes at me. ¡°A Seiyal taking the long journey, direct from Canvas by way of Staive, eh? Any relationship to the Hadal family?¡±


    His words were clearly directed at me, and they tore me out of my observations as I heard him speak in my own language. I supposed it made sense that they would assign someone multilingual to duty in the docks. As he spoke, I could sense his attention drift towards the sheathed sword on my waist.


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    ¡°No, no relation. I merely wished to start a new life.¡± He grunted in response, continuing to input and read information from his interface.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take that into consideration,¡± he sneered. Breath spilled out of his air sacs, causing me to cough from the stench. ¡°Any intention of using that thing? I¡¯m aware that your people still prefer to use such¡­ implements.¡±


    I glanced down to my sword, my hand having reflexively moved to touch its handle. I could sense his disdain for our ¡®barbarity¡¯, as he doubtless saw it. The reality as I saw it was that a blade in the hand of a Seiyal martial artist is far more dangerous than a gun in the hand of any soldier. I doubted he saw it the same way.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, it is a ceremonial blade. I have no intention of using it for violence,¡± I said.


    This was a lie, and both of us knew it. However, it was not his job to police such things. His job would become much more difficult were he to try and dispute it. It was true that the blade was ceremonial, however. As the heirloom of the Downpour Sect, it had seen use as a symbol far more often than as a weapon.


    ¡°I see. Name?¡± he asked. In response I recited a pseudonym I had already decided upon.


    ¡°Cyrus Yu.¡±


    I had known a Cyrus once. We had been friends. In the end, I had to kill him. The official marked my words down and let me go. The immigration protocols on Tseludia were very lax, but of course it was not as if such things could ever be controlled by the weak Staiven government. They had expanded far too much, accepted too many alien races into their territory to ever hope of being able to keep track of people¡¯s movements. Particularly since they lacked birth records, it was far too simple to just lie to them as I was doing now.


    ¡°Noted. I sincerely hope you weren¡¯t lying about your affiliation, Mister Yu. We get far too many of your type, and of those, plenty die young. I hope you won¡¯t be the same.¡±


    My eyes met his blank orbs once more. It was a habit I was unlikely to break.


    ¡°I¡¯m not young.¡±


    Hearing me, he laughed with a dark expression and waved me on. I left the discussion at that, finally able to enter the station proper. Merging into the crowd, I followed the general flow of traffic as I attempted to navigate out of the port and into the city area. The task was more difficult than I would have anticipated, as the passages were blank and wholly unlabeled. In the end I was forced to stop a nearby Telaretian passerby and ask in broken staivish for directions.


    It took me half an hour to navigate out of the tight corridors of the spacedock and into the greater habitat. Tseludia was designed to feel like a place where one could be comfortable, more like the open expanses of a planet than the claustrophobic interior one would expect from an orbital habitat. It was a place designed for people to live their entire lives within. To me, it was merely the first place I could imagine myself feeling comfortable within for the first time in years. Finally free to explore this new land, I quickly found my feet taking me to familiar territory.


    There are few places in this great starfield where one can truly relax. For me, nothing can compare to the experience of a warm meal in a Seiyal inn.


    The inn I had found was a beautiful building, with a wooden signboard where the name of the inn was inscribed in Seiyin script gracing the top of the door frame. The White Sun was very unusual, designed in such a way that it appeared as if to be constructed of wood, though that was undoubtedly just an aesthetic.


    Any wood in this solar system would have to be imported, and was far too expensive to use as construction material for a building. Because of its appearance the inn stood out from the other buildings nearby, an elegant construction of curves and complex mandalas that did not match at all with the blocky patchwork of the surrounding buildings.


    As I walked into the open door, the sound of soft music was audible through a hidden speaker, and the tables were sparsely filled with other Seiyal, all speaking in the soft tones of my native language. A small smile lit up my face as I found myself a seat at an empty table, ordering myself some wine and snacks.


    The food was delightful. The taste of my homeland¡¯s cooking is always enough to touch the heart of a vagabond such as myself. Suddenly, as I took a sip of my wine, I felt the touch of someone¡¯s attention pointed down upon me from the second floor balcony. I swiveled my head to match their gaze, and my eyes met with those of a middle aged man seated alone at a small table.


    He was a sei, bearing pale features and blonde hair, but his face was rugged and weathered with age. His eyes were surrounded by wrinkles, his face scarred in thick lines at various points. He wore traditional robes in a green and black pattern. A thin beard covered his chin, and as I looked at him, he gave me a wry smile and turned his attention back to his meal. Had his inner energy been weak, his gaze would not even have registered to me. I moved my own gaze as well, hoping he would not take any more notice of me.


    There was little chance that news of me had made it this far out, but if my luck was poor enough someone might recognize me. Taking another sip of my wine, I turned back to the meal, making sure to savor every taste. I would need to get to work soon.


    Staiven: [The original native species of the planet Staive, the Staiven were genetically altered by a faction of ascendants to appear vaguely similar to humanoid forms. Despite their misleading appearance, Staiven are actually colonies formed of billions of microorganisms. They are genderless, but some of the various body types they can have appear visually similar to the genders that many humanoid races have. Staiven process miasma naturally, condensing and storing it within their ¡®eyes¡¯.]

 2- Little Celah

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    On a far-distant galactic arm, there was a war ongoing. It had been fought for untold centuries now, between the various Osine forces and those of the incursion. This would not normally be of any relevance here in the Pantheonic territory, the farthest inhabited sector from the warfront. However, in 1586 the calculation engines had by chance opened a voidgate leading to a nearby sector. The inevitable result had been the vast infusion of war refugees into the territory. Of these, some had made their way to Tseludia Station.


    Nestled in the bowels of the slum district, Little Celah was the nickname for an enclave of Jobu and Korlove. The two races shared ancestry dating back to an isolated planet deep within incursion territory. Here, too, they had found themselves brought together by the shared attributes of their cultures.


    Little Celah was a multi-story area composed of various buildings, alleyways and tenements, with skywalks and bridging crossing them to create a vast, interconnected construction. It was so enmeshed into the rest of the Station¡¯s residential area that I didn¡¯t even realize I had entered Little Celah until I noticed the growing abundance of small metal charms and talismans they had hung over windows and doorways. The charms were shaped into odd geometric forms and patterns. As far as I could tell, not part of any sort of recognizable script. Perhaps they were an element of some Celan religion.


    Now aware that I had entered the enclave, I noticed that the majority of the passersby, rather than the wide mix of alien species I had adjusted to in the business and port districts, were mostly of only two races.


    The Jobu were tall, broad shouldered humanoids with four limbs and grayish-brown skin. Their features were somewhat similar to those of my own people, though the average Jobu teenager likely had as much muscle mass as a Seiyal bodybuilder.


    The Korlove, on the other hand, were barely recognizable as sapient beings. They were short and spindly creatures that appeared visually similar to the spiders of my homeland. They were a dark shade of gray, having a small main body that was all torso, and ten long legs with small hands on the ends used to ambulate and pick up objects. In Little Celah, the Korlove were everywhere, scuttling around at high speed while they went about their business.


    As I moved deeper in, I started getting odd looks from the residents. I couldn¡¯t blame them. I doubted they saw many Seiyal this deep into the enclave. In fact, chances were I was being taken for a disciple of the Hadal Clan. The sword still residing at my waist likely did not assist in this perception of me.


    This wasn¡¯t a big deal, however. In fact, it might even benefit me for such a false assumption to be made. I checked my tablet to make sure I was going the right direction, forced to move to the side of the level and up a flight of stairs.


    Feeling the awareness of those observing me, I quickly realized that I was being followed. Two Korlove were sneaking their way through the the crowd. It struck me that this race was quite stealthy. Small and fast, the sound of their pedipalps skittering across the ground was far quieter than the lumbering footsteps of a humanoid. If I lacked the awareness of a martial master, I would not likely have even noticed them. I allowed them to follow me. My business would not take long.


    In Tseludia, warehouses were found on the top floor of the stacks. In the open air above, various freight drones soared above the tenements bearing freight and passengers to different parts of the city. The dome¡¯s underside was a veritable warren of criss-crossing sky trails.


    At the topmost point of Little Celah, about two thirds of the stacks bore warehouses, the rest consisting largely of skydock access points. I observed one as I walked past. Covered in graffiti, it looked as if it had not been used in decades, despite the presence of a hulking Jobu security guard. I imagined he likely worked for the Heirs. Organizations like that would certainly be the sort to maintain a private skydock or two.


    Past the skydock was a massive prefabricated building, composed of large aluminum sheets that appeared to be riveted to the building¡¯s skeleton. It, too, was covered in layers of graffiti caked onto the surface. The graffiti was composed of both letters in some Celan script and the same odd shapes and symbols I had been seeing so much of in the neighborhood. Comparing it to the image and address recorded on my tablet, it was a match.


    I continued walking towards it as the two trailers continued their pursuit. Now that we were on the more sparsely inhabited top level of the stack, the number of passerby had drastically reduced, and my stalkers had become more obvious in their work. I continued to ignore them.


    The Heirs could keep an eye on me if they wanted to, but I doubted they would be able to bring a sufficiently high level combatant before I was on my way out. It was better to just take what I needed before they had a chance to take it somewhere else. It was a matter of time before my information became outdated as well.


    With another glance at the warehouse before me, my casual pace turned into a run. It was time. My sword slid out of its sheath almost without thought, my hand moving as if by its own will.


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    I cycled my internal energy, veins igniting with vitality. Back in my homeland, there was a creature that could move at great speed across the mud and water as if it were flat ground, unhindered no matter what might be in its path. In my mind''s eye I saw its shadow move across the mud flats, swift and near impossible to track. A beast hidden in the darkness of the rainstorm. My legs and core shifted, following a movement technique that had been drilled into me over the course of countless hours of training. The Downpour Sect¡¯s famous Water Striding Steps.


    Formless miasma swirled within my meridians, and I dashed to the oversized door of the loading dock. Each step skidded across the cement path as if I were sliding over a puddle. The Korlove trailing me froze in shock, unable to even react before I arrived at the door, arms already wound back.


    The miasma within my meridians exploded with energy, straining my body as my sword swept outward. A faint blue line trailed behind my blade, as if I had sliced through the air itself. My third technique, Torrential Downpour.


    Successive slashes were delivered in mere moments, tearing the door off of its rollers and sending it crashing down onto the warehouse floor. I continued my sliding motion and soon found myself within the cavernous building¡¯s interior.


    The inside of the warehouse was surprisingly clean and well-kept compared to how it seemed from the outside. It was mostly open space, with some offices on the far end and a host of shelving units. The units were stocked to the brim with weapons, machinery, and various tubs containing what looked to be expensive materials.


    My information had clearly been on the mark so far. Hopefully the rest of it was true as well.


    This warehouse was, as I had anticipated, a base of an underworld organization local to Tseludia Station. Calling themselves the Heirs of Ottrien, the group was largely composed of Celan immigrants, and Little Celah was the heart of their territory.


    From what I could recall, their name was a reference to some revered historical figure from their home-world. I had little interest in their origins, however. What I did care about was a certain natural treasure that could not be found except in very rare locations.


    Locations such as my homeland.


    While the loading dock had been falling before me, several armed members of the organization had been lounging on a table, playing some game on some odd form of tablet. After a moment of surprised hesitation, their trained instincts kicked in, driving them to reach for their guns. Like an insect running across the surface of a pond, I continued my movement technique, arriving at the group in seconds. I cut down the first, a Jobu man, before the rest had even finished drawing their weapons.


    Celan technology is odd, even by the standards of a low-development species such as my own. Their firearms operate not with gunpowder or electricity, but a strange form of micro-scale warping that is not only able to accelerate chunks of metal at high velocities, but also tear apart any ashatic effects they encounter. In the case of a Seiyal martial artist, one well placed bullet would shatter their dantians, rendering them unable to infuse internal energy into their techniques. I needed to take them down before they could get any good shots in.


    My second slash ripped right through a Korlove¡¯s shooting arm, and I transitioned directly into the second stance of the Rising Downpour Sword Art. My sword slid up in a torrent of motion, bisecting a third combatant. The remaining two, pale faces, or whatever the Korlove equivalent would be, fired, letting off a sound of rushing air that bore more in common with ripping paper than a gunshot. The bullets whizzed past me, the gunmen¡¯s aim too imprecise to track me. There were few I had seen who could truly follow me when I was using the steps.


    It only took one more technique to silence them.


    As I turned back, peering out through the giant hole I had ripped in the wall, the dome-light beamed in. Behind the hole I could see the skydock and other warehouses stretching long on either side of the balconies. I could see glimpses of the under-stories, but my eyes were too busy searching for the Korlove who had been following me. They had disappeared in the aftermath of my attack. Perhaps they had simply been opportunistic muggers, or perhaps they had gone to warn the Heirs of my attack. It didn¡¯t matter. I would ensure that I was gone before they returned.


    My eyes swept across the stockpiles as my spiritual sense searched around for my prize. I looked over cases of machinery far too advanced for me to recognize, piles of what looked like bronze sheet metal inscribed with carved runes of some sort, and shelf after shelf of expensive infused material. Were the Heirs running a factory, somewhere?


    Despite searching nearly half of the warehouse, I still could not see nor sense any fragment of what I was looking for.


    Suddenly I smelled a hint of perfume and whirled in search of the source. At the table where the guards had been lounging, now sat a short, beautiful woman wearing a casual outfit.


    Her skin was paler than my own, yet not so much as that of a sei. Ink-black hair as dark if not darker than that of the Jobu framed her face, yet she was slight of build. Her eyes were white, with pale blue irises circling the pupils. She wore clothing of fine fabric, with a white lace blouse atop a pair of long blue pants that hugged her legs. She could certainly not belong to any race of which I was aware, and yet here she was, observing me. The biggest source of my shock was not her appearance, however. It was the complete lack of presence I could sense from her. It was as if she was not there at all, yet my eyes could not be deceiving me, nor my sense of smell, which still registered the floral scent of her perfume. The corner of her mouth quirked up in a sly smile as she watched me stare in confusion.


    ¡°Mister Yu, was it? What say we have a talk, you and I? I have an offer for you.¡±


    Korlove: [Originally part of a humanoid race which originated on the planet Celah, the Korlove were forced to move into underground bunkers after the surface was ravaged by an attack from the Khalak-Ora. They soon realized that their supply of food would not be able to last until projections of the surface becoming habitable once more. Distraught, they turned to genetic engineering. Over the course of generations, they changed themselves from humanoid organisms to the arachnid-like beings they are today. Korlove have a small main body with 2 eyes as well as ten appendages, each bearing a small dexterous set of three fingers. They are capable of using any of these to operate machinery, and sub-brains at the base of each limb makes them one of the most effective mortal species in the galaxy at multitasking. Korlove still have two genders, though most other species are unable to tell them apart. Despite appearing bug-like, their minds function more similarly to that of humanoids than they do insectoid races.]

 3- Rachel

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    ¡°Who are you?¡± I asked, wary of this mysterious woman. It was no simple trick to hide one¡¯s presence from a martial master of my level. She laughed, her voice melodic and beautiful. A smile graced her elegant face once more.


    ¡°I suppose I can spare the time to introduce myself. You can call me Rachel.¡±


    I waited for her to go on, but she didn¡¯t say anything else, simply continuing to look at me with that same smirk on her face. I held back a grimace. I could already tell that she had a troublesome personality.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have time for this. Is your plan to distract me until your backup arrives?¡± I was wary of fighting with her. I did not recognize her species, which meant I had no idea what sort of strange powers and abilities she might have.


    ¡°No need to fear, Mister Yu. I¡¯m no friend of the Heirs. In fact, they¡¯ve put me in a bit of a bind that I hoped you might assist me with.¡±


    My eyes narrowed as Rachel continued smirking at me. Her expression was infuriating, so I cycled my energy to help gather my energy and focus my mind. That was when I realized that she was speaking in perfect Seiyin, without even a noticeable accent. That gave me pause, but I cast it aside as I tried to gather my thoughts.


    ¡°If you tell me where the marshfiend pearl is being kept, maybe I can spare some time to help you with whatever your issue is.¡±


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be that way. You aren¡¯t here for the pearl anyway.¡± I gave her an odd look before turning away to continue my search.


    Even an earthly immortal would have given off some sort of presence, if they had hidden their energy to disguise as a mortal. This ¡®Rachel¡¯ gave off none at all. With that in mind, I had arrived at a swift hypothesis. The body I was seeing was something like an illusion technique. If so, there was nothing she would be able to do to me unless her true body arrived.


    Even if it was true that she might be concealing some unknown power, I needed to find the pearl and get out before the Heir¡¯s reinforcements arrived. Though the Celan races lacked any form of sorcery or internal reinforcement, their technologies were quite powerful. It would be best for me to be gone before they were able to mobilize enforcers.


    ¡°Oh, are you ignoring me? How cute of you, Mister Yu. It would do you well to listen.¡±


    I continued to search through the shelves, and through reflections on the various metallic surfaces I watched her stand from the table to follow after me. I sighed, turning back to face her.


    ¡°Fine then. Please explain what you mean about the pearl, and what you want from me.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s pretty simple, actually. There never actually was a pearl, not here at least. That was false information I leaked in hopes of baiting someone here. Congratulations on being the first fish to bite.¡± Rachel had a pleasant smile, but I found myself suppressing an urge to punch her.


    ¡°So you say. And what is this ¡®favor,¡¯ you¡¯re wanting from me?¡±


    ¡°Oh, nothing much. I would appreciate it if you could grab a little something for me on your way out. I¡¯ll tell you where they¡¯re keeping a few particularly valuable pieces of salvage, while you¡¯re at it, if you want.¡± I narrowed my eyes at the woman.


    ¡°Why do you need my help? Why not just take it yourself?¡± She laughed again.


    ¡°I see you haven¡¯t realized,¡± she said. ¡°I would have thought a Seiyal martial master such as yourself would be able to tell that I¡¯m not actually here.¡± She reached a hand out to the nearest shelf. Her hand slid down, passing right through the metal shelf as if it wasn¡¯t there.  ¡°You see, this body you¡¯re looking at is nothing but a hologram. My true body is elsewhere, and so I need your help to get the conduit out.¡±


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    ¡°Conduit?¡± I asked. Her smile slipped a little, and Rachel pinched her glabella.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to explain what it was. All that matters is that it¡¯s quite valuable to me, and I will pay you quite well for your efforts. What do you say?¡±


    I continued to search, but there remained not a single hint of the distinctive energy in the air, no sign of the pearl¡¯s presence. Perhaps she was telling the truth. If the pearl wasn¡¯t here, I should at least take something. Attacking the warehouse would have been a waste of my time, otherwise.


    ¡°Fine. Tell me where these valuable items are first, however.¡± She nodded, walking off toward another set of shelving units while pointing to another.


    ¡°Over here you can find the eyes of a few elderly Staiven, and over there is the mucus of a bloodspawn. They also have a set of inactivated Celan energy cores over there.¡± She was pointing in various directions. ¡°You¡¯ll need to be quick, I give it a couple minutes more before the enforcers arrive. I¡¯ll tell you when they¡¯re close.¡±


    I got to work, stuffing the expensive and highly illegal items in a rucksack I had brought to hold the pearl. I checked the Staiven eyes, but none were suitable as a substitute for the pearl. When they were packed away, I turned to Rachel¡¯s projection once more.


    ¡°The conduit you mentioned?¡± I asked, locking my gaze to hers.


    The look in her sky-blue eyes shifted in some way I found hard to define as I spoke, and she broke eye contact as if nervous.


    ¡°The conduit is this way. Please be very careful with it, as much as possible.¡± Her voice stressed the words very slowly.


    The ¡®conduit¡¯, as she called it, was apparently being kept in what I had dismissed as some sort of large industrial equipment. The machine was bone white, with a blocky black iron overstructure seeming to reinforce and protect it in case it had been damaged in some way. It had a metal slate serving as an interface, covered in shifting Celan script that meant nothing to me. Looking at it more closely, this was certainly an expensive and advanced product of Celan engineering.


    According to Rachel, it was a containment unit meant to keep the conduit from interacting with the outside world. Hearing that, I was hesitant to open it.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be a coward, Cyrus,¡± Rachel sneered. ¡°The housing never worked anyway. The conduit is already active.¡± Her words made little difference to me, as I knew next to nothing about advanced technology in any case. I had the option to leave right now, and I considered whether I should risk myself in order to help her out. I knew nothing about Rachel, not even her species. In addition, she claimed to have manipulated me to waste my time coming to Tseludia Station in the first place. I certainly could not trust her, and what did I owe her?


    ¡°Seriously, Cyrus. It¡¯s safe, you just have to input the code and get the conduit out. You¡¯ll be perfectly fine.¡±


    I shook my head.


    ¡°I can¡¯t trust you. Sorry, but I¡¯ll be leaving.¡± Rachel¡¯s smirk finally vanished, leaving behind a look of shock and what was perhaps a hint of fear. Clearly, she had expected me to uphold my end of the deal. She reached out to grab onto my arm as I turned away, but her hand passed right through.


    ¡°Seriously, Mister Yu you can¡¯t just back out-¡± As I started backing away, she shifted her tone to a plea. ¡°You- you can¡¯t just leave me here. Please, just take it, Cyrus. I- I can work for you, I can-¡± She had fallen to her knees in order to beg me.


    The look she was giving me was unnerving, and I was close to reconsidering when a loud crunching noise sounded near the wall I had destroyed. I turned, forgetting all about Rachel and her request.


    The loading dock door had been crushed into the floor by a large metal boot, belonging to an oversized humanoid machine.


    Standing over nine feet tall, the figure of the mechanical armor was clad in interlocking plates of bronze and black iron. Some of the layered plates were inscribed with text, while others bore furrows and other functional shapes. The suit had six arms sticking out of its shoulders and back. Light glowed from the gaps in the plating, where an orange mist spilled out, slowly disappearing as it crept down towards the floor.


    I had delayed for too long, and an enforcer had arrived.


    Seiyal: [One of the three native races of the planet Canvas located in the Frontier territory, the Seiyal were created by the Ascendant Ceirra as her artistic ideal for the perfect mortal race. Seiyal have low genetic diversity, and while they have varying facial features and body shape, they all have blond hair and an amber eye color. There are historically two subraces of Seiyal, sei and farsei, terms referring to individuals with lighter or darker skin respectively. The most unique aspect of Seiyal biology is the three crystalline structures called dantians that are located in their abdomen, beside their heart, and under their skull.]

 4- Enforcer

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    The races of Celah bore a high natural resistance to ashatic energies, and lacked any sort of natural energy development such as that which the Staiven and my own race possessed. This, however, was more than made up for by their inscrutable arcane technologies, and perfect mastery of the flickering miasma. A Celan clad in advanced mechanical armor such as the one before me was more than capable of fighting evenly with a martial master of the spirit refinement realm. One stage higher than me, a core formation expert.


    I had been complacent, and should have left much earlier. I cursed my foolishness.


    The enforcer called something out in Staiven, but I was unable to catch enough of it to understand what he was saying. I didn¡¯t speak the language well anyway, so negotiation would likely get me nowhere. Particularly because I had already killed several members of their organization, and was attempting to steal rather expensive goods from them.


    The voice sounded masculine, which told me the pilot was a Jobu. I cast the irrelevant detail from my mind as I prepared myself for combat. An enforcer was said to be equivalent in battle to a martial artist of the spirit refinement realm, one stage above my own. I intended to test that claim.


    I unsheathed my sword, slinging the bag of contraband onto my back for safety. Shifting into the first stance of the Rising Downpour Sword Art, I planted my feet firmly on the ground raising my sword aloft. The first stance flowed into all of the others, serving as an intermediate position perfect for shifting fluidly into the other five stances. The enforcer barked something else, but I ignored him. I waited in position for him to make the first move. All distractions flowed from my mind as if through a sluice as I focused all my attention on my opponent.


    The Rising Downpour Sword Art is a masterwork which was created by one of the early inhabitants of Southern Crucible, back home on Canvas. It was a style focused on speed and slashing attacks, with unrelenting swiftness and agility that tore into the enemy before they could react.


    For a few moments more, the enforcer continued speaking, pausing to see how I would respond. I remained in place, muscles relaxed as I analyzed every inch of the hulking armor for signs of movement or preparation.


    Presumably giving up on discussion, the enforcer made his move, causing several tons of iron and bronze to shift. The dozens of plates clinked upon one another as he took a step forward and fired one of his multiple rifles at me.


    Having anticipated this action, I was able to shift away from my position the moment I saw him start to move. The bullets whizzed by as I slid to the side. One of them grazed my shoulder, but I barely even noticed the injury. My footsteps splashed across the concrete floor as I dashed towards the enforcer. One of the shelves behind me exploded, sending shards of metal flying across the room.


    The area immediately surrounding the mech¡¯s body was a field of death. Shells flew both at me and in every direction I could move to. In the mech¡¯s other arms, blades were being wielded at high speed. Slashing with great power through the air.


    At first glance, the swings would appear to be wild and random, but upon closer inspection I realized that they served to fill the gaps in gunfire, in case I decided to close the distance. Knowing this, I did so anyway. Though the sword arts of the Downpour Sect were powerful, they lacked any techniques that might allow me to attack from a distance.


    The gunfire was unable to hit me due to my skillful application of the water striding steps, but it was able to restrict my motion, preventing me from finding an opening.


    Dodging alone was not a sustainable tactic. I needed to do something, needed an opportunity of some sort. My eyes flashed behind me, to the forest of shelving units, and I skidded back to the cover it provided. The enforcer shouted once more, and I hoped his words did not imply he would be receiving quick reinforcements.


    A part of my mind also heard some words spoken by a more feminine voice coming from somewhere, but they were filtered out in my streamlined focus on the battle.


    I slid between and underneath the falling shelving units, my movement technique allowing me to maneuver far more adroitly than would normally be possible. It seemed the enforcer showed little regard for protecting the supplies of his organization, because his arcs of fire caused swathes of exploding machinery and fragments of biological material to fly throughout the warehouse. Fragments splattered across me, but I made sure to maintain distance while I thought of ways to either close the distance with him or escape the warehouse.


    Before I could think up a solution, the problem solved itself as the enforcer, who had been slowly moving to acquire a better angle at me, suddenly released a vast burst of miasma. Orange mist flowed from the cracks between the armor plating, scattering in all directions as he charged me. Nothing was able to stand in the way of the giant mechanical armor¡¯s charge, smashing and shattering its way towards me in a dance of devastation.


    The storage that had once been full of rare and valuable items was already almost completely annihilated at the hands of its guardian. I wagered there was a reason no enforcer had been stationed here from the start.


    Taking advantage of the enforcer¡¯s action, my steps took me beneath him. My blade flashed upwards, sliding into one of the grooves of his armor.


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    I heaved with all my strength, grinding it deep into the iron frame. I was unable to use a technique to amplify my ability as my martial arts lacked a piercing technique, so the force of my muscles alone would have to suffice. While the plating was undoubtedly reinforced by the flow of miasma from the machine¡¯s interior, it lacked the strength to resist the blow of a masterwork sword created by Domines herself.


    My sword slid right in, but the machine was huge and my blade only so long. I was forced to retreat as the enforcer slammed his armor into the ground. I scrambled my way out, nearly losing control of my movement technique in the process.


    Several sets of the enforcer¡¯s arms pushed into the ground as it began to rise again while another three slashed at me with wide swings from their blades. As I dodged between them I tried once more to assess my situation. It had become clear to me that I was outmatched.


    Despite my initial hope, I was now certainly doubting my chances. The wound I had placed on it with great effort would not be crippling unless I was very lucky, and I doubted I would have too many chances to cause more damage before I was hit by shrapnel or slugs from its heavy firearms. If I became injured, there was little chance of survival.


    I had never actually fought with any Celan mechs before, much less an enforcer. However, I had heard stories and rumors from other martial artists about what it was like to fight one. I had to agree with their description that they were equally matched with a spirit refiner.


    I was particularly effective in combat or a martial artist of my stage, due to the power of my unpredictable movement technique. Against a powerful enemy with weaker defense, I could use my speed and maneuverability to my advantage, taking them out easily. But against the oversized and heavily armored form of the enforcer, my lack of ranged attack ability and limited piercing power made this a poor match for me.


    Perhaps if I had finished constructing my core I would have the power to cleave through its armor with successive slashes, but that was not the case now. As it was, the only reason I was able to damage it at all was the power of the relic in my hands. Even if I somehow were to win the fight, the longer it took the higher the odds of reinforcements arriving. If a second enforcer arrived, I would have no hope at all of victory.


    My thoughts were scattered once again as the enforcer regained its footing, beginning to lumber again towards me as its guns continued their fusillade. I could easily escape the warehouse, but where could I go? For all I knew they had prepared the area outside, and I was right in the middle of the Heirs¡¯ territory. It would be trivial for them to set up kill zones across the district, if they were willing to risk government interference.


    I cursed my overconfidence. I should have known I couldn¡¯t just walk in, take the pearl, and leave unhindered. Next time, I would prepare backup strategies and escape routes in advance. My lack of experience with such matters was a weakness I would need to eliminate before it cost my my life.


    One of the enforcer¡¯s arms reached out to grab one of the few shelves that were still standing, flinging it towards me at full force. I ducked, feeling the rush of wind as it soared right past my head.


    Knowing the danger of my current circumstance, I moved in towards the enforcer¡¯s body once more, this time having to navigate directly into his overlapping fields of fire. One lucky shot could shatter one of my dantians, crippling me, but I would have to risk it.


    I cascaded my way through, deflecting and dodging the slugs as best I could, but two of them impacted, tearing holes through my diaphragm and upper left arm. I stifled the pain and continued my advance. Switching from the third to the fourth stance, I held my weapon low and prepared to execute my most powerful technique.


    This technique, the Heart of Rainfall, had been a pinnacle technique of the Downpour Sect, restricted only to the inner disciples. It was one of the foundations of our martial arts, along with the water striding steps. An orthodox sect might have called something like it a forbidden technique.


    I focused all of my willpower on the flow of my internal energy between my dantians and throughout my body. The flow increased, pushing rapidly through my meridians to a concentrated spot within the central dantian. Blue light shone from beneath my skin as my meridians glowed from the overpressure. I continued operating the water striding steps as I did so, having to fight hard to prevent any lapses in concentration.


    When the welled energy reached a criticality, I released my hold on the energy, letting it loose through my arms and feet as all of my motions rapidly sped up. The world seemed slow to my overclocked senses as I dove towards the mech before me, accepting a slug to my thigh in order to finally reach the enforcer.


    Twelve great blows clashed into the haphazardly stacked plates of metal, causing several to burst in flashes of orange. Each of the blows were compressed into the span of just one heartbeat, all precisely impacting the same spot. The enforcer flew backward, propelled by the formless energy that had slammed into it. It crashed into a large white and black machine that some vague part of my mind recognized but was unable to place, and skidded off to embed into one of the walls that belonged to a set of the warehouse¡¯s offices.


    I staggered to a halt, breathing heavily. My sword was held loosely in my left hand, but I gripped it tightly, unwilling to risk it falling from my numb fingers.


    The fight had lasted little more than a couple minutes, yet I was already incredibly exhausted. Three deep wounds gouged my body, and all of my meridians were heavily strained. I was forced to reduce the speed of my energy flow, wary to not cause permanent damage to my foundation.


    My sect¡¯s most powerful art allowed me to exercise power above my means, but that came at a cost. My movement technique dispersed as I had trouble continuing it due to my injured leg and channels, and I had to fight to keep myself standing. I had done greater damage to the mech this time, but I doubted it would be enough. Unlike me, machines could take far more damage and remain functional. I prepared to flee out of the warehouse, hoping that the heirs had not prepared anything outside. Even a small squad of men with firearms might be able to slay me at the moment.


    As I did so, I heard a voice again in my ear, as if someone was speaking from directly beside me.


    ¡°Do you need help, Cyrus?¡±


    Jobu: [When their homeworld of Celah was ravaged by the Khalak-Ora, the elite hid themselves in safety from the dying world¡¯s surface. The poor had no such luck. They suffered in the high radiation and overabundance of lesions from which spilled vast quantities of flickering miasma. Of the millions present in the world, a few rare individuals, rather than be destroyed by the harsh conditions, were able to adapt and survive. These adaptations over time led to a split in biology. The Jobu have become much taller and stronger than their ancestors, and developed grayish skin along a very high genetic tendency towards dark hair. In addition, they have specialized organs that assist in recovery from overexposure to warpings and miasma. Unlike their cousins the Korlove, the Jobu remain fully humanoid. They bear the highest ashatic resistance of any recognized mortal race.]

 5- Egress

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    The stories say that battles between immortals can last for years of intense combat, each participant so skilled and powerful that it takes them so long to overcome one another. I had doubts about such claims.


    At my level a fight only lasted minutes at most. Unless my opponent was firing at me with weapons from hundreds of meters away, I could easily close the distance, bringing the battle to an end one way or another.


    This battle was the same. I had damaged my opponent and taken damage in return, though the enforcer could undoubtedly take far more than I. I was bleeding out of multiple gunshot wounds, and grazed by shrapnel in various other spots. I was lucky. Had one of my dantians been cracked, the fight would already be over.


    Fighting a martial artist was certainly easier than a Celan war machine. It felt as if I were fighting an entire squadron of soldiers at once.


    My mind cleared as I took the moment¡¯s respite to catch my breath. I needed to escape, but a second fight would likely occur outside of the warehouse. I started moving towards the wall while my mind whirled desperately in hope of finding a way out of the dangerous situation I had found myself in. As I was formulating a plan, I heard a voice whisper in my ear.


    ¡°Do you need help, Cyrus?¡±


    I recognized the voice as belonging to Rachel. I whirled, seeing nothing around me but the enforcer slowly trying to pull itself out of the aluminum and composite frame of the wall. She was nowhere to be seen, the illusionary body she had conjured apparently having been dispelled. And yet her voice could still be easily heard, as if she stood right beside me. More than that, it was as if she was leaning over my shoulder to speak right beside my ears.


    ¡°You may not know this,¡± she said, ¡°but a squad of Celan gangsters are waiting outside of the warehouse. The only reason they haven¡¯t entered is because the pilot of that enforcer there ordered them to wait. Apparently because he wanted to show off his skill at using the machine and earn merit or whatever.¡± She giggled. ¡°The little idiot is going to regret that when his superiors see the damage. Anyway, I wouldn¡¯t recommend going outside.¡±


    I paused in my movement towards the exit. As I myself could not think up a way out of the mess of problems I had walked myself into, I was willing to hear her out.


    ¡°Do you know a way I can get myself out of here?¡± I asked, my voice shaky from pain and weariness. Rachel clicked her tongue chidingly.


    ¡°You really should have helped me out earlier, you know. Grab the damn conduit, Cyrus. If you do, I¡¯ll teleport you and it out of the district. If you open the containment unit, it¡¯ll be resting at the very center.¡±


    I glanced towards the white machine- the containment unit she had shown me earlier. Directly behind it the enforcer was finishing extracting itself from the office, guns blazing with orange mist as they prepared to fire at me once more. Thick clouds of the glowing smoke poured from dents and scrapes in its armored shell.


    She was probably correct about the gunmen outside. It was odd that the enforcer had arrived alone. If that were the case, my odds were essentially null of making it out of the district alive and uncaptured. My choices were to cast myself at their mercy or take a gamble on Rachel¡¯s word.


    I had never heard of anything like teleportation technology outside of the portals created by the calculation engines, but in truth I had little idea of the capabilities the more advanced races had. Perhaps Rachel was from some advanced race that lived in another part of the galaxy. With this new potential solution in mind, I turned to the enforcer and began to run once more.


    Pain filled my body as I forcibly initiated the water striding steps once more. My overexerted meridians began to slightly rupture, and part of my focus was forced to work on preventing my internal energy from changing state to sanguine. As my techniques used formless miasma rather than sanguine, I would be unable to use them if this occurred.


    Slugs whistled by me on either side as I charged towards the enforcer. The armor¡¯s rate of fire had slowed down significantly, which I took as a good sign. Hopefully it had been dealt some serious damage. The blade-wielding arms, though, were lively as ever.


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    As I arrived before it, one of the oversized weapons flew directly into my path of transit. I dodged to the side, rolling on the ground and returning to my feet as I swerved to the enforcer¡¯s right, where the containment unit lay. As I had anticipated, the enforcer was surprised by my sudden shift in direction, forced to take a moment to adjust.


    The unit had appeared very solid and well designed to be tough. The bulk of a multi-ton mech suit crashing into it at high speed did not, however, seem to be something it was designed to withstand. A great deal of its shape was crumbled inwards, and the interface had been shattered to scrap. It took two precise slashes to get the ruined container open. I ripped the plating off with my free hand, haphazardly tossing it behind me.


    The interior was a warren of odd tubes through which orange streams of light coursed. Nestled at the center in a small circular housing was a sparkling black object.


    ¡°That¡¯s it. You just need to pick it up and get at least twenty feet away from the enforcer, and I can get us out of here,¡± spoke the disembodied voice.


    In response, I reached into the unit and picked it up.


    The conduit was reasonably small, roughly the size of a child¡¯s head. It was made of a black, glassy substance that was cool to the touch. It was bumpy, shaped in organic-looking swirls that each ended in small ports presumably serving to dock cables into. Embedded inside of the transparent surface were layered metal plates through which rods passed through in odd angles. Twinkling lines of red and purple coursed like flashes of lightning between the nodes, creating a stunning effect. It seemed like some sort of odd mix of a natural treasure and what would likely be cutting edge technology even to an advanced civilization such as the Staiven.


    I tucked it under one arm as I leapt above a sideswipe from one of the enforcer¡¯s swords.


    The enforcer¡¯s pilot had realized my plan late, but to his credit he had adjusted quickly. The barrels of his guns had shifted towards me, their slugs continuing to fire on me.


    I tore through the warehouse towards the hole I had torn in the wall before, and behind me chased the enforcer. The vast lumbering machine slowly picked up speed as he charged in my direction. I began to move in a zig-zagging motion, putting more strain on my ruptured channels in an attempt to gain distance and throw off the aim of his weaponry. The enforcer was fast, however.


    Unexpectedly nimble for a machine of such bulk, the enforcer began shouting once more in Staiven and some other language I didn¡¯t recognize as he continued to chase after me.


    I turned suddenly, shifting my direction to an entirely different path. I was nearly backtracking, attempting to ensure as much as possible that the enforcer¡¯s momentum would prevent him from following. This time, rather than aiming my general path towards the open hole I had created and which the enforcer had enlarged, I went for a wall on another side of the building.


    ¡°Cyrus, you need to gain distance. Another enforcer has arrived.¡± I ignored the chattering voice in my ear, annoyed by the distraction. With my current injuries, another combatant could do little to worsen the situation. If I did not acquire sufficient distance, I would die.


    In moments I reached the wall, taking a short leap upwards. A blood vessel in my shoulder popped as I executed my torrential downpour once more, carving in three slashes a new exit for myself. Behind me, I could hear a groaning noise as the building shifted on its damaged foundation. I landed on the stone of the landing outside, rolling back onto my feet. The intense motion sent another burst of pain through my body, but I held it in.


    This side of the warehouse was, as I had remembered, a small loading dock used as both a place to park aerial vehicles and to load supplies in and out for transit. Merely forty feet past the wall was a railing beyond which the stack ended, leaving a large access pit into the lower levels of the city.


    A trio of Korlove shouted as I tore open the wall, frantically trying to point their weapons in my direction, but they didn¡¯t have time to fire before they were shocked by the explosion of debris as the enforcer tore his way out behind me. Slugs accelerated from the barrels of their firearms, but I mostly ignored them, focusing on nothing but running directly towards the railing.


    I could feel the reverberation of the air on my skin, feel the rumbling thud of each step the great machine took behind me. My feet flowed like water, and my blood flowed smoothly from my wounds. For a moment it was as if the world slowed down as I was awash with an understanding of the flowing elements surrounding me.


    With a great heave I leapt into the air, diving across the final ten feet and down into the depths of the station. I heard a roaring yell behind me, and I laughed with delight.


    Below me I could see the glow of the lower layers of the stacks, the layers upon layers of streets and bridges, and at the very bottom, the rocky core that was left of the asteroid the station had originally been constructed from.


    But after mere moments of freefall, a flash of yellow light surrounded me and I left Little Celah behind.


    Enforcers: [After becoming starfaring races, the Celans soon found that many other races had inherent abilities with which a Celan of either variety could never hope to match. In search of a way to even the odds in interpersonal combat, Celan engineers created mechanical armors of war. One of the elite models of such armors is the enforcer. Armored units equipped with six arms and twelve weapons, Enforcers serve as the ace of any larger Celan combat unit. They cannot be replicated by any other race, due to the fusion of advanced technology and the secrets of flickering miasma that Celan scientists currently hold a monopoly over. It is generally safe to assume that any organization owning a functional enforcer unit has ties to either the Celan government or a Celan organization of similar power.]

 6- The Vice-Leader

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    Deuvar glowered as he inspected what remained of his warehouse.


    The building, perfectly intact just the day before, had been left as a barely standing skeleton of a structure. Three walls had been torn apart while most of the others had been filled with holes from gunfire, leaving even the area immediately surrounding the building scarred by the fight. At any moment, it seemed as if the entire structure could topple, crushing the soldiers who were now dutifully picking over the debris for surviving scrap. Of all the many extremely precious items the Heirs had prepared to send to their backers, most had been stolen or destroyed, and the enforcer unit that had taken part in the fighting would likely need at least a month of time in a bay getting repaired.


    And for all that, the thief had still escaped.


    He walked towards a trio of Korlove grunts who had been part of the encirclement, among those who had last seen the thief. They were cleaning up the wreckage, sorting the scrap into piles of slag and useful material, their spindly limbs dexterously sorting multiple pieces at once.


    As he approached, a Jobu laborer replaced their buckets and carried them off. The soldiers looked up at Deuvar¡¯s approaching figure. They clearly recognized him, and one seemed to involuntarily shiver.


    ¡°Tell me what you know about the thief,¡± he said, mouth creased in a firm line.


    All of the soldiers within the Heirs knew by now not to play around when Vice-Leader Deuvar was in a bad mood, and words immediately began to spill out from the group.


    ¡°A- he-he was a Seiyal, one of the dark-skinned ones. Blonde hair, as well,¡± spoke one of the soldiers, a man who was rather bulky for a Korlove. While it was near impossible for most other races to tell the Korlove sexes apart, due to their deep cultural ties most Jobu had spent their entire lives around the bug-like race. To Deuvar, the distinction seemed obvious. He nodded at the words, considering them.


    ¡°Hadal Clan?¡± he asked.


    He couldn¡¯t imagine why their opposition would have attacked in such a way, sending in only one member like this, but he could understand why the Seiyal organization would want to ruin their stockpile. The squad leader writhed her torso in the Korlove approximation of a shaken head.


    ¡°It¡¯s hard to tell, but those were not the arts of the Hadal Clan. What he used were undoubtedly formless techniques. Nothing else could explain the way he was moving. The man dodged our bullets, Vice-Leader.¡± This bit of information came from the squad leader, a tall and spindly Korlove woman named Kande. Deuvar narrowed his eyes.


    As far as he was aware, not even any of the Hadal Clan¡¯s subfamilies held arts of that nature.


    Reinforcements sent by their main branch? No, if that was the case, they would have sent an expert far beyond the core formation realm. An outsider, then? Perhaps that would explain the nature of what he had stolen from them. Few clans would risk the ownership of such an item, if they knew what it was. Only an organization as powerful as the one backing the Heirs could handle the danger it posed.


    Given the situation, the Leader had tasked him to reacquire it at all costs. If anyone realized what they had been holding, the Heirs could be wiped out without a mere grain of dust left behind to hint at them ever having existed. Worse, if they were not in possession of it again before the courier arrived...


    There was another problem as well. Despite the fact that the warehouse contained such important items, worth more than the combined wealth of their entire organization, it had barely been defended by a handful of soldiers. He could remember ordering its defense by at least four squads of soldiers as well as two enforcers, but even the enforcer piloted by Kalthen had only arrived after some informants had raised the alarm.


    This implied some flaw in the organization. A mole, perhaps. He would need to order an inquisition, find the source of the error. Perhaps it would be found as merely a mistake by one of his underlings¡­ but it was best to be sure. If that was the case, though, Deuvar would hate to be the one at fault for this clusterfuck. He would already have to put in a good deal of work covering for one of those who were.


    Leaving the squad behind to continue salvaging what remained of the precious materials from the wreckage, Deuvar walked briskly over to the skydock, where an exhausted and injured Jobu man in his 20s was leaning back against the railing, watching workers rig up a crane. Roughly thirty feet away, a damaged enforcer unit was being fussed over by an army of dockworkers. It was being prepared to be moved by airship to the shop of one of the Heir¡¯s in-house mechanics. Deuvar couldn¡¯t imagine they would be happy to have such a large and important workload dropped into their laps all of a sudden.


    Kalthen was slim and limber, at least for a Jobu. His biceps were still larger than the size of a smaller race¡¯s thighs, and he sighed as Deuvar approached.


    ¡°How much shit am I in?¡± he asked. Deuvar replied with a question.


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    ¡°Did you really have to destroy everything in the warehouse, Kal?¡±


    The young man shrugged in response, giving Deuvar a confrontational look.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t just let some Hadal trash waltz away after stealing from us, Uncle. I thought I could get him.¡±


    Deuvar sighed. His nephew was a skilled and competent man who had qualified to pilot an enforcer on his own merit. But he was young, and had an aggressive nature that he had inherited from his mother. Kalthen finally turned his gaze to lock eyes, and Deuvar inspected the smooth-shaven face that looked just like that of the boy¡¯s grandfather. Deuvar met his gaze, holding it until the younger man turned away.


    ¡°I can deflect the blame somewhat, but there¡¯s something you¡¯ll need to do.¡± Deuvar wasn¡¯t happy with the prospect of placing this role on the shoulders of his yet inexperienced nephew, but he knew it was the best way to help him.


    ¡°What do you need?¡± Kalthen asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ll need you to head the search for the man you fought this afternoon. You had a good look at him, yes?¡± The young man nodded. ¡°Good. You¡¯ll be working with our informants, and I¡¯ll find a squad of soldiers to back you up. In fact, go grab soldier Kande¡¯s squad after this, they¡¯ve seen him as well.¡±


    Kalthen¡¯s face lit up with a cruel smile, undoubtedly looking forward to getting revenge on the Seiyal who had escaped him.


    ¡°One more thing,¡± said Deuvar, ¡°Before you get too excited. You¡¯ll be working with Triezal on this.¡± The smile fled from the young man¡¯s face, immediately replaced by a scowl.


    ¡°Why is he working on this? Isn¡¯t he busy with that new front in Otan?¡±


    ¡°The Leader requested his transfer, and I agreed. You¡¯ll share command for this job,¡± said Deuvar.


    Kalthen had a sullen expression on his face, so Deuvar clapped his shoulder, regaining his attention. ¡°Look, Kal. You¡¯re in deep with today¡¯s fuck up. Your mother won¡¯t shield you from it and there¡¯s only so much I can do myself. The Leader is angrier than he¡¯s been in years, and I can¡¯t blame him. We need this man caught and we need you to retrieve what he took. As fast as possible. If you can get this done, rather than just removing the stain on your record, it¡¯ll make you look good in front of the Leader. Do you understand?¡±


    His nephew nodded, so Deuvar started backing away. ¡°Good. I¡¯ll tell the squad leader to report to you, and you can get started. The leader expects you not to sleep at all tonight.¡± As Deuvar walked away, Kalthen¡¯s gaze flickered toward the point the Seiyal thief had leapt from. He gripped tightly to the bars of the railing, causing it to slightly crumple before releasing it. A grim expression covered his face.


    <hr>


    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    ¡°Oh?¡± asked Sirena Hadal, Matriarch of the Hadal Clan, ¡°and it wasn¡¯t one of us?¡±


    Her counselor, Wei Hadal, shook his head.


    ¡°We have no knowledge of any such martial artist on the station, and I¡¯ve heard he was using formless arts.¡±


    Sirena stroked her chin, thinking on the matter. Formless arts¡­


    The Hadal Clan had originated from the orthodox alliance of Sunlit Hall, and many of their members still retained their views, even so far from home.


    Sirena herself was more practically minded. What mattered about a person was how useful they could be to her clan. She cared little about the man¡¯s use of unorthodox arts except for how it might cause her people to perceive him. In fact, if possible it might be useful to train a secret squad in formless arts. The agility and nimbleness they granted was unmatched, as far as she was aware. The damage such unorthodox arts caused to the souls of their users was a problem, but she could just recruit from a pool of the most loyal and devoted servants of the clan for the task. Though that plan would depend on whether the man was willing to join the Hadal Clan or not. If he had come all the way out here, he was likely unaffiliated with any of the major clans.


    Sirena¡¯s gaze moved outside of the window, looking down upon the stacks of the district most of the station¡¯s Seiyal population lived within. As he was of her own species, undoubtedly they would first assume he was one of her own. It was a problem, but perhaps it could also be an opportunity.


    ¡°Find him," she said, ¡°he could be of use to us if he chooses to remain on the station. It¡¯s not as if any of the other groups will want to take him in, after all. Also, find out what he took from the Celans. That could be important.¡±


    ¡°As you will, matriarch,¡± said Wei, bowing and turning to leave her room. Pausing but a moment, Sirena lifted her hand once more.


    ¡°One more thing, Wei. When he is found, alert me before making any moves.¡±


    Her most trusted subordinate bowed and silently filed out of the room. Alone in the palatial space, Sirena casually rubbed the skin above her cerebral meridian, fighting off a slight headache as she looked around the office that had been hers for over a decade now.


    The residence of the Hadal Clan¡¯s family head was disgustingly opulent. If Sirena was honest, to her it seemed gaudy beyond reason, nothing but gilded frames and stands, expensive prints and calligraphy covering the walls. Everything in the room emanated miasma, likely one of the greatest collections of spiritual treasures from Canvas within twenty light-years. It did not match her aesthetic sensibilities, but it would damage the clan¡¯s honor for the matriarch to live in anything less than the most opulent conditions they could afford to procure. It also served to intimidate the few important guests that were allowed to conduct their business personally with her.


    Perhaps quite soon that man would be one of them.


    Unorthodox Arts: [Isolated on the dangerous continent called the Crucible, the heritage of the Sei met with the gifts of Toval, and new, powerful arts and techniques were developed in the colonist¡¯s striving for survival. These techniques, utilizing the formless and sanguine miasmas, came at a cost, damaging the bodies, souls, and minds of their practitioners. If an unorthodox martial artist failed to achieve constant progression, the symptoms would worsen. Eventually, the movement spread back to the territory of Sunlit Hall,and unorthodox martial artists became known for being brutish and evil, forced to take up evil action in order to obtain the resources they needed to achieve these constant rates of progression. Despite this, new generations continued to join unorthodox sects and clans due to the draw of the immediate power these arts offered to practitioners.]

 7- Convalescence

    ???, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    I groaned, emerging to consciousness with a massive migraine. Pain throbbed across my body, and my meridians ached at the touch of my internal energy. A quick inspection revealed no cracks in my dantians, and I relaxed back into the bed, relieved.


    If the damage was only this bad, a week of rest would be enough to recover. That thought caused me to realize the issue. Where was I, and would I be able to have such a week? I sat up, inspecting my surroundings.


    I was in a small bedroom. It was not the kind you might find at a cheap inn, but more so that of an older house in poor condition. The room was empty except for the bed and bedside table, though some lines on the wall hinted at the possible presence of an enclosed closet. The walls were composed of ceramic composite, like many buildings in Staiven space habitats, but the room remained the same generic off-white color that it had likely been ever since construction.


    I could remember little after my dive off the tower and the flash of yellow light. I might have simply collapsed then and there, if Rachel had spoken truly to me about the teleportation.


    Ignoring the sharp pains in my chest and legs, I slid to the side of my bed, tottering onto my feet. That was when I realized that the only clothing I wore were my undergarments.


    Standing up, however, I could see a small pile of clothing sitting at the end of the bed next to my sword. I quickly dressed myself, keeping it within arm''s reach. I could not be too cautious under the circumstances.


    The clothing I had been given was an odd set of robes. It seemed like the sort of thing a scholar or a monk would wear, almost like a tunic or a dress, but was undeniably fitted for a man roughly of my size and stature. It would do.


    I quietly walked to the door, careful to make as little noise as possible. The room was sealed with a hatch, but it silently slid open after receiving a soft tap.


    I found myself in a small hallway, with a room to the side and across from me. Further down the hallway I could see a hint of furniture as it expanded into a larger area. I padded my way down to inspect it.


    The living room bore an assortment of tasteful black furniture and a host of bookshelves. The more advanced races, I had heard, generally lacked much interest in collecting books, content to read through tablets and implants. This matter I knew little of. I had grown up learning much that I knew from the sect¡¯s library. Whoever owned this house it seemed, was either similar or an extreme hobbyist.


    On a coffee table in the center of the room sat the glowing form of the conduit, beside which rested the sack within which I had stored my ill-gotten gains.


    Moments after I started inspecting the room, the body of Rachel appeared in an instant, lounging on a long couch in a comfortable position. There were no mist-like effects that I knew as the hallmark of illusion techniques, merely one instant nothing, and then there she was. As before, there was no hint to my spiritual senses that she might be present at all.


    Today she was wearing a white sundress, her limbs adorned in silver jewelry bearing blue stones. Her appearance seemed almost too elegant for the ratty surroundings.


    I got the feeling she was presenting herself in such a way on purpose. She smiled up at me.


    ¡°Good afternoon, Mister Yu. Glad of you to join us.¡±


    Her tone was as mocking as ever, but I paid little attention, more concerned with where I was.


    ¡°What happened after I passed out?¡± I asked.


    Rachel¡¯s expression became more serious.


    ¡°I talked someone who was¡­ conveniently available into giving you a room to sleep in,¡± she said.


    My expression froze as I contemplated her motives. I had initially refused her offer, yet here she was, helping me out for no clear personal gain. But despite that, she still had not trusted me with the presence of her true body.


    Something gave me pause, some element my subconscious had noticed but I remained unaware of. I remembered the sound of her desperate pleas back in the warehouse. Why had she been so desperate? I cast the thoughts aside to focus once more on the present.


    ¡°Whose house is-'''' my words were cut off by the sense of someone entering my sphere of awareness from behind. I whirled, gathering a view of the man as he shambled awkwardly out of one of the rooms and into the hallway.


    My first impression of the man was that he was skinny.


    It was not the slenderness of a toned physique but rather that of a man who might never have worked a day of physical labor in his life, and certainly had spent years of little exercise. A pair of fine-rimmed golden spectacles adorned his dark eyes, which were draped with the heavy bags of many a sleepless night. He wore black and purple robes of a similar style to those I was wearing. His height was slightly taller than mine, and he had the black hair and grayish skin of a Jobu.


    Upon this realization my guard came up, and I found myself instinctively settling into my first stance. The man flinched back, hands flying up in a haphazard effort at defense. I heard Rachel¡¯s voice from behind.


    ¡°He¡¯s not with the Heirs, Cyrus. Hestky is a fugitive of the Epon. He wouldn¡¯t work with their vassals.¡±


    I did not recognize the term, but filed the information away for later retrieval. The man, Hestky, looked nervous, failing to meet my eyes. The senses of my soul inspected his own, and it was muted and weak, emanating only the sputtering gasps of a mortal with some exposure to miasma. I had never seen such a skinny Jobu before. Perhaps he had some sort of disease. I filed the thought away for later.


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°I¡­ excuse me,¡± said Hestky, walking around me into the living room and to the room beyond. He spoke seiyin well, though he bore a thick Celan accent. As he passed by Rachel, I could see him glaring at her. I wondered what she had meant by ¡®talked him into assisting.¡¯


    I gave her a pointed look and moved into the living room proper, sitting myself down on one of the chairs to regard her. I had something more important to focus on.


    ¡°What exactly is it you¡¯re wanting from me?¡± I asked. Rachel shrugged.


    ¡°What else? Protection. I want to keep the conduit safe until someone arrives to pick it up.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re wanting me to do it?¡±


    ¡°You have no stake here, Cyrus. No ties that can be tugged on your loyalties. Moreover, you¡¯re strong enough to be useful. If you need, I can do favors for you in exchange. Find you information or help you escape if you end up in a pinch again.¡± She shrugged again. ¡°We can discuss the details later, if you wish. I just think we can make use of one another.¡± I met her gaze.


    ¡°Back in the warehouse you asked me to help you escape, but the body I see here is not you. An illusion.¡±


    ¡°A hologram,¡± she insisted. I gave her a flat look in response.


    ¡°Call it what you will. There is no soul inside of it. You¡¯re not a person, are you?¡±


    Rachel¡¯s face contorted at the assertion, as if I had hurt some deep part of her, but she was trying to maintain control of herself. A strained smile replaced itself on her pale lips.


    ¡°What could I be, if not a person? This body is not real, that¡¯s true, but I am merely projecting it from elsewhere.¡± I shook my head.


    ¡°I initially believed that, but that doesn¡¯t explain how you were acting.¡± I pointed at the conduit, still glowing with flashes of red and purple light where it lay on the coffee table. ¡°That¡¯s you, isn¡¯t it? The real you. You¡¯re some sort of construct. A thinking machine, a Shade. ¡±


    Rachel¡¯s jaw contorted, her eyes filled with anger. It was as if I had touched a nerve, but I believed I was right.


    ¡°I would prefer not to be referred to as a machine,¡± she said, glaring at me as she stressed the word. I shrugged, not particularly caring about the matter.


    ¡°If you prefer. Perhaps it¡¯s true that we can be of use to one another, but I need to know more before I can trust you.¡± Rachel bit her lip, as if deep in consideration.


    I couldn¡¯t help but find myself reading into her body language, even knowing that it was fake, created solely for my own benefit. Or perhaps to manipulate me. The body I saw was merely a fake, an illusion or perhaps a hologram, as she insisted on calling it. I had never heard the term before. Before she finished her musings, a voice from what was probably the kitchen called out to us.


    ¡°Breakfast is ready. I prepared some food that should be edible for a Seiyal,¡± said Hestky, peeking around the corner. His dark eyes watched me with a blank expression, clearly viewing my presence as an annoyance.


    I was cautious around the man, but I couldn¡¯t imagine why he would poison me after he let me spend the night at his house. More importantly, I would need plenty of food if I wished to fully recover. I accepted his hospitality, rising to join him.


    The kitchen was small and humble, the type that was left in most housing units just to satisfy the tastes of the ¡®less developed¡¯ races as the Staiven called us. I personally found fault with that, coming as it were from a race that acquired their nutrients by bathing in pools of them.


    Hestky picked up a pair of plates, setting them on a small glass table on one side of the room. The food on each plate was a different color, as our races had different nutritional requirements. As we sat, Rachel joined us, summoning with the wave of a hand her own illusionary plate of food. I chose not to comment on the matter, turning towards the other man.


    ¡°Hestky, was it?¡± I asked. He nodded, so I continued. ¡°Why did you let me stay the night?¡±


    He scratched his head and paused a moment before responding.


    ¡°The Shade threatened to expose my identity to the Heirs. I decided it was better to house you for some days than be forced to flee the station.¡±


    I gave Rachel¡¯s illusionary body a sidelong glance. She had a smug look on her face as she continued eating what looked like fried strips of some sort of meat.


    ¡°I see. I apologize for that,¡± I said.


    In truth, I had few qualms with the matter. But I had certainly learned the advantages of being polite. The Heirs were undoubtedly searching for me, and it was best if I kept him on at least relatively good terms with myself until the time came for me to leave.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s no big deal,¡± he said. Despite claiming such, he made no attempt to guise his disdain. He reached over to the center of the table, where a few empty cups rested. ¡°Would you like some water?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine, thank you. By the way,¡± I asked, ¡°where is this place located?¡±


    ¡°Fifth district.¡± Rachel had finished swallowing a bite of meat to answer my question. I could have sworn that she had swallowed it faster than would be possible for a real person, as if it had simply disappeared from her mouth.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that still inside of their territory?¡±


    Hestky shook his head in response, poking a finger into an empty cup and swirling it around the rim.


    ¡°It is, but it should be as safe a place as any. You¡¯re a Seiyal, so they would have expected you to head for Canvas Town. I imagine they¡¯ll be searching there and the docks, primarily. They don¡¯t have enough forces to brute force search the whole city.¡±


    His logic was sound, so I relaxed again.


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s interesting,¡± said Rachel. I turned to look at her. She was staring off at the wall, appearing to not be looking anywhere in particular. It was as if she was seeing something invisible to my eyes.


    Hestky just continued his meal. I had noticed that the man had never once spoken directly to her, interacting exclusively with myself. He seemed almost fearful of her in some way, but also disdainful. I could understand his position. I turned to Rachel, biting her bait.


    ¡°What is interesting?¡±


    ¡°It''s not just the Heirs searching for us. The Hadal Clan is doing so as well,¡± she continued. I frowned.


    ¡°Are they trying to avoid taking the blame for it?¡±


    Rachel simply shook her head in response.


    ¡°Rather, I think they wish to recruit you. The matriarch¡¯s personal aide is heading the search himself.¡±


    I paused to consider the idea. Hestky pulled out one of the metal tablets covered in shifting glyphs that the Celans tended to prefer over light displays, flicking through it casually.


    ¡°Are the docks being guarded?¡±


    ¡°Of course they are. They don¡¯t intend to let us get out scot-free.¡±


    Not for the first time, I got the impression that Rachel was using some sort of translator. Some of the words she spoke had not been seiyin at all, nor any language I recognized, and occasionally she would use very odd turns of phrase. She continued to speak.


    ¡°So access to the docks is under heavy attention by not just the Heirs and the Hadal Clan, but several other groups as well. It would be best to lay low for a time if you intend to leave the station now. Which brings up an important question.¡± Rachel¡¯s expression shifted once more, grinning as if impatient and excited before settling down into a serious expression.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t we talk about what you want to do next?¡±


    Shades: [Rather than a specific race, Shade is a term of Celan provenance that refers to thinking machines. The word¡¯s origin is unknown, but it likely originated in the days after the fall of Epon Celah. Their existence is banned in the Pantheon¡¯s territory as part of a treaty with the Sheneth-Ari Council. There is a standing reward for information leading to the eradication of one. It is rumored that a vast society of Shades might exist hidden somewhere inside the largely unexplored Frontier territory.]

 8- The Fervour of Sadness and Hatred

    Fifth District, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    We were sitting in Hestky¡¯s living room again. The man himself had gone to his study, a room at the end of the short hallway, leaving me and Rachel alone. One of her legs was crossed over the other as she leaned back, arms draped across the back of the couch. I could tell she was aiming for an imperious look, but I was unfazed by it. I sat languidly on the opposing couch and met her gaze. She was first to break the silence.


    ¡°What is it that you want, Mister Yu?¡±


    I watched her speak with an impassive expression on my face.


    ¡°Is there any reason I should share something like that with you?¡± She shook her head as if annoyed. But I knew better.


    ¡°I¡¯ve saved your life twice and helped you acquire some very valuable objects. I feel I¡¯m due some consideration, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    Her piercing blue eyes continued to bore into me, and I decided to give her something. I owed her a debt after all, though I could not be sure quite how things stood between us. Particularly given her true nature and the way she had misled me.


    ¡°Fine. My wish is to become an immortal, achieve great power, and punish those who have wronged me,¡± I said, the words booming thunderously from my chest. They were true words, words that resonated with the dantian in my heart. Words that made an attempt to guide my path. But they did not encompass all of it. I had left a part of myself back on Canvas, and after all, half a man could only hope for half a path.


    ¡°So you want revenge on Sunlit Hall? Or is it the Vermilion Cliffs Sect in particular that you wish to destroy?¡±


    The name of the sect tore through me like an axe. I winced, unable to restrain my anguish at the memories racing though me. Rachel was treading upon ground that I had long since left untouched.


    I had avoided thinking of the Vermilion Cliffs ever since I had escaped years before. I had planned to avoid thinking of them until I was ready to face them. To take my revenge on those who had destroyed my homeland. Did she know who I was, then? What I had¡­


    My heart dantian tingled with pain, ready to unleash a torrent of miasma through my ruined channels. Thoughts of the past made me angry, made me want to fight. But I restrained myself, the years of silence and meditation on the voyage here having helped to dull the memories somewhat. I met Rachel¡¯s gaze again.


    ¡°So you know who I am, then.¡±


    I let the statement hang in the air, pushing to see if she truly knew all of it. Had she seen a disciple of the Downpour Sect before? Perhaps she had recognized my martial arts. Or perhaps she had even known this long before I had arrived at the station, attracted by her false information.


    Perhaps she really did know everything, who and what I really was.


    ¡°I do,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ve known since we met in the warehouse. The secret arts of your sect are rather distinctive, for those who see as I do, and one of my people has observed it before. It was simple to search up the current status of your people. To think the actions of a single disciple could spark such a brutal conflict. Particularly since your sect was so protected within the Downpour.¡± She leaned forward, eyes glittering. ¡°I can help you, Cyrus. We can acquire all the resources you need, find manuals for powerful new arts and techniques and slay all who oppose us. We can topple the Sunlit Hall, even the Pantheon itself.¡±


    Her tone was fiery, bearing the snakelike, passionate voice of a cult leader or illicit merchant. She was speaking of fantasies, however. The sort of impossible things I had wanted. Had always wanted, ever since I was a young outer disciple introduced to the world of martial artists.


    Secretly, I heaved a sigh of relief. She was unaware of my true identity. But what she did know was enough. My goals had shifted since the downfall of my Sect, but my desire to progress remained. Even if it had not, the use of my arts had sent me down a path I could not stray from lest I die.


    Still, my ambition had grown proportionally to my hatred. I now wished to topple the heavens themselves, to rend the worlds and the void in an effort to satisfy my thirst for revenge. Just like what she was suggesting.


    ¡°Why?¡± I asked. It was a simple question, though one that needed to be spoken aloud.


    ¡°Why what? Why do I wish to help you? Why do I believe I can accomplish this? Or why you specifically?¡±


    The words flowed from her mouth, swift and smooth. She was clearly a practiced speaker. I imagined she would likely be able to go on for several minutes, trying to convince me to follow along with her aims and perhaps even forget who¡­ what she truly was. I cut in before she could continue her sophistry.


    ¡°What does it matter to you?¡± I asked.


    I had been curious about this, ever since I had realized her true nature. ¡°From what I¡¯ve heard, Shades don¡¯t have emotions. Because they lack true souls. You know my goal, and I need to hear your own.¡±


    The words were cruel, perhaps. But a part of me needed to lash out, to express my emotions. To release myself from their grasp for a moment. As I had anticipated, her gaze hardened as it had the previous time I had brought up the matter of her race.


    It was almost enough to make me doubt my assertion about her lack of a soul. Though that mattered little to me.


    ¡°Cyrus, put your hand on the conduit,¡± she ordered. The request surprised me. It came out of nowhere, a hard tangent to the conversation we had been having. My eyes flicked over to the object, still resting on the table and filled with glowing whorls of color.


    ¡°Why? What will happen if I do?¡± I asked.


    ¡°It simply acts as a bridge. If you want to understand, put your hand on it and reach out with your soul.¡±


    I could sense something in her voice now. Something that made me want to understand. To know where she was going with this. I knew I was being foolish. This was an unnecessary risk, and she could not be trusted, not truly.


    But a small part of me felt that perhaps I wanted to try. Perhaps there still was a youthful piece of myself remaining. Or perhaps I simply felt guilty, as alien as the emotion seemed these days. I reached my hand out and placed it on the conduit¡¯s glassy surface. And I extended my soul inside.


    A soul exists in three dimensions. As I explored the conduit¡¯s interior, it was as if I was stretched out, the tendril of my soul extending out into infinity. I was reaching into a space beyond the dimensions I knew.


    I could feel unbelievable masses of ashata, sense the souls of all the millions of inhabitants of the station. They were before me, close enough to touch. They were also unbelievably far away. The nearest of all was the brightest, most powerful soul I had ever seen.


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    A Seiyal who has properly embarked on the path of martial arts always acquires the ability to first sense the structure of their own soul, and then that of others. As a martial artist of the third realm I had trained the ability to expertise, and could recognize the different races and the realms of martial arts by inspecting one¡¯s soul.


    The soul of a mortal is encased in a sinuous membrane that holds the ashatic structures within, while slowly absorbing and expelling small amounts in a homeostatic balance. The soul of a practitioner is similar, but rather than expel the energy, it purifies it and compresses it into three points. These are the elixir fields, the manifestation of the dantians within the soul. The soul of an immortal is like that of a mortal martial artist, but far more massive, containing unimaginable quantities of energy.


    This soul was entirely unlike any of those. It was covered in a firm shell, as if there was a wall protecting it from the outside world. Small apertures accepted and expelled ashata, passing far larger quantities through than a mortal could. In that, it was comparable to the immortals, but differences still remained.


    The structure was regular, ordered in a way that seemed wholly unnatural, but also beautiful. Spiraling hexagons surrounded the structure in whorls and conjoined tendrils, as if it were a sculpture carved by an insane master stonemason.


    A tendril extended from from the construct¡¯s interior, drilling into the same point of singularity from which my own spiritual sense had emerged.


    I released my hand from the conduit¡¯s surface, covered in sweat and feeling as if I had sprinted for hours straight. Beads of sweat dripped down my forehead and my cerebral dantian¡¯s flow was in turmoil. Taking a moment to soothe the inner sea, I forcibly relaxed myself and sat back down on the couch. Rachel was observing me. She had lost her imperious and angered looks from before. There was something gentler about her expression.


    ¡°Did you see it?¡± she asked. I nodded slowly, allowing the sweat to drip down past my eyes.


    ¡°Was that your soul?¡± I asked, still shocked and amazed by what I had seen. That sort of ashatic structure was beyond anything I had ever seen, comparable to even the creations of the Osine themselves, perhaps. Rachel smiled at me, and this time it seemed genuine. There was a noticeable trace of smugness in it.


    ¡°Rather than my soul, that was me. My true body.¡±


    I leaned back, unable to compose myself in the face of her words. That soul was unlike anything I had even imagined. It was inhuman, monstrous, and yet there was an undeniable beauty to it.


    ¡°You¡¯re not a Shade.¡± I stated it matter of factly, as if it were a fundamental truth. And it was. The structure of the powerful artificial soul that I had seen¡­ Its existence could not be disputed, and it wasn¡¯t the smattering of daubed fragments cobbled together that a Shade was said to bear. This was a masterwork. A true soul, formed by artifice.


    Rachel¡¯s eyes had become more of a vice, as if I were a prisoner entrapped within those sparkling sapphire orbs. ¡°That I am not.¡±


    ¡°A creation of the Osine, then? An awakened servitor of some sort?¡±


    There were only so many origins that could exist for the power needed to craft ashata into a true shell. The framework I had seen was beyond the power of any progression or technology of which I knew. Not even the Staiven or the Celans would be capable of such a thing. She laughed, and for once it was not a cruel sound.


    ¡°I was once a member of a race called Humanity. Now, I suppose your people would refer to me as a spirit. A spirit god, perhaps.¡±


    The sly grin was back, but I could see a difference from before there as well. It was hard to place, like some aspect of her had shifted after opening up to me. I knew of at least twelve races in this region of the galaxy, but I had never heard of humanity. She continued speaking before I was able to compose a response.


    ¡°We had an empire that stretched across thousands of star systems. We had thought ourselves alone in the universe until we encountered a faction of Osine. The Sheneth-Ari. As it turned out, we merely happened to arise in the one region they feared. And so they killed us. Sent in their servitors to destroy every last one of us. Out of sheer misplaced fear. There were trillions of us. In just a few decades, only a couple million remained. There was no way to escape. We had yet to find a way to crack the light barrier.¡±


    There were few races that had, I knew. Other than the Osine and their client species, as far as I was aware only portals created by the calculation engines themselves were capable of accomplishing it.


    Rachel was looking away from me, now. Her eyes dashed to different parts of the room, and yet they seemed to be looking nowhere in particular. She wore a melancholy expression, as if what she was recounting were poor memories. I supposed they must be like my own recollection of loss. Sadness and anger mingled together and I empathized with her as she continued to speak. The absence in my heart stirred once more.


    ¡°All that was left was our home system, and they could chase down and destroy our ships if we tried to run. In a last ditch effort at survival we experimented with technology based on theories we had yet to fully comprehend. As it turned out, there was a great deal of enhancement that could be done upon our very souls. Our mortal bodies were fragile and vulnerable, but our souls could be protected far more effectively. And we found that traveling faster than light is trivial in this state, so in the end the remaining few managed to escape. We traded away our humanity and our home, but not our heritage. We now call ourselves Terrans.¡±


    She smiled grimly and met my eyes. The fire from earlier had returned to them, and this time I allowed it to harmonize with my own emotions of hate and anguish.


    ¡°They¡¯re still trying to hunt us down, Cyrus. They labeled us Shades, convinced people we were soulless monsters, and tried to kill us on sight. I wish to topple their institutions, cripple their infrastructure, and avenge all the untold masses of my people that they killed.¡±


    She was almost spitting the vitriol from her lips. I found myself enthralled in the ardor of her hatred.


    ¡°Why here, though? The Pantheon are not members of the Sheneth-Ari. They are not even Osine.¡± I asked. Rachel chuckled grimly.


    ¡°We are advanced, strong by the standards of races such as your own, but there are too few of us to fight the council directly, and the Osine would be able to detect our presence if we snuck into their territory. It is better to build up strength, to topple an ally of theirs who is not quite so well-protected. For now, the best my people can hope for is to grow our influence and weaken their own.¡±


    ¡°And so you¡¯re here,¡± I said.


    ¡°And so I¡¯m here,¡± she responded, eyes still aglow with blind hatred. ¡°This wasn¡¯t my first choice, of course. I had intended to take down one of the colony worlds before moving on Staive itself. But then by chance or ill fate, the Epon captured this conduit, my only connection to this spacetime, and so here I ended up."


    Rachel shrugged, leaning back into the couch. It was almost as if she had worn her emotions out, as she now lounged in an apathetic pose.


    ¡°I easily broke through the Epon¡¯s flimsy restraints and sent out multiple baits to attract potential saviors who could carry it out. And so, here we are. I feel we share an interest, Cyrus. In tearing down the rulers of this cruel society. To fight against the heavens and become something greater.¡±


    She scratched her cheek, turning her gaze aside awkwardly. ¡°You would not have been my first choice, but it¡¯s better to work with what¡¯s available. With us as the cornerstone, I believe we have a chance to cut off the Pantheon¡¯s control of this station, to build up a power base we can use for our individual revenges. What do you think?¡±


    I found myself gripping the hilt of my sword, mind whirling with visions of revenge and punishment. But my eyes remained locked on Rachel¡¯s face.


    If the Pantheon fell, the governments of my home-world would likely fail to survive the backlash. I could sweep in during the chaos and¡­ I smiled. Rachel was being overambitious, but there was nothing I had to lose but my life. The cautious would never dare to tread the path to immortality.


    ¡°Did you have a plan in mind?¡± I asked. Rachel¡¯s face contorted into a demonic grin, excited by the question. I couldn¡¯t help but match it with my own, finally at step with her style. She had inflamed my emotions,


    ¡°There are over half a million Seiyal living here, and all of them are either mortal or of the orthodox path. I sense a vacuum. There should be many talented youngsters who would leap at the opportunity to gain power of their own.¡±


    I nodded, considering. So this was what she had wanted me for. I nodded again, liking the idea more the more I considered it. We alone would not be enough. That was an obvious fact.


    ¡°I see,¡± I said. ¡°So how should we go about founding a sect?¡±


    Terrans: [A subtype of Shade that emerged from the Quarantined territory. Terrans claim to have once been living beings that turned themselves into the abominations they are today. Like other Shades, they are highly violent and dangerous, wishing to destroy all biological life. Terrans are highly technologically advanced, and it is for the benefit of all territories that they be eliminated. Any information obtained about potential Terran intrusion into inhabited space can be delivered to the offices of the Sheneth-Ari Council in exchange for a substantial reward. It is the duty of all living beings to deliver such information. Failure to do so will be met with capital punishment.]

 9- Triezal

    Otan, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    Of all the districts, the fourth was certainly the least inviting. It was usually referred to as Otan, which from Kalthen¡¯s limited knowledge meant something like ¡®smoke¡¯ in the Exid tongue. He cared little about such things.


    The ¡®beetles¡¯, as he called them, reminded him of the small scurrying insects that Gardener Arvajott had once placed upon Celah in the years after the fall. Kalthen himself had never even been to his people¡¯s ancestral homeland, of course. Still, he had seen the creatures in lessons and films he had watched growing up, so he had a fair understanding of the world¡¯s fauna. The Exid looked just like the small insects, though quite a bit larger. Roughly four feet long and covered in a opalescent chitin shell, the aliens did indeed resemble insects or crustaceans.


    They were an Osine client race, and as such they had formed naturally, lacking any particularly unique ashatic interactions. Even worse, they were an insectoid race with a hive culture. It was disgusting. The only insectoid race Kalthen ever wished to deal with was the Korlove. In his opinion, the Exid could not be considered anything but barbaric serfs, scuttling around as they underwent the tasks their hive queens had asked of them.


    As he thought over the insectoid sibling race of his own people, his gaze shifted to the small Korlove squad flanking him as they made their way deeper into the district. Soldier Kande and her team were carefully examining all of the swarming beetles for weapons or traces of hostile intent, but the workers just continued in their task, heedless of the group¡¯s presence. There was little need to be wary of the aliens, though Kalthen did not blame the squad. They were well-trained soldiers of the Heirs. The thought lit up Kalthen¡¯s expression as he remembered that they were at the moment fully under his command.


    Otan was the largest industrial district of Tseludia Station, as well as the home of its Exid population. Worker Exid were born in droves and lived short lives, and because they had not much of a soul to speak of, nobody particularly had an issue with the working conditions their queens had them laboring under in the factories of Otan.


    Because of their presence serving as a near unlimited source of cheap and disposable labor, conditions in this district had steadily grown worse and worse. In the end, the government had only stepped in to require the factories to limit their emissions because it was spreading to other districts. The solution chosen in the end had simply been to use filters to clean the air, which would be discarded into space after they were overfilled. Even still, the air in the district tasted noticeably grittier than in the others, and Kalthen hated the place. Still, anywhere corporate greed was allowed to run so rampant was a good place to earn money, and so the Heirs of Ottrien had been making a play to take over the district¡¯s underworld.


    Kalthen shambled along the bridge, having to step carefully around the shifting tides of beetles in order to keep his footing. The ground was slick with oily residue, and he nearly tripped multiple times before he arrived at his destination.


    The safehouse was located on the third floor from the top of the stack, accessible from the small alley between a residence and a Celan restaurant. Both of the two buildings were rare in the district, as the Exid laborers slept in the factories and only ate nutritional mush, but the factories had inspectors and supervisors, and they needed places to live and eat.


    Kalthen strode down the alley, stepping carefully around the overfilled dumpster to an iron hatch next to a large vent. Resting on the hatch¡¯s control board was a glyph slate, and Kalthen idly reached out to trace the passcode into it.


    As he traced the glyph his uncle had given him, he mused to himself how silly it was to hide the safehouse like this. While it made sense to locate it near one of the only sources of Celan-edible food in the district, that just made it trivially easy for their enemies to guess where it might be.


    The hatch slid open with a hiss of escaping air, and Kalthen strode through, allowing his shoulders to arch back as he introduced more confidence to his walk.


    Past the hatch was a dimly lit corridor opening to a few rooms on either side and on the end. The corridor dog legged awkwardly to the right so as to pass around the apartment it was built behind. He ignored the side rooms, moving with due exigence towards the far opening. The squad of soldiers followed in step behind him.


    The main room of the safehouse held a silicate dining table on one end, and multiple faux-leather couches on the other, where a few soldiers were quietly lounging. At the table, a Korlove spymaster was quietly discussing something with a Merris man.


    The man was tall and fit for his race, though even then he was shorter and skinnier than Kalthen himself who was slender for a Jobu. The Merris were a rare race in this part of the galaxy, with most choosing to remain on the planet the Staiven had granted use of to Celan refugees. They had similar skin tones and hair coloration to that of the Jobu, but were much smaller, closer to the size of a Seiyal. Despite the limitations of their strength and muscle mass, the Merris certainly outshone the Jobu in the fields of dexterity and reflexes. In particular, they had enhanced minds, capable of quick thinking and analysis of their senses. To Kalthen the trait seemed almost magical in effect, and the man before him had refined it to its limit.


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Triezal was something of a mystery. Two years before, he had arrived to the station on a ship, claiming he had been sent by the Heirs¡¯ patron in order to provide them assistance. The Leader had quickly assigned him very difficult tasks, and Triezal always accomplished them swiftly and without error. It was as if tasks such as accounting, extortion, and even assassination were all trivial matters for him. If Kalthen¡¯s Uncle was the Leader¡¯s right hand, Triezal was his left. To make matters worse, he was barely a year and a half Kalthen¡¯s senior in age.


    Triezal often wore odd clothing that seemed to be thrown together from finds in a thrift store, but he seemed to have a preference for jackets and factory worker pants. He had long hair, dyed blue and tied up with a yellow cord as if he were some punk from the bygone later days of Celah. A yellow blindfold was tied around his eyes even though Kalthen knew he wasn¡¯t blind. All in all, the ensemble made the man look ludicrous in Kalthen¡¯s estimation. Upon hearing Kalthen¡¯s entry, Triezal turned to him with a smile.


    ¡°Little brother! What a pleasant surprise.¡±


    The man stood, welcoming Kalthen in with a gracious, mocking smile on his face. Kalthen could almost envision the mocking gaze shrouded behind the blindfold. A pleasant surprise?


    ¡°Sure it is,¡± muttered Kalthen. He then spoke up louder, bowing towards the other man. ¡°It is a joy to make your acquaintance once again, senior Triezal.¡±


    Triezal laughed boisterously, sliding out a chair on the table for Kalthen. The two sat, and Kalthen turned back toward soldier Kande¡¯s squad.


    ¡°Kande, I want you here for this. The rest of you may rest until the morning.¡± The Korlove dipped their heads in acquiescence, and their squad leader went over to one of the stools designed for Korlove, pulling it up to the table beside him.


    ¡°Perfect,¡± said Triezal. ¡°We might as well get started right now. Tell me about this Seiyal the Leader wants us to find.¡±


    He had rested his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers in a rather pretentious manner. His head was angled towards Kalthen as if there was any possible way he could see through that blindfold. For a moment Kalthen played with the idea of ignoring the other man, but soon discarded it. If he caused trouble, Triezal might inform the Leader about it, and then Kalthen¡¯s hopes of repairing the damage the thief had done to his reputation would be dashed completely. He roughly recounted what he knew about the thief, with occasional assistance from Kande.


    The Korlove woman was rather serious at all times, he had come to realize. He had spent the past day moving around with her as they spoke to informants from across the districts, but she had yet to break her frigid demeanor. As their tale was ending, Triezal paused in thought upon hearing of how the Seiyal had vanished.


    ¡°Extant arts? No, those should not be this powerful in the core formation realm¡­ If not that¡­¡± His hands moved back to retie the knot holding his hair, as if nervous. ¡°Kalthen, what did you say he stole again?¡± Kalthen scratched his head.


    ¡°Various things, I wasn¡¯t able to see what was in his sack. He was carrying some odd stone in his hand, though. It was black and glowing, about this large,¡± Kalthen said, demonstrating the size with his hands. ¡°I couldn¡¯t recognize it. Wasn¡¯t even aware we had something like that, actually.¡±


    A look of shock covered Triezal¡¯s face. He suddenly stood up, slamming his chair back into the wall as he began to laugh in a hysterical manner. It was very much at odds with the manner Kalthen had seen the man present himself previously. The laughter ceased suddenly, and a very composed expression filled Triezal¡¯s face.


    ¡°No wonder the Leader moved me onto this. Damn.¡± He lifted the blindfold, rubbing his eyes with one hand. ¡°Shadows¡­ this is such a clusterfuck. We need to get it back, and we need to do so very fast, Kalthen.¡±


    Kalthen was confused. He knew the thief had taken something valuable, as well as the loss of face the robbery had symbolized, but wasn¡¯t this reaction a bit much?


    ¡°Triezal¡­¡± The man turned to face him. ¡°Just what was it that he took?¡± Triezal shrugged, lying back down with the relaxed demeanor Kalthen generally expected to see from the man. He had certainly composed himself quickly.


    ¡°I don¡¯t actually know what it is. All I know is that the Epon want it, and desperately. Years back a courier ship was sent to acquire it and take it back, and it should finally be arriving soon. If they find out that we lost it¡­ It doesn¡¯t matter what we need to do to find it, so long as it¡¯s in our possession before they arrive. If not, the Heirs might not exist at all for much longer.¡±


    Kalthen became pale, and from the corner of his eye he could see the hairs on Kande¡¯s legs had raised up. He chuckled. It was good to see that she actually could show emotion.


    He leaned his seat back, staring up at the room¡¯s tile ceiling, like a schoolboy bored in class. He could be considered at least partially at fault for letting the thief escape, and if they weren¡¯t able to capture him¡­ perhaps it would be wise to look into what ships would be departing the station in the coming months.


    Exid: [One of the rare mortal races who developed naturally, the Exid are a race consisting of multiple different castes of organism, with only the Hive Queens being sapient. Each Hive Queen controls a vast swarm of crustacean-like worker Exid, who respond to her every will as they lack independent thought. The Exid are an Osine client race simply because they arose in the territory of the Fal a Dein and were deemed unsuitable for harvest due to their particular nature. As they lack any sort of progression system or an impressive technological base, there are largely ignored by their overlords, and many have spread out across inhabited space. Worker Exid are several feet long and roughly one and a half feet tall. They are covered in a curved shell, and are a pearlescent white when their exoskeleton is clean. They have a pair of claws at the front that they use to grip objects. The Hive Queens look similar but much larger, with a distended abdomen used for giving birth to mass quantities of workers.]

 10- Canvas Town

    I had visited quite a few of the station¡¯s districts by this point, but the moment I walked into the district informally known as Canvas Town, I immediately felt more at home. While the underlying structures of the buildings were of a fundamentally Staiven design, their exteriors had been highly customized to better match the aesthetic sensibilities of my homeworld.


    It was a bit of a hodgepodge of architectural design, with the sweeping angles of Sunlit Hall architecture standing next to the circular mandalas of Crucible¡¯s Edge. I could even see hints of utilitarian designs from Bounty in buildings here and there.


    I was on one of the lower layers of the stack, a business street filled with lively motion, and the ceiling was hung with white steel lanterns that seemed at first glance to be burning with real fire. A closer look revealed that the flames were simply projections.


    The effect was profound, making it feel like I was walking the streets of a city on Canvas at night, perhaps even during a festival. The streets were lined in carts selling anything from food to general supplies, and everywhere I looked I saw swathes of sei, farsei, and even the occasional Tovus. The homogeneity of the blond headed masses were only broken up occasionally by the rare Jobu or Staiven.


    I breathed in, sampling the scent of the spiced meat and wine that floated upon the air. Canvas Town was just as it had been described to me: a true bastion of Canvas¡¯ culture within the alien reaches of Tseludia Station.


    As I made my way through the crowd, a younger man bumped into me. He was pushed back, clearly in a lower realm than I was. A quick spiritual glance at him revealed he was still in the process of awakening his dantian. I glared at him and he bowed, fearful.


    ¡°Apologies, senior,¡± he said in a respectful tone. I gave him a nod and continued on my way. The interaction had left me in a good mood. Only my own people truly knew what it meant to have a proper interaction. I moved to scratch an itch on my nose, but was interrupted by a voice in my ear.


    ¡°Don¡¯t touch your face. The hologram doesn¡¯t perfectly match your bone structure, and someone might see your hand move through your ¡®skin¡¯.¡±


    Rachel¡¯s voice served as an excellent damper for my mood. I rested my thumb in my belt instead.


    I was wearing a standard martial arts uniform, the sort that was commonly worn by unaffiliated martial artists and those who wished to hide their affiliation. It was black, with some decoration done in gold and green stylized like a pair of Bountian junglefiends leaping to fight one another. Rachel had made Hestky order it for me so I could blend in better.


    ¡°Could you not simply have made the illusion line up with my features?¡± I asked. Rachel sighed in exasperation, making me even more annoyed.


    ¡°If I had done that it wouldn¡¯t have hidden your facial structure, Cyrus. Which was the entire point of the disguise.¡±


    Her logic made sense, though I had some difficulty grasping the limitations of her illusions at times. Could she not have changed where it seemed like my hands were touching? It wasn¡¯t important, I supposed. I could just avoid touching my face while in disguise.


    Another young man was walking past me, and bumped into me as if he had expected me to move out of his way.I delivered a sharp glare to him as well, wishing to see him apologize for the slight. I would have accepted him just running off as well, as I did have business to take care of.


    As I did so, I realized that he was wearing the white and green robes of the Hadal Clan. He was a sei, and had long blond hair tied up atop his head in a traditional style. An outraged look spread across his face as if he couldn¡¯t believe I had dared to block his way.


    ¡°Do you know who I am?¡± he shouted, almost spluttering the words out.


    I had met plenty of young men like him before. There was something about the combination of martial arts training and being raised in a powerful family that created men like this. I might have ventured down such a path had my master not raised me properly.


    ¡°Should I?¡± I asked.


    While he was physically an adult, my mind couldn¡¯t help but see him as a boy due to the way he was acting. Mouthing off to a senior of a higher realm while relying solely on one¡¯s backing is quite simply a foolish thing to do. I considered teaching him a lesson.


    ¡°I¡¯m Yulio Hadal, eldest son of the Hadal Clan¡¯s Chief Apothecary.¡±


    The boy spoke the words out boastfully, as if he expected me to prostrate before him after learning his identity. He would have to be disappointed I could accept minor effacement, but that would be going too far. He seemed to be a core member of the clan, not that I particularly cared. I mostly just wanted the dispute to be over so I could go about my business. That father of his clearly must have spent too much time synthesizing pills and too little instructing his progeny.


    ¡°I apologize for the slight, young master.¡±


    I had tried to make my voice sound polite, but it was difficult for me. It was easier than it would have been due to the fact that I was in disguise. Had I been acting as my true self, I might not have deigned to respond to the man at all. A hint of my true feelings leaked into my tone, driving him deeper into rage.


    Had he been rejected by his lover recently, or something? His reactions seemed a bit disproportionate to my words. I sighed, putting just a touch of miasma into my meridians and dashing off through the crowd. I had no energy left with which to deal with his type. Chances are he would insist I do something ridiculous like kowtow or give him money. Decidedly a waste of my time.


    Behind me, the arrogant martial artist shouted something that was lost to the bustle of the crowd. I paid no attention to it.


    ¡°Incredible. I can¡¯t believe arrogant young masters like that really exist,¡± said Rachel, breaking my train of thought. ¡°It felt like I was watching a movie. I was under the impression that the stories were exaggerated but¡­¡±


    ¡°You see that type on occasion,¡± I said. ¡°The best way to handle it is either to avoid them or turn it into a fight.¡±


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    ¡°I appreciate you choosing the first option,¡± she said dryly.


    ¡°Killing him would delay me. Better to wait and avoid becoming involved with the Hadal Clan before we¡¯re prepared.¡±


    ¡°Does that mean you would have killed him if he wasn¡¯t a member of the Hadal Clan?¡±


    The tone of her voice made it seem as if she were honestly curious. I chuckled, slowing down to merge back into the crowd as best I could.


    ¡°In a place like this, if he weren¡¯t part of the clan, he wouldn¡¯t have dared to antagonize someone of a higher realm.¡±


    ¡°That¡­ makes sense,¡± she said.


    The crowd was starting to clear out as I moved to a slightly seedier part of the district, crossing one of the bridges to a stack whose buildings acquired somewhat less foot traffic. I turned as I finally arrived at my destination, a small martial arts academy whose window was boarded up with a sheet of cheap metal.


    I lifted my left wrist to inspect a digital wristwatch. It was made of cheap steel, with a thin red linen band that blended in somewhat with my dark skin. The time read two minutes. I paused. That couldn¡¯t be right.


    ¡°Rachel, what happened to the timer?¡±


    She paused for a moment as if to consider, liking checking whatever sources of information she was using to track them.


    ¡°They¡¯ve taken an unusual route. Their schedule today is different from the usual, they seem to be heading straight for you. I think Hidoro might have called them to collect.¡± I frowned.


    ¡°I see.¡±


    The watch was another item we had acquired in the past few days. Precise timekeeping was not a habit my people traditionally ascribed to, though some on the station had been forced into it by working for alien corporations. This timepiece was being controlled from afar by Rachel, using some arcane form of advanced technology. I looked down at the watch¡¯s face again. Still two minutes. I frowned.


    ¡°Rachel, is this machine broken?¡± I asked.


    She sighed, and I detected a hint of consternation in the sound.


    ¡°They stopped to ogle a food cart owner. I paused the timer until they begin moving again. You should go in, there¡¯s not much time left.¡±


    The lack of discipline our marks were displaying annoyed me. They might be gangsters, but in Crucible¡¯s Edge, even the lowliest of thugs had discipline strongly instilled into them by their superiors. It seemed that even though an orthodox clan was part of the underworld here, they knew nothing of how best to handle such an organization. I would have thought they would model themselves after their traditional foe, but such was clearly not the case. In any case, the lacking discipline of the gangsters represented an opportunity for us. One I intended to exploit.


    ¡°I might not have enough time for the plan. Should I wait outside?¡±


    There was a pause as she considered. I had decided to leave the operational planning to her. My expertise lay more in the martial and tactical avenues, after all. After a few moments, Rachel decided.


    ¡°No, go inside. They might be wary if they see you loitering outside. You should at least have time to make the initial offer.¡±


    I nodded, assenting. For a moment it felt odd to make a physical expression such as that when I appeared to be standing alone in the street, but I knew Rachel was able to see me through some arcane method. To me, the workings of advanced technology were more esoteric than even the spirit realm. I turned back to the academy, inspecting it in greater detail.


    The Charging Puma Academy of Martial Arts was in the kindest of terms, a bit of a dump. The window was boarded as it had been broken, and the inscribed metal signboard was covered in scratches and signs of wear. A crack in the ceiling next to the door slowly dripped a black liquid onto the ground.


    I tapped the door to open it, and found the inside was only slightly better. While the room was clearly well-kept and clean, the training tools consisted solely of a fabric mat, a pile of wraps, and a bucket of poor quality training swords that were clearly printed by a machine. As I entered, one of the students, a sei girl who appeared to still be in her teenage years paused in her training, the blade in her hand dropping in shock at my sudden arrival.


    ¡°Cinto, somebody¡¯s here!¡± she called.


    I stared in confusion at the dismal conditions. People would actually pay to train here? If they were making so little money that they were forced to set up shop in a building like this one, I couldn¡¯t imagine the martial arts of the academy were anything but the lowest grade. Rachel had told me the place would be in dire straits, but this was far worse than I had anticipated.


    At the girl¡¯s call, an farsei woman turned the corner of a doorway to face me. She had a harsh face, all rigid lines and steep angles. It was easy to determine that she was someone going through a lot of stress. Good.


    She was about my own age physically, though I knew it would be difficult to guess her age in terms of years based solely upon that. A martial artist¡¯s aging slowed according to their realm, after all.


    A tendril of my soul sense inspected her. She was in the early stages of the core formation realm. A bead of sweat was dripping down her forehead as she regarded me, and a puzzled expression covered her face.


    ¡°You¡¯re not one of Hidoro¡¯s lackeys,¡± she stated.


    I suddenly realized that she and the younger girl were both wearing matching gray uniforms bearing stylized designs of a crouching puma. I would have expected it to be charging as the name of the academy suggested, but odds were they had simply bought uniforms that were the closest fit rather than have them made to order. Such was common practice among the poorer sects and academies.


    ¡°That I am not,¡± I responded. ¡°My name is Cyrus Yu, and I am here with an offer for this academy. May I speak to the grandmaster?¡±


    The woman shifted in an uncertain manner before bowing.


    ¡°I am Cinto, the second generation grandmaster of this martial academy. May I know what you wish to discuss?¡±


    This was a surprise, but not so much of one that I had trouble adapting. She looked too young to be running her own academy. Generally, anyone talented or well-trained enough to reach the core formation realm while still appearing young would have better things to be doing with their time than teaching mortals and children. I also noticed that she had introduced herself without a surname. In the modern era, even orphans were granted one. I put off the lines of thought for later consideration. I needed to make the offer before the gangsters arrived.


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard of the difficulties your academy is currently facing, and wanted to offer to solve them for you.¡±


    I gave her my best approximation of a pleasant smile. She narrowed her eyes at me, and I checked my watch again. Forty-five seconds. Damn.


    ¡°My organization would like to extend you the possibility of protection from rabble such as Hidoro¡¯s goons,¡± I continued.


    Cinto¡¯s face scrunched up as she glared at me.


    ¡°We have no interest in your racket. Please leave unless you wish to sign up for one of our self defense courses.¡±


    I considered giving an actual response, but decided it was better to wait for another¡­ I checked the watch again. Ten seconds. I turned back to Cinto.


    ¡°Let¡¯s table this discussion for a moment.¡±


    Behind me, I heard the sound of the entry door sliding open. I failed to suppress my grin. It seemed that plan B it was.


    Miasma: [The manifestation of ashatic compounds within Telles, miasma is a vital component in cutting edge technology for the most advanced of mortal races. In addition, it is the core component that allows for the functioning of the progression systems that some mortal races have. Sufficient quantities of the right variant of miasma can be used as a catalyst for ascension. There are six expressions miasma takes. Flickering, Formless, Genesis, Sanguine, Extant, Manifest. Each of the variants has different properties, in color, scent, density, and rate of dissolution back into the Brink.]

 11- Intersection

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    The door slid open behind the strange man who had called himself Cyrus Yu. Cinto glanced over to see the visitors she had been dreading.


    The larger of the two was called Highwood, a pale and muscular Seiyal with long hair left untied. There was an old wound gouging his lip, a wound clearly left by a sword. If she remembered correctly, The man had received the wound in a fight with Hidoro, prior to joining the Redwind gang. The other figure was a Tovus. Cinto had grown up in Tseludia Station, and while Tovus were less common here than on Canvas, she had known plenty of them growing up. This one¡¯s name was Aht, and their gelatinous form wriggled with thinly veiled aggression as they ambled their way relaxedly down towards her.


    Cyrus stood to the side, watching the gangsters approach with a smile on his face.


    Cinto knew what a madman looked like, and this Cyrus certainly fit the bill. He had a rather normal looking face, but something about him drew attention because it felt¡­ off somehow. It was something about his bearing, as well as his eyes. The way he looked at people.


    He struck her as the sort of man who might watch someone die without lifting a finger to help unless it benefited him in some way. A true snake. Aht was the same way. They extended a pseudopod, reaching for her shoulder, and she let it rest as they greeted her, deeply uncomfortable.


    ¡°Cinto! It¡¯s been quite a while. What a joy to see you doing well,¡± they burbled.


    Their voice was much deeper than one would have expected looking at them. As Tovus had to train in order to replicate a voice box, they had a very wide range of sounds that their voices could manifest in. Aht¡¯s was a deep baritone, broken up by the occasional popping noise as mucus slid into its vocal abscess.


    Beside them, Highwood was sneering at Cyrus, who still had that crazed expression on his face. Given how the man had offered to protect her, Cinto idly wondered if he really was trying to set up a protection racket in the Redwind Gang¡¯s territory. It was a fool¡¯s errand if so. Everyone knew that Hidoro was backed by the Hadal Clan. No one would dare antagonize them unless they were truly desperate. Cinto nodded at Aht respectfully, leery of bowing so close to the being. The Tovus had a reputation for his cruel and disgusting sense of humor.


    ¡°The joy is mine. Our Charging Puma Academy is honored to host such distinguished guests. May I ask the purpose of your visit?¡±


    Aht snorted, the motion sending a glob of mucus spraying out onto the floor between them. Cinto tactfully ignored it. The Tovus had adapted a variety of body language habits from the Seiyal, though some of them did not quite come across well due to the extreme difference in their biology.


    Aht traced her cheek with a pseudopod, and Cinto restrained the urge to kill them. It would be easy. Tovus had no inherent ashatic progression. She could splatter them across the room with a single backhand. She held it in. Even if she could kill the being, Highwood would be there to avenge him. The man was at the same stage of core formation as her, but even if she were to defeat him, Hidoro would soon find out. She was trapped. Aht laughed suddenly, raising its mass upwards a little, to the height of her eyes.


    ¡°Hidoro wants his investment back. Don¡¯t you miss the gang? Being part of something greater? It¡¯s a much better use of your time than working in this dump. Do you even have more than two students?¡±


    Aht¡¯s greenish form shifted, the pseudopod slithering back into its mass as it grew even higher, an amorphous pillar looming above her. Cinto¡¯s voice was dry and gravelly as she responded.


    ¡°Like I told you last time, I have no desire to return,¡± she said.


    Aht laughed at that, another glob of mucus spewing from the abscess in their body that the Tovus used to talk.


    ¡°As expected from you,¡± they said. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have wanted to tell Hidoro I didn¡¯t try, at least. In that case, he wants the money you owe him. I believe you agreed to ten thousand serite per month? You¡¯re two months behind, Cinto. What do you have to say about that? Say, Highwood, how about we¡­¡±


    Aht turned to see the large man staring down the odd farsei. It was almost humorous to watch, as if the two were undergoing a staring contest like teenage boys.


    ¡°Highwood, what are you doing?¡± they asked. Highwood broke eye contact, turning to address his superior.


    ¡°This one knows not proper respect, Aht.¡±


    He jammed a thumb backward, pointing it at Cyrus, who bore a wicked smile. His hands were quivering, though Cinto couldn¡¯t tell if it was nervousness or anticipation. The bad vibes he was giving off made her think it might be the latter. It was possible he might attack the gangsters even if she didn¡¯t agree to give him any protection money. That wasn¡¯t any of her business, however. Cinto had her own problems to worry about. Aht looking annoyedly at Cyrus.


    ¡°Who the fuck are you?¡± the Tovus asked. Cyrus shrugged, looking off to the side. Cinto followed his gaze,  but it seemed like he was looking at nothing in particular.


    ¡°Should I just kill them and talk to her afterwards?¡± He paused, shaking his head. ¡°Good point.¡±


    He turned to Cinto, apparently satisfied with whatever short conversation he had been having with himself. He was still in far too good of a mood for the circumstances.


    ¡°Grandmaster Cinto, I hear you¡¯re in debt to these thugs. You wouldn¡¯t mind me taking care of them, would you?¡±


    Cinto paused, and then shook her head. Aht laughed, causing a mucus bubble to pop.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    ¡°This man is insane. Highwood, you were right. Silence his chattering, would you?¡±


    Highwood nodded, cracking his knuckles with a grin. He palmed a pair of small iron shapes into his hands, sliding his fingers through the holes.


    ¡°Don¡¯t die too quickly,¡± he laughed. It was an unpleasant sound, cruel and mocking.


    In response, Cyrus slid a well-crafted sword from the sheathe on his waist. It was a fairly mundane looking weapon, though of good make. It was a simple jian, with light geometric etchings on the hilt and pommel. A tattered red ribbon wrapped around the handle, and extending through a hole in the pommel to serve as something of a tassel. While nothing about the sword itself struck her as particularly notable, she felt a slight sense of majesty from it, as if there was some sort of intrinsic value to it that she was unable to discern.


    Cyrus held it in a solid grip as he faced the knuckle-bearing Highwood. She could see the two of them shifting their feet, waiting to see if the other would make the first move.


    After a moment of silence, Cyrus was first to strike. He moved with startling swiftness, throwing the large man off his guard as he scrambled to catch up.


    Cinto stared in shock. The man¡¯s feet touched the floor softly, skidding across it as if he were as light as an insect. She could sense formless miasma circulating within his body, and his sword twirled upward in a move that was clearly practiced and refined to the utmost limit of mastery.


    His speed, his precise movements¡­this Cyrus Yu was a true martial genius, far beyond her own, beyond even Hidoro¡¯s talents. Had they been in the same realm, she might even think Cyrus could have defeated him easily. Despite being a core formation martial artist, he might even be able to fight on an even level with an early stage spirit refiner.


    Highwood was unequipped to handle his opponent. His martial arts used genesis miasma, and his techniques focused on using it to empower his strength. He had a very sturdy body, and Cinto knew he usually fought by taking hits in exchange for returning with even greater force. Against Cyrus¡¯ agility he was helpless, unable to land even a single punch.


    Highwood threw out a punch, and Cyrus ducked low, passing beneath it to slash up at the larger man¡¯s shoulder. It dug in deep, but was unable to cut through his resilient body. He was behind Highwood now, and another slash landed on the man¡¯s neck as his sword tore through the air, almost seeming to tear the firmament itself as it left behind a trail of blue mist in its wake.


    The formless miasma swirled in the air, fluttering around on the air currents before fading out after a few seconds.


    Highwood stumbled forward, mind clearly working high gear to uncover just what had happened. He never had the chance. Another slash from the sword attacked the same neck wound as the previous, this time tearing through to topple the surprised head of Highwood onto the ground.


    It struck Cinto that he was using his jian as one normally would a saber. His was an aggressive and uncompromising martial style, relying solely on his agility for defense as he pounded his opponent with an unending torrent of blows. His sword was a relentless storm. She had never seen it in person before, but could easily recognize it anyway. This was the sword art of the Downpour Sect.


    She had heard rumors of a man using formless sword arts who had openly robbed the Heirs of Ottrien and escaped. They had been spreading across the various martial organizations of Canvas Town. As a community of orthodox martial artists, there were very few Seiyal on the station who trained in the unorthodox way. An unorthodox martial artist of mysterious affiliation who had fought off a Celan enforcer and escaped had caught the eye of the masses. There was little doubt in her mind that the man before her was the one they had been discussing.


    Cyrus flicked his sword, splattering blood all across Cinto¡¯s training mats. He looked at the mess and shrugged, lifting the hem of his robe to carefully carefully clean the rest off of the blade. The grin had not left his face.


    Cinto found herself just staring at the man. Beside her, Aht was also peering at Cyrus in a horrified stupor. Their membrane shivered, undulating like a stormy sea as they sank back down to their normal height and slowly began to sneak away. Their egress was silent as they tried to avoid the swordsman who was finishing the cleaning of his weapon. It was in vain, however.


    As they were halfway to the door, Aht was stopped with the blade of Cyrus sword. In but an instant after he had wiped the last traces of Highwood¡¯s blood from its surface, Cyrus had shifted several steps away to position his sword right in the Tovus¡¯ path. Aht quivered as they froze, their gelatinous body jiggling in fear.


    ¡°Where are you going?¡± asked Cyrus.


    His head was cocked in an inquisitive fashion, as if it were an idle question he was asking to a friend. Aht burbled, trying and failing to come up with a suitable response.


    ¡°I uh, I can put in a good word with Hidoro if you let me go. There¡¯s no need to worry about Highwood, haha.¡±


    Cinto could tell they were grasping at straws. She eyes Cyrus again, and could see in his eyes that the man had no intention of letting the Tovus go.


    For a moment she considered intervening, avenging Highwood in order to appease Hidoro and be given more time. She decided against the idea. Even if she were somehow a match for the monster before her, Hidoro would never let her go easily, no matter what assistance she may provide to him. He wanted her to be his right hand once more.


    In addition, she felt little anger about Highwood¡¯s death other than the annoyance that cleaning up his blood would pose. It was undignified for the grandmaster of an academy to do menial labor like cleaning the training area, but she had far too few disciples to fully delegate such tasks.


    Since Highwood was dead, she did not particularly mind what happened to Aht. The Tovus was a sleazy and cruel person, and the only reason they had not yet been slain in revenge for their many injustices was the looming figure of Hidoro backing them up.


    As far as Cinto could estimate, at the moment her best option was to see how the martial genius before her intended to handle the great issue he had caused himself. Perhaps she would agree to his terms, whatever they were, and wait until he was inevitably killed by Hidoro.


    No matter how talented this Cyrus Yu was, he had no chance of defeating another genius of an entire realm higher than him.


    Cinto suddenly realized that while she had been weighing her options, a short conversation had been going on between the two before her. She was able to catch the latter half of one of Cyrus¡¯ sentences.


    ¡°-you think? Not sure how useful they would be.¡±


    His eyes were unfocused, and she realized that Aht was still silently shivering before the blade. Did Cyrus have an earpiece or some other technology? She had not noticed such a thing in his ears before, but perhaps it was disguised in some way. It was either the case that he had one or was completely insane. Or maybe he was talking to some sort of spirit, she joked to herself.


    Suddenly Cyrus paused, nodding his head.


    ¡°I¡¯ll just kill them then.¡±


    With a few simple wrist movements, his sword sliced deep into the terrified Aht, slicing the Tovus into several discrete chunks that began leaking the ooze of its body¡¯s internals.


    He began wiping his blade again as he finally returned his gaze to Cinto.


    ¡°Now then,¡± he smiled. ¡°Where were we?¡±


    Cinto shuddered involuntarily.


    Tovus: [Created by the ascendant Tovol, the Tovus are a race of amorphous organisms that can change their size and shape to an extent, and can reproduce asexually. They are capable of loosely replicating the appearance of most species, though a trained eye can still notice their true nature. They are one of the three races native to Canvas, though they share far deeper cultural ties to the Seiyal than they do the Reth. The Tovus lack a progression system and have a poor technological base, though their unique physiology makes them highly sought after candidates for certain professions.]

 12- Charging Puma

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    There were only seven rooms in all of the Charging Puma Martial Academy, and so some of them served multiple uses. This room, furnished in a very traditional style with prints and tapestries lining the walls served as both a room for greeting guests and also as Cinto¡¯s office.


    I inspected the wall art as I waited for my host to finish brewing us some tea. The prints were clearly cheap, mass produced, and I had little doubt the tea would be something like packets of powder mixed into warm water.


    Everything in this place was a thin veneer of the traditional layered over cheap modernity.


    I inspected a print depicting a martial artist facing off against a particularly vicious looking three-tailed junglefiend. Whorls of white and green surrounded the figure as he attacked the beast.


    The art was good, but this was clearly a reproduction of the original work. It wasn¡¯t even a particularly good replica. I could see printer marks on the edges.


    My musings were interrupted by Rachel¡¯s voice in my ear.


    ¡°Be careful with how you present yourself, Cyrus. She presents a unique opportunity for us if you can recruit her.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m well aware.¡±


    My response carried a trace of annoyance. Rachel sighed.


    ¡°She¡¯s acting tense. Look, I¡¯ll just talk to her. Pull out the slate.¡±


    I acquiesced. The slate she mentioned was a thin metallic plate with celan characters distending from its surface. I returned to the cushion that Cinto had directed me to when we entered the room. My gaze roamed around for a few moments, pausing on the various accoutrements of traditionality before turning to place the glyph slate down beside me. The surface shimmered as I set it down beside me, the glyphs shifting and transforming into another set. I couldn¡¯t use the thing myself, but Rachel had somehow acquired control of it from a distance.


    The primary plan had been for me to discuss terms with Cinto before the Redwater goons arrived, arriving at a deal and then handling them for her. Rachel was supposed to have been whispering in my ear, advising me on what to say. She had clearly given up on that part of the plan. I was fine with that, as Rachel¡¯s sophistry far eclipsed my own.


    The symbols on the slate¡¯s surface shifted into ever more complex patterns, transforming themselves from simple characters into complex geometric designs that seemed to contain meaning far and beyond the celan alphabet alone. The curving patterns arranged themselves into a circular grid before morphing into a depiction of concatenated spheres, and then torii, and then into odd shapes that caused Cyrus¡¯ head to hurt. And in an instant, the slate became blank, the text blinking out for an instant, and then Rachel was there.


    She was seated, kneeling down on her legs in what seemed a respectful posture. She wore traditional Seiyal clothing, a set of nice sky-blue robes that might be worn by a successful mortal merchant or scholar. Her appearance was different than usual. Her normal dark hair had been replaced by a Seiyal¡¯s blonde, and her vibrant blue eyes were now a brilliant amber. There was a slight bump at the center of her forehead to mark Rachel¡¯s transformation into a sei.


    Unlike her usual illusions, this time I could sense the unkempt soul of a mortal emanating from within her. So that had been the purpose of the slate. Her soul slightly roiled at the light touch of my senses, and I could feel it react in a more flickering manner than was usual for a mortal soul, but the reproduction was rather effective, at least for a first glance. It would likely serve its purpose, as few martial artists bothered to closely examine a mortal¡¯s soul.


    I raised an eyebrow as I inspected the shift in her appearance.


    ¡°Why are you a sei now?¡±


    Rachel shrugged, the corner of her mouth twitching as she observed my reaction.


    ¡°I felt it would make the process simpler if everyone believed ours was a truly Seiyal organization.¡±


    It felt odd to see the change in her appearance, an uncanny feeling I had felt before as my mind adjusted its mental image of her.


    ¡°I see. Would that mean your previous appearance was also composed to alter my view of you?¡± I asked.


    I was honestly curious. I knew she used the ¡®hologram¡¯ in order to more easily interact with others, but I had never thought to ask about how much of her image was real and how much she had changed for my benefit. Was she even female? Perhaps the race of ¡®humanity¡¯ she had claimed to once have been a member of had not even been a humanoid species.


    Rachel shook her head, cutting off my train of thought.


    ¡°My previous avatar was the appearance I once held prior to my death. I¡¯ve always preferred to be myself whenever possible, and I felt there was little loss in me admitting my nature as an alien to you when we first met in the warehouse. ¡±


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    Personally, I couldn¡¯t see how being Seiyal would help here where it had not in the warehouse, but decided not to comment. We sat in silence for another half minute before the door opened and Cinto walked back in, carrying a small tea set. A disciple trailed behind her.


    He was a short sei, and appeared to only be in his teens. That was likely close to his true age, as I could tell he was still in the process of refining his foundation. He bowed to us after entering the room, silently following his master.


    Cinto paused in shock, taken aback by Rachel¡¯s addition to the room. Rachel waved over to her with a bright smile, eyes clearly displaying the amusement she undoubtedly felt at the reaction.


    ¡°And¡­ who might this be, Master Yu?¡±


    She addressed her words at me, too polite to ask how Rachel got into the academy without her noticing. As she did so, she and her disciple continued to set up the small table. I gave her a polite smile.


    ¡°This is Rachel. Though she is not a martial artist, you may consider her something of a martial sister of mine,¡± I said.


    Cinto nodded hesitantly, finally sitting down beside her disciple and facing myself and Rachel. She was kneeling on the cushion, something of a mirror of Rachel¡¯s own pose. Her disciple began carefully preparing the tea. She bowed her head slightly as she addressed us.


    ¡°I am Cinto Sakie, Grandmaster of this Charging Puma Martial Academy. This is Ida Guori, my most senior disciple. I request to know which organization you are from, and what your intentions are towards this academy.¡±


    She certainly was cut to the heart of the matter right from the start, but I approved. I tilted my head slightly to observe Rachel¡¯s response, as I figured she would prefer to be the one talking. She smirked, catching my eye before turning back to face Cinto.


    ¡°We represent certain interested parties who wish to found a sect right here on the station. We would like to formally extend you an offer to join, as we are interested in acquiring the services of a talented instructor such as yourself. Your disciples are, of course, invited to join the sect as well.¡±


    Cinto leaned back, surprised by the words. I imagined she likely expected us to say we were the enforcers of a new gang trying to steal Hidoro¡¯s territory. Cinto sighed, and glanced at me for a moment. I gave her a polite smile, and she quickly turned away. Beside her, Ida began pouring the tea into small cups, setting one out before each of us. I picked mine up and took a sip.


    The tea was Hakian, a plant which was originally from the northern forests of the Crucible. This tea was likely synthesized, and I could certainly taste the lacking quality, but nonetheless the flavor brought old memories to mind. I enjoyed it for a moment as Cinto replied.


    ¡°I am¡­ afraid I cannot agree. Are you not aware of who those men you slew worked for?¡±


    Rachel laughed.


    ¡°Hidoro is nothing before our backing, you need not worry. All we are concerned with is the Hadal.¡±


    ¡°Even if so, the Hadal will not allow a sect of what I imagine to be the unorthodox path to form unhindered in their backyard. I¡¯m sure you can understand how I might be wary of tying the ribbon on behalf of the academy.¡±


    While they discussed, I was inspecting Cinto¡¯s eldest disciple. He was a bit mousy, and looked very clearly intimidated by me based on how he avoided my gaze. His reactions were actually rather funny as he tried to maintain his composure, presumably for the sake of his master¡¯s face.


    ¡°Let us worry about the Hadal Clan,¡± said Rachel, ¡°we only want you to drill some new disciples for us, teach them the fundamentals. You can consider it merely a contract, what about that? Just like any other fledglings who come to you for learning.¡±


    Her tone was growing more casual as she spoke, and a fervent edge was starting to grow the more she spoke. I had come to find that this was how she usually spoke when trying to convince someone.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you wish Hidoro would leave you alone? We can help you, Cinto. You can leave your past behind, finally be free to seek out a new future, free from the shadow he casts. We can grant you a better location for training, and new disciples of the utmost talents.¡±


    Rachel was certainly an expert at determining what a person wanted. Cinto hesitated, but finally shook her head.


    ¡°The words you speak are appealing, but I have yet to see evidence that your organization is a match for Hidoro¡¯s group, let alone the Clan itself. He¡¯s a spirit refiner, you know. Unless you have a member even more powerful than Cyrus¡­¡±


    I set down my tea, realizing that I had already finished it. I locked eyes with Ida again, causing him to fearfully shrink back. He lifted up the teapot and refilled my cup. I gave him a polite nod as I quietly took another sip.


    ¡°We have all we need,¡± replied Rachel in a confident tone. Her hands were slightly wrapped around the small cup of tea, though I could tell it had not moved in the slightest since it had been placed down and filled. I sipped again on my own.


    The conversation had a bit of a lull as Cinto seemed to struggle to formulate a response. Rachel¡¯s statement had been so unilaterally confident it gave little room for Cinto to explain her doubts. A more confident person might not have had such an issue, but as Rachel had informed me in advance, Cinto was someone who had been beaten down by hardship. She lacked the confidence to tear down an assertion so readily, even though she could not help but doubt it. If anyone knew how powerful Hidoro was, it would be his junior sister.


    Rachel spoke before Cinto¡¯s reply.


    ¡°How about this: we kill him, and when we do, you come under us. I believe you should find that more palatable than the¡­ other alternatives we have in mind. What do you think?¡±


    Rachel tilted her head, giving a bright smile. Cinto looked from her and then to me, and I gave her a smile of my own.


    I already knew what her response would be, as I had before she even sat down across from us. There was no question about it, for she had not been given a choice, after all. She cared far too much for her disciples. It was a weakness.


    Foundation Refinement Realm: [The first realm of martial arts for a Seiyal. Also known as mortal refinement, this realm begins when the prospective martial artist learns how to use their dantians to sense their own souls, and to use it to touch upon the surrounding flows of ashata. Mortal Refiners learn how to move their body, obtaining precise control of themselves, and learning techniques with which to condense miasma into their body. A martial artist''s path is decided as they refine their foundation, and even this first realm is capable of rendering a martial artist far more powerful than a mortal. Most martial sects, clans, and academies have inferior techniques that only progress them up to the peak of this realm.]

 13- Decompression

    Fifth District, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    We had no sure way to kill him, obviously. As confident as we had been in front of the academy grandmaster, there was little chance for me to defeat him in fair combat. My skills were strong, and I could face off against the weaker spirit refiners, but Hidoro was not weak by any means. We needed some method of evening the odds.


    Rachel and I were lounged out on the couches of Hestky¡¯s living room. I had come to understand that for Celans, this room functioned as both a room for hosting guests as well as a room to relax in. After returning from Canvas Town, I had sat on the couch to consider options.


    In the past, I would have spent downtime such as this working on improving my cores. But at the moment, my cores were at the limit they could reach without the resources to complete it. I needed three powerful natural treasures in order to finally reach the spirit refinement stage. For an unorthodox path martial artist, my progression had been halted for far too long. If I did not resume soon, I would steadily go insane and eventually die.


    Rachel was back in her usual appearance, sprawled out in an unladylike manner on the other couch. She was mumbling to herself quietly enough that I could barely hear it.


    We could try explosives, I supposed. A spirit refiner would be able to escape or defend if he knew it was coming, but if he was caught off guard it might kill him. It would certainly be dishonorable, but honor meant nothing in the face of results. I was willing to roll around in the mud like a donkey as often as necessary in order to succeed. But where and how could we set the explosives up? I frowned, pondering the question. As I did so, Hestky walked past us.


    He was fiddling with a slate as he always seemed to be, not even looking up to glance at the two of us. Despite having shared the house with him for the past week, I still knew next to nothing about the man.


    He had once been a researcher working for the Epon, Rachel had told me, but he had found out about something and they tried to kill him because of it. I was not privy to the details, and I doubted I would have understood them. It was something about technology, spirits, and the flickering miasma. He had escaped his employer, leaving his people behind to hide in this isolated station. The sort of person that Rachel found it easy to prey upon.


    Hestky emerged again from the kitchen with a glass filled with some dark brown liquid. It was hot and steaming, and bore a rather pleasant scent. Rachel leaned up from her position, turning to see it with a wistful expression on her face, as if lost in memory.


    He paused, turning to look at her and then I in turn.


    ¡°How long do you intend to stay here?¡± he asked.


    Rachel shrugged.


    ¡°We¡¯ll have to see.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s only so long I¡¯m willing to harbor wanted criminals,¡± he said.


    Rachel chuckled.


    ¡°You¡¯ve worked in the underworld for your entire career. What right do you have-¡±


    ¡°What right do you have, Shade? You put me at risk for harboring you, make me order you equipment and food. And it¡¯s not just the Epon, it¡¯s the Pantheon and even the Seiyal who are after you. I will not take the fall with you. I want no part in your games.¡±


    I inspected his face. Hestky was trembling with fury. I had noticed that he was becoming more and more tense as the days had passed, but had not realized the extent of it. It made sense, I supposed. We had been openly planning criminal and terrorist activities in his townhome, and had been threatening him to force him to assist us. Of course he would be high strung. I certainly would not have been happy in his situation. Of course, unlike Hestky I would have been easily persuaded to join Rachel the moment she offered me hopes of assistance with my revenge.


    That did not seem to be Hestky¡¯s goal, however. He had spent plenty of time around the house, as he did not appear to have any sort of job as far as I was aware. At the very least it was not one that required him to leave the house. He spent all his time working on scholarly research in his study office. He seemed more like a retiree than a man who had been forced to flee his people for safety. He certainly was not at peace, rather the sort of man who would wander around at odd hours exuding a palpable aura of depression and melancholy.


    Rachel laughed in his face.


    ¡°If we go down, you¡¯ll go down with us,¡± she sneered. ¡°You can choose to join us and help or wait for another few weeks before we move on. You¡¯re free to make your decision.¡±


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Hestky glowered and marched back down the hallway. The sneer left her face as he turned away.


    ¡°Coward,¡± she muttered under her breath.


    I had no desire to dispute that assertion. While it was true that we were being unreasonable to him, it was also true that scholars were a different breed from fighters such as I and Rachel. Their temperaments were rarely the sort that drove them to acts of vengeance.


    I decided to change the subject. It would be better to think about productive matters instead of worrying about insignificant matters like our dour host.


    ¡°Do you believe we would be able to set off explosives next to Hidoro? I asked.


    Rachel put her finger on her chin and looked to the side in contemplation.


    ¡°We could certainly manufacture them with a Staiven replicator, but I¡¯m not sure we would be able to trick him into an area we prepared in advance,¡± she said. ¡°Could you sneak them into his room yourself?¡±


    I shook my head.


    ¡°A spirit refiner would be able to sense my presence even if he was asleep, and I wouldn¡¯t be able to sneak inside without killing his guards, so he would realize something was amiss if I were to try this while he was gone.¡±


    ¡°Damn.¡±


    We discussed the idea more, but other than deciding we might as well print out some explosives just on principle, the discussion went nowhere. That night, annoyed and concerned by all the potential plans we had cast aside, I left the townhouse.


    If there was nothing productive to be doing, then it would be best to see what solutions could be stumbled upon. After all, I had long since found that when trapped by a puzzling issue, it was always best to visit the black market. Occasionally, exactly what you needed might be offered for sale.


    <hr>


    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    With her left hand Karie Hadal scribbled angrily at the canvas with her brush, planting fat blots of ink in heavy strokes across the canvas. With the other, she carefully tended to a small potted shrub that was growing a large coniferous seedling at its apex.


    She was annoyed, and she expressed that with startling vigor, her movements sending flecks of paint to spiral through the air to land on the floor as well as her robes. She cursed in annoyance. Her mother would certainly complain when the maids informed her that Karie had made a mess. All the while, her right hand still moved in careful practiced motions as she peeled moss from the plant¡¯s bark with a small pair of wooden tweezers.


    The tweezers would be considered incredibly normal, the sort of item one could find most anywhere on Canvas for dirt cheap. Here however, it was an expensive, luxurious item, solely for the scarcity of the material it was made from.


    She had first arrived at the station a decade and a half ago, and had been but a child when her family had left Canvas behind. Even so, it was hard to adjust to a world so different from everything you had known. Growing up, she and the other first generation immigrants from Canvas had trouble fitting in with all of the children who were second and third generation, having only ever seen the sun through windows and known nothing but the gravity of the station, just slightly heavier than the homeworld of their people.


    Not even all of them even knew that fact. It was as if they were more Tseludian than they were Seiyal. They had always disgusted her.


    It had been over a week since that martial artist- Riverfiend, the media were calling him, had robbed the Celans, and not a hint of his presence had been sensed around the station. Kalie could not understand how he had gone to ground so effectively. He had to be sheltered by some organization, but which one could it be?


    When she was little, Karie remembered the worry her parents held about risk of attack by the unorthodox alliance of Crucible¡¯s Edge, the very real threat it faced for their own Sunlit Hall. She remembered the relief they had felt when they moved here in the wake of the Hadal Clan¡¯s ancestral city being burned down, as they resettled as far from the conflicts of their homeworld as possible. To her parents and the Hadal Clan, it was a place where they were left unconstrained by the petty conflicts of their own people, a place where their only rivals were alien.


    They had thrived, but to Karie, something seemed missing. There was something wrong about the lack of her people¡¯s ancient foe.


    When a martial artist came of age, typically they would spend several years wandering from town to city to the countryside, getting into fights and experiencing adventures as they matured and acquired their own fame and fortune.


    Karie had never had the chance, unable to dedicate decades in transit just to return to Canvas for a few mere years.


    Only martial artists who earned a martial title received one, crowned with it in the court of public opinion. This Riverfiend, named after a dangerous beast that was known for attacking fishermen, had obtained one likely soon after arriving at the station. He would be a worthy foe for her. A perfect stepping stone to create Karie¡¯s legend.


    With a snap, the tweezers in her right hand burst. She had momentarily forgotten to manage her own strength.


    For a moment, Karie looked at the expensive good lying in pieces on the floor. The next, she turned back to her art piece. The marks were far too heavy-handed. She would need to put effort into masking the overly hard lines of the calligraphy, but with effort she might be able to save the work.


    All it would take was some time and effort.


    Formless: [It is the shifting ephemeral shape, the water than molds itself to its basin. The air that spreads to encompass all in its domain. It is the snake squirming out of the hawk''s talons, the insect skipping across water, the mask-changer of the theater troupe. But at its core, the formless is the illusion that is unmasked to reveal no answer. Formless miasma always begins first as a lie.]

 14-Black Market

    Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    There is something unique about each city¡¯s black market. It manifests differently according to the culture, the resources, the way the local government goes about cracking down on crime whenever the officials need to boost their reputation.


    But there are also similarities, small methods of going about things born from practicality and simply shared modes of thought. Any culture similar enough to my own to birth a black market would share some of these.


    Of course, I was a Seiyal, and so rather than track down its location through a sea of alien contacts, it was easier to start with my own people. Rachel likely already knew where I could find it, but I had thoughtlessly left the slate in the townhome and did not feel like returning to pick it up. Rachel had in practice been constantly shadowing me, and it would nice to be free from that for a time.


    I spoke to various shopkeepers, passerby and merchants, slowly gleaning more information with pointed questions. I asked about rare goods, offhandedly mentioned goods I might be looking for buyers for, and passed serite here and there as bribery. I had brought a reasonable amount of the currency with me to the station, acquired when I had passed by Staive itself.


    It took hours to find the information I was looking for, but by midnight I had what I needed.


    The man who had told me was a middle aged mortal farsei. His hair was starting to gray at the roots and he had developed a bit of a stoop, presumably from some condition he had. I squinted my eyes at him.


    ¡°So the procedure is so complicated?¡± I asked.


    He nodded, responding with an odd pidginized Bountian drawl.


    ¡°Hye, master refiner. ¡®S the best market ¡®n the station, I¡¯ssure you. They got what ye need, no matter.¡±


    ¡°I see. Thank you for your assistance.¡± I tossed him a couple chips worth one hundred serite each. He grinned, blackened teeth displayed widely. Each one was inscribed with the swirling designs that were the mark of the Saayan religion. I left the inn I had found the man lounging in and returned to the empty streets of Canvas Town.


    As it turned out, Tseludia had multiple black markets, but the largest one was located in the 8th district. I was in no particular rush, and I had not yet bothered to figure out the method of summoning one of the flying machines that served as both porters and palanquins for the city¡¯s populace. I began walking steadily for the 8th district.


    The eighth district was one of the poorer districts, but this one included the stacks where most of the Staiven poor lived. As such, it was quite visually uninteresting just like the spaceport was. Odd stenches drifted through the air, and oddly patterned blobs of what seems like clay stuck out from the windows and walls.


    It was not only Staiven who lived here, though it would be difficult to tell that based upon how few non-Staiven I saw among the few passersby bothering to walk around at this time of night. While the station itself was artificially lit, most races remained accustomed to the planetary lifestyle, and so the light of the dome was shut down at daily intervals to mark night. It would be another five hours or so before dawn was scheduled.


    I was wearing a scarf over the lower half of my face to make me harder to recognize. It would have been better if Rachel were to use her illusions on me, but I would have to return to the fifth district to contact her, and this would do.


    I had been directed by the informant to knock on the third door in the second alley of the second highest floor of stack 8-78, and I did so after spending far too long tracking down the location.


    I was greeted by a crimson-eyed Staiven man wearing an old and worn set casual attire. He inspected me for a moment with an unmoving expression before asking for my business.


    ¡°I¡¯m looking for financial advice.¡± I had needed to memorize the line, for I had not known the Staiven word for ¡®financial¡¯ until I had looked up the meaning of the phrase.¡¯ The man before me squinted his eyes.


    ¡°Who sent ya?¡± he asked.


    I had to think back to my conversation with the rumpled Seiyal drunkard I had met earlier in the night.


    ¡°Ines.¡± He nodded.


    ¡°That¡¯ll do. Come in.¡±


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    The hatch slid fully open, revealing an expansive hallway. There were several doors, but one was clearly larger and more finely decorated than the rest. The Staiven gestured towards it. I nodded in response, not needing to question him to understand what was expected of me. I approached the fine door and it slid right open, revealing a set of stairs that led upwards. I began climbing.


    At the top of the stairs was the most active area I had seen all night. There were nearly fifty different stalls, and the various merchants haggled with customers of all possible demographics, from Tovus to Korlove to a slim, dark form that could even be a Reth.


    This black market was very clearly located within the interior of a warehouse that had been secretly connected to a townhome on the lower level of the stack. Its design was eerily similar to the one that had been destroyed by the enforcer during our fight the week before. It even had offices on one end. Here however, they were guarded by a pair of martial artists who flanked the doors.


    I paused for a few moments to take in the ambience of the place. I had spent a good deal of time in the markets of my hometown, both black and otherwise, and this gave me a similar feel. Many of the customers were wearing disguises as well, though I could see some who were very clearly wearing uniforms that marked affiliation to various powerful underworld organizations such as the Hadal Clan, Umrak, and the Heirs.


    In cities like Tseludia Station where the government rarely bothered to try and crack down on organized crime, black markets barely had to hide themselves. So long as a modicum of discretion was followed the black market would be allowed to exist. As I understood it, the idea was that this allowed them to keep better tabs on what goods were being moved around.


    As a result, illicit merchants could openly set up shop in places such as this and display stolen and otherwise illegal wares for purpose. The host of such black markets would take a cut of every transaction in exchange for protecting the merchants from thieves and guaranteeing the veracity of the wares for the customers.


    I perused the goods set out amongst the various carts. Most of the merchants had goods ranging from different weapons to machine parts and circuitry, all likely stolen from the Staiven and quite valuable to the right buyer. I ignored the arms dealers. Those who practiced their trade in the 8th district would be those selling firearms and other technological weapons. The best weapons suited for martial artists would all be found in Canvas Town, and when the time came to outfit our organization we could just steal it from others.


    The stands selling natural treasures I found more interesting. All the most valuable miasmic treasures of many worlds could be found here, from Jankari soulfire to Canvas¡¯ treasures such as verdant origin grass. All of the treasures I saw were incredibly valuable, each one more than qualified to serve as the seed for one of a martial artist¡¯s cores, should they be of the right path. Sadly however, I was having little luck with what I needed. None of the qualifying treasures I had seen so far had been of the formless domain.


    Formless treasures were one of the harder types to find, second only to the nigh impossible to acquire extant treasures. Due to their formless nature, they often failed to coalesce into a stable shape that could be collected. Back in the Downpour region we had needed to wait for the marshfiend mating season that occurred once every thirty years in order to acquire the pearls we needed to propel just three disciples past core formation.


    Annoyed at my hopes being dashed, I picked one of the carts whose vendor wasn¡¯t entertaining a customer, and approached it.


    The proprietor was a chubby Telaretian woman who was leaning relaxedly on all four of her elbows. She was selling various natural treasures, among other things, and she inspected me as I approached.


    ¡°Do you speak Seiyin?¡± I asked. If not, I would need to go to another cart. I really did have to find time to finish learning the Staiven language.


    ¡°Some,¡± she replied, with a shrug. Her words were quite thickly accented but easily intelligible. ¡°What might I do for you?.¡±


    ¡°I have some treasures to sell, if you¡¯re interested,¡± I said. She narrowed her eyes.


    ¡°What sort?¡±


    I showed her the treasures I had stolen from the warehouse, which I had carried here in a different sack than the one I had stolen them in. It was best to be careful. The vendor lit up upon inspecting the goods.


    ¡°Very good! I can buy this.¡±


    I smiled.


    After haggling for a time on the prices of the items were set, and I traded them for a small fortune of serite chips. While the treasures from the warehouse were certainly so rare, valuable, and in demand that I had immediately received a good price for them, I had little expectation of being able to use them myself. This was a far more effective way to receive value from them.


    As we finished up the sale and I began moving the chips into my pouch for safekeeping, I idly asked the woman if she knew whether any of the vendors were currently selling any formless treasures.


    ¡°Formless? I¡¯m not sure, you could ask Otvar. I don¡¯t have it stocked.¡±


    She pointed to another stand, run by a Korlove. For a moment I considered the risk of approaching the Celan, but decided that the upside would be worth it. I would simply have to leave the district immediately after the discussion ended.


    I made my way toward them.


    Telaretian: [One of the earliest and in its prime, most advanced of mortal races to ever roam Telles, the Telaretians were once a powerful empire that controlled multiple star clusters, and went into a slow decline as they had never run into any other sapient races. Telles itself acquired its name from that of the once-great Tellesian Empire. They created the first Osine, an event which led to the immediate fall of their empire and their role shifted to that of a subordinate race of the Osine, who steadily grew in number over time. Telaretians are tall humanoids with mottled scales in shades of blue and red, four arms, and large, bulbous eyes. While they once held a technology base among the peak of the galaxy, the Osine have stripped much of that from them, leaving them with a technological base roughly on par with that of the Staiven.]

 15-The Prophet

    8th District, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    ¡®Otvar¡¯ was quite large for a Korlove. I hadn¡¯t been aware of this until now, but it seemed that when a Korlove gained weight, it all went to their torso, resulting in an oversized sphere of gray flesh held aloft by the same spindly limbs all Korlove bore. Crowning their body, Otvar wore a colorful wrap that seemed almost comical to me. As I approached, I could hear them discussing something with a Staiven customer, and I realized from the voice that Otvar was a man.


    I had looked over this stall when I had wandered the market earlier, so I knew nothing on display was what I was looking for. Rather than peruse the wares again, I opted instead to look at the other customers, analyzing movement patterns to check for any potential threats.


    The ideology of the Heirs of Ottrien was very much pro celan culture, and for that reason only a very slight minority of its members were of any races that did not originate on Celah. I could likely assume that any non celan was not one of their informants, but by that same token I could not help but suspect any celan I saw might be one of them. Normally I would have been assured in my ability to blend in with the hordes of other martial artists on the station, but tabs were likely to be taken on anyone showing interest in treasures related to the formless path.


    I was taking a very real risk, but one I felt was worth it. If I took too long to acquire the treasures I risked developing another heart demon. Given what had happened as a result of the previous time, this was something I would go to great lengths to prevent.


    I avoided inspecting the souls of those around me, knowing any martial artists among them would notice. Similarly, I had felt no such inspections myself. In a black market, everyone knew not to pry into the secrets of others.


    One man caught my eye in particular. He was a sei who appeared to be roughly in his middle age. He had on a green and black martial uniform, and something about him was familiar. I was certain I had seen him before.


    He turned and met my gaze, as if he had sensed my interest in him. He smiled at me and turned back to his inspection of some dried organ that I didn¡¯t recognize. For a moment I tried to remember where I knew him from, but the moment passed, and the customer finished up her transaction with Otvar, so I cast aside my thoughts and stepped up to the counter.


    Otvar¡¯s hat bobbled as he shifted to view me.


    ¡°Did you wish to make a purchase, or do you come bearing a question?¡± he asked.


    Unlike the other merchant, Otvar spoke fluent Seiyin with only a slight Tseludian accent. His word choice was quite formal and it felt odd to me, but that was not uncommon for foreigners, and I could expect no better. I had met plenty of native speakers of the language who commanded it with less proficiency than he did.


    ¡°I was told,¡± I said, ¡°that you might have stock or access to channels beyond what you have here on display.¡±


    The Korlove snorted, an odd chuffing noise that caused his torso to bobble around for a moment.


    ¡°Of course I do, everyone does. I¡¯m assuming you have a particular request? It would cost you more, of course.¡±


    ¡°That would be acceptable,¡± I replied.


    ¡°In that case you may name it, and I¡¯ll tell you if I am able to¡­ procure something like that. I offer no promises, of course. Supply is a fickle thing.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help but take a quick glance at the exit before leaning in.


    ¡°Would you be able to obtain treasures of the formless variety?¡±


    Otvar froze, his eyes inspecting me once more. It was possible he had already figured out my identity, but I waited to see what his response would be.


    ¡°Formless treasures¡­¡± he said, ¡°those are quite rare in this region. I¡¯m afraid they come at quite the premium. I have none in stock at the moment, though I should be able to acquire one or¡­ three of them in the coming days.¡±


    He was clearly fishing for information about me with the ¡®three¡¯ comment. Instead of biting the bait, I chose to continue baiting him instead.


    ¡°I would be happy to pay a fair rate for such products if you were to procure them on my behalf.¡±


    We discussed the transaction a bit more, eventually settling on a cost of one hundred thousand serite each for any such treasures he managed to acquire. Before I left, I gave him the routing number of some electronic mailing node Rachel had acquired for us. She had claimed it to be ¡®untraceable by the standards of weak technology such as that used by the Staiven. I had my doubts about that, but it should certainly be good enough just for sending message traffic to potential suppliers.


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    With a potential opportunity to acquire the treasures I needed, I turned to exit the market. Other than the deal with Otvar, nothing else I had seen here had interested me, and it would be best to leave before someone noticed some attributes of my own that I failed to consider and suppress.


    When I had made my way midway back to the stairs, I was accosted by a pair of martial artists wearing the same garb as the guards who I had seen protecting the doors to the private offices.


    ¡°Halt,¡± spoke one of them, voice raised in an imperious tone. For a moment I considered playing the role of the assassin, I paused to hear them out. ¡°The Prophet wishes to speak with you.¡±


    I squinted my eyes at the woman. Prophet? I had heard nothing in any of the information I had acquired about the city that mentioned a prophet.The only religious authorities in the station were the churches of the various members of the Pantheon, as well as Ceirra, worshiped largely by my own people. I supposed the Cult of Umrak might have one, though that was more a spiritual organization rather than a ¡°legitimate cult.¡±


    ¡°Lead the way,¡± I replied.


    Had this been a ploy by the Heirs someone would likely have shot at me already. Had it been an approach by the Hadal Clan, I would likely have been approached by harlots first as they probed my weaknesses. I accepted because I felt it was likely a third organization, yet another group trying to take advantage of the situation.


    They led me through the guarded hatch and into the offices of what had once been an active warehouse.


    ¡°He insisted on traveling here to meet you,¡± said one of the guards. ¡°You must show the utmost respect to him.¡±


    They left me in front of an opened hatch, and I found myself standing before a darkened room. I entered the room carefully, wary of the one I had been brought to meet. Small lights blazed in the corners of the room, creating sufficient illumination to see in detail, though little enough that I had to wait a moment for my eyes to adjust.


    In the center of the room was a very, very old Staiven man. He was set up in a highly complex and modified wheelchair as if he were paralyzed in some way. There was a soft hiss in the background air.


    He still looked somewhat humanoid, but was lying awkwardly in the mechanical wheelchair as if he had lost all self ambulation. His head, too, was propped up by a padded board. The reason why was immediately apparent.


    He was shriveled and withered, substances oozing from his bulging and discolored skin like a banana that had been left in the kitchen for far too long. The structures of his body were in the process of forgetting how to be humanoid, creating odd geometries and formations that mimicked fleshlike growths of coral across his body. Streaks of red crossed his skin in a design that appeared like rivulets. As he laid on his chair, he looked more than anything like a drapery upon a staircase. Large, towering silver machines surrounded him, standing on either side of his chair, presumably the life support that kept his geriatric frame alive.


    But at the top of his body, his head was the most disturbing feature.


    A pair of enormous orbs that gleamed wryly as they glistened with a wet sheen, his ¡®eyes¡¯ emitted a bright red glow where they bulged out from what had once been their sockets, grown far beyond any reasonable size. Fluids dripped from them, and he seemed to pay no mind to how they dribbled slowly over his closed lips.


    This was by far the oldest Staiven I had ever seen. In terms of visual appearance he would certainly rank as the oldest seeming person I had ever met.


    ¡°Welcome, Mister Yu,¡± he said, lips barely moving. The sound came out as a barely audible whisper.


    I bowed slightly to him before raising my head to look again upon his misshapen form.


    ¡°Might I know who I am addressing?¡± I asked. He let out a slight huff, and I got the impression that it had been a chuckle.


    ¡°I am Poluus, heretic to my own people, just as you to yours.¡±


    The more he spoke, the slower the words came out, and I could tell that the speaking was already straining him. He had clearly been alive far longer than a Staiven should be able to, sustained only by the large equipment he was hooked into. I remained silent as he continued to speak.


    ¡°My lady wishes me to provide you some assistance, for the support of your ally. There is a man named Ester Perivar, held by the government for experimentation.¡± He laughed again, and flecks of some black particles emerged from his mouth as if he had been coughing up pieces of an organ. ¡°He is much the same as I, except his eyes are blue. Do you understand?¡±


    I nodded. I could not guess who or what he worshipped from the limited information I had been given, but if the information was true it would be incredibly helpful. Poluus¡¯ eyes were certainly large enough to be used for a core, had I been of the sanguine path.


    ¡°Is there anything your goddess wishes from me in particular?¡±


    Poluus¡¯ tone came out in a rasp.


    ¡°She wishes for your success,¡± he said. ¡°She believes Telles is due for another shift in power. There are many like you, and we aid in minor ways. Take the information I have given and use it as you will.¡± His eyelid twitched, as if he wished close it but could not because of his oversized, bulging eyes. I bowed to him.


    ¡°My gratitude for your assistance, Prophet Poluus. I shall gift your patron in kind when the time comes.¡±


    I turned to leave, wishing to discuss the matter with Rachel before looking into this ¡®Ester Perival.¡¯ The information was possibly a trap, but one I found very tempting if it even had some modicum of truth to it. As I was returning back through the room¡¯s hatch he spoke a few more parting words.


    ¡°I would be careful when you leave,¡± he said. ¡°The Hadal clan has arrived.¡±


    Sanguine: [It is the conduit between this realm and the divine, the very blood that travels throughout one''s veins. It binds body and soul, creates life and ends it when it leaves. The sanguine is that which sees, that which connects, that which can access the brightest and darkest corners of the world. Sanguine miasma often represents damage, that something internal is broken, or that a connection is being formed with a spirit or something ethereal. Like all conduits, the sanguine is bound.]

 16- Proposition

    8th District, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    I had been willing to meet with the prophet Poluus solely because I had intended to leave the district immediately afterwards. There had always been a chance one or both of the merchants I had spoken to was an informant for one group or another, but I had believed I would be gone before they had time to react. Had the Hadal Clan been expecting me to come here? Or perhaps they had a presence right by every black market just in case. It didn¡¯t matter how, all that mattered was that they were here.


    I thanked the prophet for his words of warning as I stepped back into the open warehouse space. Behind me, the guards moved in to help shift the large assembly of life support machinery to help the man move out through a backdoor on the far side of the room. I could understand their urgency, as there was a reasonable chance there would be a fight immediately outside rather soon.


    I looked around as I exited the offices. In the intervening time, various martial artists in white uniforms had crowded the room, inspecting the buyers and vendors, and letting mortals and non Seiyal through what was essentially a blockade as they searched for me.


    According to Rachel, the reason that the Hadal wanted to find me was because they wished for me to join them. I could not help but question their intentions if this was the case. When an orthodox clan attempts to recruit an unorthodox martial artist such as myself, there is always a particular reason for it. I had difficulty imagining that reason would be to my benefit.


    In addition, this effort seemed a bit much just to acquire the opportunity to recruit a mere core formation practitioner. Just what did the Hadal Clan expect from me?


    Several of the martial artists saw me emerge from the office. I heard one call out ¡®Riverfiend!¡¯ in what could either be an awed or fearful tone. The scarf hiding the lower part of my face would be next to useless at this point, but I left it on. For the moment, the fewer people who could recognize me on sight the better.


    The room was slowly emptying as people flooded the exits, and it became more clear how many people the Hadal Clan had brought. There were almost thirty martial artists in the room wearing their robes, most of their eyes on me as I continued silently walking towards the exit. I felt the touch of several practitioner¡¯s soul senses coming from the crowd. I let them wash over me, and the staring grew more intense.


    Soon, a pair of martial artists stepped forward from the group, drawing my attention.


    The first of them was an attractive woman, tall and limber, with sharp cheekbones and deep, compelling amber eyes that reminded me of some of my old martial sisters. Her golden hair contrasted well with the tone of her skin, a pale brown that was evidence of a heritage split between sei and farsei. Like the others, she was wearing the white and green martial uniform of the Hadal Clan, though hers was in immaculately pressed condition. A thin sheath rested on her hip. She smiled amiably as she approached.


    The man behind her was taller and bulkier than her, though their features were quite similar. Close relatives of some sort, then. He was somewhat paler, and might have been able to pass for a sei were there a reason to do so. Unlike her, he bore a stony expression as he regarded me. It was difficult to tell if he was looking negatively at me or simply bore that expression by default.


    The woman maintained her smile as her path intersected mine. When she was about ten feet away she raised a hand in greeting.


    ¡°Mister Riverfiend, I presume? We come representing the Hadal Clan, and wish to have a discussion with you,¡± she said.


    I considered my options before responding. I could run, but would have to fight my way through all the martial artists they had brought. Most of them would likely still be in the process of refining their foundation or establishing their meridians, and thus not an issue for me, however I had no way of knowing there wasn¡¯t a spirit refiner hidden in their number. I could talk to them, but I did not wish to involve myself with the clan yet, and it was possible they intended to stall me until some form of backup arrived.


    The senses of my soul inspected that of the pair before me, and I realized, as I had anticipated, that they were also in the core formation realm. There were only so many spirit refiners to go around. I would have needed to be profoundly unlucky for one of them to be here. Chances were the clan had simply set a squad of martial artists under the command of a core formation stage practitioner at each of the major black markets, hoping they could acquire my trail if I visited one.


    The man before me glowered as he sensed my inspection of his soul, and I smirked under my face covering at his expression.


    ¡°I have not heard the name Riverfiend before,¡± I said, ¡°But I can spare a moment for a member of the Hadal Clan.¡± Unlike when I had been interrupted on the street, I was feeling far more predisposed towards the clan. The large force displayed before me had something to do with the matter.


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    The woman brightened hearing my words, though the man¡¯s expression was still a glower.


    ¡°Perfect! My name is Ria Hadal, and this is my brother Taek. Riverfiend is what the media has been calling you. We don¡¯t know your name, after all. Oh! Would you mind introducing yourself? You are the one who defeated an enforcer, correct?¡±


    Ria had a bit too much energy, but I was willing to try and keep up. I had an idea for a way to turn the situation to my advantage. In addition, it seemed that somehow the results of my fight with the enforcer had become twisted somewhat by the time the information leaked to the Hadal Clan. Not that I would complain about having an inflated reputation. In addition, as far as titles went, Riverfiend was in line with my preferences. An intimidating title would always be a boon in negotiations, particularly if it was one not self imposed.


    ¡°My name is Cyrus Yu,¡± I said, ¡°And I am indeed the one you speak of. Would you mind telling me what your clan wishes of me?¡±


    Even though I had decided to speak to them, I still wanted to finish it up as soon as possible. There was no need to take undue risks.


    ¡°The Matriarch is quite impressed with your talents,¡± replied Ria. ¡°She wishes to induct you into the clan. In return we can provide the resources you¡¯re looking for as well as protection from the Heirs.¡±


    I narrowed my eyes at the woman.


    ¡°I refuse. Aren¡¯t clan members who are not part of the family treated as servants? It would be better to solve my problems on my own.¡±


    I was aware that this could not have been a legitimate offer. They were either just stalling, or had a better offer prepared for when I refused.


    Ria shook her head while Taek¡¯s eyes attempted to drill holes in the side of my head. What was his problem?


    ¡°No, um¡­¡± Ria fidgeted with the hem of her uniform as she seemed to struggle to find words. ¡°Matriarch Sirena is offering to marry you into the clan.¡±


    I was stunned by her words. Was she serious? To marry an unorthodox martial artist into the family of an orthodox organization¡­ It was not taboo, strictly speaking, but it was also not something generally considered permissible. Though I did suppose they would suffer far fewer consequences for it due to their extreme isolation from the rest of the orthodox path.


    Still, the offer was tempting. We would need to revise the plan, but depending on what status I was being offered, joining the Hadal Clan might be better than forming our own sect. I would need to know the rank of the marriage partner in question before I could come to a decision.


    ¡°Whose hand in marriage are you offer-¡±


    My words were cut off with a rumble as the warehouse shook. The sound mostly came from the wall to the right, as if something had collided with it.


    Ria looked shocked, while Taek¡¯s glower faded as he searched for the source of the noise.


    ¡°What was that?¡± she asked.


    Rather than respond, Taek and I had both immediately gone into martial stances, swords sliding out of our sheaths. A moment later Ria had joined us, and the rest of the martial artists followed suit a few moments after that.


    A loud, booming voice echoed across the room, coming from outside the warehouse. It spoke in Seiyin, but in a computerized tone that told me it was machine translated.


    ¡°Thief, surrender to us and we will spare your life,¡± called the voice.


    I chose not to dignify that with a response.


    ¡°Piss off, we got here first,¡± called Ria, to a shout of agreement from the martial artists around the room.


    I felt I could safely assume the voice was coming from the Heirs, who had probably been either tipped off by Otvar or the movement of the Hadal Clan. In fact, I had to question why the Hadal Clan had been so obvious about their search for me. Would it not have been better to just send Ria and Taek? Unless there was a spirit refiner in the crowd of what was presumably subordinates, they would all be only useful as cannon fodder when faced with an enforcer.


    ¡°You have no part in this, Hadal rats,¡± called the voice. ¡°We will be taking him whether you wish to protect him or not.¡±


    ¡°Ha! You¡¯re the Celans, are you not? If you haven¡¯t brought at least three enforcers, would you even dare to fight us?¡±


    The remaining merchants were frantically picking up their goods, having clearly noticed that the market guards had disappeared into the offices. The smarter ones had packed up and left the moment the Hadal showed up. Those who remained would find their situation markedly more problematic soon enough, I wagered. The same went for myself.


    Ria continued arguing with the Celan for a bit longer, while I searched the warehouse for all of the potential points of egress. Like the previous one, I could try to tear through the walls, but it was likely the Celans had a better cordon than last time. However, unlike last time I did not have the conduit, and would not be able to teleport to safety. So, I would need a more in depth plan. Luckily, the discussion provided me time to think. I did not believe the pride of the Hadal Clan would allow them to easily give up a fellow Seiyal to be slain by aliens, and so even in the worst case I would have at least a heads up before the two groups turned on me together.


    As my mind worked furiously, the argument came to a head as the arm of an oversized metal monstrosity tore through the wall. Fragments of sheet metal scattered the ground before the enforcer¡¯s might.


    It seemed they had tired of negotiation.


    Meridian Establishment: [The second realm of martial arts. When a martial artist has finished refining their foundation, they must carve passages into their body with miasma, connecting acupoints and dantians in order to allow miasma to travel through the body far more quickly and with more efficiency when utilizing techniques. The largest advantage a meridian establishment practitioner has over a foundation refiner is the rate of activation and heightened control they have over their techniques. For a Seiyal organization to be considered a power, it must at least have access to techniques that can be trained up to the peak of meridian establishment.]

 17- The Heart of Battle

    8th District, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    The enforcer tore through the wall, causing the warehouse to shift on its foundation. The sound of grinding metal was drowned out by the yelling of the martial artists and the celan soldiers, and there was a momentary chaos as the well disciplined clan members waited for word from Ria or Taek, or any other source of authority.


    ¡°You started this, Celans! Soldiers of the Hadal Clan, show them the results of your training!¡± yelled Ria, quickly charging towards the enforcer who had opened the breach in the wall. Behind her, Taek looked over at Cyrus.


    ¡°Wait here, Riverfiend. We shall handle these barking dogs.¡±


    With that said, he too leapt into the fray, body almost seemed to grow larger and bulkier as he channeled manifest miasma through his meridians.


    The enforcer had fully entered the warehouse, crushing one of the merchant stalls beneath its oversized boot. Through the breach it had opened, several squads of Jobu and Korlove opened fire with fully automatic slug guns.


    The martial artists turned into a flurry of movement as they activated their varying movement techniques. Some almost seemed to become transparent and etheral, as if they were not truly there, while others simply sped up or were launched into the air by forceful leaps. Their swords and other weapons were all quickly drawn as they tried to close the distance to the line of fire of the Heirs¡¯ forces.


    I held back, wanting to see more of the distribution of the Heirs¡¯ forces. I lightly cycled formless miasma through my meridians, ready to activate my movement technique at any moment. The sword remained in my hand.


    The enforcer itself began laying down fire from its slug cannons, but many of the bullets slowed and then fell from the air as if all momentum had been sapped out of them. It was then that I noticed a man in black and green robes was standing before it. I recognized him, then. I had bumped into him after first setting foot on the station. He had a placid expression on his weathered face, and a hand was outstretched towards the mechanical armor.


    He spoke no words, but as a slash from one of the enforcer¡¯s blades tore at him, a short blade appeared in his hand with a mere flourish. Light bloomed behind each swing of his blade as he parried the blow, forced to take a step back. I could see a green mist of genesis miasma stretching out around him sapping the speed of all that encroached within its domain. I didn''t even have to inspect his soul to tell that he was someone who had nearly finished refining his spirit.


    Ria and Taek paused their running to join the fight when the man appeared. Taek skidded as he halted his dash, tearing small ruts in the stone floor.


    ¡°Uncle!¡± shouted Ria, happily. Taek gave a polite bow.


    ¡°We will leave this one to you, Uncle.¡± The two of them tore off towards the breach, where a squadron of gunmen stood.


    The spirit refiner tilted his head back to smile peacefully at the two before turning back to focus on the battle at hand. While he was defending himself well, he was still stuck on the backfoot due to the immense flurry of blows and gunfire the enforcer delivered upon him.


    Suddenly, it struck me that it would be wise to move away from where the enforcer and spirit refiner were fighting. I turned back to get out of the area, idly checking to see if any expensive resources had been discarded by a fleeing merchant. No such luck. Even in their haste, most of it had been taken, and the rest was strewn around the floor closer to the exit, where the Hadal martial artists were frantically trying to avoid taking bullets from the gunmen.


    The analysis paralysis was becoming a problem, so I swiftly made my choice. Miasma circulated throughout me as I initiated the water striding steps. I flowed my way seamlessly through the crowd of martial artists towards the hole in the sheet metal wall.


    The soldiers of the Heirs shifted their aim towards me, but I could see their hands move, see how they were shifting the direction of the barrel. With my speed and the formless, flowing nature of my body¡¯s motion, this was enough to dodge them all.


    It was dark outside, the domelight having dimmed for the night. Unlike the powder firearms of the less advanced races, there was no burst of light when a celan slug gun was fired. A line of thirty weapons wielded by nineteen individuals fired at me. I was finding the ability of the Korlove to accurately wield multiple longarms at a time a gross hindrance.


    Taek Hadal had made his way out before me, his body enlarged to the point that he almost looked like an albino Jobu. He held a saber in one hand, and with the other he crushed a Jobu¡¯s weapon in his fist as he thundered his way through the lines of gunmen. Ria was nowhere to be seen, but occasionally one of the Heirs¡¯ soldiers would scream or cry out, looking in odd directions as if seeing something that wasn¡¯t there.


    To the side I could see another enforcer, and I nearly paused in shock. I held back my exclamation and continued charging for a different squadron of soldiers. If I slew them, then perhaps the Hadal martial artists could distract the enforcer long enough for me to escape.


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    The idea made me think of Rachel, and I wished I had brought her with me, even if just to use her conduit for another convenient escape. Without it, I was left with  far more difficult decisions to make.


    Bullets whizzed past me as I just barely avoided their paths, drawing closer to the crowd of gunmen. I extended my blade, preparing to rain a Torrential Downpour of blows upon them.


    Most of the mortal soldiers found themselves unable to react. I tore through them like a warm knife through butter, decimating their ranks and freeing the martial artists behind me to follow. I heard some of them cheer ¡®Riverfiend!¡¯ as if in exultation. The sound of their praise improved my ill mood somewhat, but I did not let it affect me.


    I could feel the whisper of the dantian in my heart, telling me that I was drawing them to their deaths. I had far too much experience in ignoring that feeling. I tamped it down as I swung my sword, reaping with each blow the lives of more Korlove and Jobu.


    I had killed ten of them by the time the second enforcer finally arrived near enough to threaten me, the endless stream of iron slugs it was firing now obstructing my movement.


    ¡°Surrender and you will be spared, thief!¡± called a mechanical sounding voice muffled by the enforcer¡¯s heavy frame. I sneered in response, turning for a moment to point my blade at it.


    ¡°My will and my heart allow no surrender!¡± I called back.


    It is a funny thing, the importance of a martial artist¡¯s heart. At the lower stages, the impact of a weak or strong heart is negligible, but by the core formation stage a faltering heart risks nurturing a heart demon within itself.


    Despite their name, such demons are merely evidence of a mind and soul on the verge of fracturing. One must face their demons to overcome them, tempering their heart and soul. Altering, there are some sanguine paths that temper the demon into a vessel to improve the conduit between body and soul, growing greatly in power in exchange for their sanity.


    The worst result was those who succumbed to their demons.


    For such reasons, a martial artist would always pay attention to the voice of their heart, wary of the danger posed by one¡¯s traumas and insecurities. When the time came to face one¡¯s demons, it was best for that demon to be as weak as possible.


    My eyes roamed the battlefield, searching for the best direction to take. Barriers of flickering orange light had been lined up along the railing, presumably in an attempt to prevent me from diving below as I had before.


    They had no way of knowing that I would not be able to do so this time.


    Though I had decimated a squad of celan soldiers, there remained an enforcer inside the warehouse behind me as well as the one facing me right now. Who knew whether there was another one around as well.


    Behind the enforcer I could see the wall of light extending around, blocking off all exits. I could not see what was going on at the entrance one floor lower in the stack, but I imagined something similar had been set up. It did not strike me as worth the effort of fighting my way down there just to fall into a trap.


    That left one option. If I worked with the Hadal¡¯s forces to defeat the enforcer, perhaps we could make enough space on the battlefield for me to break through the barrier.


    The enforcer charged at me, and I dove back, choosing to stall for time. While I had damaged the enforcer last time, that was at the cost of heavy wounds. This time, the presence of the Hadal Clan gave me more options, and I intended to make use of them.


    ¡°Keep him busy for a bit longer, my brother will soon be able to assist you,¡± spoke the wind in my ears.


    Over the past week I had grown accustomed to a woman¡¯s voice whispering into my ears, but unlike how Rachel¡¯s voice seemed as if she was right behind me, Ria¡¯s seemed like she was far away, and the sound somehow traveled to me anyway.


    I was unable to pressure the enforcer at all, and nor could I close the distance and engage it in melee unless it were to allow me to do so. All I could do is dodge the wavering fields of fire from the various automatic firearms emerging from the machine.


    In any other battle, The enforcer would have known we were at a stalemate and chosen a more opportune target for itself. In this case however, I was the primary target, and the enforcer¡¯s most important mission was, I imagined, to capture or kill me.


    This was my advantage.


    I dodged to the side, letting another wave of bullets pass through the location I had just been. I leapt at the side of the warehouse, my feet making contact with the sheet metal wall as I jumped back off at full speed.


    The weaker martial artists emerged from the breach beside me in a wave, finally able to pass through now that so many of the gunmen had been culled. Ignoring the enforcer, as it was far outside of their league, they charged for the remaining soldiers.


    There were fewer of the martial artists than I had seen inside, and I imagined that some must have already been caught by the gunfire as they forced their way outside.


    ¡°It¡¯s all your fault,¡± whispered my heart. ¡°No matter where you go, it will always happen again.¡±


    I fought my emotions, channeling my pain into my footwork as I continued to stall the enforcer. How long had it been? Seconds, minutes? In the heat of battle, it was hard to discern.


    ¡°Good job, Riverfiend.¡± whispered Ria, ¡°We¡¯re here.¡±


    I heard the tremors of the footsteps of a large man approach, and from the corner of my eyes I could see Taek charging in, growing larger and larger as more muscle fibers snaked up his legs and arms. He was like a charging bull angling its horns for the kill.


    I steadied my sword. Alone, I stood little chance. But backed up by two other martial masters of my realm, we had a chance. We would be destroying this enforcer tonight.


    Riverfiends: [A phylum of monstrous creatures native to Canvas, Riverfiends were created by the ascendant Toval, and are the apex predators of the waterways on the continent of Bounty. They are long and fast, able to dart out of the water at high speeds, attacking prey with spikes on their fins that they use to impale the prey to be dragged into the water and eaten. There are a variety of species of Riverfiend, of which most are dangerous even to martial artists. They are sometimes used in media as a symbol of mettle and ferocity, depicted as diving out of their waters in search of battle. There is a famous myth about a Seiyal warrior named Khito who had great power due to possessing the ''blood of the riverfiend.'']

 18- Mirror Maiden

    8th District, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    At first, Ria Hadal was exhilarated. Hadal territory had been uncontested for far too long, and she found duels and training far less fulfilling than a true life and death battle. She and her allies placing their lives on the line to bring down their enemy. There was no feeling in the world quite like it.


    She was confident that with three geniuses like them working together, even an enforcer would swiftly fall.


    Before her, Taek and the enforcer charged at one another. Gunfire tore into his flesh, but he disregarded the wounds as his body continued to grow in both size and density. Taek¡¯s heart and muscle techniques worked in unison, allowing him to supercharge his body for extreme physical power for a time. Such great power came at a price, but he would be able to push it off until later.


    Thirty feet away, the Riverfiend moved with extreme speed in a hazy, flowing pattern that was difficult to follow. It seemed as if he was simply always in a different position from the bullet paths when they passed, despite making only concise movements. His sword gleamed as he steadily moved close and closer to the enforcer¡¯s body.


    Wishing to perform her role, R¨ªa unleashed her miasma, causing a fine yellow mist to drift invisibly through air that was dirtied with iron. Illusionary replicas of Riverfiend suddenly appeared around the man, obscuring him for a moment before dashing out towards the enforcer along various paths.


    She summoned copies of herself as well, each one wielding a scimitar seemingly composed of a pale glassy material. With another stream of miasma the swords gained substance, now able to deflect some of the bullets flying towards them.


    She casted some of her extant miasma onto Taek, and his form shimmered, seeming to shift between different sizes and locations as he continued his charge. The impact would not be high because he used quite predictable footwork, but in the heat of battle even slight advantages compounded.


    A slug pierced right through Taek¡¯s spine, but the man ignored it, heedlessly continuing his run. He only paused when he neared the enforcer enough for it to deliver an overhead blow with tremendous force. He lifted up his blade, bracing it with both hands to block.


    Despite his great mass and size, Taek¡¯s knees nearly buckled under the force of the blow. His guts took a great deal of additional fire, and had Ria¡¯s illusions not thrown off the enforcer¡¯s aim, he might have died near instantaneously. His size shrank by an entire half foot as he fought to regain control over his miasma.


    ¡°Brother!¡± she called out in shock and horror, the words echoing from the mouths of her clones as well.


    While the enforcer was distracted by dealing with her brother, Ria maintained her control of the illusions. While several broke under the hail of bullets, others pressed forth, along with Riverfiend.


    The man had taken advantage of the momentary opportunity, rapidly closing the distance until he was finally within range of the machine. The enforcer shifted in response, trying its best to use its swords to block the many clones attacking it, but it was unable to discern which was the correct one.


    The blades of Ria¡¯s own doubles glanced off the armor, unable to deal any meaningful damage. Riverfiend, however, had landed a bevy of powerful slashes into the sturdy metal frame. There were more scratches than gouges, but each had been precisely lined up into the exact same hold, appearing to be one single deep scratch in the armor.


    Orange mist gushed out of small vents under the plates, filling the immediate surroundings with a smoky haze of flickering miasma. All of Ria¡¯s doubles dissipated, her clouds of extant miasma unable to fool reality when assaulted by the chaotic force. Even the Riverfiend faltered, she could see his motions slow for a moment as the force of the smoke impacted him. As it pushed further out, it impacted herself, and the cloud of miasma surrounding her partially dispersed, causing her invisibility to falter as well.


    With her veil lifted, one of the enforcer¡¯s guns turned to fire upon her. While she managed to avoid most of the bullets, one of them tore through her shoulder, embedding itself into her bone. She grunted in pain, shocked and distressed by the turn of events.


    Even three geniuses against one enemy, the gap in power was difficult to bridge. Ria had known from the family¡¯s information pavilion the estimated combat power of an enforcer- roughly equivalent to a martial artist midway through their spirit refinement. She had anticipated difficulty, but this¡­ the gap felt insurmountable.


    It was clear now that her initial confidence had been nothing but pride and arrogance. It had been too long since there had been a true conflict between the Heirs of Ottrien and the Hadal Clan. Long enough that Ria herself had never had to experience this feeling of emptiness. She stood dumbly, watching the enforcer continue to explode with power.


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    She glanced over to where her brother shakily stood, bleeding out of multiple gunshot wounds. Behind her, Ria¡¯s juniors killed and died in equal measure, and if things went bad for her uncle as well¡­ Ria¡¯s lip quivered, and she felt a seed of resentment threaten to grow itself within her heart dantian. This was all the fault of the Riverfiend. If it were not for him¡­ she shivered in rage, feeling the resentment begin digging its roots in.


    The enforcer¡¯s pilot called out, the sound booming from speakers in the machine¡¯s chassis.


    ¡°This is your last chance, Seiyal. I was told to try and take you in alive, but your corpse will be a worthy trophy as well.¡±


    Ria watched as the Riverfiend laughed uproariously, not ceasing to relentlessly attack the enforcer despite the blades swing down around him. His attacks were only causing slight damage, but he almost seemed crazed as he tore into the mechanical armor¡¯s surface.


    ¡°I told you already. There will be no surrender. Not for me, and not for you. One of us will die today, I swear on my soul.¡±


    Ria could feel a pulse of energy emerge from Riverfiend. His skin grew slick with moisture, as if miasma had condensed upon him, and he rapidly grew in speed while his strikes seemed to hit harder on the iron skin of the armor¡¯s frame.


    Her anger at the man waned somewhat after hearing his words. His face was a mask of rage, himself like a dervish as he dodged and wove his way between the large swings of the enforcer¡¯s many swords and the constant gunfire it sent at him.


    The man¡¯s perseverance brought Ria back to her senses, and she could guess that he was using some sort of enhancement skill, meaning he would only be able to keep it up for a limited amount of time. Once again, she needed to perform her role. As Riverfiend had said, either they or the enforcer would survive the battle. She channeled miasma through her meridians, preparing to cast more illusions upon the battlefield. A slight smile lit up her face again as she made her way back into a proper headspace, her form fading back out into invisibility.


    Her illusions coalesced onto the battlefield once more, causing Riverfiend to split into six spectral copies of himself as his fusillade continued. They joined in on the attack. In theory, Ria¡¯s illusions had physicality, but she simply was not able to make them hit as hard as Riverfiend could. Still, they would distract the enforcer more, protecting them all for just a little more time. In a perfect world, that time would be enough to destroy it.


    Suddenly, the enforcer¡¯s hulking frame rocked with an impact as Taek crashed into it at full speed, tipping it off of its legs. One of its swords slashed down, but with the odd angle it was unable to provide full force, and he was able to hold it off with his own.


    Neither Ria nor the Riverfiend were foolish enough to let the opportunity pass, so they scoured its surface for weak points, aiming their weapons to take advantage of them.


    Riverfiend managed to pierce his blade through a chink in the armor plating, stabbing deep into the machine¡¯s internals. Due to the weaker strength of her illusions, Ria¡¯s doubles managed to somewhat wedge their own blades in before the enforcer slammed a pair of its palms into the ground in order to shove itself up with dramatic force, causing one of the doubles whose blade became caught to be twisted in a brutal fashion, popping like a bubble as it turned to a haze of yellow smoke.


    The orange glow of the enforcer¡¯s miasma was now slightly darker than before, which Ria took as a positive sign of damage.


    Taek grunted as he blocked another sword, eyes locked in intense focus on the enforcer. Another bullet impacted his leg, but as he parried a sword, he slid his blade further in towards the chassis, slamming it down with extreme force. Unlike Ria¡¯s weak stabbing or Riverfiend¡¯s high-speed slashes, Taek simply bore down with a single, heavy blow using the enhanced strength his technique had granted him.


    The blow impacted close to one of the seams in the metal plates, and tore through, crunching metal debris. He had let down his guard in order to land the hit, and one of the enforcer¡¯s swords had slammed into him, carving its own gouge into his side. Ria sincerely hoped that his dantians had not been hit by any of the bullets or scatter.


    This wave of damage had not quite destroyed the enforcer, but Ria could see that the arms were still twitching and twirling , while orange smoke still continued to leak from within. As if heedless of the danger, Riverfiend stepped up to the side of the canopy where the hatch was located.


    Using one end of the tear that Taek had created, Riverfiend ripped open the rest of the cockpit with a bare hand, eyes blazing with an emotion that Ria could not quite identify, as if he was feeling multiple things at the same time. He reached in and pulled out with some effort the pilot, a husky Jobu man. He leaned in close to the alien¡¯s face, his face a grin that almost but not quite seemed genuine. The man sputtered, as if he were trying to place the man before him, but simply found him to be odd..


    ¡°As I was telling you before,¡± spoke the Riverfiend, ¡±One of us will die here today.¡±


    Ria watched in shock as, with a casual motion, he snapped the pilot¡¯s neck, tossing him back down onto the ground.


    The grin had fled his face, and he stared in silence at the surrounding battles, which had spread to encompass a great deal of the space within the celan barrier. While one of the enforcers was down, the battle was not over yet. Taek toppled onto the heavily damaged enforcer, and Ria cried out again as she rushed to his side.


    Suddenly, a noise like the sound of a large waterfall echoed across the space.


    Carefully crossing the barriers was another enforcer and two squadrons of the Heir¡¯s private army, and they had just watched their ally fall.


    ¡°Shit!¡± said Ria. The Riverfiend just sighed in exhaustion.


    Extant Miasma: [The nature of the extant is simple. It is that which exists, defined by its opposition, that which does not. In a domain created by the presence of extant miasma, existence becomes a spectrum rather than a binary, and that which is real can become false while that which is not, becomes. Extant miasma manifests with yellow coloration.]

 19- Reinforce

    8th District, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    ¡°I would not have wagered on him showing up at a black market run by the Depthists,¡± mused Triezal idly.


    He was inspecting a glyph slate as he spoke, the blindfold lifted slightly so that he could actually see what he was looking at. Kalthen paid little attention to the other man, focusing instead on the information on his own slate.


    Kalthen had known the situation would become chaotic, but this was beyond his expectations. When his informants had told him that the Seiyal had found the thief in an 8th district black market, he had contacted the nearest force the Heirs controlled, ordering them to try and capture him. It was clearly not going well.


    The two of them and their squads had hastened to the nearest skydock in hopes of arriving on the scene in time to assist, but ten minutes of transit was far too slow.


    The anticipation felt like it lasted hours as they could do nothing but wait and watch as the situation escalated further and further. It was already the largest battle that had been fought on the station in over a decade, and was at great risk of growing even further.


    Kalthen¡¯s uncle had asked him to capture the thief, this Riverfiend, as the Seiyal were calling him. Uncle Deuvar hadn¡¯t mentioned it, but according to Triezal, what the leadership really wanted from the thief was not revenge, but rather to retrieve what he had stolen. The details did not particularly matter. What mattered was that he had been told to use every resource available to accomplish the mission, and his very life might be on the line if he failed in his mission.


    He would not allow that to happen. All forces he controlled were converging to the battlefield. Even if the Hadal Clan wished to continue protecting him, enough to further escalate the conflict, the Heirs of Ottrien would not falter.


    He continued keeping up to date on the flow of the battle as they approached the site. According to the data, the thief was fighting with an enforcer at the moment. The footage enraged Kalthen a bit, bringing to mind memories of the annoyance that the man had posed to fight when he himself still had an enforcer to pilot. He sighed in annoyance.


    His contemplations were interrupted by the sharp and direct voice of Kande.


    ¡°Sir, the skydocks have all been shut down.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± he asked. ¡°Let me see.¡± He maneuvered his way to the window in the tight confines of the aero. Sure enough, A vehicle had already attached itself to the skydock¡¯s port. ¡°Damn,¡± he said. ¡°Are there any others nearby?¡±


    Kande tried her best to imitate a shrug.


    ¡°Hard to say whether or not they¡¯ll be the same. It¡¯s possible that more factions than just ourselves and the Hadal are taking action.¡±


    ¡°Damn it. Damn it!¡± Kalthen¡¯s rage grew, and he felt the urge to break something.


    ¡°Wait, brother,¡± spoke Triezal, placing his hand on Kalthen¡¯s shoulder. At some point the blindfold had slipped back over his eyes, and he bore an amused expression on his face.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Kalthen asked.


    ¡°Let us not bother finding a dock. The price of the vehicle can be considered a cost of doing business.¡± As he spoke, Triezal was checking the straps on various odd metal boxes he had attached to his body at various points.


    It took Kalthen a few moments to gather the meaning of his words.


    ¡°What? You can¡¯t be serious.¡±


    The other man didn¡¯t bother looking up, merely continuing to check his equipment.


    ¡°I would rather crash the vehicle and arrive in time to do something useful than wait an hour to find a fucking place to park it, Kalthen. Don¡¯t forget how important our mission is.¡±


    Kalthen couldn¡¯t fault his logic, but Triezal¡¯s tone did nothing to improve his mood.


    ¡°...fine. Kande, bring us down near the barrier. Carefully.¡±


    ¡°Understood.¡±


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    One of the woman¡¯s appendages slowly reduced the throttle, banking back around towards the barrier as she nudged the nose of the aero downwards. Kalthen desperately strapped himself down as their altitude continued to lower. As he did so, he realized that Triezal had stood up, walking over to the door of the vehicle.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± he asked. Triezal smiled.


    ¡°I have somewhere to be.¡±


    He pulled the door¡¯s emergency open handle, causing it to shunt open with a mechanical thunk. Air rushed in through the new orifice in the aero¡¯s hull.


    ¡°Are you insane!?¡± shouted Kalthen, his face paled.


    Triezal shrugged and leapt from the vehicle, falling into the open air below. Kalthen could see the ground imminently approaching, and though he would be ashamed to emit it, a shriek of fear erupted from his lips in the instant before the vehicle crunched with great force into the stone ground, cracking the foundation of the floor, and sending them into the lower layer of the stack.


    For some reason, the only thought in Kalthen¡¯s mind at that moment was that Kande had certainly not been careful at all.


    <hr>


    Mere moments after their informant told the Hadal Clan that she had discovered the Riverfiend¡¯s whereabouts, Karie had headed for the nearest aero and flown all the way from the second district to the eighth. This was an opportunity she would not miss.


    She had not quite gathered the details, but she knew that her mother wished to offer the man a deal of some sort. Not if she had anything to say about the matter. The Hadal Clan would most certainly be making no dealings with a member of the unorthodox path.


    It was only a matter of time until he became insane and went on a rampage. If they were to trust him it would only increase the damage he was capable of inflicting.


    No, it was her responsibility to handle the issue in advance, before he became a direct threat to the clan. So she justified it to herself, but she was forced to restrain herself from grinning with anticipation. She thought of the fame she would receive if she defeated him in single combat, the idea compelling her to run faster.


    After leaving her chauffeur behind at the skydock, Karie had begun to charge across several sets of bridges in order to reach the warehouse where the Depthist black market had been located.


    The area was surrounded in one vast barrier array, likely some trick of the celans. While the use of such a thing would be expected of the Depthist faith, such a powerful construction far eclipses their capabilities. Indeed, only the celans had both the need and capability to generate one of such size in this location.


    She approached the barrier curiously, reaching out with her hand to inspect it. The contact slightly seared her skin, and as she pushed deeper inside the heat increased as well as the density of whatever energetic material it was composed of. She would need to find another way inside.


    Karie frowned at the annoyance. Perhaps she should have gone to find one of her older brothers before coming here. As she tried to determine a method of entry, her eyes were drawn to an open area on a nearby stack, where she could see a group of martial artists in her clan¡¯s robes. She approached in a flash of movement as she sought their assistance.


    A large, husky man started in shock at her sudden appearance, but righted himself before performing a greeting with a bow. Karie had seen him around before, but they had never spoken to one another until now.


    ¡°Eiri Duzu greets you, Young Mistress Karie. Might I inquire what you are doing here?¡±


    ¡°I was in the area and felt like assisting,¡± Karie replied.


    Eiri looked strained.


    ¡°It would probably be best if you returned to the second district. This is not a safe place to be for one of the clan¡¯s heirs.¡±


    She nodded in response, carefully maintaining decorum in front of one of her family¡¯s vassals.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I cannot acquiesce, Practitioner Eiri. There is something I must do before I leave. Now, tell me the situation,¡± she ordered.


    Karie had found that it was best to be direct and clear when one wanted a vassal to do something they did not wish to. If he were to argue further, she would then claim that by disrespecting her he was besmirching the dignity of the Hadal Clan. It really was too easy to get her way like this.


    Eiri nodded glumly, explaining how they were the force from the seventh district safehouse, who had arrived to assist but found themselves trapped outside of the barrier.


    ¡°A spirit refiner should be arriving shortly, but we were trying to think of alternative methods of entry rather than simply waiting for them.¡±


    Karie nodded. It was right of him to proactively search for solutions.


    ¡°Are there any you have come up with so far?¡± she asked.


    ¡°The two we have are not ideal. We could either search for the barrier¡¯s generator, hoping it is not located inside, or there should be a tunnel on the lower level that leads up into the warehouse. We were discussing which to proceed with.¡±


    Karie considered the options. In theory, destroying the barrier generator would be faster, but there was no telling where it was or even what it looked like.


    ¡°We¡¯ll head below. Lead the way,¡± she ordered, pointing towards the nearest stairwell on the side of the stack.


    Eiri responded with a nod, beginning to order his force to surround and protect her as she moved. A part of her was annoyed at the treatment, feeling it was mildly demeaning, but she had grown accustomed to it long ago. The power her status provided her came with far too many such mild annoyances to consider.


    As they started to run for the stairwell, Karie could not help but anticipate what the day would bring. If all went well, that man would soon die by her hand, no matter what her mother thought of him.


    Pseudoplasmic Barriers: [An advanced technology grasped by the Celans, pseudoplasmic barriers harness the inherently chaotic nature of flickering miasma to condense and superheat a microfilament mesh. These barriers are quite strong while active, able to prevent entry by any force up to that of a projectile accelerating at a rate of 1% of the speed of light. As such, they are incredibly versatile and useful inside of inhabited areas, where weapons of such power are unlikely to see use. The cost of their power is immense, however, requiring the use of a total of six celan power cores for a mere half hour of activation time. Alternatively, a single lesser ashatic torus is capable of powering the barrier for a full thirty hours straight before needing to be refurbished.]

 20- The Aide and the Consultant

    8th District, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    The effect of the Heart of Rainfall technique faded, leaving me tired and weary. I stood atop the wreck of an enforcer that I and the siblings from the Hadal Clan had defeated together. I felt like a wreck myself as I carefully circulated my miasma to soothe my battered meridians.


    I glanced at my newfound companions, seeing that Taek was heavily wounded, leaning against the enforcer¡¯s side while his sister frantically attempted to bandage him. I silently wished her luck, as I felt a slight camaraderie with the man. Had he not joined the fight against the enforcer, I would have been the one close to bleeding out.


    Though the odds were that I would soon be in that position myself, given the enforcers ahead.


    The only thing I could think to do was run back into the warehouse and take advantage of the chaos to hide and wait for the barrier to drop. I refused to believe that they would be able to maintain it indefinitely.


    My body was slow, however, barely the speed of a normal martial artist of my realm. I would need several minutes to recover enough to reactivate my movement technique without risk of internal damage. I turned to Ria, who was still fussing over her brother.


    ¡°I apologize for dragging you into this poor situation, and wish the two of you luck today.¡±


    I had considered offering them a favor from me later on if they survived, but decided not to. Favors owed were a liability I refused to allow.


    Ria did not respond, so I ran past the battlefield of the weaker forces, where the martial artists of the Hadal Clan had finished slaughtering the celan¡¯s soldiers.


    A part of me felt like I had been fleeing for far too long. I had fled from Sunlit Hall, I had fled from myself, I had fled from my world, and now I fled from the Heirs of Ottrien. I didn¡¯t want to run anymore, but I refused to submit myself nor die. And so my legs continued to churn. I felt like a bug fleeing from the housewife¡¯s sandal.


    The interior of the warehouse had become unrecognizable since I had left. It was a blasted hellscape, filled with traces of gunfire and martial arts of great power. It was impressive that it even remained standing.


    There were even more corpses here than there had been outside. The ground was littered with unlucky martial artists and the black market customers who had been too slow to flee the scene. The enforcer and the Hadal Clan¡¯s spirit refiner¡¯s battle had clearly been an immensely destructive one. It seemed the old man had come out on top, however.


    The spirit refiner¡¯s clothes were matted with blood, and he lounged peacefully atop the machine in a butterfly pose, drinking from a ceramic bottle shaped like a gourd. As I entered, he wiped his mouth and turned to me.


    ¡°Running back in? How poor is the situation outside, boy?¡± he asked.


    Rather than ignore him and run for the stairs, I paused my run to respond. Putting aside the fact that the man was far stronger than I, I figured it was best to be on relatively good terms with the only spirit refiner in the district, at least until I found a way out of the situation.


    ¡°We has won the fight, but reinforcements arrived. Your¡­¡± I tried to remember how two siblings had addressed him. It was difficult to guess whether he was actually their uncle or if it were merely a term of endearment. After a pause, I chose to avoid the topic. ¡°Taek became injured and Ria stayed behind to ensure he does not bleed out.¡±


    The man stroked his beard for a moment before nodding, solemnly.


    ¡°I see. Mind if I ask, young sir. Exactly what was it you took that has the Celans so up in arms?¡±


    I pondered the question for a moment. Dismissing the man entirely was a poor idea, as it bore excessive risk of angering him, and I liked to be careful with those in a higher realm than my own unless I had no choice. Still, I lacked the time to think of a suitable lie.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I cannot tell you. Perhaps I will discuss it with the Matriarch should the¡­ proposition your clan offered to go through,¡± I said.


    The old man nodded sagely.


    ¡°I suspected as much. Alright, you may go now. My name is Wei Hadal. Should fate wish, we will meet again.¡±


    With that, he hopped up from his position on the enforcer and dashed his way out through the breach from which I had entered. I assumed he intended to protect his niece and nephew. As I watched his exit, I returned to the task at hand.


    It took me some time to find the stairwell, despite the fact that I had climbed it less than an hour before. It was buried under a pile of debris, and I could see hints of light peeking through cracks in the tightly compressed pile of rubble.


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    This posed an issue. I should be able to destroy it if I used successive techniques at full force, or alternatively I could just start picking the pieces up one by one. The latter method would take far too long.


    I situated myself behind the pile in a butterfly position and meditated, very carefully cycling the formless miasma around my body to soothe my meridians. The process would take around two minutes, but I trusted Spirit Refiner Wei to stall the enforcers for at least that long.


    When I finished, I opened my eyes to see the barrel of a gun pointed at me. If I were standing, it would be trivial to dodge from this distance, but I had no footwork usable from a seated position.


    I looked up to see the one who had snuck up on me. He seemed to be a short, slender Jobu, having a body shape more similar to a Seiyal than not. But he was not a Seiyal. He had the graying skin and sturdy soulshape of a Jobu. Perhaps, I thought, he was a member of that same celan subrace as Hestky.


    He was wearing dark clothing. Brown pants that wouldn¡¯t have been out of place if worn by a factory worker rested under a tight green jacket. Odd metal and stone plate. were strapped in various places such as his ankles, wrists and chest. His long hair was carefully tied up, presumably to avoid its becoming a hindrance in a fight. The oddest part, though, was a yellow blindfold that had slipped down around his neck. He had a deep pair of blue eyes that met my gaze without flinching.


    ¡°What a pleasure to meet the one they are calling Riverfiend,¡± he said.


    ¡°I would reply in kind, but I am unaware of your identity.¡±


    He laughed, his gun barrel not shifting in the slightest as he did so.


    ¡°I could say the same, truthfully. I imagine not even the Seiyal here, kind as they were to bestow this epithet upon you don¡¯t even know who you truly are. A mysterious follower of the unorthodox path coming all this way just to rob some aliens. While we¡¯re on the topic, would you mind telling me who you work for? It¡¯s not the Hadal Clan.¡±


    I shook my head.


    ¡°I don¡¯t work for anyone,¡± I said. ¡°I had simply been under the impression that such a well-equipped warehouse must have a formless treasure or two.¡±


    It was the truth, though I had left out any references to Rachel. I wanted to see what he knew about her. He sneered in response.


    ¡°Of course. You just happened to arrive on a day when a corrupt member of our force shifted personnel allocation to leave the building practically unguarded. How plausible. Your little mole friend is dead, you know. The Leader had him flogged and shot in front of all the officers.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure what to say,¡± I replied. ¡°I was simply lucky.¡±


    He clearly did not believe me, which was not unexpected. But he seemed to move on, not considering the line of investigation worth more of his time.


    ¡°And what of the treasures you did take? Where are they?¡±


    ¡°I sold most of them-¡±


    He cut me off.


    ¡°I know which ones you sold here, what I want to know is where you¡¯ve put the rest.¡±


    ¡°Sold those too, at another black market,¡± I said. He gave me a blank stare.


    ¡°Sell the bullshit to someone else. Tell me where it is and I¡¯ll let you go.¡±


    I laughed at the comment.


    ¡°Now who¡¯s selling bullshit?¡±


    ¡°I can at least make your end less painful.¡±


    ¡°Forgive me if I have no wish to help someone who intends to take my life,¡± I replied. I saw one of his muscles start to tense, so I rolled, beginning to shift before he managed to actually pull the trigger of his pistol. I had shifted enough that the bullet grazed the side of my head rather than going through it, and I thanked the immortals that I had been so lucky.


    I rolled to my feet, dodging backwards to gain distance as he fired another shot.


    ¡°I would appreciate it if you would make this easier for me,¡± he said.


    This time I didn¡¯t dignify him with a response.


    <hr>


    1st District, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    ¡°Hm?¡± said Ifre, looking at the odd reading.


    The display showed a lengthy list of loud noises, vibration, and indications of ashatic readings far beyond the norm for anything there should have been in the station short of an ashatic reactor. In addition, flight paths were having to shift because of what was apparently some sort of large dome going up within the eighth district.


    He fiddled with his input device, shifting the display to show a view of the eighth district from one of the multitude of dome cameras. He let out a surprised chuff of shock he saw what was happening.


    One of the stacks had been sealed off by what had to be some sort of energy shield, and within, small armies of Seiyal and Celan forces were fighting or already dead on the ground. Outside of the barrier, he could see more forces from each side arriving, and even a hole in the stack where some sort of aero seemed to have crashed right through the floor.


    To make matters worse, he could see some incredibly flashy fighting going on between a Seiyal martial artist and a pair of Celan enforcers. It was already a fight with the potential to level multiple stacks, and there was the risk, he worried, of it spiralling into a full blown gang war.


    Ifre picked up the phone, dialing his boss¡¯s number. This was far, far above his paygrade.


    Merris: [One of the three surviving races from Celah, the Merris are often considered to be a subtype of Jobu. There is a strict, fundamental difference between the two. Merris are roughly standard in body shape for a humanoid race, smaller and slender than the Jobu, but far more dextrous. They are stronger and swifter than their appearance would imply, and have highly adept senses. It is said that they are the descendants of a genetics program from the days prior to the scourging of Epon Celah. The Merris tend to live in tightly knit communities of their own race alone, and those isolated from their people often experience intense symptoms of depression. Rumor has it that there is a deep relationship between the Merris and the Shades that originated on Celah, and they are not considered welcome within Sheneth-Ari territory.]

 21- Magister

    8th District, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    Dual wielding weapons often seems highly effective initially, but the styles of fighting always suffer from as many disadvantages as advantages. To control a weapon effectively with only one hand it needed to be smaller and lighter, and the multitasking that would be required was far beyond the means of any normal person. For those reasons. sects that wielded two blades at once were fairly uncommon.


    It had been my understanding that firearms were the same way. When one shot a firearm, they needed to be looking from a certain angle to properly aim it. With one in each hand this became impossible, and so proper aim became far more difficult.


    This would not be an unsurpassable issue in a conflict between mortals, but against the agility of a martial artist it drastically reduced the effect of the weapon.


    The issues seemed to be nothing for the man before me.


    I dodged to the side again as yet another sharp crack heralded the impact of yet another bullet into the stone ground. A slight pain indicated to me that I had been grazed on the side.


    Despite firing far fewer bullets, bullets, I was pressured nearly as much to dodge as I was by an enforcer. Where enforcers competed in sheer quantity and spread, my attacker competed with the sheer accuracy of his aim. Somehow, despite not even being a martial artist, the man was reading my movements, predicting the direction in which I would be moving at any given point. It almost seemed preternatural, though I knew that could not be the case.


    I moved to close the distance, sliding my sword from its sheath. The heirloom gleamed in the light that entered the warehouse from behind me. At the last second, I ducked my head beneath another bullet¡¯s trail as I reached within an arm''s length of the man.


    My sword flew out, like a lightning bolt striking from the heavens to the earth. But to my surprise, the earth moved.


    An explosion of orange smoke erupted from his chest, and we were both pushed backwards in opposite directions. I quickly regained my footing and charged back towards the man, but rather than catch himself or stumble as he landed back onto the ground, the celan slid backwards along the ground, not seeming to lose any momentum at all from friction. An odd noise that sounded halfway between a grinding sound and the hissing of a snake could be heard as he slid back as smoothly as if he was skating on ice.


    In his wake I could see streaks in the stone left behind by his boots, covered in a sheen of dust as if he had someone disintegrated a top layer of the stone surface. As he slid back, he reloaded his pistols in a single motion and began firing once more at me.


    ¡°What¡¯s your name, anyway, Riverfiend? It feels odd to not know the name of the man I will be killing,¡± he said.


    His voice seemed a bit muffled, and I could barely hear it over the gunfire and the hissing of his boots.


    I felt no need to tell him anything that could potentially be used against me. I continued trying to close the distance between us as I responded.


    ¡°You can call me Riverfiend,¡± I said.


    He laughed, but even despite the swift motion of his legs and the shaking of his diaphragm, his arms still remained perfectly steady. I was starting to question whether or not he truly was a mortal. Even a martial artist of my own realm might have had issues replicating the feat.


    ¡°We can leave it at that, then, Riverfiend. Your title will have to be enough to satisfy me. But just so you know who slew you, I shall give you my own. My name is Triezal, a journeyman magister of the Epon. To die by my hand will be your honor.¡±


    This time I chose not to respond. I leapt into the air, rebound onto the wall for another leap to catch him off guard and close the distance.


    My blade coursed towards his throat in a single, perfectly executed moment, but it was blocked by a glowing orange barrier that looked exactly like the one outside.


    Triezal kicked at my legs while trying to fire at my gut from point blank range, but I stepped just out of reach and out of his line of fire while my sword tore again and again into his shield.


    My fifth slash tore through, biting into Triezal¡¯s skin before I was blasted back by a second burst of smoke. I cursed as I was pushed back, trying to regain my view of him through the haze.


    The gunfire had momentarily paused, and I suddenly realized why as Triezal burst through the smoke, charging through me at high speed as if he had never been blasted in the other direction. I cursed at his advance, attempting to close the distance between us once more.


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    While Triezal¡¯s physical abilities were all far below mine except for his bodily control, his tricks made him difficult to deal with, particularly because I had nowhere to run to. I supposed it must be similar to how fighting me must feel to most others.


    As he neared me, the bottom of his boots crunched into the ground, lowering him by nearly an entire foot. I was unable to react to the surprising shift, my slash going right above where his head had been a moment before.


    The surprise was enough to land a gutshot on me, and I was forced to back up to avoid the forthcoming volley. I cursed, annoyed at my mistake. I really hated advanced technology. As far as I could remember, it had never created anything but issues for me.


    ¡°I can see why Kalthen had so much trouble with you,¡± he said, firing another volley of shots at me before reloading once more.


    At this point, I felt no need to humor the man, so I ignored his words and considered my course of action.


    So far, the man had been very effective at both pressuring me and maintaining distance. I was on the backfoot purely because my martial style emphasized relentless attack and control of the tempo of battle. How much more ammunition did he have? He certainly seemed to have used a lot so far, and there was only so much he could have carried on his body. The bursts of energy, too. There was no chance he could keep releasing them indefinitely.


    With that in mind, my plan was finalized. I would continue pressing the attack, baiting him into using up the last of his countermeasures. Given the substantial difference in physical ability between the two of us, once he ran out of tricks he would fall upon my blade shortly afterwards.


    ¡°Do you know what I think?¡± he asked, skating across the ground in a strafing motion. By now, criss-crossing lines stretched in all directions, a web cataloging the chaotic, looping motions Triezal had been taking. The marks varied in depth, starting to pose a hazard for both of our movement across the pock-marked floor.


    I did not respond to his question, but he continued speaking regardless.


    ¡°I think you know what you took, understand why it¡¯s important. Whatever they¡¯re offering you, we can give you more.¡±


    He fired another burst of shots before reloading once more. Just how many magazines did he have stored in that jacket? As he returned to firing, he continued speaking.


    ¡°You¡¯re in the core formation realm, right? We have plenty of formless treasures. We can give you as many as you need. I understand unorthodox practitioners are always in need of progressing in their arts. All you-¡°


    He was cut off as he passed over a deeper divot, his balance falling just slightly off. He immediately started to recover, but the momentary mistake was an opportunity I would not miss.


    I dashed my way towards him, a near instantaneous shift. My blade thrusted for his throat, but just as it pierced flesh, the ground roared beneath us in a loud grinding tone as a vast explosion sounded out somewhere beneath our feet.


    Cracks formed in the divots Triezal had carved into the floor and sections splintered and burst upwards from a force so great it lifted me off my feet. Rather than tear off his head, the tip of my sword merely sliced across the side of his neck.


    I hoped it had cut an important vein or artery.


    Dust and smoke of the mundane variety had quickly filled the air after the explosion, or whatever it was that had happened on the floor below us. I coughed, waving my free hand in front of my face to try and clear some of it.


    The warehouse¡¯s condition had steadily worsened ever since the fight started, but now the foundation was cracked and ruined. I could see with my naked eye cracks in the rock that sank down to the sparking wires between the floors and in some locations even deeper, cracks that let light from below seep up and into the darkened room above.


    Triezal was nowhere to be seen. Either he had taken the momentary opportunity to flee, or was hidden somewhere beneath the dust and rubble. Perhaps he was dead, or perhaps he had survived. What was more important was that the battle was over, and the wounds I took were not too extreme. I winced as pain flared in my stomach wound. It was painful, and could kill me if I did not receive medical attention, but for now it did not hamper my combat effectiveness, and that was what really mattered.


    I carefully navigated the rubble to make my back out of the warehouse. I wanted to be outside before it finally collapsed under the extreme damage to its foundation. I peeked my head outside to see what was going on.


    The battle between Practitioner Wei and the two enforcers was ongoing, but had become far more chaotic due to the large cracks in the ground that had expanded even so far out. I considered whether or not it was worth it to leave the warehouse yet as I did not wish to participate in the battle, but the groaning creak of rupturing metal behind me convinced me of the wisdom in leaving.


    I moved ten paces away from the building as the structure finally collapsed, crashing heavily down into the floor. With a cacophonous medley of cracks and shrieks, the floor shifted and turned before finally losing its structural stability.


    The fissures that already existed expanded dramatically, tearing the ground beneath us into chunks as the floor finally began to fall down to the lower level of the stack. I cursed again as I slid down into the building below.


    Magister: [A historical Celan term, referring to a societal caste among Jobu cultures who were considered to be masters of medicine, alchemy, and magic. A city was once constructed and run by the Magisters, called Opportunity. It fell to infighting and internal disputes that resulted in the end of the magisters and the technology controlled by the magisters coming under the control of other governments, resulting in widespread cultural advancement that led to modern Celan culture. While the fall of Epon is seen as a legend or myth about a utopia spoiled by cruel invaders, the failure of Opportunity is a lesson in hubris for those who wish to hoard power and knowledge for themselves. Conspiracies about the continued existence of Opportunity''s government past the fall, a secret organization manipulating society and governments from the shadows abound in certain corners of Celan society.]

 22- A Level Below

    8th District, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    Kalthen blearily returned to consciousness with throbbing pain emerging from all across his body. He groaned, blinking black spots out of his eyes.


    ¡°What¡­¡± he said, trying to regain his thoughts.


    It felt like it took hours to sort his memories, hampered by the pounding beats of a strong headache. He worked to unbuckle the straps restraining him as he awkwardly climbed to his feet.


    The aero¡¯s interior was largely intact, a seemingly miraculous occurrence given how they had crashed through an entire floor. That was unusual, and the structure must have already been damaged in some way from the fighting.


    His worries of seeing the bodies of his subordinates littering the wreckage were thankfully unfounded. He clambered his way out of the vehicle, finding himself inside of a thoroughly trashed Staiven bathing chamber.


    The nutrient pools were the color and consistency of bile, although they smelled more like burned plastic. The room was littered with discarded bathing towels and eyeball descalers that had presumably been left when the inhabitants had fled. One unlucky Staiven had been caught directly underneath the wreckage, her body crushed and mutilated. Kalthen had to hold in a retch.


    He found Kande¡¯s squad holding a defensive perimeter near the exits of the room. She saw him approach, skittering over and bowing slightly before him.


    ¡°We¡¯ve secured the area, sir. We were about to wake you.¡±


    Kalthen nodded, trying to replicate how his uncle acted in front of subordinates.


    ¡°Understood. What¡¯s our situation?¡±


    ¡°The surrounding area appears to be clear of any Hadal members, but there are still some fleeing locals. As the barrier doesn¡¯t extend below the surface, we are free to move further in if needed, though the secondary one should be further down.¡± Kalthen nodded.


    ¡°And Triezal?¡± he asked.


    ¡°He has not responded to any pings, nor have we seen him. I believe he might be occupied with something on the upper level.¡±


    ¡°I see. In that case, let¡¯s start searching for the thief, he might try to escape among the locals. Tell your squad members to keep an eye out for sign of him.¡±


    Kande bobbed her head in acknowledgement, turning to bark the orders to the squad members. Kalthen considered for a moment the figure of the thief he had fought just one week before. He had been squirrely, difficult to pin down and quick to flee once the opportunity arose. Was that his personality, or merely a reaction to the circumstance? This time around, Kalthen was not piloting an enforcer,and so things might be different.


    He and Triezal had intended to meet up with one of the units stationed her and act as command and backup for them, but it seemed that plan was shot. Now that he was on the lower level, he was presented with both risk and opportunity. Given what was at stake for him personally, all he could do was take the chance. Perhaps the man had been injured in the intense battle going on overhead.


    With a hand motion, Kalthen directed the squad forward.


    The street was in slightly better condition than the restaurant had been, but still bore the tell-tale signs of chaos and abandonment. Various computer terminals and other objects that had been presumably been held in their owner¡¯s hands when they were caught in the fleeing mob.


    The area was utterly silent save for the echoing cracks of gunfire from the floor above. It had an eerie quality that was unique to empty urban spaces, and Kalthen almost felt like a monster would pop out of each successive alleyway that they passed.


    ¡°There was a passage leading up into the warehouse down here, correct?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Yes, sir. According to the records this was the entrance used by customers. It should be along the next street.¡± The response came from one of the squad members, a Korlove man named Kaduk.


    ¡°I see. Keep an eye out,¡± said Kalthen.


    They carefully turned the corner, only to find themselves face to face with a squad of Seiyal wearing the white robes of the Hadal Clan. The Seiyal were standing beside another orange barrier, appearing to annoyedly be looking for a way to break through. A large maintenance robot of Celan make rested in a heap to the side of the road, its limbs bearing the tell-tale marks of sword slices where the martial artists had presumably attacked it.


    After a moment of surprised hesitation, the Korlove fired upon the shocked Seiyal. They did not even wait for Kalthen¡¯s order; instead operating on their training. When it came to fighting martial artists, the only way to bridge the gap in speed and reaction time was to fire as soon as possible.


    The bullets tore into them, bringing two of the martial artists down in an instant. Those remaining quickly charged for Kalthen and his subordinates, and he cursed as he continued firing his own weapon.


    One of the Seiyal, a short woman with very lengthy hair that was expertly tied up in a complex manner led the charge, her swiftness telling him one very problematic detail; she was either a core formation practitioner or a very swift meridian establishment practitioner. Either way, his gamble had not paid off.


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    A few bullets impacted the maintenance robot, sending a small cascade of sparks flying as they tore into its internal circuitry. A thin orange smoke emerged from the machine.


    Another of the martial artists fell under the gunfire., leaving only three remaining. Meanwhile, the woman had reached their line of fire, a shortsword in each hand that she used to ambidextrously carve into Kaduk and another of the Korlove.


    ¡°Shit, shit shit!¡± chanted Kalthen, scrambling to put another magazine into his rifle.


    He considered surrendering, but the woman had a cruel grin on her face as she sliced through his subordinates. She was enjoying the slaughter. His gaze flicked back to the dead bodies before him, and knew that if this continued they would all die. Though she seemed to be merciless, perhaps at least a few of his group could survive if he surrendered. He raised his hands into the air.


    ¡°We place ourselves under the mercy of the honorable Hadal Clan,¡± he said loudly, prompting the rest to follow in his lead.


    In their decades of experience dealing with the Hadal Clan, the Heirs of Ottrien had learned certain aspects of Seiyal culture. If one surrendered in the wrong way, the martial artists would feel little need to honor it. However, if one called upon the honor of the clan, then they would feel the need to act to preserve the ¡®face¡¯ of the organization. It had always struck Kalthen as pointlessly contradictory and counterintuitive, but he had paid attention to such lessons anyway. He had known it might save his life some day.


    One of the woman¡¯s swords paused right before it would have sliced off one of Karie¡¯s legs, and looked over to Kalthen with an expression that almost looked like a pout.


    ¡°An honorable combatant would fight until death,¡± she said.


    Kalthen responded with a weak smile.


    ¡°In our culture, staying alive is a filial responsibility.¡±


    She sneered at him, tracing the air between them with her sword.


    ¡°This is a field of battle, and I cannot spare the men to guard you. What do you expect of us?¡±


    He shrugged.


    ¡°All I know is that if we were to continue fighting you, it would be our death.¡±


    ¡°That is the case. You were foolish to wander around without one of your machines.¡±


    She continued tracing patterns in the air with her swords, each one painting a different shape. It was impressive, but made Kalthen question how much attention she was paying to the conversation.


    All of a sudden, she ceased her fidgeting and met his gaze directly.


    ¡°Where is the Riverfiend?¡± she asked. He fought the instinctive urge to look away.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he replied. ¡°But it is likely he is still trapped within one of the barriers.¡± He nodded in the direction of the glowing wall behind her.


    She sighed, muttering something under her breath about how useless Celans were. Kalthen graciously let the dig pass.


    ¡°Tell me how to pass through the barriers,¡± she ordered.


    Kalthen laughed.


    ¡°You can just walk right through, he said.¡±


    She lifted an eyebrow, and he explained.


    ¡°The filament allows slow-moving objects to pass through, though it exposes them to highly dense miasma.¡±


    She frowned, while Kalthen smirked. Even this foolish dog of the Hadal would know that meant that while any Celan could walk through without issue, only martial artists at the level of a spirit refiner or above would be able to pass through without becoming violently ill. It was a simple method of restricting entry, but sometimes the simple ways were the most effective.


    She asked a few more questions about the situation, and Kalthen managed to respond with no information he believed she would find useful. So long as he could help it, he would do nothing to help the opposing force. In the end, he got the impression she gave up the interrogation solely because she did not wish to waste time with torture, or some other form of pressuring him.


    Disgusted, she smashed all of their weapons beneath her feet before striding off back towards the barrier. She held her hand out to its edge, tentatively drawing closer and closer, before pulling back with an annoyed grunt.


    She marched back to Kalthen with a growl, pushing him back into the wall and resting the edge of her sword onto his throat. Her eyes rained malice towards him.


    ¡°Tell me again. How do I break it.¡±


    ¡°Unless you have heavy explosives or you can find the power cores, you can¡¯t, not at your level. And no, I don¡¯t know where the power cores are. They¡¯re probably inside of it.¡±


    He peeked again at the damaged robot, unsure whether to hope it was what he thought it might be or not. The situation was bad, but it certainly had the potential to become worse.


    The martial artist followed my gaze, looking at the machine that was steadily emitting more and more smoke into the air.


    ¡°Eiri, check that out,¡± she said.


    Kalthen winced. This would probably not go well.


    The man, ¡®Eiri,¡¯ apparently, carefully approached the downed robot, squatting to inspect it. He poked it, as if to see if it would do anything.


    The man clearly had no understanding of technology, and internally Kalthen mocked him for his barbarism. Technological illiteracy was a common affliction among the Seiyal, as expected of a race who had barely invented the steam locomotive before making first contact with the Staiven. He turned back to look at the short woman.


    ¡°Lady Karie, is there something I am supposed to look for?¡±


    She bit her lip in thought. With a glance down at Kalthen, who delivered a blank expression to her utilizing the full breadth of his facial muscles to hold back a sneer.


    ¡°Break it open,¡± she ordered.


    Eiri sliced down with his sword, and as he made contact with the machine¡¯s steel frame, the world erupted in a vast explosion of force.


    Tseludian Maintenance Robots: [As Tseludia Station is a space station harboring millions of inhabitants, it finds itself constantly in need of repair and maintenance to keep power running, air and water active and clean, and other amenities functional. Seven years ago, a local manufacturer of Celan heritage called Akher Industrial Solutions won the bid to manufacture a new generation of maintenance robots to replace the decades old units that were outdated and beginning to fail. Akher''s owner, Akher himself was rumored to have connections to the criminal organization known as the Heirs of Ottrien, but after successful lobbying with the local government, he was granted the bid anyway. The new machines, while nothing special, get the job done effectively, and can be found throughout the station. However, it is rumored that using these connections, the Heirs were able to have a say in their design.]

 23- Twin Blades

    8th District, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    I found myself staunchly regretting the whim that had drawn me to this black market in the first place.


    It had taken me a moment to recover from the fall. I was lying in a dark hallway strewn with rubble. A large chunk of stone had fallen onto my chest, cracking a few ribs. I grimaced as I slid it off of myself and onto the floor. The only light came from the crack situated roughly fifteen feet above me that I had fallen through, splashing a ream of domelight across the shadowy interior.


    The hallway was bare and covered in a patina of dust and the greenish excretions that emerged from Staiven skin. The walls were made of some sort of metal, patchwork and unadorned in the typical Staiven style. It smelled of mildew and Staiven. What was this, some sort of maintenance tunnel running inside of the stack?


    This was when I realized I was no longer holding my sword.


    Cursing, I dug through the rubble. It had been with me for decades, crossed countless solar systems and star clusters with me. I would not be losing it here.


    It took me several minutes of searching to find the blade, lodged midway through one of the rubble piles. I had been lucky, as the only part that was damaged was the red ribbon that I had wrapped around the handle, which had been slightly torn. I carefully rubbed the rock dust and debris off of the ribbon, lost in memories for a moment before returning my thoughts to my current predicament.


    I seemed to be on the lower level. Assuming the barrier did not extend down here, the fall might actually have been beneficial for me. At the very least, it would be difficult for enforcers to follow me into that crack without blasting it even further with explosives.


    The image of explosives being used caused me to suddenly remember the cause of the shattered ceiling above me. There had been an explosion from below¡­ I had anticipated the Celans preparing some sort of trap below in case I tried to escape in that direction. Had something gone wrong? Either way, it was almost certain that something had gone on down here, so I would need to be careful. I only needed to make it off of the stack, and then my odds of successful escape would be good.


    Once again, I wished I had asked Rachel to come to the black market with me. I was starting to notice a pattern of rash, erratic behavior in myself, and it was worrisome. Were the symptoms of madness beginning to show themselves?


    I thought back to the prophet, to the lead he had informed me about. I would ask Rachel to look into it the moment I returned to the safehouse. The hourglass inside my soul was dripping thick grains of sand, and they were starting to run out.


    I followed the hallway, my soft footsteps leaving small marks in the dust. I found several hatches leading off to one side or another, but each one merely opened to reveal austere dormitory rooms that almost seemed monastic in nature. Some of them bore small books or trinkets inside of them, most emblazoned or depicting an oddly shaped red dagger. I passed by them, not allowing my curiosity to get the better of me. It was presumably a base of the organization running the black market, and I could investigate their background later.


    The hallway ended with a larger hatch, crowned by a small vent resting atop the frame. The air was slightly fresher, here, not as heavily filled with the wet smell of dust, mildew, and Staiven sweat. I placed my ear closer to the hatch, listening to try and find out if anyone was on the other side. The continued gunfire and screams appeared to be relatively distant, so I carefully tapped the door, only for it not to open.


    I tapped it again in annoyance, but it still didn¡¯t shift. Was it wedged, I wondered?


    I clambered my way atop the frame, peeking through the vent to see the alleyway outside. As expected, the door was indeed jammed under the weight of rubble. It would not be able to open under its own power. I sighed, tightening my grip on my sword. It seemed I would have to use brute force.


    Soon I clambered up through the hole I had wrenched in the steel hatch, finding myself atop a small mountain of iron and stone that had crumbled from the floor above.


    I made my way down from the pile only to find that the edges of the stack had fared far worse than the interior, crumbling almost completely. The street was a field of boulders and rubble strewn all around. The occasional limb or head stuck out of the rubble where someone had been crushed.


    Given the diversity of the corpses, I wagered that this had been where the Celans had crowded the fleeing customers of the black market. I pitied their terrible luck that had led them to be dragged into this.


    Some of the bodies belonged to Jobu and Korlove, guards that had been caught in the falling wreckage along with the rest.


    I looked to the left and right, peeking around the corner and down the streets to see if there were any survivors still active on the rock-strewn street. To the left I saw a group of Celans picking over the rubble and inspecting corpses, while to the right I saw a single figure in the distance doing the same. I chose to take the right, remaining close to the wall as I snuck swiftly down.


    There was no barrier down here, or if there was, it had been destroyed by the falling debris. If I wanted to, I could jump over the railing by the street as I had the previous week, but without the conduit such an escape plan would be pointless. Instead, I was looking for the nearest accessible bridge from which I could reach other stacks and get as far from the area as possible.


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    It was slow going, as the uneven rubble was large enough I sometimes had to hop between pieces. It seemed unstable enough that moving faster would cause it to loudly crumble, and I felt that going slow and steadily might be the more effective tactic for now.


    The further I moved, the more condensed and demolished the rubble was, and I got the feeling I was moving closer to the epicenter of the explosion.


    Soon I arrived close enough to the figure to get a better view of them. It was a woman with blonde hair and pale skin, covered in various cuts and bruises, presumably from chunks of debris launched by the explosion.


    She wore torn robes that were the white and green of the Hadal clan. This marked her as Seiyal, as if the skin and hair were not already a suitable indicator. I moved to walk past her, but as I neared, her eyes locked onto me with a dark gaze.


    Her eyes shone a brilliant amber in the light as we locked gazes, frozen for a moment before she lifted an arm.


    She was disheveled, her hair that seemed to have once been intricately braided now half loose and bunched up awkwardly. Slight scrapes marked points all across her body, marring her robes and flesh. She held a shortsword tightly in each hand, and leveled one at me, in a clearly threatening display.


    ¡°My name is Karie Hadal of the illustrious Hadal Clan, and I will be the one to kill you, Riverfiend of the Unorthodox Path,¡± she said, speaking in a forceful tone.


    I gave her a look of confusion. Hadn¡¯t the Hadal Clan wished to recruit me?


    ¡°Oh? Has the Matriarch changed her mind so quickly?¡± I asked.


    The woman, Karie, shook her head, one disheveled lock of hair flipping back and forth across her face as she did so.


    ¡°No, but she will after hearing of your death. Once it happens, it will have always been by her will,¡± she replied smugly.


    I narrowed my eyes. So she intended to kill me without permission, and force her clan to support her in order to save its face. What was her goal, to be lauded for killing me? Or perhaps she legitimately believed it was just to slay all members of the unorthodox path.


    Such details didn¡¯t matter at the moment. What mattered was how I got the feeling that she did not intend to let me go by any means. Fine, then. I would give her the fight she wished for. Her soul measured up to the same core formation realm as my own, so I found the odds to be in my favor. Very few martial artists of the same realm could keep up with my speed, after all..


    ¡°Fine then,¡± I said, settling into the first stance of my Downpour Sword Art.


    Karie charged at me, shortswords pointed right for the intersections of my meridians, just as if she were performing acupuncture. I sidestepped, my moves flowing smoothly through my strides.


    Her blades pressed toward me again, and this time I met them with an attack of my own, slashing for her neck and forcing a block with both blades.


    In just two strokes, both of us had already determined the nature of the other¡¯s martial arts. Hers was a genesis path, utilizing the core techniques of the Hadal Clan, focusing on the ebb and flow of energy, absorbing some of the power of the opponent¡¯s attacks when she blocked and expending it to increase that of her own. Her moves would be swift and decisive, both on the attack and the retreat.


    Her dual swords were unusual, and her ambidextrous mastery of them implied that she was able to split her mind to control both at once. It was a powerful, dangerous technique utilizing the cerebral dantian. It was rare to find someone who had mastered it to this extent.


    Our blades flew once more, and I had to dodge the second blade once again. This was the advantage of twin blades- It was not simple to block them both with a single sword. I had once known a twin blade wielder of the Downpour sect, and he¡­


    I forcefully ended the train of thought, focusing again on the person I was fighting here and now. Karie Hadal was not as fast as me, but the control she possessed over her body went beyond even the effects of the Mindsplitting Technique- to a prodigious extent. She placed her blades in the perfect positions to halt my motions, limiting the advantage I could acquire from my speed.


    My movement technique was far more inscrutable than hers. Hers was a movement technique of pure genesis- able to burst out with great motion for moments at a time. She indeed was at my level, but it was not enough.


    My sword slashed in over and over, the flurry of blows forcing her back while I shifted around her in a circular revolution to dodge the attacks of her second weapon. While she was able to hold me off, and even to continue pressuring me to move, I still controlled the tempo of the engagement due to my footwork outpacing her own. Every time I shifted she had to turn to match my angle, and her techniques were not specialized in this type of motion.


    She stabbed again with her dagger, and I twisted my torso backward to dodge, but was stopped due to intense pain from my broken ribs. I cursed at the oversight in forgetting about my injuries. The shortsword pierced my side, and Karie gave a ruthless grin as she felt it cut through flesh.


    I grabbed her wrist with my free hand, and her expression changed to surprise. It was a common weakness of many young orthodox martial artists-not recognizing the tactics that would see use in real combat but never in training.


    My sword hand held off her other blade, while I drove my head in, colliding with hers to stagger us both. She stepped back, hands instinctively going up to her wounded head, spouting quiet curses.


    I raised my sword, moving to take the killing blow, when I heard a booming voice behind me echo in Staiven, while I could sense multiple figures enter into the range of my soul sense. I could only piece together a few of the words, but they were enough to figure it out, since all of the figures were undoubtedly Staiven. The Pantheonic Government had arrived.


    I cursed to myself, lowering my weapon and turning to the station security officials. Beside me, Karie did the same, a sullen expression on her face. We both knew that the opportunity to fight had passed.


    I sighed, cursing again in my head. The clusterfuck had still yet to end.


    Genesis: [Genesis is the birth of all things, the formation of matter and energy, and the place it all collapses to in the end. The genesis offers rebirth and revitalization, but a cost must be paid. That which is granted must always be returned, one way or another. It is a contract with nature, but it is also merely a force. Genesis miasma is a compressible mass, a storage, allowing energy to be stored and taken out at will. It is inherent and it is inassailable.]

 24- Voices from Darkness

    8th District, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    Kalthen¡¯s world was a haze of darkness and pain as he struggled his way to awakening. He could hear grinding sounds coming from somewhere, like the scraping of gravel on gravel. A voice spoke distantly in his native tongue, but the words washed across the shore of Kalthen¡¯s mind, finding no purchase. He could feel shifting sensations surrounding him, as if he was sliding through tight, rocky crawl space before he found himself emerging out into a hellscape.


    He squinted, the domelight burning his eyes for a moment as the world slowly returned to clarity before him. There was a figure kneeling in front of him, slowly shaking him. The figure was saying something, and Kalthen tried to listen. It was difficult due to a very loud ringing sound that wouldn¡¯t cease.


    ¡°...have to get going, little brother. Hey. Hey!¡± he said, snapping his fingers right in front of Kalthen¡¯s eyes.


    Kalthen¡¯s senses felt overstimulated, and he squinted towards the figure, still trying to figure out their identity. They seemed small and annoying, somehow.


    ¡°Triezal?¡± asked Kalthen, taking his best guess.


    ¡°Yes. Kalthen, can you stand? We need to get out of here,¡± said Triezal.


    So it was him, mused Kalthen to himself. His mind whirled with thoughts that scattered every moment, trying to remember just what had happened. The aero had crashed, they had looked for the lower entrance, found the Seiyal, and then¡­


    His eyes grew sharp, the wave of memory finally crashing back into the shores of his head and settling into the soil. The maintenance robot had exploded, ignited by the sword of that martial artist. He grabbed onto Triezal, fervently.


    ¡°Where is everyone else? Did they survive?¡±


    Triezal shook his head, sadly.


    ¡°I think I saw some martial artists running off, but you¡¯re the only survivor of our squad that I could find. Korlove bodies just aren¡¯t as durable as yours.¡±


    A nonsensical list of curses strung together at random emerged from Kalthen¡¯s lips as he sought any means of expressing his feelings. The icy Kande, the boisterous Meru, the studious Kaduk¡­ all of them died, and without even the opportunity to accomplish something. He looked to Triezal again.


    ¡°Was it worth it? Do you know where it is?¡±


    The Merris shook his head, sadly.


    ¡°Fuck!¡± shouted Kalthen. Perhaps he would normally have expressed his anger at the other man, but he found his emotions strangely diminished, as if they were happening to somebody else.


    Triezal shook his shoulder, and Kalthen looked up at him in a daze of shock and pain. He idly realized that a line of drying blood ringed his neck, as if he had been sliced by something.


    ¡°We really need to go, little brother,¡± he said, urgently. ¡°Station security is here.¡±


    Kalthen nodded dummy, allowing Triezal to help him to his feet. He stumbled after the man. Wobbling on his injured legs. None of his bones had been crushed, as Jobu anatomy lent them to thick, sturdy bones. He was, however, covered in bruises and abrasions and felt as if he had run loops around the entire station.


    Triezal led him to the nearest stairwell, and Kalthen leaned on the smaller man for help navigating his way to the lower levels of the stack. He realized that Triezal himself was limping too. It seemed he had hurt his leg pretty badly at some point. The two of them worked to steady the other, awkwardly making their way forward along the uneven piles of rubble.


    As they walked, Triezal had explained his plan for escaping the area without being captured by security or worse, the Hadal Clan.


    They had to avoid bridges, for those were easier to view from above than the stairwells. Security would be spreading out as they went further down the stack, trying to capture as many involved in the matter as possible. For this reason, stairwells were a safer choice. They could hopefully say ahead of the cordon and make it far enough away to find a Celan hospital. Preferably one controlled by the Heirs.


    The fight had been one of the most destructive in Kalthen¡¯s entire lifetime, having destroyed an entire two layers of a stack, and likely damaging several more. Any members of known criminal organizations such as the two of them were likely to be charged with extensive crimes. Kalthen had already spent his goodwill with the Leader after losing the item originally. If he needed to be bailed out of prison, the rest of it would likely be spent as well. At best he could expect the end of his career, unable to ever move into management of the Heirs like his mother and uncle had. At worst, he would be left to rot for decades in one of the Staiven mining colonies.


    Even if he were to escape, his failures would not be forgiven until he returned the item to the Heirs¡¯ possession.


    ¡°You know¡­¡± he said, the words drawing Triezal''s attention.


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    ¡°Know what?¡±


    ¡°I think we need to come up with a new strategy.¡±


    Triezal laughed grimly.


    ¡°That might be the case.¡±


    The pair continued limping their way down towards freedom.


    <hr>


    1st District, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    The Pantheonic Government¡¯s idea of a holding cell was far different than what I had been expecting. Unlike the grimy, wet dungeons I had experienced in the past, back home on Canvas, this one was made of the same smooth, patch-colored stone as most of the station. What¡¯s more, it was perfectly clean.


    I got the feeling that if I were to drag my finger across the surface of the wall, I would put down more grime than I would remove.


    The security forces had led me to one of their aeros, carting me across the city to what I imagined had to be the first district, at the very center of the city. They had split me and that Hadal woman apart, placed me in the cell, and told me to wait.


    They hadn¡¯t even bothered to take my sword away. I supposed it made sense, as the cell was made of the same advanced yet mundane materials as the rest of the station. I could easily break out with my body alone, and the same went for many of the species residing in the station.


    During the long journey here, I had done some minor research on the station. It had originally been intended solely for Staiven habitation, and the design of many features such as these very cells demonstrated that fact.


    When it had later been refitted for the residency of other races as refugees and immigrants slowly poured in over the years, the Pantheonic government chose the most economically efficient option when it came to criminal justice. If someone resisted arrest, they would be summarily executed on the discretion of the ranking officer on scene. If they immediately surrendered, they would be taken to the Central Justice Office for processing and trial.


    In addition, the Security Department was known for how ruthless it could be. It was said they would destroy an entire district just to prove a point about resisting arrest, if need be. Even the most powerful underworld organizations such as the Hadal Clan and the Heirs of Ottrien generally chose to simply surrender to the security officers and just bribe the Justice Office to let them off with just a fine.


    Because of this, I knew that if I were to escape by force, I would have little chance of lasting very long. It would be better to accept trial, and try to get let off with a fine. The alternatives of decades of penal labor in the mining colonies or execution did not appeal to me.


    The issue was that while the security officers had not felt the need to confiscate my sword, they had found plenty of need to confiscate the pouch containing the money I had made by selling materials at the black market. Perhaps not even the heavens knew how much of it if any I would receive back when I was finally released.


    I sighed, leaning back against the wall, my legs relaxed in a lotus position. My ribs throbbed, as they had not even allowed me to receive medical attention.


    At some point I had fallen asleep. I was unsure how long I had been resting by the wall, but at some point I was awoken by an odd keening noise near the edge of audible perception. I frowned, thinking it might be some odd sort of torture technique by the Staiven, though I could not see why they would bother when they had yet to ask me a single question.


    ¡°Cyrus.¡±


    It was a slight voice, and at first I thought I was hearing things, making the choice to ignore what seemed a hallucination to my tired mind.


    ¡°Cyrus.¡±


    This time the voice was harder to ignore. I scanned the room, looking for the speaker. The sound was faint: could it be somebody from the next cell over? I inspected the walls, looking for any cracks or seams through which the sound might have been transmitted.


    The voice was tinny, seeming to be distorted in some way. It was distorted enough that I couldn¡¯t place it exactly, but it had a feminine quality to it.


    ¡°Next time, Cyrus, take me with you when you intend to start a massive battle, alright? Think of how much shit I would be in if I had to find a new¡­ partner.¡±


    ¡°...Rachel?¡± I asked, shocked. The speech of this voice almost had to be her, I was certain of it. But how could she communicate with me in this cell in the first district, from all the way in the fifth? That was miles away, and I knew the range of her illusions did not spread too far from the conduit.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re here. How are you talking to me?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I borrowed some lab equipment. Never mind that, though. I can explain the details later, there¡¯s not much time to talk. Look, Cyrus. I¡¯ll try to bribe a judge or two for you. All you need to do is avoid telling them a thing. If they ask what you were doing there, just say you were at a restaurant, or something. I don¡¯t know. Something innocent. If they ask who started the fight, you don¡¯t know. If they ask why you were fighting with Karie Hadal, say she attacked you, and you¡¯re not sure why. Since you¡¯re a foreigner, you have a clean record. So long as they can¡¯t prove you were involved, I should be able to get you out on parole.¡±


    Not that I would bother interrupting Rachel to note it, but that last one had been true. I still hadn¡¯t figured out quite why she had been so insistent on killing me, right after Ria and Taek had tried to recruit me. Were they part of different factions within the Hadal Clan? That could help to explain it, I supposed.


    ¡°I¡­ see,¡± I said. ¡°When should I expect the trial to take place?¡±


    ¡°Some time tomorrow,¡± she replied. Just hold tight and I¡¯ll handle it- shit! The technician¡¯s coming back. Besurenottosayanything!¡±


    Rachel¡¯s speech sped up, sounding almost more like a video played at high speed rather than a person just talking faster before she ceased talking altogether, and the tinny ringing sound faded from my hearing.


    I looked around the empty cell, the multicolored walls and floor and considered what Rachel had said. It was probably solidly in the mid-morning hours, now, considering the time I had spent asleep. That left likely over a full Tseludian day before I would be let out of the cell.


    I sighed, rising to my feet, sword falling into hand with a natural motion. I lifted it aloft, admiring the blade for a moment as I settled into my first stance. If I had nothing to do that day, then I might as well spend it training.


    I thanked the heavens again that my sword had not been confiscated.


    Martial Techniques: [A martial technique is an application of a practitioner''s miasma. By moving their body in a certain way, and channeling their miasma to the correct dantians and meridians, effects beyond solely the nature of their miasma can be created. The Upper, or Cerebral Dantian governs the techniques of the mind and the soul''s engrams, the Central, or Heart Dantian governs the flow of energy and the strength of the body, and the Lower, or Abdominal Dantian governs techniques of bodily control and movement. These techniques can become highly ingrained after sufficient practice, and in the spirit refinement stage, some techniques have become integral to the dantians themselves, and reflected within the practitioner''s very spirit.]

 25- Backroom Discussions

    1st District, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    In the end, the trial was a simple matter. A Seiyal prosecutor asked me some questions, I answered in the way that Rachel had told me to, and the judge gave me a wink and threw away all charges.


    I had been surprised when the prosecutor had asked me if I was the ¡®Riverfiend,¡¯ but I simply replied that I did not recognize the name.


    The judge had quickly ruled that there was no evidence, and the case was thrown out. I held no pretensions about the fact that I would have been sent to a mining colony had Rachel not assisted me from behind the scenes.


    As one might expect, there were rumors that the judges and prosecutors were receiving kickbacks from the owners of said penal colonies. There was a reason so little criminal activity took place on the station outside the protective umbrella of the major forces. With no money or connections, nothing good awaited those who stumbled onto the wrong side of the law.


    As I had anticipated, my money purse was quite a bit lighter than it had been when it was confiscated. I was just happy it had been returned with anything left in it.


    I left the Justice Office overall content with the situation. To escape from a situation as dangerous as the black market had been with nothing but lost money and a few broken ribs was certainly a blessing.


    The moment I stepped out of the entry hatch I could almost feel the stares. My tattered attire and bedraggled appearance was at odds with the very clean and refined first district. I stuck out like a sore thumb. In addition to the normal passerby distracted by my appearance, I imagined informants from the underworld were also watching, planning on reporting my movements.


    I could choose to visit the Hadal Clan, to receive treatment for my wounds and be protected from the Heirs of Ottrien, but given how a member of the clan had attacked me, I wasn¡¯t sure that would be a wise idea. It was never smart to throw oneself to the mercy of a clan or sect without knowing the intentions of all the internal factions it had.


    I decided I would meet up with Rachel before deciding my course of action towards the Hadal Clan. Perhaps they could be useful to me, but as an orthodox group there was little trust I could extend to them.


    With that in mind, my first course of action would need to be finding a hospital that could treat Seiyal patients, and one that would not be likely to be owned by the Hadal Clan. This would normally be a difficult endeavor, but there was actually one nearby that was fully owned by an Exid group called the Polyxinuan Corporation. I imagined a good portion of their clients might be others who had left the office with injuries.


    The hospital was a utilitarian building just a stack away from the Justice Office. The sign outside its doors just read ¡®HOSPITAL¡¯ in Staiven, with a list of different races it catered towards. Seiyal were towards the bottom of the list, but it didn¡¯t take much to heal just a few broken ribs. I doubted there would be any issues.


    I entered, finding a manned reception area. Manned reception was a rarity, as the position was easy to automate, but for a company that serviced such a variety of races, the nonstandardized nature of computer input terminals between races and cultures posed an expensive issue. For many such companies, it was cheaper to just hire someone to handle it.


    There were some issues as the Staiven receptionist did not speak Seiyin, but eventually my rudimentary grasp of his language allowed him to input me into the waitlist. After a few hours of paperwork and waiting, I finally spoke to a doctor, who after a brief inspection sent me off with a vial of medicine and a healing patch. It would do.


    I emerged from the hospital in the mid afternoon, having taken the time to clean up my look somewhat in the bathroom. I would stand out on the streets a bit less like this, though my robes were still pretty torn up. Now, all I needed to do was lose the informants following me and make my way to the fifth district. I walked across the street to stand by the railing, looking out on the space between the stacks.


    The gap between them was only about twenty feet across, though the fall would be about fifteen stories straight down before slamming into the metal base of the station, below which its most vital workings resided. The memory of falling headfirst into the station¡¯s depths came to mind, and I had to fight off the call of the void for a moment.


    I suddenly turned around, trying to catch the eye of any of the gang informants surely stalking me, but while I still sensed gazes, I could not catch any of them. These truly were professionals.


    Rather than fixate on the matter, I forced a smile before turning back to leap over the railing, falling once more into the abyss.


    I caught myself on the railing one floor below to the shock of passerby, releasing the railing again after the moment to fall down another. Above me, I could see shocked individuals peeking over the railings to watch my descent. I couldn¡¯t guess which of them were trying to track my location.


    Five stories down I clambered up the railing and began sprinting down the street, movement technique at full power as I dodged past passerby and maintenance robots. I moved two stacks forward, climbed a stairwell, ran in a different direction, and dropped off the side of another level.


    I continued the process for another five minutes, trying to shake off any last remnants of a tail that I might have had, before moving through an alleyway, casually merging into the flow of foot traffic on the other side, slowly moving myself towards the fifth district.


    <hr>


    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


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    Sirena Hadal sipped at her cup of tea, inspecting the person sitting across from her.


    The two organizations had been competitors for decades, ever since the Hadal Clan had arrived on the station and began setting up supply chains and control over the districts with a Seiyal majority population.


    The two were meeting in a room upholstered nearly as well as her own personal residence, intended for treating esteemed guests who visited the compound. It was filled with art pieces of gold and jade, with large tapestries on the wall, and a floor entirely composed of real hardwood. Everything within the room had been imported all the way to Tseludia Station, direct from Canvas.


    She rested the cup in the palm of her left hand and looked up at him with a polite smile.


    ¡°Tell me, what might bring the esteemed Vice-Leader of the Heirs of Ottrien to my abode?¡±


    The question floated in the silent air for a moment while the man took a sip of his own tea. He was tall and bulky, like most Jobu, but Deuvar had a stately aura, and an understanding of the social customs of many races, such as her own. In his hands was a small teacup that was dwarfed by their massive size.


    The only reason she had bothered to receive an audience with him was because he had humbled himself to make a formal request in the traditional fashion of Sunlit Hall.


    She understood that most of the man¡¯s underlings feared him for his vast capability for physical violence, but she had no such fear. He had always struck her as the sort of man who was never rash, always in full control of his own actions. Likely, his reputation was manufactured for a specific purpose.


    In any case, the physical threat of a man who wasn¡¯t even a martial artist meant nothing in the face of a spirit refiner such as herself. She could kill him in but an instant using merely the teacup she was holding. The consequences of such an action would be more than she wished to deal with, however. Despite their frailty, the Celans had built up an organization no less powerful than her own. Had they not, Sirena would have taken their territory over long ago.


    Finally, the silence was broken by Deuvar¡¯s long-considered response.


    ¡°I wish to discuss the matter of this¡­ Riverfiend, as your people have been calling him.¡±


    Sirena raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°What about the Riverfiend?¡±


    The large man set his teacup down on the table, on a small saucer he had taken it from, then steepled his fingers.


    ¡°It is my understanding that the Hadal Clan wishes to recruit him.¡±


    ¡°I suppose I understand why you might think such a thing,¡± Sirena replied, taking another graceful sip of her tea. ¡°Does your Leader have an issue with that?¡±


    Deuvar grimaced.


    ¡°While he would¡­ prefer that the man be dead, our organization would be amenable to making a deal with you. I still do not quite know the nature of your interest in him, myself. From what I have heard, he is a follower of the¡­ unorthodox path, in comparison to your own orthodoxy. It is my understanding that the two schools of thought are incompatible, in some way.¡±


    ¡°Is this about what he stole from you?¡± asked Sirena, dodging the question.


    Deuvar grimaced, inadvertently allowing a slight expression of surprise to sneak past his steely mask. Interesting, mused Sirena.


    Though she had asked her network of informants to find out what exactly had been stolen from the Celans, they had yet to return any concrete information, particularly not anything that would be worth the effort the Celans had already expended in hunting for the Riverfiend. Particularly that incident in the eighth district. She would be dealing with extra scrutiny from the Pantheon for quite a while due to that affair. Their interest was far more than would be expected had he simply stolen some money from them.


    Deuvar did not respond to the question, though both of them knew that his silence had been answer enough.


    ¡°What if we compensate you for it?¡± she asked, probing for more information.


    Deuvar shook his head, delivering a sharp laugh.


    ¡°If you¡¯re saying that, it means you have no idea what it was he took. You must understand, Matriarch. This thing¡­ to be in possession of it is like handling an explosive. Possession alone is enough to earn the ire of all the developed races, my own included.¡±


    The Hadal Matriarch frowned at his words, particularly his insinuation about her own people.


    ¡°It is useless to you,¡± he continued. You lack the technology to even begin to make sense of it, much less get use out of it. Nor can the Riverfiend, unless he is a servant of another force.¡±


    ¡°And you wish my Hadal Clan to retrieve it for you? We cannot just take the spoils of one we wish to recruit, Vice-Leader Deuvar.¡±


    Deuvar lifted his teacup again, downing the rest of it. His eyes met Sirena¡¯s own gaze, and for a moment she understood why the man¡¯s underlings feared him. That cruel gaze of his... it made her wish to break him.


    ¡°I believe you¡¯ll find that you can, Matriarch. Unless you wish for the current hostilities to continue, or even¡­¡±


    The teapot cracked, and then was crushed in the bulky man¡¯s fingers, shards of ceramic falling down to the hardwood floor. Deuvar stood, brushing off his pants before bowing towards Sirena.


    ¡°Until next time, Lady Matriarch. I trust you will make the right decision.¡± The Celan carefully made his way out of the room, leaving Sirena alone in the room to stew in her thoughts and anger.


    Her eyes went down to the shattered teapot.


    ¡°Does he even know how much it cost to import that?¡± she muttered to herself.


    Tseludia Station Architecture: [When the station was first commissioned, the design contract was given to the son of an influential clergyman of the Pantheonic Government, and the result is the station as it exists today. A vast, glowing dome atop a large cylindrical platform floating amidst the Tseludia System''s asteroid belt. Between the dome and the cylinder, thousands of pillars rise to house tens of millions of inhabitants, connected to one another by bridges, and stairs on the side of each stack of floors to allow vertical transit. In addition, the design allowed for aerial vehicles to move around in the air beneath the dome. The station was split into nine districts, with one in the center housing public offices, government buildings, and the wealthy, while the others surround it radially. In addition, several spacedocks surround the base of the dome, serving as the station''s conduit to the outside world. The cylinder serving as the base of the structure contains the station''s reactors, primary life support units, artificial gravity generators, and is completely off limits to all except for certain technicians personally granted authorization by the Governor''s Office of Tseludia. Ultimately, the design was considered to be inefficient, and aside from a few others constructed in other colonial systems around the same time, no other Staiven space stations utilize similar designs.]

 26- The Solution

    5th District, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    I reached the townhome without much fanfare, not even having to knock before Hestky opened the door, a sour expression on his face. I gave him a brisk nod before walking past him, settling down on one of the couches. Rachel appeared on the opposite seat, one leg folded over the other in a relaxed position. A stern expression covered her face.


    ¡°Finally done with your little vacation?¡± she asked.


    She was reminding me of my childhood, of cowering before my master after getting into a fight with the other disciples. She didn¡¯t scare me, but she was giving off almost an aura of intermingled annoyance and disappointment, and I felt some sort of need to mollify it.


    ¡°In the end, I think much more was gained than lost. The Heirs have been weakened, and I¡¯ve acquired a substantial amount of useful information.¡±


    I told her everything, about Ria and Taek Hadal, the offer they had extended to me, to the attack by Karie Hadal, possibly a member of a rival internal faction. I told her about the strange Celan assassin, and finally, I told her about the Prophet, and how I believed he might have known about her presence.


    She laughed, as I described what he had said to me.


    ¡°Of course he knows. It is the role of the Depthist prophets to know things like that. Don¡¯t worry about it, his words should be trustworthy. For us, at least.¡±


    ¡°Does that mean you think the lead he gave is legitimate?¡± I asked, unable to hide my eagerness. Any chance of extending my sanity¡¯s time limit was something I couldn¡¯t help but place great importance on.


    She smirked at my undisguised interest before giving her response.


    ¡°It should be. I imagine his mistress wants you to survive long enough to be useful. I¡¯ll look into this Ester Perivar for you, see if I can find out where he¡¯s being held. If you¡¯re lucky, it might be on-station.¡±


    I nodded my appreciation.


    ¡°Do you think any of this should change our plans?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Hm.¡±


    Rachel rested her pointer finger on her lips, eyes ablaze in deep thought as she considered the question.


    ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t think so. I say we see how the Hadal Clan approaches us going forward. Forming our own sect is still probably the right call, and we can work with them or merge if that turns out to be more beneficial for our goals.¡±


    Her expression morphed into a sneer, as she continued speaking.


    ¡°I doubt it, though. They tied themselves to Sunlit Hall, and that goddess of theirs sympathizes with the ruling powers. I can¡¯t imagine their elders would agree with our plans, even if the matriarch herself pushed for it.¡±


    I paused, the outline of an idea having just formed in my head.


    ¡°We could try to take them over, gain control of their forces ourselves,¡± I suggested. It was an idle thought, not something I could just do because I wanted to. ¡°But either way, we¡¯ll have to see how things progress. For the moment, I believe we need to return to finding a way to deal with Hidoro.¡±


    She smiled at my words. It was a suspiciously innocent look for her.


    ¡°I may have thought up a solution to the issue while you were¡­ indisposed.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± I asked, questioningly.


    Her smile morphed into another demonic grin, the expression looking almost more natural on her.


    ¡°How do you feel about the use of poison?¡±


    ¡ª


    This time, when I went out, I brought Rachel¡¯s conduit with me. She placed another set of illusions on my face to disguise me, and I was able to walk comfortably through the streets without concerns of being recognized.


    By chance, the meeting place happened to also be in the fifth district, just a few stacks and levels away from Hestky¡¯s townhome. We had been asked to meet in a cafe that catered to Seiyal, and there were not too many of those in this part of the city.


    ¡°Is it really a good idea to meet up with her in person?¡±


    The words were muttered under my breath, but I knew Rachel would be able to hear them. Her voice arrived as a whisper inside of my ear.


    ¡°She insists. Honestly, I¡¯m impressed she even had a digital method of contact. Not many Seiyal bother to learn how.¡±


    I ignored the veiled insult, accepting it as a cost of working with Rachel.


    ¡°How much have you already discussed with her?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Not much. All she would do is agree to a meeting. I got the impression she likes to take the measure of her contractors.¡±


    I suppose that makes sense for her, working in a place like this. I just hope it¡¯s not a trap,¡± I said.


    ¡°There¡¯s no chance she knows your identity, though I can¡¯t promise she won¡¯t realize during the meeting. Just be careful and it¡¯ll be fine. I¡¯ll warn you if she sends any messages out.¡±


    I nodded, idly realizing that I had been getting odd looks from some of the passersby for doing that after muttering to myself for a bit. Sheepishly, I straightened my robes and continued on my way, this time silently. It wouldn''t be good to gather attention at the moment.


    The cafe was perfect for a meeting place. It was relatively upscale, but had few patrons at this time of day. The room was fairly dark, with pale yellow mood lighting coming from lampstands spread around the space.


    It was certainly no traditional restaurant, but I could see the appeal of the place. A waitress came up to me, but I brushed her off by saying I was joining a friend.


    At the back wall was a series of booths tucked into nooks in the wall. Only one of them was occupied, by a sturdy farsei woman with short, close cropped hair. While she was only in the Meridian Establishment realm, but I knew what made her dangerous was not her realm. She was sipping on a cup of wine as I slid into the seat across from her.


    She glanced up at me, eyes inspecting every inch of my body as if I were an object on display.


    ¡°You¡¯re the one who wanted to contact me? From the way they spoke, I had assumed it was a woman.¡±


    Her tone was coarse, and I could recognize a light Bountian accent in her voice.


    ¡°You spoke with my associate. Why the meeting, anyway? Did we need to be in person to discuss terms?¡±


    She shrugged, giving me a small smile.


    ¡°Would you like to order some food? This place makes excellent stew.¡±


    ¡°... Would you prefer to talk over a meal, then?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I would.¡±


    It didn¡¯t particularly matter to me either way, so I waved over the waitress from before and placed an order for wine and a stew. I didn¡¯t bother specifying what sort of meat to put in it, as I knew most anything on the station would be synthesized meat anyway.


    Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    As we waited for the food to arrive, I felt uncomfortable over the woman¡¯s intense gaze.


    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± she asked, the suddenness of it startling me.


    I regained my wits quickly, however.


    ¡°Cyrus.¡±


    ¡°Just Cyrus?¡± she asked, smirking at me.


    ¡°Cyrus will do, as far as you are concerned. Are you planning on giving me your own?¡±


    She laughed as if I had told a funny joke.


    ¡°And here I thought you knew, given that you found me before I had even told anyone I intended to do business in this field. Isn¡¯t that curious?¡±


    This was news to me, and I had to suppress my annoyance at realizing Rachel had failed to tell me something that was quite relevant to the meeting. Instead, I maintained my calm demeanor and gave a dismissive response.


    ¡°My associate directed me to you, all I was told was the nature of your¡­ particular talents, as well as your likely origin. I expect the Hadal Clan may also be aware of you.¡±


    She gave me a thoughtful look.


    ¡°So you¡¯re not part of the Hadal Clan? I wouldn¡¯t have expected that, given your realm. A rogue martial artist at the core formation stage¡­ I imagine you¡¯re either one of the gang lords, or¡­¡±


    I shrugged.


    ¡°My background isn¡¯t important, though I¡¯d like you to know that I can do well by you, should we¡­ go into business.¡±


    She downed the rest of her wine, then sloppily poured herself another cup.


    ¡°That¡¯s fine, then. My name is Yun. Just Yun will do, as far as you are concerned.¡±


    She laughed, throwing a wink at me. It felt somewhat wrong to see that expression coming from someone of her profession. I chose not to take her bait. She continued speaking, noticing the pause.


    ¡°Well, Cyrus, you know my name, and you know my profession. So then, what do you wish from me?¡±


    She leaned forward, resting her chin on her fists, her elbows lying on the table.


    Just as I tried to respond, the server returned, bearing my wine and my stew. I thanked her, waiting until she was out of earshot to respond to Yun¡¯s question.


    ¡°Of course,¡± I said, ¡°I want you to poison somebody for me.¡±


    She took another sip of her wine.


    ¡°I could probably make that happen. Any details?¡±


    ¡°His name is Hidoro, a gang leader in Canvas Town. Spirit Refiner. I¡¯ve sent the details to you.¡±


    Rachel had actually been the one who had done that, of course, but the details didn¡¯t matter too much.


    Yun pulled a small metal tablet from a bad sitting beside her in the booth, spending a minute or so manipulating its surface. I waited for her to look through the information, enjoying my food as I did so. She had been right, the stew was indeed quite good. The synthetic meat almost tasted like real hogbeast.


    After a few minutes, Yun finally looked back up at me.


    ¡°This will be difficult. Spirit refiners are quite resistant to mundane poisons.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you can make it work,¡± I replied, taking a sip of the wine. It was alright, a simple rice wine, but it paired well with the hearty flavor of the stew.


    ¡°Of course I can,¡± Yun said in an annoyed tone, as if I had insulted her dignity. ¡°It¡¯ll just cost you more. It says in the information that you don¡¯t need me to kill him?¡±


    ¡°I imagine killing him will be more difficult. Weakening him substantially will suffice for my needs.¡±


    She paused, lost in thought for another moment before responding.


    ¡°That I can certainly guarantee. I assume you would want me to inform you when the dose is expected to take effect.¡± I nodded.


    ¡°Yes¡±.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have to brew up a purpose made poison for the task, I don¡¯t have anything strong enough to substantially affect a spirit refiner at the moment. Shouldn¡¯t take more than a few days.¡±


    ¡°Understood. How much serite would you need?¡±


    Yun shook her head, putting a hand out to stop me.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need money. Instead¡­¡± Her face lit up with a sly smile. ¡°You¡¯re the Riverfiend, aren¡¯t you? How about this? I do you a favor, and you do me one in return? One follower of the unorthodox path to another.¡±


    I narrowed my eyes. The fact that she had figured out my identity did not surprise me, but such a request did. It had to have been something she did not believe herself to be capable of, or something dangerous enough she wished to have someone else do it. Either way, I would need to be careful about what I agreed to.


    ¡°What did you have in mind?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ you¡¯ll be free the next couple days, right? How would you feel about making enemies with a corporation?¡±


    I frowned at that. Corporations on Tseludia held a lot of power, more than even some of the underworld organizations, because the most powerful of them had had the foresight to offer the chance for many government officials to invest in them. To make an enemy of a corporation was to risk making an enemy of the Pantheonic Government itself.


    ¡°That¡­ depends. Which corporation are you talking about?¡±


    Yun leaned back in her seat, stretching an arm.


    ¡°Have you ever heard of the Venin Group?¡±


    I had not. Rachel quickly supplied me with their information, however.


    ¡°It¡¯s a Staiven group. They dabble in fields like manufacturing for starship components and synthesizing food for various races, but their main industry is pharmaceuticals for Staiven consumers. Their ownership is entirely private, so their ties to the government should be on the looser side. It might be worth considering her proposal, since you lost most of our money.¡±


    Negotiations were certainly easier when someone could pipe me any information I needed right into my ear. I nodded to Yun.


    ¡°I have a rough understanding of the group. What about them?¡±


    ¡°They are in possession of¡­ certain components that I believe I could make better use of.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± I replied. ¡°And you¡¯re wanting me to¡­ acquire it for you?¡±


    The woman nodded excitedly.


    ¡°Indeed! You¡¯re the Riverfiend. If the rumors are anything to judge by, this should be a trivial matter for one such as yourself to accomplish.¡±


    I imagined the rumors vastly oversold my abilities, but chose not to explain this matter to the woman. I expected she knew this already, given that I was asking her assistance in dealing with a mere mid-level spirit refiner.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have to look into it. I¡¯ll need to know what, specifically, the item in question is, however.¡±


    Yun nodded, a serious expression on her face.


    ¡°I believe they¡¯re working on developing aerosolized poisons capable of affecting even an earthen immortal. If you could acquire some samples of their research, I might be able to improve my craft, or maybe create an antidote I can sell.¡±


    Selling an antidote to a poison that had just been stolen seemed like a poor idea to me, but I chose not to express the thought. All that mattered was whether or not she could poison Hidoro for us.


    What¡¯s more, I was surprised she was being so forthcoming. I was more used to poisoners who maintained an aura of mystery. Perhaps she really did feel an affinity between us as unorthodox practitioners, given how rare we were on the station. It was even possible that the two of us were the only ones.


    I frowned, deep in thought as I shifted to actually considering her request. If they really were working on chemical weapons that could affect earthen immortals, they were playing with fire. If it could kill one of them, it could kill almost anything living, no matter its race or planetary origin. If I were to steal their research, even beyond this deal, I could probably use its results to my own benefit, no matter how far along in development they were.


    Poison was a tool that allowed one to fight above their realm, and I was certainly not too honorable to use it.


    I supposed they must have thought they could accomplish it before word finished traveling the long distance journey between stars. That would not be the case if somebody who was already on the station stopped them, though.


    I inspected Yun¡¯s expression thoughtfully. Her eyes gleamed with expectation as she met my gaze. I sighed, finding it difficult to meet them head on.


    ¡°Why are you asking me? Wouldn¡¯t it be better to tell the Hadal Clan about this?¡±


    Yun laughed.


    ¡°And let an orthodox clan know of my presence here? Besides, even if they did attack the lab for me, I doubt they¡¯d be willing to give me the samples. I imagine they would just destroy them.¡±


    ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right. It was a foolish question, then. I will¡­ look into it, see if it¡¯s something possible for me. I can¡¯t imagine any lab willing to perform such dangerous experiments would be only lightly defended.¡±


    She nodded.


    ¡°I¡¯ve actually taken the liberty of looking into their defenses myself, already. I imagine your talents would be better suited to the task than mine, though. I¡¯ll send it to your¡­ associate?¡± I nodded, and she fiddled with her tablet some more. ¡°Alright then,¡± she said, ¡°You bring me their research, and I¡¯ll poison your ganglord. How about it?¡±


    She reached out her hand, and I shook it.


    Miasmic Poisons: [While miasma is often used for a martial artist''s personal benefit, excessive exposure can lead to symptoms paralleling those of poison or radiation exposure. This effect can be optimized by using certain arts and technologies. Unlike mundane poisons, these are far more difficult to manufacture, but are capable of affecting any living organism, even in some cases being capable corroding or damaging mechanical equipment. It is, of course, illegal to use, own, or manufacture in the Pantheonic Territory, but as with all things, the government can easily be bribed to turn a blind eye, if the price is right.]

 27- Consequence

    5th District, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    ¡°What do you think?¡± I asked, setting the conduit back down on the coffee table.


    Rachel rested her index finger on her lip, as I had come to realize she usually did when deep in thought.


    ¡°It¡­ might be feasible,¡± she said.


    ¡°So you think we should do it?¡±


    She gave me a flat look.


    ¡°You already agreed to it, but we¡¯ll have to see. I looked through the information she gave us, which is quite comprehensive. I¡¯m curious how she gained access to it. Assuming this is correct, it should be feasible, as I told you already. Here, look at this.¡±


    An illusion depicting what looked like the lower layers of a couple stacks appeared, floating above the conduit.


    ¡°This is roughly what the laboratory looks like from the outside. Lower levels, District 2.¡±


    It looked fairly unobtrusive, and would pass for any other company¡¯s office at first glance. There were two entrances, one for foot traffic and one for loading equipment in. Looking closely, I could see odd, knobby protrusions on the walls by the doors.


    ¡°What are those?¡± I asked, pointing at them. Rachel squinted, trying to figure out what I was referring to.


    ¡°The scanners? You see them occasionally in restricted areas. They check the biology of those who enter, comparing it to a whitelist. If you weren¡¯t invited, it¡¯ll send out an alarm just by entering the building.¡±


    ¡°Is there¡­ ah, a way to make it not notice me?¡±


    ¡°To spoof it?¡± Rachel frowned. ¡°Maybe, but I think I would have to gain access to their internal systems. They¡¯re fully cut off from the station network.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± I paused, trying to parse together her words based upon my limited understanding of computing systems. ¡°That means¡­¡±


    ¡°It means no, unless you can smuggle something inside the compound,¡± said Rachel.


    It wasn¡¯t that big of a deal. It would be easier if I could sneak in, but stealth had never been a means I was suited for.


    ¡°In that case we¡¯ll just break in. Do you know what their internal security is like?¡± I asked.


    The illusion shifted, showing an interior view, as if I were looking at a dollhouse without a roof. This time, the various security features had small floating pointers that labeled them for my benefit, some even having descriptions to help me understand technological terms I did not know. Several layers of security were visible, though most of it seemed geared towards incapacitation rather than death. There were gas emitters, energy field generators, and a full complement of guards just in the entry rooms.


    ¡°It¡¯s all Staiven technology, but this seems out of the means for the Venin Group. They¡¯re a powerful corporation, but only in this system. A lot of this tech would need to be imported from Staive. I¡¯d wager they¡¯re being funded by someone with deep pockets,¡± said Rachel.


    I looked at her, questioningly.


    ¡°Will that cause any additional issues?¡±


    ¡°Mmm¡­ probably not for actually accomplishing the task, however doing this might anger this backer, not just the Venin themselves.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fine, then. We already have plenty of enemies. What¡¯s one more?¡±


    She gave me a look.


    ¡°If it¡¯s the government, quite a lot.¡±


    She had a point. Was it really worth all of this effort just to kill Hidoro? I had never even met the man, after all. Perhaps we could find a different gang to target.


    ¡­No, Rachel¡¯s plan had been meticulously well-crafted, and there was no better target for us than the Redwater Gang. Unless we could figure out a better way to kill Hidoro, this was still our best bet.


    It struck me that in both the warehouse and the black market, the two times I had been in most danger in my time on Tseludia Station, I had found myself in a bad situation because I had arrived without a well-thought out plan.


    In Little Celah, I had not anticipated having difficulty finding the pearl, and in District 8 I had not put enough thought into what would happen if I was found. I needed to think my actions through more, needed to look into how to escape situations before I put myself into them, and make sure that ideally, I only fought against enemies I could reasonably defeat.


    For this matter, I needed to think like a thief, not a martial artist.


    I closely inspected the model again, trying to piece together a plan. A hazy idea began to form in my mind, but it still lacked the substance to actually work.


    ¡°We need a way for me to steal the research without revealing my identity, yes?¡± I asked, turned to look at Rachel.


    ¡°It would be ideal, yes.¡±


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    ¡°I should be able to, since we¡¯re dealing with Staiven. I can try to be discreet with my martial arts. If all goes well, I shouldn¡¯t have to use very much of them, anyway.¡±


    She raised an eyebrow at me.


    ¡°Did you have something in mind?¡±


    ¡°Back when we were making plans to attack Hidoro directly, you mentioned we could easily construct explosives. How many do you think we could build on short notice?¡± I asked.


    ¡°What?¡±


    Rachel¡¯s expression contained equal parts confusion and excitement. I smiled, motioning towards the security past the entrance.


    ¡°They¡¯re clearly expecting intruders to enter through here and get caught in the chokepoint. I feel no need to comply.¡±


    Rachel matched my grin, catching on.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure we can make more than plenty.¡±


    <hr>


    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    Walking through the halls of her mother¡¯s palace felt like walking towards final judgment in the halls of the afterlife. Her every step felt like it slogged through mud, her back like it bore a heavy weight.


    It was not a physical force, but the weight of her own failure bearing down on her.


    The Hadal Clan was willing to accept almost any actions performed by its heirs. In the past, no matter what Karie did, it would be easily swept under the rug by the power of the family¡¯s influence. This time it was different, for she had failed.


    She knew that her mother wanted to recruit the Riverfiend, and had attempted to kill him. Had she succeeded, the family could have pretended to have supported the action, as he was already dead and they had no other option.


    But Riverfiend had escaped, and she herself had nearly been slain by him before he was interrupted by station security. It was an utter failure, and there was nothing to redeem it. She had betrayed her mother¡¯s wishes- the Matriarch¡¯s wishes, and the anxiety caused by questioning what her punishment would be.


    She regretted her actions, and yet she knew that she would have made the same choice if she were to have another chance. The potential benefit she could gain for killing just a single unorthodox martial artist would be truly great. Her talents were not enough to become the Clan¡¯s successor, but perhaps fame would be.


    Karie stepped past gorgeous tapestries, elegant porcelain vases, and gilded artifacts, many of which had been held by the family for generations, retrieved from the wreckage of their former abode, long destroyed in the near-forgotten days of Karie¡¯s early childhood.


    The hallway ended with a large set of double doors. They were composed of a beautiful red wood, carved with elegant designs that evoked the motion of a leaf swirling on the breeze.


    On Tseludia Station, the closest comparison would be a piece of discarded trash falling slowly in the wind currents as it fell from the side of the road.


    Karie slid the doors open, entering the private office of the Matriarch. She had been to her mother¡¯s office plenty of times before, but not once had she felt nearly as much fear as she did now.


    She slowly raised her eyes to see her mother comfortably lounged on a couch to the side of the room. She was meeting Karie¡¯s gaze, her face wholly unreadable.


    Karie¡¯s mother looked much like her, but her face had more lines, marks of stress much more so than of age. Sirena Hadal had long since crossed her hundredth year, and still looked as if she were in her late thirties.


    ¡°Sit,¡± she ordered, motioning Karie to the seat opposite her.


    Karie obliged, meekly setting herself down in the spot. Her mother¡¯s eyes blazed into her. They were the eyes of a warrior, of the one who had slain thirty one other contenders in open combat, becoming a renowned figure across Canvas, and one of the top ten martial artists of her generation.


    One who had become known by the title ¡®Jade Empress of Pain¡¯ at an age even younger than Karie¡¯s own.


    It was indicative of the core issue, in Karie¡¯s opinion. Had she the opportunity, she was certain she could become someone, achieve something. But Tseludia Station was far smaller than Canvas, or even Sunlit Hall alone, and the older generations prevented hers from earning their own fame and glory. They were restricted from living the life of a true martial artist.


    She and her mother sat there for several minutes in silence, the pressure continuing to grow on Karie, but her self discipline was enough to restrain herself. She would simply wait until her mother found that it was time to speak. Such power plays would do nothing to her.


    Eventually, her mother finally spoke.


    ¡°Do you know, dear daughter, what your two mistakes were?¡± she asked.


    Dumbstruck by the question, it took Karie several seconds to formulate her response.


    ¡°I did not follow orders,¡± she said, earning a nod from her mother.


    ¡°Indeed. You went directly against orders from myself. That was your first mistake, and you will be punished for it. But it was not your greatest sin, as we both know.¡±


    ¡°...I failed,¡± replied Karie, almost whispering the words. It was one thing to admit it to herself, in the chilled depths of her mind, but to say it out loud was like a stabbing pain in her chest, prickling at her ego and sense of self worth.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± said her mother. ¡°Truly, incompetence is a sin. Of course, you shall be punished for this as well. Killing the man would have caused issues, but trying and failing...¡± She shook her head. ¡°You¡¯re lucky. Normally, I would have sent off you into seclusion training for half a decade, but I expect the Clan will soon have use of you. Instead, you will clean the palace complex by hand.¡±


    Karie looked up in surprise and horror. While cleaning the palace was a physically lenient punishment, it might take entire weeks worth of labor. The palace complex took up most of an entire stack, after all.


    Matriarch Sirena Hadal met her daughter¡¯s upset gaze with a hard, level stare, and continued speaking.


    ¡°In addition, should the Riverfiend become an ally, I will have you kowtow before him and apologize for your actions.¡±


    Karie gave a look of even more horror. To behave like that would be to throw away her own dignity. How could she kowtow before a mere unorthodox martial artist, a rogue at that. It was too far. She looked up, meeting those sharp eyes of her mother once more.


    ¡°Mother, I-¡±


    Her mother¡¯s eyes intensified their stare, and Karie found that her words faltered and stuck in her throat, unable to finish passing through her windpipe.


    ¡°Mother, nothing. Your punishment is the consequence of your own action, after all. Now go, begin your work.¡±


    Karie quickly stood up and bowed, before turning to exit the room. As she was opening the door, she heard a small mutter behind her.


    ¡°And should he not become our ally¡­ we¡¯ll see.¡±


    A shudder ran down Karie¡¯s spine.


    The Venin Group: [One of the most powerful corporations native to Tseludia Station, the Venin Group claims to have been founded by a trio of Staiven immigrants seeking to profit from the vast mineral wealths of the system, rather than live in Staive where the established forces controlled nearly all access to opportunity. Existing government records of its foundation are decidedly vague about the matter. Over the decades, the Venin Group have greatly expanded their business, from starship and machine repair to pharmaceutical testing and manufacturing, to food production for the many varied races of the station. They have become the number one pharmaceutical manufacturer in the entire Tseludian star system, though they still find it difficult to compete with the branches of larger, more established corporations for government contracts. The identities of the shareholders are kept private, leading to rumors that high profile figures such as the Governor, Viceroy, or even the Grand Cleric of Fulstovis himself might be among their number.]

 28- Smash and Grab

    2nd District, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    There is something to be said in favor of giving up on social constructs such as honor and face, to disguise yourself such that you can put them aside and act without semblance of moralism.


    I have heard it said that one shows their true self only when masked, when their actions cannot be traced back to themselves or their families. There may be truth in this, but personally I had always thought that they hid away the fundamentals of goodness when their identity was concealed. In my opinion, one¡¯s identity is the basis of one¡¯s own morality.


    At the moment, my identity was that of a demon.


    I peered out through my mask, the shiny black panes of glass before my eyes gleaming in the darkness. I stared at the building down the street, lying in wait.


    Suddenly, explosions screamed into the night air, releasing bursts of orange light that rattled vents for multiple stacks over as a thick plume of smoke wafted upwards. Groans of metal resounded as the stack shifted, but they quickly ceased. While we wanted to destroy a good portion of the building¡¯s exterior, Rachel and I had gone to great effort to ensure we wouldn¡¯t topple the stack.


    Before the dust settled I charged through the smoke, my path taking me right through the hole left in the building¡¯s thick metal walls. My dark robes billowed in the shockwave, slightly coating it in a layer of ash and dust.


    I was disguised in several layers of clothing that covered my entire body from head to toe, leaving nothing exposed. With my body covered in shades of gray, red, and black, and my face covered in a smooth, featureless gray mask, I looked just like the villain from a film for children. Rachel had ordered the outfit, and I was sure she had chosen the look on purpose. I couldn¡¯t say whether she had legitimately thought up a tactical benefit to it, or simply thought it would be funny. Knowing her, it could easily be either of the two.


    My explosives had torn a sizable breach in one of the interior walls, allowing me to sidestep entirely the security chokepoint that Rachel had pointed out the day before. I stepped into the dimly lit interior, putting to the test the intelligence Yun had given us.


    I stepped into what seemed to be an office. It was empty, filled with cubicles and workstations mounted on desks. Or so I assumed. The oversized lumps of a grayish material were likely computer terminals in the Staiven design, but I could not be sure, as I had only seen the handheld equivalent. To me, it almost looked as if the room was a pottery studio.


    ¡°Hm?¡± muttered Rachel, her voice blaring in my ear. ¡°This was supposed to be a storage room. Be careful, some of the intel might be outdated or false.¡±


    ¡°Was the information a trap?¡± I asked, whispering in case there was some sort of recording device in the room. It was best to be careful, and my voice could be used to identify me.


    ¡°Hmm, it¡¯s hard to say. I checked her background, and she was clean, as far as the underworld forces here are concerned. I doubt she would have had the connections to falsify all of this info to such an extent- though I suppose I don¡¯t know how she acquired such detailed information anyway. Do you plan on backing out?¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯ll go further in. There¡¯s a chance they just reorganized themselves after she received the information. There¡¯s no point quitting so early on.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough. Oh, wait! Before you leave the room, see if you can grab an ISM.¡±


    ¡°ISM?¡± I was unfamiliar with the term.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ it stands for information storage medium, there should be one inside of each of the terminals. It¡¯ll be a spherical object roughly at the center.¡±


    Without saying a word, I slid a blade from one of my twin sheaths and sliced the top of one of the mounds off. As she had said, there was a small, golden orb resting inside the monochrome mass.


    ¡°This it?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± replied Rachel, her voice clearly delighted. ¡°I¡¯ll start looking through it to see if there¡¯s anything useful. Place it next to the conduit.¡±


    I had stashed her conduit inside of my robes for safekeeping, along with a bag filled with what Rachel had described as ¡®anti-personnel explosives.¡¯ Today, they would serve instead of my more powerful and identifiable techniques. My sword was also within, strapped tightly to my back.


    I did not intend to use it today, but was unwilling to let it leave my person. The sword was all I had left from home, and was also something even the most advanced races on Tseludia Station were unable to manufacture. I couldn¡¯t be sure how I would react if I were to lose it.


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Instead of the heirloom blade, I would be using a pair of shortswords that we had purchased from a weapon shop in Canvas Town. They were of decent make, and should I find myself in a situation capable of damaging them beyond use, the issue of my identity being revealed would be the least of my worries.


    I held the shortsword out as I moved to the hatch leading deeper into the facility, ready for if I ran into any defenses.


    It slid open easily upon my touch, and I entered a long hallway. Dust swirled in the darkness, and now I could hear shouting at either end, no longer alone.


    I took a left, following the route we had planned in advance from the floor plans Yun had given us. A few yelling Staiven wearing blue labwear ran past me, not even noticing the out of place nature of my attire due to the fog and their rush to escape what was happening. From behind, I could hear the thumping footsteps of boots running in the other direction, towards me, but I calmly continued making my way further down the hall.


    The hall ended with a large hatch that was nearly a full handspan thick. It lay open, and several researchers ran out in shock and confusion. I slipped past them, but one noticed my odd attire, shouting as she did so.


    ¡°Intruder!¡±


    I responded to her helpful comment by kicking her in the stomach, dropping her to the floor in a groaning heap. Without a second look at the wounded civilian I marched past her and into the lab, tapping the oversized hatch to shut it behind me.


    I turned to stab my sword into the wall at the hatch¡¯s edge, destroying the hydraulic assembly that allowed it to slide in and out. The guards would obviously know I was here, but hopefully that would delay their entry for a time.


    This room was, as the intel had claimed, a large lab filled with a significant amount of equipment that I found myself unable to recognize. Most surfaces in the room were white, with the exception of the many machines and appliances that littered the workspaces. There were only two researchers left in the room, and both looked up at me in horror as they saw me damage the door with only hand and blade. No mortal would have been able to achieve such a feat.


    One of the two, a middle aged green-eyed Staiven woman, blubbered before me, while the other, a man, stood in a poorly conceived defensive stance. He clearly had no experience in fighting, even at the mortal level. He had orange eyes, and if he were Seiyal I would have said he looked to be in his thirties. I had never bothered to find out the relative rate at which Seiyal and Staiven physically age, however.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± he asked, trembling from adrenaline and nervousness.


    The words were in Staiven, but were simple enough that I understood.


    ¡°You have no need to worry about such a thing. Now, sir. Where do you keep the drug samples and your research results?¡±


    The words were spoken by Rachel using a synthesized voice, spoken in a fluent Staiven. He responded, speaking for quite awhile, but this time I had trouble parsing it. After a whispered request, Rachel translated it after only a sigh.


    ¡°He claims there are research samples in the fridge in the corner, and warns you that reprisal will be far more harsh if you take them, and so on. It¡¯s a black fridge, that far corner over there. No, that one.¡±


    The refrigerator was full of small vials labeled in Staiven script and numbers. I pulled out my sack and swept most of them in, unable and unwilling to figure out what their labels meant. Yun would just have to figure out what was useful and what wasn¡¯t on her own.


    The conversation between Rachel and the two scared researchers lasted while I was grabbing the vials, but I caught barely a word or two. I could hear loud thumping on the thick hatch, and I knew time was running short. After filling the sack with vials of poison, I returned to face the pair.


    Rachel whispered into my ear before I could ask the question.


    ¡°The data isn¡¯t stored here, you¡¯ll either have to back out now or go back through that hallway to the security room. They have to personally approve file transfers, and I imagine no one is fulfilling that role at the moment.¡±


    I considered it for a second, then decided it was worth a try.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see how this goes. Which direction is it?¡±


    ¡°Down the other end of the hallway. Are you sure about this?¡± Rachel asked.


    ¡°Certainly not,¡± I replied. ¡°But I wish to hold true to my end of any deal.¡±


    ¡°How do you intend to make it back there?¡±


    I hefted one of the grenades we had acquired at some effort, smirking under my mask.


    ¡°I¡¯ll fight my way through, of course. Like a martial artist should.¡±


    Staiven Terminals: [While most races have their own unique variant of computer terminal designed according to their needs, the Staiven design is particularly odd, especially for a humanoid race. Bulbous masses of microfilament mesh surround the integrated Information Storage Medium at its core. They are designed this way in part due to the fact that the Staiven are blind by nature, and also due to the additional electrostatic sense that they bear, able to sense the shifting currents of energy inside the mesh as it is deformed. The terminals are operated by kneading them, and it has often been described as looking like they are fiddling with a ball of clay, rather than interfacing with the internet. No other race tends to find the machines intuitive, and most cannot even learn how to use them effectively, due to their lacking senses. The patent is owned by the Church of Fulstovis, who control all manufacturing and sales of the products throughout the Pantheonic territory.]

 29- The Vision of the Sightless

    2nd District, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    ¡°What in Shodhre¡¯s name is happening?¡±


    The words came from Gerabe, a chubby Staiven man who had worked with Isidr for a number of years by this point. Isidr shook his head annoyedly at the man.


    ¡°Someone blew up a goddamn bomb outside, Gerabe. It¡¯s not complicated.¡±


    Gerabe performed a rude gesture at Isidr, an inverse of the holy symbol of Gys, Goddess of Goodness.


    ¡°I know that, dumbass. What shocks me is that I can''t figure out who under heaven did this? I thought it was supposed to be some sort of all powerful raid by the Seiyal, or some other force. We''ve only found one guy, and then he immediately holes himself up? Something¡¯s going on, Isidr. I¡¯m telling you.¡±


    Isidr ignored the other man, turning away with a dismissive wave of his hand. In truth, he was pissed off and secretly uneasy. Gerabe did have a point. Who under the heavens would choose to just blow a goddamn hole in the wall like that? They would have to be insane. At the yields required to tear through, they must have risked taking the whole stack down.


    He had heard rumors, of course, that whatever the researchers here were working on was something that might anger the Seiyal. Isidr himself as well as Gerabe and the other guards had been hired to protect against potential raids. It had been an easy job, with his greatest troubles being handling a researcher who had forgotten their authorization pass. Today, it seemed, the Pantheon had seen fit to bestow a greater trial upon him.


    He had not expected it to occur so soon, much less with a methodology like this. Isidr wouldn¡¯t say he knew too much about the Station¡¯s underworld, but this didn¡¯t track with what knowledge he did have. Explosives of this power were obviously illegal, but they were the sort of illegal that actually got the government to pay attention. Anything with the capability to take down a stack was subject to the highest level of scrutiny, and to use them like this, so close to the base of a stack- it warranted a life in the mine, at the very least.


    At the very least, this couldn¡¯t be the Seiyal. Martial artists were haughty and obsessed with their own techniques- they wouldn¡¯t have debased themselves to use explosives. What¡¯s more, he doubted the Seiyal even had the technology to burst through Staiven metallurgy without significant collateral damage.


    Isidr turned his senses down the hallway, within which all of the dust from the explosions had finally settled as a light powder on the walls and floor. Several other guards were cutting into the hatch at the end with vibrating pico-filament knives, while others stood further back, guns aimed towards the hatch, waiting for it to be opened again.


    Beside him, Gerabe fiddled with his gun, nervousness causing his skin to flake away in yellowish chips.


    ¡°There¡¯s gonna be a gotcha somewhere, just wait. He¡¯s got allies¡­ what if he¡¯s working with insiders, that would explain-¡±


    The ramblings that Isidr was trying hard to ignore were suddenly cut off by a loud burst of sound, nearly identical to the previous explosion except much closer. He sensed a plume of dust and smoke filling the hallway as screams were ripped from the throats of those closest to the door. Shards of metal tore through the air, eviscerating everyone in their path. Some of the fragments even flew far enough to impact Isidr¡¯s own side, though they stuck into his body armor and did not make it very far into his body.


    He could hear the thwacking sounds of bullets making impact with the metal of the walls, as well as screams of agony emerging from Staiven voices. The guards had all been trained to resist pain, so if they were screaming, it meant the injuries were certainly severe. Isidr himself grunted in pain at his wounds, but turned back to gain a better understanding of the current situation, only to be immediately faced with the heat of another explosion.


    Instinctively, he dove to the ground, barely avoiding another spray of shrapnel. One of the fragments tore across his shoulder, grazing across his body armor rather than digging in. Gerabe was not so lucky.


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    One of the chunks of flying metal had caught him in his left eye, bursting the fragile organ. Bodily fluids and miasma dripped from the wound in equal portions, rolling down Gerabe¡¯s face and neck like sap down a tree. Light mist drifted up from the mess of liquids, shifting and mixing with the smoky air. Isidr could sense the formless energies dance along the air in ethereal patterns, following no shape or rule except their own.


    He cried out in shock as Gerabe fell to the ground beside him, mouth opened in surprise. The man wasn¡¯t yet dead, but his fall impacted some deep part of Isidr. As if on instinct, he found himself yanking his gun forward, fingers depressing the button and letting a hail of slugs shoot out at high speed down the hallway.


    The white-hot bullets sizzled as they burned their way through the air, impacting the walls and ceiling with thwacking sounds. Isidr struggled to his feet, still fearful and wary of the intruder. The thick cloud of smoke and dust was slowly clearing, but was still so dense that it occluded his senses, leaving him still unable to fully discern what was happening at the end of the hallway, but what he could sense was movement. He was unsure whether it was his fellow guards or the intruder.


    The disorientation turned to horror as he sensed the figure¡¯s eyes. There was no miasma within them. They were the eyes of an alien, void of life and energy. They had always secretly made Isidr uncomfortable, and now they imposed a pressure on him.


    The eyes were hidden away behind a featureless mask, blocked off by panes of what seemed to be glass. The figure, seemingly male, was clothed in thick robes of voluminous fabric, and inside, Isidr could sense the outlines of several swords and a bag of odd roughly spherical objects that must have been the bombs. There were more than ten of the devices remaining, a fact which churned Isidr¡¯s glands.


    The figure turned and contorted as his swords moved to deflect one of the bullets, surprised to see the superheated metal slug melting right through its surface and passing right above his shoulder. He returned it to its sheath as he began to dodge Isidr''s arcs of fire.


    As he approached, isidr realized that there was also another bag tied to the man¡¯s side. Instinctively, he inspected it with his senses. At first it seemed to just be an odd oblong object of metal and some crystalline material, but when his senses peered into its interior, his senses were blasted with a momentous force of energy. It was as if he was sensing the totality of existence, the world set ablaze by the sheer presence of the energies behind the veil that was that object. Isidr did not know what it was, but it horrified and entranced him in equal measure.


    His eyes cried red tears and mucus dripped from pores in his skin as he fired his gun wildly while backing up. He had forgotten all about Gerabe and the others, his mind still locked onto the world beyond the object. He could feel impossible geometries, trace the souls of everyone on the station. He looked upon himself from an outside view, could trace the conduit within his own eyes back into Telles, and see the world through that lens. He laughed, and it was a beautiful sound, for the world was all in order.


    The intruder paused, cocking his masked head at Isidr, as if confused by his actions.


    ¡°Shit!¡± the words were from a feminine voice, and Isidr could sense them rumbling through the void of the brink before emanating in thin, wavy lines from the object. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect a red-eyed to look too deeply into it. You need to kill him quickly, before-.¡±


    The laughter continued to bubble from inside of Isidr¡¯s diaphragm, hurting his chest as burbling skeins of mucus and blood rose up from his mouth. His skin flaked and moistened under the liquid, and liquid continued to pour down from his eyes. His gun clicked incessantly. It had run out of ammunition but Isidr didn''t notice, attention still trapped within that beautiful object, that conduit to another realm.


    His eyes were open, and for once in his life he could see from them. He saw Telles and he saw the brink, the world of spirits. He could even see past that edge, to the shadow of the City of Gods, where the Pantheon dwelled. His eyes were blood, and it was the blood of the universe, and through it Isidr could sense her gaze as well.


    The Mother of all that is Sanguine peered through him, and together they watched as the intruder¡¯s sword flew towards his neck.


    He tried to laugh as it tore into him, stopping as his voice box was destroyed by the force of the blow. He continued trying to laugh as the fluids in his body slowly stopped circulating, and his mind slowed. Long before his body finally died, Isidr himself was already gone, his soul lost in the far reaches of that other world.


    Red-Eyed Staiven: [Staiven can be born with any of the six colors of eyes regardless of their heritage. Each color of eye is indeed composed of the associated form of miasma, and there are no other physical differences between Staiven of different eye colors. However, Staiven with red eyes live on average a full ten years less than others within the Pantheonic territory and the Frontier. In other parts of the galaxy, they live as long as any other Staiven. A great deal of research has been performed trying to uncover the reason for this. Elder Staiven with red eyes are exceedingly rare, and the older a red-eyed Staiven becomes, the higher their tendency for some form of insanity. For this reason, after reaching eighty years of age, red-eyed Staiven are usually taken into custody by the Pantheonic Government in hopes of finding a way to cure their malady.]

 30- To Fight With Dishonor

    2nd District, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    ¡°Rachel, what the hell was that?¡± I asked, whispering the words under my breath.


    I was looking down at the collapsed form of a Staiven man who looked as if he had been sweating out most of the liquid in his body. Sanguine miasma slowly dripped down his face, pooling onto the floor like a puddle of blood.


    She paused before responding, as if collecting her thoughts.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ complicated, and we don¡¯t have time to talk about it now. At the very least it¡¯s not relevant at the moment, so it can wait. Just grab the information and get out. I¡¯ll explain it all later.¡±


    I considered disputing her, but no matter my annoyance at being ordered around, I continued down the hallway, pausing for one last moment to take a sideways glance at the unfortunate man¡¯s corpse.


    Something was definitely going on. The guard had clued me in, but the signs had been there for some time, though I had been too distracted to piece them together.


    The prophet Poluus of the Depthists had worshiped a goddess, and like the guard, he had red eyes. I had always assumed that the reason the Celans wanted the conduit so badly was because it was connected to Rachel, a powerful spirit. I had looked through the conduit myself, and it did not only connect to Rachel- it was solely a connection between Telles and the land of spirits, the place the Celans called Sakkhenat. As such, I now realized, Rachel was not the only spirit who could connect through it. The realization sent a shiver of fear down my spine. Just how dangerous was the item I was carrying around with me?


    Such thoughts didn¡¯t help me in my current situation, however. As Rachel had said, I needed to focus on what was happening here and now. Several more guards poured around the corner, and I reached into my sack for another of the explosives.


    Using weapons such as these felt odd to me. They were certainly quite effective, and there was a part of me that enjoyed the sheer destruction they brought down on everything within range of them. But another part of me wanted to recoil from how dishonorable it felt. It took no skill to use them, leaving me unsatisfied after every kill. It felt demeaning in a sense for a martial artist such as myself to rely on such crude methods as these.


    Still, they were effective, and the fact that just anyone could use them added to their value. In this case, it was far better to be unsatisfied but unrecognized.


    The bombs exploded, but not before the guards each fired bursts of gunfire at me.


    I had come to realize that Staiven firearms are substantially different from those used by the Celans. Whereas the Celans used highly advanced technology to propel normal metals at high speed, the Staiven used what Rachel had told me was a ¡®low-tech¡¯ method called a railgun. However, the Staiven ammunition was far more advanced. After being launched from the barrel it would superheat until it was white hot, splattering and burning right through whatever it made contact with.


    I had already lost a shortsword to it, and had started just dodging all of the bullets, a task that was impossible without my movement technique. Small traces of the water striding steps flowed into my movement almost without my conscious thought, and I managed to pass through the fusillade without being hit.


    I was lucky, having noticed that I had the advantage of guards all firing in a very uncoordinated manner. I got the impression that they were either inexperienced or very rusty with the weapons.


    The explosives went off, filling the chests of the trio of guards with fragments of whatever scrap metal compound Rachel had made me toss into the replicator to make the things. Whatever it was, I was rather impressed with it, as it was even digging into the walls, despite how tough the Staiven material was.


    My ears were running and the dusty air occluded my vision somewhat, but I could still sense a number of souls up ahead, around the bend.


    ¡°How many guards were there supposed to be?¡± I asked, remembering that it was in the information we had received, and well aware that Rachel would know the answer.


    ¡°There were supposed to be 20 here full-time, but I have no idea how long it¡¯ll take their reinforcements to arrive. They aren¡¯t here yet, at least. You should have around¡­ seven guards left, considering how many you¡¯ve killed already.¡±


    ¡°Understood. Station security will be showing up soon as well though, right?¡±


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°Eventually, but I¡¯ve been bogging down the reporting system, so I expect they won¡¯t get here for at least fifteen minutes.¡±


    I peeked around the bend, only to be met with gunfire from yet another group of guards. I was forced to pull my head back around the bend. One of the white-hot bullets tore right through my baggy robes, barely missing contact with my skin.


    These guards were more spread out than the others had been previously, so I grabbed two explosives and chucked them around the corner blindly, aiming for the rough location of their souls.


    ¡°Grenade!¡± shouted one of the guards, and I could hear scrambling followed by a clattering noise as one of the bombs rolled right back along the ground towards me. Had one of them kicked it?


    ¡°Shit!¡± I muttered to myself, sprinting back down the hallway in hopes of gaining as much distance as possible.


    Moments later it exploded, causing shrieks of agony to erupt from unfortunate Staiven mouths. I myself grunted in pain as I failed to fully dodge the blast, several shards of scrap having dug their way into my back. Luckily, as I was in the core formation realm, my body was tougher, my skin and flesh much harder and stronger than that of a mortal. Had a mortal been hit by it, the fragments would have torn right through, possibly outright killing them.


    Ignoring the pain, I jogged back to the corner, peering around once again to see two of the Staiven on the ground, and two still standing. One of those who had fallen was groaning, presumably bleeding out, while the other was still. Of those who were standing, one was wounded, holding his chest with an arm, which the other seemed unscathed, having stood presumably much further away from the blast than the others.


    They were distracted, so I sprinted down the hallway towards them, drawing my shortsword from its sheath.


    One slash finished off the man who was bleeding, not even able to have drawn his weapon due to his sluggish reactions. The woman had quickly brought her railgun to bear however, managing to fire off a salvo of bullets.


    Unluckily for her I was too close, and had a good view of where the barrel was pointed. My strides swept around her, moving faster than she could shift her aim. With another slice of my blade she fell to the ground like her comrades.


    The hallway was now empty, filled with dust, smoke, and corpses bleeding out whatever bodily fluids that Staiven had instead of blood. I carefully approached the door to the security room, knowing its location from the floor plan we had looked at. I cleaned my sword on my robes, getting it ready to face whatever might be on the other side of the door.


    I stood beside the door as it opened, waiting to see if there would be gunfire. After a moment of silence I crossed the threshold and took a look at the room¡¯s interior.


    It was a small room. One wall was covered in an array of odd, warped shapes, like melted clay dolls. Another held a small weapons locker that was left open, a few more railguns and several boxes of ammunition just sitting there. There were some chairs and a table in the back, as if this had been used as some sort of break room. Several lumpy objects that looked like variations of Staiven terminals rested on the table.


    Standing next to the wall of malformed objects that I assumed was supposed to be the output of security camera equivalents was a young Staiven man, likely barely an adult from the looks of him. He was short and thin, and cowered a bit as he pointed a railgun at me. The barrel shook wildly as his hands quivered with nerves. He made no move to pull the trigger.


    ¡°I¡¯ll speak to him for a moment. If we can talk him into helping us it will go much faster.¡±


    I silently acquiesced, honestly not all that scared of the boy shooting me. On the side of his railgun, what looked like a safety was still flipped up.


    It still felt odd to hear words emerging from the location of my own mouth, but not speak them myself. Particularly when I could barely understand what they were saying.


    Rachel and the kid spoke for a few moments, and after a bit he nodded fearfully, slowly lowering his gun.


    ¡°After I threatened him, he said he would authorize the files. I¡¯ll keep an eye on what he¡¯s doing, but be ready to kill him if I tell you, because he could wipe the data if he turns brave. That would be a problem,¡± whispered Rachel into my ear. I nodded in response.


    Luckily for us, the kid was apparently too scared of me to try anything. Several times while working on sending the files, he glanced back at me, shivering in fear. Did my getup really look so intimidating? I supposed it might have looked something like how the ¡®evil unorthodox martial artists¡¯ were depicted in the media put out by orthodox groups such as the Hadal Clan, so perhaps he had been influenced by that. If so, I found that a bit offensive. Still, the effect was useful, so I let it pass.


    After a while, Rachel spoke into my ear again.


    ¡°Done, I have the data. It¡¯s time to get going.¡±


    Without a second¡¯s thought I bolted from the room, sprinting as fast as my body could take me without activating my movement technique. The last of the guards had returned to the hallway in my absence, but I ran past their surprised faces as I went back into the office with the breach in the wall, making my way back outside.


    I tossed one more explosive behind me to cover my escape just in case, and kept running after making it out. Now, all I had to do was make it somewhere isolated and let Rachel take us back to the safe house.


    We had accomplished our part of the deal, and next we would finally be able to move forward with the plan.


    The Brink/Spirit World/Sakkhenat: [Referred to as the Brink among the Staiven, the Spirit World among the Seiyal, and Sakkhenat among the Celans, each of these terms refers to a certain higher spacetime that is in a sense adjacent to that of Telles. This is a realm with different physical properties, and can perhaps be considered a secondary layer of the same reality given how deeply entwined the two are. It is where souls and spirits reside, and where ascendants must pass through if their souls wish to be incarnated in the realm of divinity. It is also where the natural flows of ashata exist, and is tapped into every time miasma is brought into Telles. Understanding the properties of this realm is as vital to technological development as fields such as biology, chemistry, and quantum mechanics are, as races tend to rely more and more on using miasma to alter physical properties the more advanced they become. Like Telles itself, most of the Brink is considered territory under the control of various powers.]

 31- Fallout

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    Of all the forces that had been sent into battle in the eighth district, few had escaped intact. Some had made it away with wounds, others had been arrested by security, but most were dead, killed in either the conflict itself or by the collapsed floor.


    Kalthen himself had just emerged from the hospital, his wounds having been slowly mended by the medical machines over the past few days.


    He had spent most of the recuperation time stewing in his own failure. It had been the first time he had led a squad into battle, and this was the outcome. When he was an enforcer pilot, his failures only came back to hurt himself, and at worst he would be reprimanded by his uncle.


    He had led five of his subordinates to their deaths- every single person under his command. And for what? They hadn¡¯t even run into their target. They had died because Kalthen had been foolish enough to trick their captors.


    He was still thinking back on better choices he could have made as he finally made his way out the hospital¡¯s doors. The bright domelight splashed across the district, glinting on the charms that littered the windows and entryways of every shop and establishment. He tried to immerse himself into the sights and sounds of his hometown, but his mood was so dark that he found it difficult.


    He continued passing through, mind weary and his head down, only to be stopped by a man on his shoulder. Kalthen whirled, instinctively raising his fists, ready to throw a punch. He paused as he found himself looking down at the face of Triezal.


    Kalthen raised an eyebrow in surprise as he looked at the man. Triezal had somehow found another jacket that looked just like the one that had been ruined in the collapse, but for the first time in a while Kalthen could see his eyes uncovered by a blindfold. Was he trying to be unobtrusive because they were in a public space? If so, his colorful hair and jacket already did enough to make him stand out.


    Not too long ago, Kalthen had hated the other man. He had been jealous of Triezal''s success, and had wished that he was the one the Leader had his eye on. That had started to change somewhat over the week in which they had worked closely together, and given what had happened, Kalthen couldn¡¯t find it in himself to hate the man.


    He even felt that he owed Triezal for saving his life. While it was true that Triezal had effectively abandoned them right before arrival, that had allowed him to actually find and confront the Riverfiend, unlike Kalthen himself. It was also in all likelihood the only reason Triezal had survived. If he had stayed with them he would have died in the collapse and Kalthen would have been trapped under the rubble for many hours to perhaps days before the government finally bothered to check for survivors.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t they let you out yesterday?¡±he asked, looking over at the other man. This hospital was over a half hour¡¯s walk away from the headquarters of the heirs, which was why Kalthen had chosen it. He had wanted a distance between himself and the organization until he healed and was ready to confront the consequences of his own failure.


    Triezal shrugged, a smile on his face as he responded to the question.


    ¡°I just figured I¡¯d stop by, catch you up to speed. I got the impression you¡¯d be wallowing in self pity all day unless someone interrupted you.¡±


    Kalthen didn¡¯t bother to dispute the assertion. He sighed as the two began to walk in step while they talked.


    ¡°Fine, then. What all happened while we were in recovery?¡±


    ¡°The Leader¡¯s very upset, for one. He¡¯s not happy with us or anyone at the moment.¡±


    ¡°Not much of a surprise.¡±


    ¡°Not at all,¡± agreed Triezal. ¡°It¡¯s very unpleasant over there, so I snuck out under the excuse that I was going to try and hunt the Riverfiend down again.¡±


    Kalthen raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°He still has us on that? I was expecting to be punished for failure.¡±


    Triezal met his gaze.


    ¡°He has everyone on it now, Kalthen. He¡¯s becoming even more desperate. He didn¡¯t say when the courier was expected to arrive, but from how he¡¯s acting I think it might be expected any day now, or even overdue. He¡¯s starting to give up on image altogether.¡±


    ¡°Are you serious?¡±


    A shiver crept its way in Kalthen¡¯s spine. He had already talked to the captain of a merchant ship that would be heading out to Refugee Planet 14, the world his people had taken to calling Janen. If he lost his place on Tseludia he could go there and find himself a new life on the fledgling frontier world. For a moment he considered inviting Triezal to come with him.


    Triezal¡¯s face was grim as he responded.


    ¡°I am. It¡¯s bad, little brother. I¡¯m starting to become concerned with the future of this organization. It depends on who was sent as the courier, but there are some possible candidates who¡­ might choose to ¡®reorganize¡¯ your group if they find out that you lost it.¡±


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    It did not skip Kalthen¡¯s attention that Triezal had separated himself from Kalthen and the Heirs, though it made sense. While Triezal worked as part of the organization now, in reality he was associated more closely with the courier than with them. A true member, a Magister of the Epon, rather than a mere pawn.


    ¡°This¡­ ¡®reorganization,¡¯ what would that entail, exactly?¡± he asked, almost scared to find out the answer.


    Triezal suddenly stopped walking, and a beat later Kalthen paused as well, looking over to see a serious expression on Triezal¡¯s face.


    ¡°That depends on who specifically the courier is. But at minimum they would likely change the leadership, which means your family would be tossed out. At worst¡­¡±


    Triezal met Kalthen''s eyes, and began speaking more quietly, looking around to see if anyone was close enough to listen.


    ¡°Listen, Kalthen, some of the higher ranking Magisters have¡­ been living for quite a long time. They tend to be¡­¡± He paused as if trying to think of a particular word. ¡°...old fashioned, if you catch my drift.¡±


    ¡°By old fashioned, do you mean-¡±


    ¡°Like the city of Opportunity, yes.¡±


    Opportunity had been a powerful city on Celah, run by an ancient order called the Canton of Requisition. It had been a powerful trading city, and the technological capital of the world for a time. It was said that the government had been harsh to the people in the final days of the city, quelling unrest with excessive force. It was an incredibly important event in Celan culture even now, over a century afterwards.


    One thing the event was known for was the practice of scapegoating. The Canton had pushed group failures onto a single person and had them punished with imprisonment or death as a result. When the rebels had taken over, they found that several important figures had managed to escape. To salvage their pride and reputation, they vilified those they had captured even further, putting the weight of the flawed government onto them. All had been slain, fallen in the brutality of that era.


    While this was not public knowledge, due to his family connections Kalthen knew that members of the Canton who had escaped the fall later became some of the founding members of a later group known as Epon.


    ¡°So, my mother and uncle?¡± he asked.


    Triezal sighed despondently.


    ¡°Keep in mind this is just a possibility, a worst case scenario. The courier might just force the current Leader to step down. Still, in the worst case, you yourself might even be dragged into it as the scion of a very powerful family.¡±


    Kalthen nodded, having expected this. He considered whether or not he should invite his mother and uncle to leave as well, but immediately discarded it. Both would refuse him immediately. The Heirs were more important to his uncle than life, and his mother would never be willing to leave her web of contacts in Tseludia. He knew she reveled in the power it brought her.


    He began walking again, and Triezal jogged to catch up to his longer strides. Kalthen walked to a street stall, quickly purchasing a light meal from the Korlove proprietor. Jobu needed to eat a lot to remain healthy with a frame as naturally bulky as theirs, and Kalthen had always practiced settling his stomach before settling his mind, just as his uncle had taught him as a child.


    ¡°That¡¯s fine. My life was already ruined if we didn¡¯t find it anyway. I didn¡¯t need any more motivation anyway.¡± He met Triezal eyes, wearied. ¡°What¡¯s the situation with our personal force? Are we getting new resources, or is it just us?¡±


    Triezal averted his gaze slightly, which Kalthen did not feel boded well.


    ¡°The Leader¡­ reassigned our roles in the matter. A different force was assigned to search each district in fine detail, making damn sure we find him. I was placed in charge of the overall effort, while you¡­ were assigned to the fifth district group.¡±


    Kalthen scowled.


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t the fifth district one of the first places we combed through? There¡¯s no way my squad will find him there.¡±


    Had the Leader purposefully assigned him one of the least likely districts on purpose? The fifth district was firmly inside their control, how would a martial artist have even managed to hide there for so long if that¡¯s where he was hiding?


    ¡°I think you¡¯re misunderstanding something, Kalthen. You weren¡¯t assigned a squad, you were assigned to a squad. I¡¯m sorry, I tried to speak up in your favor.¡±


    Kalthen suddenly stopped, forcing Triezal to back up this time. His face was covered in shock. He understood why, because the Leader saw it as him losing an enforcer and then a squad, with no results either time. Still, to be demoted in such a way really stung. He would likely need a great deal of merit to salvage his career, even with his uncle¡¯s assistance.


    The courier would likely arrive long before his ship was scheduled to leave, too, so he couldn¡¯t just wait it out and flee, he needed to find the item.


    Kalthen swore up and down, kicking hard at the railing on the side of the street to odd looks from passerby. His life had been in a downward spiral. How could all of this have happened in just a little over a week?


    ¡°Alright, fine. Fine! This is fine.¡± He turned to look at Triezal. ¡°I¡¯m going to stop by a bar. I really need a drink right now.¡±


    The Merris nodded as if unsurprised.


    ¡°I¡¯ll join you.¡±


    Epon: [A powerful and secretive organization whose roots spread out all across Celan inhabited space. Its direct origin was a few years after the fall of Opportunity, but it inherited a full copy of all of the Canton''s research rather than a fragmented copy like most other organizations did in the aftermath. By continuing practice of intensive research, lobbying, and networking, the Epon have become one of the most powerful groups in all of Celan society, and were the true inventors of the slice drive technology that allowed the Celan people to escape the Incursion and enter Tellesian space. Even still, few Celans even know of the group''s existence, something that Epon finds it more convenient to maintain. Epon has the foremost understanding of flickering miasma in all of known space, a matter which some groups find to be suspicious. Rumors among certain circles have it that some of Celah''s ancient Shades might number among the organization''s ranks even today.]

 32- Preparation and Reparation

    5th District, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    Yun swirled her finger around the rim of her cup, her mind clearly lost in some far off place. For a moment I got the sense that like me, her thoughts also went back to our far away home. In the next, I became annoyed at how low-effort her delaying tactic was.


    ¡°Are you not going to answer?¡± I asked. ¡°I went through great effort to get that research information for you, you know.¡±


    The woman shrugged, uncoiling herself from the back of her chair and taking a sip of the alcohol she had ordered. She smiled at me, painted lips glistening in the light of the fake lanterns.


    ¡°I was considering my response, Mister Cyrus. In this business, it pays to make sure you carefully. Choose. Your. Words, you see?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t say I do.¡±


    She chuckled, giving me a wry smile.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you wouldn¡¯t. You strike me as the type to just get into a fight if there¡¯s a disagreement. I¡¯m sure you see it as the.. more efficient solution? I¡¯ll explain it to you. My profession exists to deal with martial artists, and it is mostly martial artists who seek out my services. Mortals tend to¡­ avoid involvement with this world, for their own safety.¡±


    She motioned at me as she took another sip of her alcohol.


    ¡° As such, it is men like you who I deal with, Mister Riverfiend. Martial artists, the type who like to feel like they¡¯re powerful. And yet they¡¯re here, speaking with me, which means they¡¯re not. Not as much as they would like to be, at least.¡±


    She laughed, looking at my face.


    ¡°Am I wrong?¡±


    I sighed, feeling obliged to let her finish her diatribe so we could move forward with the discussion.


    ¡°I can¡¯t say you are,¡± I said.


    ¡°Exactly!¡±


    She thrusted the cup towards me, a wide smile on her face. A bit of liquid sloshed over the rim and splashed onto the table, and she gave it a sad look.


    She was acting as if she were drunk, but I knew that couldn¡¯t be the case. A practitioner of poison arts at her level would not be affected by even alcohol far stronger than what she was drinking. It would be more likely for me to get drunk off of the tea I was drinking than she off of mundane alcohol. I got the impression that she might simply enjoy acting like this. I took a sip from my cup while she continued speaking.


    ¡°Exactly. Big, strong martial artist, embarrassed about looking for a poisoner. They see this woman, probably half to a whole realm below them, and deep down, they know. ¡®She can do what I can¡¯t.¡¯ This hurts their ego. Once I give them what they asked for, they think, ¡®I don¡¯t need her anymore, so I should do what I want.¡¯¡±


    She smiled again, but this time she met my eyes, her expression suddenly turning deadly serious as she leaned in.


    ¡°I don¡¯t enjoy having to kill my clients, you see.¡±


    So that was her point. I took another sip of my tea.


    ¡°You¡¯re in luck, then. There¡¯s a proverb I once heard, back on the Crucible.¡±


    ¡°Oh? And what was it?¡± she asked.


    She had leaned back into her normal relaxed position, her expression back to her normal cunning smile.


    ¡°A wise lord never angers his poisoner.¡±


    She smiled calmly.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you understand.¡±


    ¡°You know, there was another part to the saying as well,¡± I said.


    Yun raised her eyebrow.


    ¡°Do tell.¡±


    ¡°A wiser lord never needs to meet them.¡±


    She laughed, and somehow I got the sense that it was a real one this time.


    ¡°I have to agree, Mister Cyrus. I hope you don¡¯t become too wise, in that case. I would hate to lose a good customer.¡±


    She idly swirled a finger around the rim of her glass again, before reaching into her robes to pull out a small glass vial. Inside was a red liquid that glinted in the light. I gazed at it in fascination as she set it down on the table. It seemed almost mundane. A small, childish part of me had expected a poison intended for a spirit refiner to be appear fantastical in some sort of way


    ¡°Is that it?¡± I asked.


    ¡°One spirit refinement tier poison, as requested. Once I get it inside his system, his strength should be reduced to roughly comparable to the core formation realm.¡±


    I smiled, looking forward to the battle.


    ¡°Perfect, that should work just fine.¡±


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    ¡°You know,¡± she said, giving me an odd look, ¡°It would have been much easier to formulate a poison that would kill him.¡±


    I shook my head in response.


    ¡°That wouldn¡¯t have worked out for the plan.¡±


    ¡°Would you mind telling me your plan, then?¡±


    Her finger was still tracing the rim of her cup in a distracting manner.


    ¡°You wanted me to help, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    I considered for a moment before deciding that it would be more effective to just explain it to her. I sipped the last of my tea before setting it back down on the table with a clack.


    ¡°Killing him isn¡¯t all we¡¯re looking for. I want to kill him personally in a dominant show of force.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± she asked. ¡°And why¡¯s that?¡±


    I smiled as I refilled my drink from the teapot that rested in the middle of the table.


    ¡°I imagine it should quell the internal dissent from when I take over his gang.¡±


    <hr>


    2nd District, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    ¡°What?¡± roared Nahalken, surprised and enraged by the bad news. ¡°I thought you said nobody knew, and that it would take a large force to break in!¡±


    His subordinate, despite being much taller than him, trembled beneath the force of his fury, intimidated to his bones.


    The larger Staiven shifted uneasily, his skin beginning to shed with nervousness


    ¡°Y-yes, sir. I did say that was likely the case. What we didn¡¯t anticipate was the use of large-scale explosives to break through the wall and avoid our defensives altogether. The yield required would have risked taking down the entire stack.¡±


    Nahalken slammed his fist down on his desk, causing a small sculpture that served as a desk ornament to topple over.


    ¡°Do you know how much that research is worth? For the Goddess¡¯ sake, Redias, given what I pay you, I expect results.¡±


    He sighed, picking the sculpture of the Pantheonic Goddess of Commerce and carefully setting it back down on his deck with a muttered apology. Redias remained silently in place, waiting for his employer to calm down and move into his crisis management mode. Redias had worked for the man for quite a long time, and he had seen Nahalken react to major crises before in various fields.


    ¡°Fine, then,¡± said Nahalken, sighing grudgingly and moving forward, ¡°it¡¯s already happened. Do you at least know who it was that did this?¡±


    Grudgingly, Redias admitted the truth.


    ¡°We aren¡¯t sure. He was disguised, but we believe he must have been a Seiyal male. He did everything alone, but I suspect he had a force backing him. It is the only way to explain his expert placement of the bombs. The calculations that would have been required to set them up so precisely should be beyond Seiyal capabilities.¡±


    Nahalken frowned, considering the matter. The obvious culprit was the Hadal Clan, as the Seiyal were the ones most threatened by miasmic poison research. However, the Hadal clan had never once used explosives before, to his knowledge, choosing instead to operate via shows of martial force. He had done extensive research on the Clan before agreeing to the commission, and if they were anything, martial artists certainly tended to be consistent. From what he had heard, Seiyal culture largely tended to remain consistent across most of the space that the species occupied, despite decades of travel isolating the groups. It struck him as odd, but he had mentally filed it away under the odd features that aliens tended to have in general.


    ¡°A lone¡­ Seiyal¡­ man¡­¡± Nahalken muttered, feeling like he was remembering something he had read recently. ¡°Ah, that¡¯s right! Wasn¡¯t there some lone martial artist that caused an outcry recently? I remember hearing about it.¡±


    Redias nodded.


    ¡°The Riverfiend, yes. I considered it, but I don¡¯t believe he was involved.¡±


    ¡°Why is that?¡± asked Nahalken, curious.


    ¡°According to internal reports by the Office of Justice, the man is technology illiterate and does not speak conversational Staiven. The one who assaulted our facility expertly used explosives and even knew how our computer systems worked. In addition, he spoke perfectly fluently with the guards.¡±


    Nahalken nodded, satisfied.


    ¡°I see. It was an idle thought, anyway. Now, what was that I heard about one of the guards?¡±


    Redias shuddered as he remembered what had become of poor Isidr. He had met the man several times, and was satisfied with his work. He had been found looking as if he was half dissolved, his body withered due to expelling his internal fluids out of every pore and orifice.


    ¡°Do you mean what happened to Isidr? It was very gruesome, sir. There are pictures, if you would like to see them.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve already looked at them,¡± said Nahalken dismissively. ¡°What do you think about the potential cause?¡±


    ¡°The footage was unclear, and just showed him staring at the intruder before laughing and starting to bleed. It¡¯s possible it was some weapon or martial ability we don¡¯t know about, but¡­ Isidr was also the only sanguine who faced the intruder. I find that potentially related.¡±


    Nahalken nodded, his mind whirling through all he knew on the matter. As one of the heads of the Venin Group, which had many research and manufacturing contracts with the government, he was privy to certain dangerous information the Pantheonic Government liked to keep under wraps. In particular, the real reason that they took elderly sanguine Staiven into custody. Redias knew less than he did, but had been intelligent enough to notice Nahalken¡¯s continued interest in them. Nahalken expected the man had at least figured out that something was going on.


    ¡°You might be right about that. That¡¯s good, though,¡± he said, smiling at his own idea. ¡°That might help offset the blowback at this failure. Secretly take his body, tell his family he was atomized in the explosion or something. And.. send it to Research Facility 6S.¡±


    Redias nodded solemnly.


    ¡°Would that be everything, sir?¡± he asked.


    Nahalken waved him off, swiveling his chair around as he sensed the various objects and art pieces he had acquired over the long years. Alongside one wall was a slightly less than life-sized statue of a Staiven woman wearing the traditional garb of a commerce maiden. He closed his eyes, whispering words of prayer before swiveling his chair back to his work station. He had apologized to his goddess, and now it was time to apologize to his client.


    Fulstovis: [The Pantheonic Goddess of Commerce, Fulstovis has been an icon of Staiven culture ever since the Pantheon arrived on Staive. She is one of the most widely worshipped of the Pantheon, as her church doubles as the most powerful Staiven corporation, one which only works with other businesses whose proprietors also worship her. Her tenets include the endless quest for gathering wealth, trade as the vital lifeblood of society, and a meritocratic structure of society where the most equipped to earn money are on top. Notably, her followers disdain the rich who do not actively work to grow their own money through means of commerce. Direct investments into stocks and bonds are seen as a crutch for the weak. Culturally, Fulstovis is associated with genesis miasma, though even the priests claim there is no direct relation, as because she is a deity, miasma should in theory bear no meaning in the realm she lives in. Fulstovis is also credited with making the deal that convinced the owner of the Calculation Engines to create the portals that surround Staive to this day.]

 33- Infiltration

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    The headquarters of the Redwater Gang was a shabby building that had once been the offices of a now-defunct company. It was located in one of the poorest stacks of Canvas Town, where the influence of the Hadal Clan waned due to lack of interest. So long as the local gangs kept order and did not take their rackets too far, the clan permitted them to exist. For a fee, of course. Of these minor forces, the Redwater Gang was one of the strongest, as it was headed by a spirit refiner.


    Poison arts generally only related to the concoction and direct martial application of poisons. For assassination, that was generally enough to get most of the way there. The issue, however, lay in getting the poisoner within range of their target. There were various ways of achieving this, and Yun was fully equipped to just sneak in and wait for the right time. However, the gang¡¯s security was almost nonexistent.


    Having spent all of her life within the world of martial arts, Yun knew how her fellow martial artists thought. Only the powerful organizations tended to secure their headquarters. Most preferred to just rely on the group¡¯s reputation and that of its leader to protect themselves. After all, why would anyone attack the home of a spirit refiner?


    As she had expected, the discipline of the gang members guarding the door was particularly lacking. As she had inspected the group, she found herself questioning what worth a man like the Riverfiend even saw in this sort of organization.


    In the end, she decided that a complicated method would be riskier and just waste more time. She might as well just go in through the front entrance.


    Contrary to how they were often depicted in plays and novels, the primary tool of an assassin was not stealth in the traditional sense. Rather than sneak in the shadows, dodging the sight of everyone in the building, it was far easier to walk around confidently and openly. The trick was both in one¡¯s bearing and one¡¯s attire.


    In this case, she simply wore the dress of a courtesan. The guard at the entrance was young, more of a boy than a man. He gave her a lascivious look, and when she told him her business was a ¡®meeting¡¯ with someone, he cheerfully allowed her to pass, watching as she did so. She imagined it would have been more likely for him to make a move on her than to actually prevent her entry. This gang truly was composed of fools.


    Once inside, she carefully made her way through the hallways following the route that Cyrus¡¯ yet unnamed ¡®associate¡¯ had informed her about.


    A pair of double doors opened up into a large room that was once presumably an open office space. The cubicles and desks had been replaced with dining tables, where various gang members lounged and ate, loudly chatting while they were served by a variety of courtesans. No wonder she had been let in so easily. Clearly, this gang was doing quite well for itself. While they clearly weren¡¯t the highest echelon of courtesans, there were at least seven of them, and Yun knew it would have certainly been expensive to hire out so many.


    At one of the tables, a lithe but muscular man was giving off an incredibly intense aura, one which many seemed to be instinctively shifting away from. Even without looking at his face, Yun knew this had to be Hidoro, her target.


    She gracefully passed through the room, making her way to the side room that she knew to be the kitchen. It was slightly cramped, with two cooks working on frying some sort of meat slices. She made her way to a small tea-making set and set about busying herself with preparing a drink.


    When she was young, Yun¡¯s teacher had spent years teaching her the intricacies of tea preparation, insisting it was a vital skill for any poisoner. Now, as it had many times before, Yun found the skill coming in handy.


    She whisked the artificial grains of tea into the bowl, and found the opportunity to surreptitiously slip one of her fingers into the liquid.


    Manifest energy flowed through her body as she reconstituted the poison that she had consumed an hour before, using the miasma to bolster its effects tenfold. It was a simple task, one which she had done many times before.


    She slipped over to a nearby refrigerator to grab some alcohol, pouring it into the mixture. In theory, the alcohol would hide the taste of the poison. She stirred the concoction back together and dipped a fingertip into the tea. She dabbed a bead of tea from the tip into her mouth and swirled it around, feeling the taste of tea, alcohol, and the slightest hint of poison swirl around her tongue.


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    The poison really added a nice tang to the flavor, if she was being honest. Sometimes, there were some serious perks to a constitution such as hers. When cooking for herself, she often found herself using poisons like others used spices. It was certainly not good for her health, but she had always known she wouldn¡¯t live a long life.


    After sampling the tea, she dropped a pinch of spices into it to hide the rest of the flavor of the poison and poured it into a small teapot. Quickly, Yun checked her outfit to ensure she was maximally presentable before lifting it and gliding her way out of the kitchen. The cooks didn¡¯t even spare her a glance as she did so, too engrossed in their own duties.


    Walking through the clamoring mass of gang members and the courtesans that served them, Yun found herself having to walk carefully, not because the room was so crowded she needed to find space to move, but to avoid the chance that one of the gang members would grab her and arm and order her to personally serve them.


    She was lucky, managing to make her way through without issue. She stood behind Hidoro, who was working his way through a plentiful selection of a fatty meat dish.


    He turned, sensing her gaze. His eyes scanned up and down her body, giving her a relaxed smile.


    ¡°Meridian establishment, huh¡­ quite powerful for a courtesan. I don¡¯t remember that place having one like you?¡±


    Yun got the feeling that he was asking not out of any particular suspicion, but simply interest. There was very little in the microcosm that was Tseludia Station for a spirit refiner to fear. Sadly for him, she was one of those rare existences.


    She gave him a coy smile.


    ¡°I was personally invited, sir.¡±


    Hidoro raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°Oh? And you were told to serve me?¡±


    Yun nodded demurely, still carefully holding the teapot. He waved her over and she sat down beside him, carefully filling his cup.


    Hidoro allowed her to pour his tea as he ate another piece of his meal.


    ¡°So what brings a woman like you here to the station? You¡¯re from Bounty, correct?¡±


    It was actually mildly impressive that she had recognized her slight accent just from that short exchange. She nodded to him again as she finished his tea.


    ¡°It¡¯s a common story, sir. I was a member of a small martial academy in a coastal town that was destroyed during the war. I was the only survivor, so I decided to make a new life somewhere free from war.¡±


    Hidoro nodded. Even mortals had been willing to make the long, lonely journey between stars to escape the conflicts that as of the latest news, fifteen years old, still raged on their homeworld. Bounty held some of the worst fighting, so the news went, and there were many with similar stories to Yun.


    It was an easy story to tell him, and most of it was even true, only missing the core fact that she had fled specifically because she had poisoned a number of Sunlit Hall officials in a bid for revenge.


    A wistful expression filled her face as she thought back, missing the warm embrace her master had given her while she bled out. Hidoro noticed, tactfully changing the subject.She would almost say he was a nice person if he were not a brutal ganglord known for running extensive extortion rackets on innocents. Not that she could blame him. It was in a martial artist¡¯s nature to seek after better lives for themselves. She herself was doing something similar.


    She passed the cup over to him, carefully and gracefully. He took it with a smile, grinning as he sipped it.


    ¡°Delicious!¡± He smiled at Yun. ¡°You¡¯re certainly quite skilled at making tea/¡±


    She smiled in return as she watched him drink the poison. She quite liked watching someone happily drink one of her concoctions without any idea of what it was.


    ¡°You could say it¡¯s a hobby of mine.¡±


    ¡°You should start a teahouse, some day when you retire.¡±


    Yun found the remark amusing. Given her bottleneck, even if she were actually a courtesan, she would be dead long before the establishment forced her to retire due to age.


    ¡°Perhaps I will, sir.¡±


    As he enjoyed the drink she surreptitiously slipped a hand into a hidden pocket where she had kept her digital phone, pressing a button to send the message she had prepared to the Riverfiend. In less than fifteen minutes he would arrive and challenge the man beside her to a fight. While it would be fun to witness, she felt it would be better to find a chance to leave. Being dragged into the engagement any further ran contrary to her goals.


    She noticed that his plate was running low on food and moved to stand.


    "I''ll refill that for you-" she tried to say, but was stopped by the calloused hand of a sword artist gripping her arm. She met Hidoro''s gaze, and it was firm.


    "Stay here. I wish to talk to you more. One of the others can bring me more food."


    "I- I see, sir. Of course."


    Internally, she was cursing the man, hoping there would at least be a chance to slip away in the commotion as Cyrus broke into the building. If she was still sitting next to Hidoro when the poison kicked in, her life would be in danger.


    Poison Arts: [While poison arts can refer to any usage of martial techniques to deliver poisons, true poison arts involve the application of manifest miasma to consume poisons, cultivating them internally to magnify and perfect their effects. A poison artist who is sufficiently talented, educated, and possessed of access to the right ingredients is easily able to affect or even kill those far above their realm if they catch the target off guard. Poison arts are considered unorthodox because of the significant negative effects of a poison constitution has. though they develop some resistance to the poisons they consume, poison artists are still somewhat affected, and the effects add up over time. Among other side effects, most common is a reduction in vitality that leads to drastically shorter lifespans, comparable even to that of a sickly mortal. The more powerful the poisons they use, the faster the practitioner is affected. Like all unorthodox arts, the only true solution will always be continued progression along the pathway to immortality without faltering.]

 34- Confrontation

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    I was leaning on the side of an alley, eating a skewer that I had purchased from a nearby street stall. In all honesty, I was somewhat disappointed in its flavor. Unlike back on Canvas, the cheap meat here was all lab grown on a budget, and as such there was something just slightly off about the taste. Still, it was good enough to justify its cheap price, and it would certainly fill my stomach.


    I had angled my body so that my face could not be seen from the street, just in case someone who knew me might pass by. Several members of the Hadal Clan had seen my face, and it was possible the Heirs were still searching for me in this district as well. I had decided it was better to look odd and shifty than risk being recognized. I could sense occasional odd glances from passersby as I enjoyed my meal, but as expected they all soon looked away awkwardly.


    I paused as I heard a voice whisper into my left ear.


    ¡°She says he¡¯s been dosed. It should take effect in five minutes and last for fifteen.¡±


    ¡°I see. It¡¯s finally time, then,¡± I said.


    Silently, I stood up, quickly finishing my meal. After I ate the last bite I wiped the grease off on my robes as I merged with the walking traffic on the street, tossing the skewer into a nearby waste receptacle as I passed by.


    I was only two streets away from the small compound that served as the headquarters for the Redwater Gang. At this time of day the area was fairly crowded, but my robes and sword allowed me to pass mostly unhindered. Mortals tended to avoid those who were obviously martial artists just in case. It was a wise creed to live by, at least for those who could afford to do so.


    At the front entrance a bored martial artist who was merely at the peak of refining his foundation idly watched me approach, but gradually grew more attentive as it became clear that I was heading straight inside. Did Hidoro really assign such an important duty to what looked like a young teenager? I had no choice but to question his competence if so. Both his age and realm were both far too low to deter any would-be intruders.


    To his credit he stood and blocked my way. I faced him down, not bothering to even touch my sword when facing one of his level. There was no point.


    ¡°I have business with Hidoro,¡± I told him. ¡°I bid you let me pass.¡±


    The kid trembled, presumably having sensed my partially formed cores.


    ¡°He- he said not to let anyone in while he was having dinner.¡±


    I narrowed my eyes at him, unwilling to waste any more time. Faster than he could react, I closed the distance between us, my fingers poking into one of his meridian nodes and shoving a small burst of my own miasma inside. Immediately, he collapsed to the ground, paralyzed as his channels worked to fight off the foreign miasma.


    ¡°My apologies,¡± I said. ¡°You should be able to clear it within a few minutes, and it¡¯ll be good training for you.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t lying. Back home, my master had made me train by fighting off afflictions from all types of foreign miasma. I had found that it helped me better understand how to control my own. As the boy seized on the ground, I walked past him and into the headquarters.


    The building was clean enough to indicate that something was taking care of it, but not enough to indicate that they had put a lot of effort into the task. It was largely empty as I made my way through it according to directions given to me by Rachel¡¯s voice in my ear.


    None of those I passed gave me a second glance, presumably thinking I wouldn¡¯t be inside if I didn¡¯t belong. It didn¡¯t take long for me to find myself entering a large dining room that had the vibe of a tavern. Martial artists ate, drank, and enjoyed the company of the beautiful courtesans who served them.


    It took me a couple moments to track down Hidoro. He looked as he had in the pictures I had seen of him: a tall, muscular farsei man with a pretty face and an aura befitting his power. The data had also described him as a bit of a womanizer, information which also seemed to have been accurate. He was seated on one of the benches chatting with an attractive farsei courtesan who seemed oddly familiar. For a moment I squinted my eyes, trying to place her before I was interrupted by Rachel¡¯s whisper.


    ¡°Hmm? That¡¯s Yun, why hasn¡¯t she left yet?¡±


    The comment made me certain of my hunch, and I sighed. She looked pretty different with the expertly applied makeup of a high end courtesan, but it was undoubtedly Yun. I imagined she had intended to sneak away, but was unable to leave without notifying Hidoro that something was off. I hoped she wouldn¡¯t end up dragged into it any further. Even at the best of times, fighting nearby a poison artist was a risky endeavor.


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    I received some looks as I entered the room, mostly confusion as the slightly inebriated gangsters realized that a stranger was here. Yun gave me a quick apologetic glance before returning to talking with Hidoro.


    The glance told me all I needed to know. She planned to continue pretending to be a mere courtesan, at least for now. I intended to comply with her wishes. It was in my best interest for her to remain uninvolved.


    I flared my dantians, causing torrents of formless miasma to cascade through my meridians, lightly dissipating into the air around me. Every martial artist in the room turned, their attention drawn by the force that cascaded violently through me. With their attention drawn, I slowed the miasma¡¯s flow until it returned to being under my full control. I looked at Hidoro. He was watching me, and our gazes locked. I smiled at the man.


    ¡°You¡¯re the Riverfiend,¡± he said, his matter-of-factness surprising me somewhat. ¡°Did you have business with me?¡±


    I remained still, gaze still locked on him.


    ¡°My name is Cyrus Yu,¡± I replied. ¡°And I would say that we do have business.¡±


    He raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°Should we speak in private?¡±


    The question was unsurprising. He had likely already guessed my business with him, or at least he had likely sensed my murderous intent. Yet he was not particularly wary of me. I supposed it came with the territory. It would have been unusual or even cowardly for a spirit refiner of his talent to be wary of a mere core formation practitioner. It seemed the poison had yet to kick in. Perfect.


    ¡°There is no need,¡± I replied.


    I slid my sword from its sheath, and even the slowest of those in the room understood what was happening. Nervous looks and mocking scorn filled the room. There were those who feared for themselves, those who had heard over-hyped tales of my prowess over the past few weeks, and those who jeered at me, expecting Hidoro to defeat me in moments. I suspected they would soon find themselves sorely mistaken.


    Hidoro laughed as he stood, turning down momentarily to look at Yun.


    ¡°Wait just a few moments, please,¡¯¡± he said, ¡°we¡¯ll continue our discussion after I handle this pesky insect.¡±


    Most of the courtesans scampered from the room, leaving a few stragglers along with the assortment of martial artists. None of the gangsters had left, choosing instead to stay and watch the duel that would soon be happening. Yun hadn¡¯t moved either, and was relaxedly taking a bite of a platter of food that was left in front of where Hidoro had been seated. Did she really not intend to take the opportunity to leave?


    I returned my attention to Hidoro, wanting to avoid the chance that someone noticed my fixation on what they would have believed to be a simple courtesan. He slid out his sword as he approached me, standing a bit more than three meters away.


    ¡°So, Mister Riverfiend, what ¡®business¡¯ did we have to discuss.¡±


    I smiled at him.


    ¡°I¡¯m here on behalf of the Charging Puma Martial Academy. I offered to help them out, but sadly I lack the funds to pay for their debt.¡±


    Hidoro burst out with a surprised laugh.


    ¡°You¡¯re wanting to recruit Cinto? Good luck with that. She¡¯s a coward and a traitor. Still, you can¡¯t have her.¡±


    ¡°And why¡¯s that?¡±


    It was an idle question, but I wished to delay until the poison took effect, as he seemed unaffected so far. It was taking longer than Yun had claimed it would.


    His eyes narrowed and his face turned slightly pale as he began channeling his miasma. A light green mist flared behind him like a shroud, pushing violently through the air behind him. A slight wind started to form throughout the room.


    ¡°Because she¡¯s mine, upstart. There is nothing I claim as mine which you have the power to grasp. You are an offender guilty of hubris, and in your arrogance you have disrupted a fine meal with a beautiful woman. You really have no sense of the vast gulf which lies between our realms of power.¡±


    He smiled in a crazed, almost insane-looking manner as he raised his sword, beckoning me forward with a mocking laugh.


    ¡°I shall teach you the difference between us, so that you may die educated.¡±


    I smiled back at him, myself just as hungry for the fight ahead as he was.


    ¡°We shall see whose turn it is to be educated about hubris.¡±


    I shifted into the first form of my Downpour Sword Art, my miasma stirring as I prepared to send myself into full motion. The time had come. Hidoro seemed unaffected by poison, and if for some reason he hadn¡¯t been affected by the dose, my death would be imminent.


    Meridian Nodes: [While all Seiyal have meridians, they are only active for those who have awakened the senses of their soul through their dantians. For martial artists, meridians are vital for control over their body, particularly after they have finished shifting the location of their meridians to establish a better schema. However, the nodes between individual meridians are vital points, and as such can be vulnerable. A martial artist with particularly good senses and training can pick out these points on another martial artist''s body, something which can be used for both acupuncture techniques for healing and in combat to disable an opponent in various ways. In addition, miasma can be injected into someone else''s body using these nodes, an effect which can cause internal damage if the victim''s attention isn''t fully focused on eliminating the foreign energies. This technique is considered dishonorable by some, but as it can only affect those of a lower realm, it is permitted by both the orthodox and unorthodox paths.]

 35- Hidoro

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    Knowing I would have to trust that he was affected, I charged at Hidoro. My hand arced out with my sword, ready to slash as my formless strides took me towards him at high speed.


    He stepped forward into my motion, genesis miasma flaring in his arms and legs as he dashed towards me, arm rising with great force. He moved to backhand my blade, clearly intending to break it. He didn¡¯t even bother using his own sword, just his forearm.


    I smirked. There were very few in all the universe, and the vast majority were either immortals or still on Canvas. There was no way the arm of a mere spirit refiner could snap a blade forged by Lady Domines herself. There was a reason this unnamed relic had been the heirloom of the Downpour Sect since its formation.


    The blade¡¯s motion slowed as it dug into his arm, tearing a gash into Hidoro. He stook a step back, shocked that the blade had been much stronger than he expected.


    In stories, martial artists of high realms were depicted as near-invincible beings, their skin as tough or tougher than a starship¡¯s hull. In reality, while they did grow somewhat more durable at each level, their skin did not change its material composition in any sense. There was a limit to how powerful the physical body could be. The real change between realms was in the quality and quantity of miasmic energies that the martial artist could channel, as well as the profoundness of the techniques they could use.


    There was only so much that could be done within a mortal body. For there to be a qualitative change in such attributes, one had to transcend, rebuilding one¡¯s very body from scratch. One had to achieve immortality.


    Thus, though Hidoro was an entire realm higher, even he was able to be wounded by my blade when he misjudged its strength. He wrung his hand, annoyed, and finally held his sword towards me in a less careless stance.


    He smiled, his eyes bearing a predatory stare.


    ¡°That is quite a nice stinger you have, insect. I appreciate you giving it to me like this.¡±


    I chose not to respond to the barb, taking a step back to make some more space between us. Hidoro laughed at my motion. He was seeing right through my movement technique, able to discern precisely which direction I was taking.


    With another flash of green miasma, Hidoro stood before me. His sword slashed out, and almost before I could react, it dug into my side. Only an instinctual dodge saved my life, turning the mortal wound into a deep gash to the side. It would likely need treatment, but would not hinder me too much in the fight for at least a few more minutes.


    I tried to dodge back again, causing several gang members to sprint out of my way as I leapt up onto the table.


    ¡°So the insect knows how to hop? How cute!¡±


    It seemed that Hidoro wished to recover from his embarrassment at the wound by mocking me further. In all honesty, I didn''t mind the comparison to an insect. My very own water striding steps had been inspired by a glimpse the founder of the Downpour Sect had once taken of the movements of the beast which wandered the mud flats of my homeland. I had glimpsed it once myself. That great hunter had been an insect itself.


    He kicked at the side of the table, and the great force emerging from his body caused it to topple. I was forced to tuck and roll on the ground. It took just a moment for me to roll back onto my feet, but I was met with the edge of his blade as I did so. I was forced to roll in an unsightly manner on the ground like a lame donkey to dodge his blade. He mocked me once more as I escaped him once again.


    ¡°I apologize. It seems that you were a dog, not an insect. I wouldn¡¯t have imagined the famed Riverfiend to be so pathetic.¡±


    As tough as fighting for my life against a spirit refiner was, the insults were the worst part. This was not, of course, because I couldn¡¯t handle the blows to my pride, for I had always been the type to fight dirty. The issue was how his words might impact the gang¡¯s opinion of me even if I managed to kill him.


    It was clear to me that he was playing around, enjoying a drawn out conflict intended to humiliate me. This was the sole reason I remained alive. At the moment, I was honestly grateful for Hidoro¡¯s casual cruelty.


    I deflected his next strike, having to take a step back to avoid being bowled over.


    Normally, a practitioner using genesis miasma would attack and defend in equal measure, using the force of their own attacks as well as those of their enemy. Given the vast difference in our ability however, Hidoro did not even bother to do so. He attacked with a flurry of sweeping blows, brushing off my attempts to defend and leaving a few more light wounds on me.


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    As the cascade of attacks continued, however, I realized that his swings were progressively less powerful, slower and easier to react to as time passed. I could see a bead of sweat form on his brow, his face appearing flushed, as if he had been drinking alcohol.


    I smiled. Finally, the poison had begun to take effect.


    ¡°Tiring already?¡± I asked, taunting the other man.


    He snarled as he charged me, still able to bat aside my sword, but not quite as forcefully.


    ¡°It¡¯s a nice trick, coward. Poison arts?¡± He spat the words out at me, every syllable filled with intense vitriol.


    Now it was my turn to laugh. A cruel smile graced my lips as our blades met once more. He was still far stronger, but my speed was starting to edge ahead of his own.


    ¡°What did you expect? You should have known I followed the unorthodox path. What was that you said before about hubris?¡±


    I sneered at him as my second stance rained down upon him.


    Previously, he would have been able to force my blows away with enough energy that I would have trouble transitioning the motion into another slash. Now, while he could still deflect each one with ease, I could see the tightening of his biceps and the sweat on his brow. He remained stronger than me, but the qualitative difference in our power was gone. I had a chance to win, and I would either succeed or die.


    Hidoro gnashed his teeth, and I could see from the shifting of his miasma that he was actually compressing his genesis to receive its true power. He was finally taking me seriously.


    I could feel the visceral sensation of my blood dripping out from my wounds, the sweat beading upon my brow, the heft of my blade in my hand as we slashed and parried one another in a dance of ceaseless motion. Experiences such as this one were, in truth, the only times that I really felt alive.


    Hidoro took a rapid back-step, escaping from my ongoing barrage, panting. To the side, the more observant of the gang members was starting to realize that something was wrong, that he was no longer toying with me. He sneered at me, regaining his confidence now that he was able to recover his energy for a moment.


    ¡°Even with your cowardly tactics, I will slay you. I will tear up your corpse and cast it out of an airlock. Even Ceirra herself won¡¯t wish to look upon you.¡±


    I strode towards him, rapidly closing the distance between us once again. He cursed in a foul manner, his energies exploding towards me in a rush of force and motion.


    Practitioners of each miasma fought in different ways, each one incomparably odd from certain perspectives. As genesis artists specialized in energy compression, fighting one felt sort of like kicking a rock around the street, if the rock were able to kick back. I continued pressing my advantage against Hidoro, using my advantage in speed to control the tempo of the fight. He would defend, parry, and deflect my attacks, storing and compressing his energy before he would all of a sudden explode back towards me in a rush which I had no choice but to dodge, for its power was such that I could certainly not defend against it physically.


    He was being cautious, careful not to spend too much energy. While I myself also had a technique that granted me more strength and speed, the advantage of genesis practitioners was that they could utilize the attributes of their miasma to do so again and again, almost without drawbacks. What¡¯s more, peerless talents such as Hidoro or that Hadal woman I had faced before were able to shift between their normal and strengthened movements in an instant. Meanwhile, I had to rely on the profound expressions of movement that allowed my actions to flow between one another and shift nature.


    Personally, I preferred my own formless energies, even with the massive drawback that was the time limit threatening me. I trusted that the genius of the Downpour Sect¡¯s Founder was superior to that of whoever Hidoro had obtained his arts from. Still, regardless of the quality of our martial arts themselves, I was at great risk of being killed by Hidoro¡¯s blade.


    I dodged his blade by a hair as it arced towards me once again. Weakened by the poison, I had noticed that he was no longer able to see through the intricacies of my movement technique. I slashed at him, my blade digging into his shoulder before being rebuffed as he strengthened himself once again.


    He cursed, his swings beginning to grow wilder while his face became sweatier and more flushed. The poison was continuing to work its way through his system, and this was likely the weakest that he would get.


    Given how slowly the poison had taken effect, I was concerned that he might have a constitution somewhat resistant to it. If so, I had no way of knowing when it might wear off. While I was doing well now, I had no chance against him at his full power, not if he took the fight seriously rather than playing around like before. It was best to end the fight here, even if I took some risk.


    I dove into his range once again, shocking him with the action. He moved to take advantage of what must have seemed to be a slip, and I returned in kind. My blade aimed for the dantian in his heart, sliding under his arms. I ducked my head in an attempt to dampen the blow hurtling towards my face as I felt my sword dig deep into his flesh, piercing his heart.


    There was a moment of jubilation as I felt my sword crush his vital organs, but that moment was brutally wrenched away by a pain so agonizing it compared to the sensation of wrenching one¡¯s own soul in twain. Sanguine energies flooded my head and neck, emerging from a crack that Hidoro had torn in his final moments into my cerebral dantian.


    Sanguine Energies and the Humanoid body: [When certain peoples such as martial artists are wounded sufficiently, sanguine miasma is sometimes detecting filling their body from the source of the wound. It often needs to be filtered out from the body''s meridians, unless the practitioner is of a sanguine path. Sanguine paths themseves often involve training using this trait, heavily damaging the body in order to increase their ability to channel more miasma. This attribute is also considered the source of danger in practicing a sanguine path that led it to be denounced as unorthodox by Sunlit Hall, said to be under orders from the ascendant Ceirra herself. Korlove, non martial artist Seiyal and Jobu, are notably also capable of producing this sanguine miasma, but only when damaged by ablative miasmic energies. Despite being considered humanoid by some, Staiven and Telaretians do not bear such a trait. The nature of it is considered by many races one of the secrets of the world known only by the immortals and perhaps the Osine.]

 36- Sect Formation

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    I stood weakly, huffing in pain as my vision cleared. The pain¡¯s intensity left me straining to hold at the limits of my sanity, but I held it in as I looked down at Hidoro¡¯s slumped body. I wrenched my sword from inside of him and he fell to the ground in silence, his face frozen in a rictus of shock.


    Sanguine miasma was flooding my body, and the effort I was spending to keep it under control caused my meridians to burn under the strain.


    It was only a small crack in the dantian, but it was a far greater issue than any wound I had received since I first arrived on the station. If I failed to control the problem, the cracks could expand and risk shattering the dantian entirely. If that happened, I would be crippled for life, unable to use martial arts at all.


    Veins bulged on my forehead as red and blue beads of miasma slowly pooled within the blood dripping from my forehead. My eyes were bloodshot and the wound on my side continued to bleed into my robes as I forced myself to stand straight. I rested my sword on my shoulder, posing as if I was relaxed and unwounded.


    My eyes roved over the silent crowd of gangsters, seeing the surprise and shock on their faces after having watched me slay their leader. I was sure they had seen him as some sort of invincible, unbeatable existence.


    I could hear mutters going around their group, but the only word I could pick out was the word ¡®Riverfiend,¡¯ coming from the mouths of several different individuals.


    I could see Yun standing by one of the exits, an amused look on her face as if she had been enjoying a show. After giving me a meaningful glance she snuck around the corner. I turned back to the gangsters.


    Suddenly, I heard Rachel¡¯s voice whisper in my ear. It was shocking somehow, it felt like it had been days since I had last spoken with her. I didn¡¯t feel like I had the energy for it. I needed to get done with what I had to, and then rest. That was all.


    ¡°Are you okay, Cyrus? You only have ha-¡°


    I ignored her, tuning her words out entirely. I didn¡¯t need to hear her talk about my injuries. I had it under control.


    One of the gangsters tried to slowly back out of the room, and I stared at him, speaking slowly to disguise the strain and agony I was in.


    ¡°Stop moving or I will cut you down as I did to your former boss,¡± I said in a forceful tone.


    He froze, awkwardly turning around to see my glare, shrinking back in fear as he glanced back on the corpse of Hidoro. The fear was good, as I wasn¡¯t very well equipped to fight right now. If I relaxed in my efforts even in the slightest, I would lose consciousness and my cerebral dantian would shatter under the unmanaged strain.


    One of the gang members finally spoke up, breaking their silence.


    ¡°S-sir Riverfiend, is there anything you¡¯re wanting from us?¡±


    I had to respect his boldness. He had drawn my attention to him at risk to his own life. I decided to ease up somewhat, as much as I could given the agony that continued to drain at my willpower and ability to think coherently. I was already running on fumes, as if I could collapse at any moment. I knew, however, that if I did, I would be either crippled or dead.


    I turned away from the man who had tried to flee, looking at the one who had spoken up. He was a sei, taller than me and he appeared fat. Through the way he held himself I could tell that he was in fact very muscular, merely covered in a protective layer of fat. I could sense that like me, he was in the core formation realm. I narrowed my eyes at him. Something about him seemed off.


    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± I asked.


    He paused, surprised.


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    ¡°I am Kein Huang, sir.¡± The last part was clearly tacked on as an afterthought, not that I cared.


    ¡°I see,¡± I replied


    Another pang of agony tore through my skull and I was barely able to restrain a wince. I stilled my expression and looked across the gangsters once more with a smile forced across my face.


    ¡°I have killed your leader. While it is not the orthodox custom to claim power in this way, such is my custom. Your choices are to submit to my command or die.¡±


    The idea that the unorthodox path operated on a leadership structure based on killing one¡¯s predecessor was untrue, mere fancies of propaganda that Sunlit Hall used to discredit us. Unorthodox practitioners were incredibly rare on Tseludia however, and I doubted that many of those present had ever met one before now outside of plays and films.


    Rachel and I had decided in advance to play up my image as an unorthodox practitioner. She had said it would be more effective for building up a strong image in their minds. It would hurt the reputation of the unorthodox forces, but the reputation they had here on Tseludia had little to no chance of affecting anything back on Canvas, so I simply did not care.


    Some of the gangsters cowered before me, while others, like Kein Huang, looked more like they were considering the matter carefully.


    It seemed like they were all treating me as if I were in a higher realm than they, daring not to attack even despite my injuries. I had expected at least a suggestion that someone might attack, but there was none, as far as I could tell. It seemed they believed anyone capable of killing Hidoro was someone they would have no chances of ever defeating, even if they were to attack together.


    So long as the true extent of my injuries remained concealed, I would be safe.


    Kein was the first to speak again.


    ¡°What are your plans for us, then?¡±


    I grinned, eyeing them all like I was looking at cuts of meat hanging on a hook.


    ¡°I have no desire to run a gang,¡± I told them, ¡°I would much rather run a sect.¡±


    Silence filled the room again, before a clamor of shocked and confused exclamations arose within the group. I heard calls decrying me as ¡®insane¡¯ as well as a few excited whispers from a few of them who almost seemed happy about everything that had happened. I had anticipated both reactions.


    To practitioners following the orthodox path, the idea of turning a gang into the foundation of a sect would have been strictly absurd. Personally, however, I found that the difference between the two could at times be quite small.


    Despite its absurdity, being a disciple or elder of a legitimate sect would be a far higher social status than a mere member of a local street gang, even if it were unorthodox.


    To found a sect quickly, one needed to start with a supply of existing martial artists who lacked deep ties to any other forces. Due to the Hadal Clan¡¯s dominance of most of the martial artists in Tseludia, such a group could not be found anywhere but a gang of street thugs. I and Rachel had found it to be by far the most expedient solution.


    As for the quality of the disciples we would acquire in such a way, I believed that discipline would sort them out effectively enough.


    It would be hard work to sort out the sect in this way, but I needed a force under my control in order to accomplish my aims.


    I silenced the room with another murderous gaze.


    ¡°I¡¯ll give you all a choice. If you want to join the sect, stay, and if not¡­¡±


    I smiled, leaving the threat unsaid. Even if one of them noticed how strained the expression was, I imagined it would only add to the effect.


    ¡°I am glad to hear that you are all on board. Now, who of you was involved in leadership of the Redwater Gang?¡±


    A few raised their hands, including Kein Huang again. I stared at him for a moment. I was starting to find him suspicious. I would worry about it later, though, as the relentless throbbing inside of my head simply would not stop.


    I then turned to another of those who had raised theirs. She was a muscular woman with a nasty scar on her neck that looked somewhat like a bite mark.


    ¡°You are?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I am Ran Ishun, Sect Leader. I was a squad leader.¡±


    I raised my eyebrow at the term. She had certainly come around quickly. An opportunist, it seemed. The sort of person who was very useful to have around but impossible to fully rely on.


    I went through all of the others who had raised their hands, learning their names and experience in command.


    It was time to finalize the structure of the sect. I would benefit by retaining as much of the existing hierarchy as I could, but at the moment, not one of them could be trusted. It was a difficult balance to manage.


    I could hear Rachel whispering additional information about all of them into my ears, trying to help. However, her words only caused my headache to worsen, and I struggled to not pass out under the information overload.


    It had been far too long since she had a physical body. I got the feeling that she wouldn¡¯t understand that feeling at all.


    Damaged Dantians: [When a martial artist¡¯s dantian is shattered, they become unable to progress further along their path, and unable to use any techniques that correspond to that dantian. If it is only cracked, then it causes severe damage to their body caused by rampaging sanguine miasma that in many cases might result in death as it will not cease unless the dantian is shattered or fully cleansed and repaired. However, techniques for repairing a fractured dantian are very rare, and in all cases require the expenditure and use of very rare materials. Furthermore, the martial artist would need to control the rampaging miasma within them for the entire time they waited for treatment, something impossible for all but those with strongest of willpower.]

 37- Right by Merit or Right by Heritage

    5th District, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    Kalthen sighed as he stood before the entrance hatch of the safe house. Though it had been a full day since he had been released from the hospital, he had pushed off reporting to his new assignment for as long as possible. A part of him felt he deserved the demotion, that it was not punishment enough for his sins. He had led his entire squad to their deaths.


    Kalthen had been in battle plenty of times over the years since he reached adulthood. He felt little remorse for any of those he had slain, as they were all gangsters, addicts, or the members of rival organizations of the Tseludian underworld. He had even at times felt proud of these kills, representations of his dedication to the organization his entire family had dedicated themselves to.


    But Kande and the rest were different. They were Celan, his own people, and he had been responsible for them. His hands felt stained by their blood as if they had died by his own hand.


    Another competing part of him, however, felt that the Leader had done this out of personal spite, a check on the power of his family. Though he did not hold this against Triezal, Kalthen was still jealous of how the other man had been promoted despite sharing command of the squad. All of the blame had been placed onto him, it seemed. It rankled, and he sighed in resignation at his inability to do anything about it.


    While he was angry about the turn of events, and in all honesty wished to fight someone, he knew there was nothing he could do but submit. To question the Leader¡¯s command would be seen as childish, even if he believed it unjust. Given the current state of his reputation, proving his pride could accept a hit might help rebuild trust.


    In the end, he was here. Another small safe house in the alley, this one on the floor right underneath a warehouse that ostensibly stored traditional Celan warding charms for a company that sold them to shops across the station. In reality, of course, a good portion of what the company did was metallurgy for construction of enforcers and other mechanical armors.


    He drew the code glyph onto the hatch¡¯s entry pad, looking up into a small security camera hidden under an eave nearby. As he was not in command of this unit, he would need to be granted entry permission every time he wanted to enter the safe house. It was a massive pain.


    After a moment of silent waiting, the hatch slid open, revealing a Jobu woman with a dour expression.


    ¡°You the silk pants that got his whole squad killed?¡± she asked.


    Kalthen balled up his hands into fists, restraining any and all violent urges.


    ¡°I am.¡±


    She continued glaring at him.


    ¡°You¡¯re late.¡±


    ¡°For what?¡± he asked, surprised.


    In response she turned back, walking down the short entry hallway and into the building¡¯s main room. Awkwardly, Kalthen followed, letting the hatch close and lock itself behind him.


    Like the previous safe house he had been using in Otan, this one had a short unlit hallway that expanded into a large living and dining room that was being used as a planning room. The dinner table was covered in a forest of glyph slates.


    Standing on a stool beside the table was a Korlove woman. Her skin was darker than usual for her race, and had rather thick hair. This was Akekha, his new superior. Kalthen had met her only once before, and the experience had not gone well. In all honesty, he was concerned that the Leader might have known about this and assigned him to her on purpose.


    She turned as he approached and he gave a quick bow, trying to be respectful. Knowing her personality, this would not be the most pleasant experience. She addressed the woman who had let Kalthen in.


    ¡°Zalere, who is this?¡±


    Kalthen decided it would be best not to speak out of turn, given Akekha¡¯s reputation. Given that they had met before, he ascertained that she was putting on a bit of a show, for some reason.


    The woman, whose name he now knew to be Zalere, gave Kalthen another scathing look before responding with a sneer.


    ¡°The wastrel, ma¡¯am.¡±


    ¡°Astna¡¯s spawn,¡± sneered Akekha. ¡°Even more pathetic than ever. You need your dear mother and uncle to drag you out of yet another failure?¡±


    Rage boiled in Kalthen¡¯s veins. His fists clenched so tightly they drew blood, but he still managed to barely restrain himself. Attacking him was something he could accept, something he felt was almost warranted due to his sins and mistakes. But bringing up his mother in such a way nearly broke Kalthen¡¯s restraint.


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    His mother was a great, powerful woman, even more integral to the organization than his uncle, Vice-Leader Deuvar. Hers was not a name that should emerge from the lips of a mere squad leader in such a crude tone.


    Seeing that she failed to provoke a response from Kalthen, Akekha sighed in annoyance.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll be certain not to trust you in any role you can fuck up. Now, then. I don¡¯t expect we¡¯ll get much use from you in planning, so why don¡¯t you clean up the safe house?¡±


    She gave the order flippantly, as if it weren¡¯t busywork intended to humiliate Kalthen and waste his time. The Heirs¡¯ safe houses had dedicated personnel who kept them in perfect condition, and it was already quite clean. Without a word, Kalthen turned to look for the utility room. Acting meek was the better choice, no matter how much it rankled him to do so.


    Somehow, he felt as if might not have been able to withstand it just a few weeks before.


    Kalthen had previously met Akekha a few years back, during a social event to celebrate the Heirs acquiring a new revenue source. All squad leaders and higher ranking members of the organization had been invited. Kalthen had still been in training to become an enforcer pilot at the time, but his uncle had used his authority to let Kalthen attend for the purpose of helping him network. As Deuvar had explained, one¡¯s connections were the most important source of one¡¯s power.


    This was something Kalthen understood quite well. After all, his mother was known for having one of the most expansive networks of friends and informants in the entire station. Her rivals tended to rudely call her ¡®more of a spider than any Korlove.¡¯ One of those rivals had been Akekha.


    She and Kalthen¡¯s mother had joined the Heirs at roughly the same time, but the rise of my mother and uncle through the ranks had been meteoric, owing in equal measure their high capability as well as the connections they had acquired from their father, who had been the previous Leader of the Heirs. From what he had heard, Akekha believed that Kalthen¡¯s mother was responsible for her career stagnating at the level of squad leader, and claimed to hold a deep hatred for anyone she believed to have earned their place through nepotism rather than merit.


    In practice, however, this meant she acted petty and vindictive towards anyone who was a descendant of a powerful family. Personally, Kalthen couldn¡¯t believe she still retained her role as a squad leader despite her attitude. Though she was quite shrewd when it came to tactical matters, as it was she was unlikely to ever receive another promotion.


    In all honesty he didn¡¯t actually care what her reasons were. She hated him and his entire family, so he considered her an enemy as well. As he carefully re-cleaned the already clean room with a wet rag, Kalthen mentally swore that he would not only prove her assertions about his merit wrong, he would get her demoted to a mere squad member just as he himself had been.


    He would find the Riverfiend before anyone else could, and he would do it in such a way that the merit could be given to no one else but himself.


    <hr>


    2nd District, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    Nahalken relaxed as he enjoyed his daily meal, soaking himself in green fluid up to his neck.


    Like all Staiven, he took in his nutrients by bathing in a pool of a thick, smelly liquid, slowly absorbing it through the pores in his skin like water through a root or a sponge. It was a rather enjoyable experience, although sometimes he envied the relatively small amount of preparation and clean-up that most other races needed when they ate.


    His relaxation was interrupted by a buzz from his terminal, resting within arms reach on the side of the nutrient tub. Though annoyed, he dutifully reached over to grab it. He had set the device to a silent mode that would only notify him if whatever had happened required his immediate attention.


    His hands kneaded the terminal, discerning that one of his aides was attempting to contact him. He accepted the connection, causing the sensation of the other Staiven¡¯s presence to emanate within the terminal¡¯s clay-like form.


    ¡°What is it?¡± he asked, not bothering to disguise his annoyance.


    His aide shifted uneasily, as if trying to compose his words.


    ¡°Sir, you¡¯ve received some messages.¡±


    ¡°And? Get to the gods damned point.¡± asked Nahalken. Normally he would have been enraged by how obtuse his subordinate was acting and perhaps even thrown his terminal, but if he did that now he would have to get out of the tub to retrieve it.


    ¡°The messages claimed they knew who stole the research from us and where they¡¯re currently staying. The message included information we hadn¡¯t released to the public about the event, so it might be legitimate.¡±


    Nahalken frowned, calmed down by the rapid rate of his thoughts.


    ¡°Who was it from?¡± he asked.


    ¡°The origin was anonymized, but I figured you would want to know, so I asked the IT department to find them. We couldn¡¯t manage to get their identity, but based on the type of device they used to send it, we believe the message came from a Celan.¡±


    Nahalken smiled manically, excited by the development. He could sense his aide shivering through the connection but disregarded it.


    ¡°Send the file to me and call Redias," he said. "Let¡¯s see just how much Estrivai has decided to bless us today.¡±


    Estrivai: [The Pantheonic God of the Harvest, Estrivai slowly lost relevance as technology made farming a less impactful profession. His church ended up making a largely successful rebranding effort in the 1440s to shift the nature of his domain to focus on the harvest of all resources, not just agricultural products. His followers claim that this was not a change in his nature, nor a mere marketing scheme, but that they had simply come to better understand his true nature. Because of this, he became incredibly relevant in the age of exploration and rampant gold rush that followed the activation of the calculation engines and Staive becoming a true interstellar power. His tenets involve temperance, diligence, and patience, and his adherents claim that he blesses those who live properly with great harvests in all aspects of life, from wealth to love. His adherents often come into conflict with the followers of Fulstovis, as the mentalities conflict with one another on a fundamental level. Culturally, Estrivai is associated with the manifest miasma, though there is not believed to be a connection between the two in any scientifically observable sense.]

 38- The Redwater Sect

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    It had taken us a few hours to create the operational structure of the newly christened Redwater Sect. Neither I nor Rachel actually cared about the name of the sect, so we had just co-opted that of the gang we had taken over. According to Rachel, it would simply be easier that way. I didn¡¯t disagree, though it helped that I believed the name to be fitting for us. This sect¡¯s role was to grow in power and slay anyone who stood in the way of my and Rachel¡¯s plans.


    We had decided on a simple command structure that I was accustomed to, one similar to that which the Downpour Sect had used. There was me, the Sect Leader, and then there were several Palace Leaders under me. As our ¡®sect¡¯ was young and built in the confined space of a city like Tseludia Station, the term palace was more metaphorical than literal in our case.


    In the Downpour Sect, each palace operated out of their own individual palatial mansions. In comparison, all the Redwater Sect owned functioned only at the surface, or simplest level.


    I had granted the roles of Palace Leader to some of the gang members who had been in leadership roles, and didn¡¯t seem like they would immediately betray us. They were those who did not seem to have much loyalty at all to Sunlit Hall and the Hadal Clan. Of course, as I had explained to them all in detail, if anyone betrayed the sect, they would be punished according to the practices of the unorthodox way.


    There were to be five Palaces initially. Rachel had been very excited to name them, though I found her choices of names to be rather odd. Why would someone name such vital organizations after mere materials?


    The Alabaster Palace was in charge of internal affairs and management of the duties of disciples. I had granted Kein Huang the role of its leader. He seemed to be a natural leader, speaking up to protect his subordinates. While he did strike me as suspicious, I could put his skills to work while keeping an eye on him.


    The Golden Palace was in charge of managing sect funds and any businesses that might be owned or operated under our banner. The Redwater Gang had not personally owned any businesses, but they owned various debts, and had a sizable protection racket going on in the surrounding area. I had placed Ran Ishun in charge, as Rachel had informed me that the woman had a surprisingly well-educated background. I had told her to cease the practice of usury on the debts and just allow the debtors to pay it off over time.


    The Silk Palace was in charge of developing and utilizing an information network to keep us apprised of what was going on within the station. I didn¡¯t expect to get a lot of use out of it at first, as Rachel was quite adept in that field, but I hoped that in the future it could be developed into quite a useful tool. I had given the role to a pompous and shifty man named Eli Dan


    The fourth palace was to be the Iron Palace. I intended to speak to Cinto later and bring her into the sect as she had agreed to in the previous week. In theory, it would serve to train and develop the Sect¡¯s disciples into a stronger fighting force by training them with far more effective techniques and practices.


    The final palace was the Steel Palace. After tempering themselves inside of the Iron Palace, disciples would in theory be placed under the command of the steel palace to serve as the martial fist of the sect. I hadn¡¯t yet decided who to put in command of it, so for the moment it was controlled by myself. Rachel¡¯s opinion was that leaving a final leadership slot available might help to incentivize hard work from the disciples in the early days, something of particular importance due to the weakness of the organization in these earliest days.


    Traditionally there should be other palaces such as one for medicine and pill-crafting as well as one for protecting and maintaining records of sect techniques. However, both roles were not vital at the moment, as we could use hospitals for medicinal issues. As for the techniques, all we had at the moment was the basic techniques that the former gang members already knew as well as my own techniques. I saw no need to dedicate an entire subgroup to protecting so little. Perhaps one would be needed if we managed to expand further.


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    I had somehow managed to stay awake through all of the set up, and had made someone grab me some bandages while we ironed out the details. The bandages on my wounds helped, but there was only so much they could do. A mere bandage could do nothing to fix a cracked dantian.


    I was starting to get the hang of controlling the rampaging sanguine miasma, but I remained very concerned about the issue. The fact that it was calming was actually a larger potential problem, as it meant that my meridians were adapting to the sanguine energies. If I couldn¡¯t find a way to heal my dantian, sanguine miasma would become just as much a part of me as formless. This could have extreme negative impacts on my more important techniques such as the Water Striding Steps and the Heart of Rainfall.


    At the end of the ¡®meeting,¡¯ I blearily stumbled my way out of the former gang headquarters. By the end, it had likely become obvious to anyone observant in the group that my injuries were worse than I had presented them as. Luckily, nobody had tried anything.


    As I shuffled my way to the nearest usable sky dock, I asked Rachel a question I was concerned about.


    ¡°Is Cinto good? Is she ready to begin working for us?¡± I asked.


    Rachel hummed a bit before answering.


    ¡°After you got dragged into that mess in district 8, tensions between her and Hidoro¡¯s forces began to flare up even further, though there hadn¡¯t been another similar attack. I think they got the impression that Cinto had killed them herself, causing them to believe that she was stronger than she is. I expect she¡¯ll be more happy than ever to hear about Hidoro¡¯s death.¡±


    I nodded, pleased by the information.


    ¡°Good. I¡¯ll talk to her tomorrow and get her on board with the group,¡± I replied.


    After reaching the sky dock I took an aero back to the fifth district, feeling too exhausted to walk the long trek back, not in my current state..


    I didn¡¯t feel that we could trust the former gang members of our Redwater Sect yet, so we had returned to Hestky¡¯s town home for me to get some sleep. Despite my relatively high realm, I still needed a minimum of four hours every night to function optimally.


    I intended to tell Hestky in the morning that we would soon be moving out of his place, leaving him free and no longer involved in our business. I intended to thank him for housing us in our time of need, though I was well aware he had only helped because he was under duress.


    I slid the hatch open and entered the hall, making my way to the living room where I intended to lie down and finally rest. I had already spoken with Rachel about the matter of watching my meridians to make sure the wounds were not exacerbated by my lacking attention. She had agreed, promising to wake me if needed.


    When I entered the living room, however, I found it filled with uniformed Staiven. Their gray uniforms were not that of the Justice Office, but seemed to instead belong to some sort of private military outfit. They were covering every exit to the room. Including, I noticed, the one I had entered from.


    I paused in shock at what I was seeing. I had not noticed any souls when entering the room. Was I really so exhausted that I failed to notice their presence? That couldn¡¯t be the case. They had somehow hidden themselves from my perception. If so, that was a terrifying ability for the Staiven to have acquired. For a moment I wondered if I should inform the Hadal Clan about the matter.


    I frowned, my tired brain sluggishly trying to figure out how to handle the issue. As I did, I realized that one of the figures wasn¡¯t wearing a uniform. He seemed to be middle-aged, with an intimidating aura despite a protruding belly and a stature shorter than my own. He smiled as I watched him and beckoned me further into the room.


    ¡°Hello, Mister Yu,¡± he said. ¡°My name is Nahalken. We have¡­ much to discuss.¡±


    Sunlit Hall: [Serving in multiple roles, Sunlit Hall is simultaneously a government, alliance, and church. The ruling power of the continent that the inhabitants of Canvas refer to as the Halls of the Sun, Sunlit Hall is an alliance of the sects and clans that comprise the orthodox path. Though in theory Sunlit Hall is merely a coalition of martial forces, it is in fact by far the most powerful organization on Canvas, in no small part because Sunlit Hall are the followers of the deity known as Ceirra, who is the creator of the Seiyal race. Sunlit Hall are the ones who decide what is and is not orthodox, and have historically used the claim of unorthodox technique usage to attack others for Sunlit Hall''s own benefit. While Sunlit Hall sees the unorthodox path as an enemy, its true enemy is actually the Reth and their own goddess, Saaya. A campaign of extermination led by orthodox forces into the Reth homeland was the reason why the race abandoned their homeworld. It is said that the ongoing wars in the continent of Bounty are in no small part caused by Sunlit Hall in order to expend the resources of its enemies. After first contact between Canvas and Staive allowed the Seiyal to emigrate their people to Staiven worlds and stations, one of Sunlit Hall''s goals has become to expand their influence far out into space.]

 39- Nahalken

    5th District, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    The man who had referred to himself as Nahalken smiled as I sat across from him. I had considered running, but the firearms held by what seemed to be his guards convinced me otherwise. When I was at my best, I was able to sometimes dodge bullets, but at the moment I was far from my best.


    I sighed, leaning back onto my seat in what I hoped would come across as a confident and relaxed motion. My head still blared with pain while my body was burning with exhaustion. More than anything else I simply wished to sleep.


    ¡°What is it that you¡¯re wanting from me? Also, how did you find this place?¡± I asked. I assumed that he knew who I was, so similarly. I didn¡¯t bother asking who he was. That would make it far too clear that he had far more information than I did. Ideally, I did not want him to control the flow of conversation.


    Nahalken smirked at me, choosing to answer. His body language implied total comfort and relaxation, his guard down completely. He seemed to be wholly confident in his own safety. Did he know about my current condition, or was he simply confident that his guards would protect him if I decided to attack? I could not tell.


    ¡°Your¡­ should I call him your housemate?¡±


    Nahalken snickered as he said the word. He was speaking in fluent seiyin, though he had a thick Staiven accent.


    ¡°That man seems to really hate you. He decided to tell us about your presence here using a secret message and sneak off, though that hasn¡¯t turned out well for him. When I found out where you lived I decided to pay a small house visit.¡±


    If he had been a Seiyal, I imagined that Nahalken would have been punctuating his words with sips of tea.


    ¡°What do you mean ¡®had not turned out well for him,¡± I asked, curious about Hestky¡¯s fate.


    If what Nahalken said was true then he had betrayed me and Rachel. Had he been a compatriot of ours I would have been angry at him for it, but I did have to admit that our treatment of the man had certainly been an abuse of hospitality.


    Nahalken shrugged.


    ¡°He¡¯s been detained. His fate will depend on the will of the Pantheon and the outcome of our conversation here.¡±


    I noted the way that he mentioned the Pantheon. He said the word in a slightly reverent manner. Was he religious?


    ¡°I see,¡± I replied.


    His words made it clear that he really did want to come to some sort of agreement with me, rather than kill me. This was good, it gave me the way out I had been hoping for.


    In addition, I found the fact that he had yet to mention Rachel surprising. She still hadn¡¯t spoken, presumably wary of being noticed by the profound senses of the Staiven in the room.


    ¡°That said, I imagine you wish me to get to the point. From what I¡¯ve heard, contrary to the nature of your abilities you tend to be a rather direct man.¡±


    I sat still as I listened to him speak, waiting to understand what he was wanting from me.


    ¡°I am the head of the Venin group, the one who, had you forgotten, you robbed the other day.¡±


    I had expected as much. There wasn¡¯t really any other powerful group of Staiven who would be particularly interested in me, unless the Drelistai had wanted to contract my help for some reason.


    ¡°I see. Are you looking for an apology?¡± I asked.


    Nahalken waved the idea away.


    ¡°No need. I was quite angry about it, but it¡¯s in the past. Knowing the Seiyal, you would have given it to a poisoner already. Our operations have already been leaked, so my focus is more on hiding the fact that it was us doing the research than in reclaiming it. I have something else to discuss with you.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    If it wasn¡¯t about the poison, then what could it possibly¡­ My mind flashed back to the image of the guard bleeding from his skin and eyes while rapturous with awe and wonder. Could it be that-


    Nahalken smiled, a cruel expression that stopped my train of thought. His eyes looked to the side of me, though I wasn¡¯t sure what he was quite looking at. His next words hammered into me, nearly causing me to make a mistake in my cycling. I managed to correct the error before it messed up the tight balance in my meridians.


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    ¡°I¡¯d like to speak to you as well. Rachel, was it? An odd name. Fitting for a Shade.¡±


    With a hiss, Rachel¡¯s projection appeared beside me. I looked over to her in surprise. Had she really admitted her own existence so easily? As I did, I realized that she was even using her normal appearance, the one she called ¡®human¡¯. She caught my gaze and shrugged, a resigned expression on her face.


    ¡°I just looked through Hestky¡¯s outgoing messages, and I can tell you that Nahalken already knows everything that he did.¡±


    I caught her insinuation. She would be willing to reveal only things that Nahalken already knew, in order to better hide the secrets that we had kept from Hestky. I could work with that.


    Nahalken looked amazed by Rachel¡¯s sudden appearance.


    ¡°Incredible. I can barely even sense you. This is a control of extant miasma that far eclipses that of our own people. Would you be willing to sell some of this technology to us?¡±


    His greed had suddenly become palpable. Rachel raised an eyebrow at him.


    ¡°Willing to deal with a Shade, are you? I had been under the impression from reports that you were very religious, Nahalken.¡±


    The Staiven smiled at her, still clearly excited by the potential for earning wealth. He shook his head.


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m quite religious. My faith and loyalty for Lady Fulstovis are immutable. However, I know that her wishes and those of the government aren¡¯t always aligned you see.¡±


    He leaned forward, clasping his palms together.


    ¡°You see,¡± he continued, ¡°the only reason that Shades are to be slain is because of the government¡¯s deal with the Sheneth-Ari. The Pantheon does not feel near as threatened by you as the Osine do. In secret, we can be quite amenable to deals, such as the one we have with Anteky, for example.¡±


    Rachel nodded thoughtfully at that, though I did not recognize the name. I knew little of the relations between the Pantheonic Government and the other galactic powers. The Seiyal were simply too young as a race, not advanced enough to be privy to galactic politics beyond our small region.


    ¡°So,¡± she asked, ¡°did you merely wish to purchase my hologram technology, or was there something else?¡±


    Nahalken¡¯s smile froze for a moment before returning. He sighed and laughed a little.


    ¡°It seems I can¡¯t hide it. Fine, then. Yes, there was something I found quite interesting. When raiding our facility, either you or Mister Yu caused one of our guards to¡­ let¡¯s say¡­ collapse. I expect you know the cause of this.¡±


    I had expected this. Rachel had refused to tell me exactly what had happened to the man, pushing it off for later. She went silent after hearing Nahalken, and I could tell she was doing a lot of thinking. Every time she thought intensely, her image froze in place for a few moments.


    ¡°You want to know the uniqueness of red-eye Staiven?¡± she asked, finally.


    ¡°I know a bit more than that,¡± said Nahalken. ¡°The uniqueness is not of Staiven, it is of Sanguine miasma itself. Certain humanoids such as the Seiyal have their own unique relations to it as well, I understand.¡± he took a glance at my forehead as he spoke.


    Ah, I thought. So he was aware. It was always hard for me to understand just what it was that the unique senses of the Staiven could and could not detect. It was some sort of ethereal attribute of miasma or reality itself that their senses picked up on. They generally refused to explain the details to outsiders.


    ¡°We have been trying to understand it for generations,¡± he continued. ¡°I and my faction could certainly make it worth your while, were you to assist us. We have a¡­nother facility in this region, one which explores this topic.¡±


    ¡°...it is not my place to tell,¡± replied Rachel, firmly.


    Nahalken pursed his lips.


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± he asked.


    She frowned, freezing again as she considered something again.


    ¡°There is something I can tell you. The Pantheon is aware of this, and they have chosen not to inform your people. There is a reason for that. The information can be dangerous for those of a certain stage of existence.¡±


    Nahalken pursed his lips again. I could see his fists clench slightly.


    ¡°So you¡¯re saying we don¡¯t qualify to know because we¡¯re mortals?¡± he asked.


    Rachel nodded.


    ¡°The politics of gods and spirits are not a world I recommend involving yourself in if you wish to live a long life.¡±


    ¡°Fine, then,¡± he said, clearly still annoyed by her dismissal, but still choosing to maintain civility. I could tell it was hard for him. His skin was bulging from the pressure his hydraulic paths were placing on it as he squeezed his fists.


    ¡°Let us put aside for now the discussion of sanguine miasma, he continued, ¡°but you¡¯ll have to give me something. You have stolen from me, and my religion does not allow me to take losses if I can avoid them. I require something of equal or higher value. While you can escape,¡± he said, motioning to Rachel, ¡°our recovering martial artist might not be so capable. Not in his current state, at least. I can pay you for it, but we will be making a deal, I think.¡±


    He raised a hand and all of the guards shifted their grip on their rifles, causing an intimidating metallic click to resound through the room. It was clearly a trained maneuver.


    He wasn¡¯t wrong, though. My headache had only continued to grow in intensity during the conversation, and there was no chance that I could fight my way out. As I considered my all-too-small list of possibilities, something came to mind. I spoke up to the two of them.


    ¡°I have a suggestion. What interest does the Venin Group have in expanding their business model?¡±


    Verain: [The Pantheonic Goddess of War, Verain has always held a status that shifts in importance according to the needs of Staiven culture at the time. While the Staiven aren''t any more warlike than the average race, they have had plenty of very impactful wars. Verain is also often depicted as the goddess of conflict and competition in general, so she does have followers outside of military and mercenary groups, though in the corporate world her worship tends to be less popular than that of Fulstovis and Estrivai. Her church essentially controls the entirety of the Pantheonic Government''s military, so she has a large influence on Staiven politics, more so than many of her fellow members of the Pantheon. She is often associated with the sanguine miasma, and it is said the reason that red-eyed staiven die young is because in war, everyone dies young. Despite this being a saying, there are very few who actually believe it in the modern era, and her adherents tend to separate her from the health difficulties of red-eyed Staiven as much as possible, to protect her image.]

 40- Afterstudy

    5th District, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS


    Kalthen sighed as he spoke to yet another random person he passed on the street. This line of inquiry was monotonous, time-consuming, and extremely unlikely to provide any useful information, and yet Akekha had decided that he needed to do it.


    He had noted that he was the only one in the entire squad who had been given this duty, while the others had been ordered to much more plausibly successful methods. It was a train of thought his mind had returned to again and again, but one he knew would only bear negative fruit. He knew why.


    Realizing that his attention had strayed again, he refocused on the middle-aged Korlove woman in front of him. She was droning on endlessly about the ¡®exciting¡¯ recent happenings in some Staiven-made television show Kalthen had no interest in. The moment she paused to take a breath he interrupted her.


    ¡°Apologies, but I meant happenings around the neighborhood,¡± he said.


    She paused as if lost in thought before brightening up again.


    ¡°Oh, I see! Actually, yesterday afternoon I saw a Staiven businessman, I think it was. He had lots of guards. They had these intimidating uniforms on.¡±


    ¡°One of her spindly limbs lifted up to cover her mouth as she whispered conspiratorially to him.


    ¡°I almost thought he was part of the underworld, you know?¡±


    She giggled as Kalthen considered her words. While the population in district five had a Celan majority, there were plenty of Staiven living and working there as well, so the presence of a Staiven in business attire was not particularly unusual. Guards in uniform, however, were.


    He thought some more, his face instinctively frowning. A Staiven who had his own guards¡­ that could either be a government official, a powerful corporate officer, or a member of an underworld organization such as the Drelistai. None of them had any business wandering around this unobtrusive small neighborhood in the fifth district. Even if it did have nothing to do with Riverfiend, he imagined there was definitely something going on. He met the woman¡¯s gaze.


    ¡°Do you know which house they entered?¡± he asked.


    A surprised expression filled her face, before a moment of enlightenment occurred, as if she had realized something.


    ¡°Ah, was he a friend of yours?¡±


    Kalthen waited for her to continue, and there was a silent pause before he realized that she expected a response.


    ¡°Um¡­ you could say that. More of a business partner, though. I was hoping to meet up with him to discuss something but it seems I missed him.¡±


    She nodded sagely.


    ¡°I completely understand. It¡¯s just like in Nights of Riendos when Turidr tried to meet up with Essand and events kept getting in their way.¡±


    Kalthen started to question her sanity.


    ¡°So¡­?¡± he asked, annoyed by her absentminded rambling.


    ¡°Oh, right,¡± she said. The hairs on her legs laid down as she blushed. ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m told I can lose track of myself. Right, it was¡­ unit number 3623, maybe? Something like that.¡±


    Kalthen nodded to her, still annoyed but also thankful.


    ¡°Is there anything else you remember about it?¡±


    She shook her torso vigorously.


    ¡°Apologies, I don¡¯t think so. I wish you luck on your business! Oh, that reminds me! Have you heard of¡­¡±


    It took several more minutes of listening to her ramblings before Kalthen was able to politely extricate himself from the conversation. If the information she had given him turned out to be worthless, he honestly believed he might feel the need to kill someone.


    Finally free, Kalthen began navigating to the townhome that the woman had mentioned. He had considered informing his superior about it, but eventually decided it would be better to inspect it himself. If he told Akekha about it, she would either blame him for wasting her time if it turned out to be unimportant, or steal all credit if it was relevant. Neither would be a pleasant outcome.


    He had used one of the contacts his mother had once introduced him to, a low-level employee of the Pantheonic Government to search the database for the unit¡¯s owner. After half an hour, he had been given the result. It belonged to a man under the name of Kyer.


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    Though the Pantheonic Government was known to be lacking in proper information about their constituents a lot of the time, it was unusual for a property listing to not at least have the owner¡¯s race listed. The Pantheonic Government was usually quite diligent about that, so they could grant special privileges to certain species such as Staiven and Escalos. However, Kyer was a Celan name, so between that and this being the fifth district, Kalthen could almost safely guess that the owner had been a Jobu or a Korlove.


    From the outside, unit 3623 appeared just like any of the other townhomes along either side of the alley that its entrance was situated in. The only thing interesting about it by any metric was the total lack of adornment.


    Because of how depressingly poor the aesthetic of the Staiven designed station was, it was the custom of most aliens living in Tseludia to decorate the exterior of their abode. For the Celans, who had already had similar cultural practices, it was highly unusual to not have such adornment. Kalthen would have assumed that the owner of this townhome would have to be a Staiven if he did not know better.


    He approached the door, and chose to tap the side of it and see if anyone was inside of the unit at the moment. He could hear a faint ringing inside, but after a full minute there was no response.


    Following that, Kalthen tapped to open the door, testing if it by chance remained unlocked. To his surprise, the hatch slid open easily.


    The interior of the townhome was lit up, as if the place was currently occupied. It had a normal setup, but many physical books had been placed onto shelves in the living room, and some furniture had been shifted around. He inspected closely one of the books, and as expected, they were all written in Jobu. They were all books about science and nature, focusing on cutting edge Celan advancement from the past few years, as well as one about the final days of Opportunity.


    He sighed, realizing that this was likely entirely unrelated to his mission, just an illicit deal between a Staiven businessman and some Celan scientist. Still, that in and of itself was potentially helpful for his situation. If there was anything he had learned from his mother, it was that all information had a potential value. He continued to inspect the townhome, careful not to touch anything and get his fingerprints on it.


    It took him a couple minutes to explore all of the rooms, quickly determining several factors.


    First, it seemed that two men had lived here, and judging by the sizes and shapes of their clothing, they could not be Jobu nor Korlove. Merris, then? That was unusual, if so. There were very few Merris aboard the Station.


    Secondly, he had found that all slates within the townhome had all of their data wiped, set to factory reset modes. That was curious. He found it unlikely that the owners had recently purchased the devices and had yet to use them yet. Was this an attempt to destroy incriminating data? Perhaps the owners had decided to flee from the pursuit of that Staiven group and left these behind. If so, he imagined that one of the data recovery specialists working with his mother might still be able to regain access to at least some of it. Not everyone knew, but a significant amount of data that the machines claimed was destroyed could still be accessed if one was skilled enough.


    Finally, Kalthen had noticed when he inspected the refrigerator, that it held some food edible to Celans, as well as some edible to Seiyal. This he found to be the most notable of all. It was possible that of the two inhabitants here, one was Merris and the other was a Seiyal. This was something extremely unusual, if so. Seiyal were uncommon in this district, and that combined with the presence of some important Staiven figure made Kalthen even more interested in who the inhabitants of this townhome could possibly have been.


    He decided to finally report what he had found. However, as this was potentially very important, he chose to ignore the chain of command and report it directly to Triezal. He figured Triezal would cut him slack about the chain of command issue, and would be infinitely less likely to steal credit than Akekha would be.


    His glyph slate shifted several times as the contact pinged Triezal, before the symbols finally resolved themselves into the other man¡¯s face. Triezal looked at him curiously.


    ¡°Is something up, Kalthen? You don¡¯t call me very often. If you¡¯re wanting to get a drink again, I¡¯ll be busy with work for the foreseeable future, sorry.¡±


    Kalthen shook his head hurriedly.


    ¡°No, this is work related. I stumbled upon something I think you¡¯ll find very interesting. I believe it¡¯s either related to Riverfiend or something else that will be very important to us.¡±


    Triezal raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°Why am I not hearing this from Squad Leader Akekha?¡±


    Kalthen gave him a look, and Triezal¡¯s face relaxed with a chuckle.


    ¡°In truth, I can¡¯t blame you. She would do far better to overcome her prejudice. Her career will never progress unless she does. Anyway, what did you find?¡±


    Kalthen nodded in agreement, before explaining everything. As he listened, Triezal nodded in silence, but at one point an expression of realization crossed his face. Kalthen paused his explanation in curiosity.


    ¡°Did something happen?¡±


    ¡°No, I just think I have an idea of who one of the owners might have been.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± Kalthen asked.


    ¡°For a few years I¡¯ve been getting semi-regular alerts from my¡­ superiors, about the fact that a fugitive is believed to be hiding out somewhere in the region. He was one of our scientists before he suddenly stole some research and fled the system.¡±


    Kalthen¡¯s eyes widened. A fugitive of the Epon? That was almost as big of a fish as Riverfiend himself. If they could capture him, the Heirs might even be able to partially assuage the courier¡¯s anger. He smiled, expectantly.


    ¡°I¡¯ll protect the scene until you send a team to investigate this place further.,¡± he said.


    Triezal nodded in response.


    ¡°They should be there within the hour.¡±


    The connection suddenly cut out, leaving Kalthen alone once more inside of the brightly lit space.


    Drelistai: [The Drelistai are legally speaking a charity organization. In reality they are a Staiven group that is the sole remaining large organization which still worships Staive¡¯s old gods, the ones who actually created the Staiven people. According to Pantheonic doctrine, those gods are long dead. The Drelistai are known to have ties to the Seer, and some say he is the true leader of the organization in secret. If nothing else, his influence is widely believed to be what shields the Drelistai from being wiped out by the six churches of the Pantheon. Still, the Drelistai largely lack public approval and are somewhat suppressed by corporations controlled by religious Staiven. As a result, there are rumors they have deep ties with organized crime.]

 41- Sect Development

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Gen Tang felt that the atmosphere of this neighborhood had shifted recently. It was difficult for him to put his finger on the exact nature of this shift. Perhaps, in a sense, the mood felt as if it were uplifted far from the usual? Rather than the previous depressive pallor of the slums, the mood in the area almost seemed far more hopeful.


    If he had to put his finger on it, he would probably say that the change might have originated with the Redwater Gang, the local gang whose territory these few stacks consisted of. Previously, they had terrorized the inhabitants with strong-arming, racketeering, and usury. Now, it was as if they were an entirely different group.


    All of a sudden, debtors found they were being given far more leniency. Poorly maintained fronts began actually functioning, adding new resources to the community. Even the amount of drugs that Gen saw being used around the streets had gone down. He almost felt as if he had walked into the wrong neighborhood.


    He, like most inhabitants of the district, tried as best they could to keep themselves out of the business of the martial world. There were few beneficial outcomes of involving themselves in it. For this reason, he had no idea what the cause of the shift had been.


    Whatever it was, he knew that he and the other mortal inhabitants of the stack appreciated it. He just hoped that it would last.


    <hr>


    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Kein always found himself rushing around madly, like an undisciplined child in a buffet. It felt like all he did these days was walk around the building yelling at subordinates. He simply held far too many responsibilities, and they all needed doing. He ordered a disciple to be more careful when placing a wall tile. He had another go ask Ran to meet with him about the construction budget later in the afternoon, and yet another to stop spouting vulgarities inside of the sect. At times, he had to question why the Riverfiend would choose a lowly group like them as the foundation for a sect.


    The day after the sect had been formed, all of the former gang members had been standing around awkwardly in their former headquarters, unsure of what to do but too scared of reprisal by their new leader to run. Hidoro had been powerful, but he was at least orthodox. They understood his nature, and he was able to be content and complacent with his status.


    While the Riverfiend had yet to do anything particularly awful, as an unorthodox practitioner they knew there was no limit to what he would do if he felt it was necessary. He was still in the core formation stage, and they did not know how long he had left to progress. The closer he grew to the end of his life, the more terrifying he would become. Kein was honestly surprised that he had yet to kill any of the former gang members aside from Hidoro. Even Hidoro had occasionally killed some for insolence or out of boredom.


    While they had waited for his return, Kein and the others had been surprised when, rather than returning alone, he had come with a sei woman and a Staiven man. It quickly became apparent why the man was there- their new sect leader had immediately introduced him to Ran and told them to figure out sect finances and get their money flow fixed. The woman was a different matter.


    She had been introduced as Rachel, with no surname. She had to have once been a street orphan, Kein figured. It would explain the first name and lack of family name. According to the Riverfiend, she was to be their new vice sect leader.


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    The moment he saw her, Kein felt that there was something off about her. Her presence was faint, almost distorted somehow. Kein would have almost thought her body was an illusion, but he could sense hints of her soul, which meant that she had to be really there. Despite that, he had never seen her physically interact with anything. While he had not mentioned this to anyone, Kein secretly worried that she too was an unorthodox practitioner, one who used the extant miasma in dangerous ways. Perhaps the curse she had acquired from her techniques was that she would slowly turn into a spirit and lose her body. If so, she was close to the end. Kein found her even more unfathomable and terrifying than even the Riverfiend.


    The two of them had immediately assigned Kein work, telling him that he needed to fix up the building into ¡®proper shape.¡¯ He was to use the ¡®disciples¡¯ as laborers however much he needed to. A week later, Kein still had yet to make the decrepit offices into a proper sect.


    They had focused on using affordable materials that looked traditional, nothing that could be compared to the majesty of the Hadal Clan¡¯s headquarters. Still, Kein figured that even though the Hadal Clan was the only true martial organization on the station, comparing themselves to a powerhouse such as the Hadal Clan would be nothing other than hubris. Even if they managed to fully establish themselves, they would be a weak, fledgling force for quite some time.


    If he was being honest, Kein would have to admit that he liked what his new sect leader was trying to build. There was just something meaningful about working towards the development of a true martial force, rather than some lowly gang in a neighborhood that was practically a slum. He also liked the ethical business practices that Riverfiend had forced them to use, shifting their focus to a group that uplifted the community rather than drain it of as much money as possible. In that, he was a far better leader than Hidoro had ever been. The only issue was the impulsivity and madness that the sect leader was displaying.


    Sect Leader Yu had shown up once or twice a day in the intervening time, always shadowed by Rachel. Sometimes he would have weird fits of shivering, would clench and unclench his fists, or his eyes would go bloodshot randomly. There was something off about the flow of his miasma channels, too. His words were always calm and well-ordered, but given his physical condition, that made Kein worry all the more. Sometimes his mood would shift randomly, or he would suddenly walk off from a conversation midway through.


    Kein worried that the man would soon finally fall to madness. He doubted he would ever lose that fear, even if the man did soon manage to reach the spirit refinement level.


    Immortality was the only cure for an unorthodox practitioner, and it was simply too difficult to achieve.


    He supposed that he would simply have to hope the sect leader would succeed. He was catching glimpses of reclaiming the powerful and upright life that he had always sought after as a child. The reason he had always worked so hard at his martial arts. Like many others, it was because he had wanted to be a heroic martial artist like the protagonist of the stories and show he had been exposed to a child.


    In his teens, Kein had been refused entry into the Hadal Clan¡¯s subordinate forces, and even had he managed to enter, he would always have been second to even the least talented Hadal scion. Instead he was forced to work at a poor martial academy, and had eventually been forced by poverty to find work with a gang. It was difficult for a martial artist to find work at mortal businesses, as both the proprietors and clients often feared them far too much.


    The Redwater Sect promised something more. As a sect, it would recruit all sorts, reliant on their talents rather than their heritage. Sect Leader Yu had even mentioned that he was soon looking to start recruiting new disciples to train up. Given his role as the master of the Redwater Sect¡¯s Alabaster Palace, Kein would be able to have a strong influence on who to accept as a new disciple. He would ensure a place for many children like he had once been.


    Kein cast his mind aside from the matter with a sigh, returning to his work. At the moment, there was no time to ponder the past. There was still much work to do before they opened their doors again, and he knew they would have to be ready for the pressure the Hadal Clan would undoubtedly impose upon them after learning of their existence.


    Perhaps the sect leader would handle it, or perhaps they would crumple. All Kein could do was put his utmost effort into ensuring its success. He would make certain that this time, his efforts would mean something. Never again would he return to what he had been.


    Manifest Miasma: [The nature of manifest miasma is the nature of existence itself. It is the formation of matter, energy, and the framework of reality itself. It is growth and it is decay, it is explosion and implosion, it is the truth. However, it is not infinity. That which is manifest is ephemeral, for it still remains within the boundary of the universe it exists within. That which is given must also be taken away, but manifest is not this dissolution. Fundamentally, the manifest is a tumor grown within the framework of reality. In theory, there must be a price, but one that can be pushed to others.]

 42- Those Who Survive

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Cinto had been surprised when Cyrus had returned after almost two weeks to inform her that Hidoro was dead and that he had taken over his gang. She had been flabbergasted when he had explained that he intended to form it into a sect, and she was expected to participate. She had not been given a choice, no more than she had when he had first brought the option up to her weeks before.


    She supposed that there was little chance of her comprehending the workings of a mind such as Cyrus¡¯. His goals remained unfathomable to her.


    It had been almost a week since then, and everything seemed to have turned out well. Cinto, however, knew that it was only a matter of time before it all fell apart once more. Everyone in the newly founded Redwater Sect knew it, and they were all waiting for the other shoe to drop. None of them understood the issues as well as Cinto did. They knew that Cyrus was an unorthodox practitioner, but she was certain they didn¡¯t quite understand what truly differentiated someone like Cyrus from someone like Hidoro. Cyrus¡¯s type was far more dangerous.


    Hidoro had been a cruel man, a murderer, and one who enjoyed bullying his subordinates. But he had understood the way of things, and how the societal hierarchy functioned. He was, ultimately, an orthodox practitioner. He wouldn¡¯t dare antagonize more powerful groups such as the Hadal Clan or the Heirs of Ottrien. The Riverfiend had already proven himself to be different on multiple occasions.


    He had already antagonized at least two forces, or perhaps even more that she didn¡¯t know about. He demonstrated no regret or consideration for this, and had not even bothered to speak with these forces. He even dared to form a sect right within the Hadal Clan¡¯s territory. Soon, she knew, the clan would arrive to either destroy the fledgling sect or subordinate it.


    If it were not for the fact that she had already become embroiled in his organization before she knew it, Cinto would not dare to be anywhere near him. He would inevitably doom himself sooner or later, she was sure of it. She feared that she and her students would be dragged down with him. Unlike Hidoro, who she had known wouldn¡¯t hurt her personally due to their shared history, she expected that Cyrus would easily kill her if she were to betray him.


    She worried for her students, though. It was clear he wanted soldiers, cannon fodder to use as he pleased. It was also clear that he intended to doom them by teaching them unorthodox techniques. It hurt, but Cinto knew that all she could do was try her best to assist, hoping desperately that he would succeed in whatever insane goal he was working towards.


    She sighed as she continued reading the documents that Hidoro¡¯s former second in command Kein Huang had given her. It was unpleasant to be working with the same people again, making her feel as if she had rejoined Hidoro¡¯s gang. Kein did at least care about his subordinates, which was good, but nobody willing to work for Hidoro was trustworthy. A fact that applied to herself as well, she thought sadly.


    The documents involved the structure of how disciples were to be sent to her for training and development, before being sent to another ¡®palace¡¯, as they were calling it, to work as enforcers for the sect. Her Charging Puma Martial Academy had been transformed overnight without even her knowledge into the Redwater Sect¡¯s Iron Palace.


    She was just thankful that they had let her keep the Charging Puma signboard.


    <hr>


    ???, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


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    Rachel felt herself flow through and around the flows of the universe¡¯s energies. She could sense each and every soul within the station, and in the distance she could feel the barest hints of life at the edges of her perception on the various inhabited moons and mining platforms elsewhere in the system.


    Though she only had two senses now, neither related to the five she had once had, the information she acquired from them every instant was several orders of magnitude more than she had ever received as a human. All of it was processed and ordered for perusal easily by the powerful supercomputer that Rachel had become.


    She still missed her human body at times. Back in the Pleiades, her people had created a few hidden stations and colonies where they were able to live replications of a true human life as best they could, given the nature of what they had become. She had tried to join them once, to pretend she was just a normal human woman with an interest in reading fantasy novels on the commute to work. She had felt nostalgic for the much happier life she had once lived.


    But it was not the same as it had once been. Ultimately, there was no way to hide one¡¯s true nature. She and everyone else had become monsters, and there was no way to undo it.


    They had once tried to clone bodies, to recreate humanity as it had once been. Even if they could no longer be a part of it, perhaps they could become custodians. Even that had been too much to ask for. The bodies had been perfectly fine, but the fledgling souls had rotted away, as if the universe was refusing them the right to exist. The cruel hand of nature held no pity for the abominations that had spurned it.


    That was when they realized just how much the Osine hated them. They had unleashed a contagion that had been trapped in a nearby star cluster for eons, allowing it access to what had once been human space. While the well-defended souls they, the Terrans, now had were able to eliminate it before it infected them, the children could not. They all withered mere moments after being born, no matter what was attempted. What was left was nothing more than an empty mass of flesh and blood.


    To Rachel, this had been the cruelest aspect of her current existence. She had given up on trying to live a peaceful life in hiding. She had decided that her destiny would see the empires of the Osine crumble. They would hide in fear as her own people had.


    This destiny had brought her here, one of many sent to infiltrate the territory of forces controlled by ascendants rather than Osine. She would fulfill her role, and the mission would progress.


    The tendril of her soul that snaked out through the conduit had long accessed Tseludia Station¡¯s internet, analyzing everything available for public access and many things only available for private access. She constantly analyzed the movements of important figures of both the white and black hat variety by looking at the few security cameras that existed, through posts on social media, and purchases made through certain bank accounts.


    This time, her search was for a specific person. A certain traitor. She had noticed the attention that the Heirs placed on Unit 3623, and imagined they would soon discover traces of Hestky¡¯s presence. He had fled the place before betraying her and Cyrus to the Venin Group. While that could have turned out much worse than it had, he could still not be allowed to remain alive.


    It was hard to guess just how observant and knowledgeable he was, how much he had guessed of Rachel¡¯s true nature, or of the plans she and Cyrus had come up with inside of his home. They would need to kill him before those slaves of the Epon found him and learned all that he knew. If they were lucky he would refuse to give any information to a force he knew would kill him afterwards, but Rachel was not the type to rely on luck alone.


    Hestky had experience in hiding, obtained from the decade of subjective time that he had spent running from his former employers. However, in a space such as Tseludia Station where the amenities of modern society flourished among the population, it was impossible to hide from the eyes of a Terran. The immense sphere of data that was obtained every instant was all accessible to Rachel, and she was able to quickly process all of it. She knew every detail of the man¡¯s height, voice, appearance, and habits. It had taken her in total less than six hours to find his exact position.


    She was very surprised to find out that the Heirs of Ottrien had somehow gotten to him first.


    The Riverfiend: [The protagonist of various impactful recent events on Tseludia Station, the Riverfiend is a mysterious unorthodox martial artist who has presumably recently arrived to the station. Since then, he is claimed to have stolen from the private organization ¡®The Heirs of Ottrien,¡¯ and participated in the creation of a large and incredibly destructive battle located in the eighth district a week and a half ago. Since then, he has disappeared, creating many questions as to just what this figure is up to.]

 43- Fugitive of the Epon

    Spacedock, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Triezal had not expected for them to find the man so quickly. Less than four hours after he had ordered his subordinates to search for the man, he had unknowingly tried to buy tickets on an outgoing starship from one of their informants. It seemed the fugitive had not expected them to stumble upon his traces as they had. Triezal couldn¡¯t blame him for that. The way that Kalthen had found his townhome so easily was through a rather suspicious coincidence.


    Still, his poor luck was Triezal¡¯s boon. If he were Staiven he might even have thanked the Pantheon for granting him luck. Personally, though, he had the opinion that the Pantheon were best described as colonizers who had taken over a primitive society that they had encountered.


    Triezal had rushed to the nearest skydock and taken an aero straight to the location where the man had been captured. He had been moved to the back of a Celan restaurant that was a front for the Heirs. Triezal had to charge down multiple flights of stairs to reach it, as it was inconveniently located lower down in the stack.


    Like many restaurants in Spacedock, this one was expensively designed to mimic the exact appearance of many restaurants back on Celah. Due to extensive use of cold sleep as they fled their home, many travelers still reached Tseludia with memories of their homeworld. They were the audience for which this restaurant had originally been created.


    It was very simple-looking, though its design was at odds with the ugly Staiven construction surrounding it on both sides. The entire building was made of recycled steel, with odd connections and patterns that reflected this. It was dinged and pockmarked across the whole structure, though the disparate chunks of welded metal composed it had been organized artfully to construct the building¡¯s exterior. Large gleaming beams of titanium alloy stood up at all of its corners to ensure the structure¡¯s rigidity. Metal had been far too abundant on their homeworld, and practically covered the planet¡¯s surface within the ruins of the older, dead civilization of Epon Celah. Buildings like this had been the most affordable way to build a functional standing structure.


    Triezal confidently walked through the door. It felt odd to use a real door, rather than a hatch after having lived in Tseludia for years, but the muscle memory had not quite left him, so he was able to keep the motion natural.


    The inside was filled with a mix of new travelers and elderly residents of the station, as one would expect from such a place. He had been there plenty of times before, so he didn¡¯t bother to lower his blindfold as he entered. Triezal awkwardly walked past all of the customers, drawing looks as he quickly entered another door marked ¡®Employees Only.¡¯


    Behind the door was a small hallway with access to the kitchen, a small break room, and a room for the employees to change into and out of their uniforms. At the end was an unmarked hatch that had been painted over to better match the steel-gray of the building. As far as anyone else knew, it led to the food storage area. It also served as a safe house for the Heirs whenever necessary. He quickly drew the code glyph on the hatch¡¯s rough surface, letting it slide open before walking in briskly. It shut tight behind him, blocking out all sound.


    The space behind the restaurant indeed did look a lot like a storage room, with sealed cases of food stored on various shelves and piled around the side of the room. There were several tables however, and on one lounged a mixed squad of Jobu and Korlove. A Merris man lay tied and gagged to a chair roughly in the middle of the room.


    As expected, thought Triezal. He recognized him. Hestky, a former Epon researcher who had gone rogue. Images and descriptions of him had been given out to all magisters in the sector, told to bring him back dead or alive. The Epon did not forgive traitors. They simply had too many secrets that would bring them unneeded attention and provoke attacks by the Osine. They could not allow that to happen when most of their people were living unprotected lives within the territory of another force.


    The soldiers looked up as he entered, and after a moment of shock they all stood up to greet him.


    ¡°Sir!¡± called out a Jobu man, presumably the squad leader, ¡°we detained him here for you as ordered.¡±


    Triezal nodded at the man, casually waving him down.


    ¡°Good job. I¡¯ll handle this from here. Go get yourselves a meal outside.¡±


    After a surprised pause, the Jobu nodded, waving an order to his squad members.


    ¡°Understood, sir. Call us in if you need us.¡±


    Triezal respected his professionalism. It was an odd order, and ran counter to the Heirs standard rules of operation. Of course, Triezal had heard that there were rumors of the competent yet odd Merris who was being groomed for higher leadership roles by the Leader.


    It was his opinion that this view was in large part due to his taste in clothing, a style that he had picked up on a world hundreds of light years away. Of course, were he ever to return, it would likely be considered incredibly old-fashioned. The sad realities of subluminal travel pained him to no end. He wished they were still able to use the slice drives that the Pantheon had banned as part of the refugee agreement.


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    Though, Kalthen had told him that what many found odd was actually the blindfold that he usually wore, though to him that was even more mundane. In the Merric community he had grown up in, it was not uncommon to see someone blocking off one of their senses to train up the others. It was one of the many abilities that had been granted to them by Anteky.


    The thought of his own people brought Triezal back to the present moment, where another Merris sat in front of him, eyes ablaze with a harsh glare as his bound and gagged form stared at him. Triezal could hear the slight breaths of the man, feel the pounding of his heart. He could sense the fragment of communion that each Merris bore inside of their skull. In most cases, this would be enough to reduce any enmity two Merris might share with one another.


    Not this time, though. Triezal had little patience for traitors.


    He slid another chair up in front of the man and carefully undid the gag from Hestky¡¯s mouth. He spat as it came out. Triezal slowly slid his blindfold down, letting it rest around his neck as he met Hestky¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°Do you know who I am?¡± he asked, curiously tilting his head slightly.


    Hestky laughed, as if he had gone mad, given up on life.


    ¡°Triezal, the prodigal son. Fled to a shitty advisory role in the farthest reaches. To think I would be so unlucky.¡± He laughed again.


    Triezal frowned. Hestky wasn¡¯t acting like a man who had just been caught, but more like a man who had been undergoing psychological torture for weeks. These actions did not match the psychological profile he had been given at all.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re aware,¡± he said, attempting to awkwardly move the conversation onto course. ¡°Who have you been living with? We found evidence of another man living in your townhome.¡±


    ¡°Who do you think?¡± replied the bound man sarcastically. ¡°That fucking bastard and his pet Shade have been blackmailing me for weeks. I finally get back at them, only to¡­¡± he started laughing so hard that tears pooled at the corners of his eyes. He looked up, meeting Triezal''s gaze with a smile. ¡°You¡¯re going to kill me, right? For the sin of finding out one of your dark secrets. I¡¯ll tell you everything, then. Just make sure that those two suffer as well.¡±


    Triezal frowned as he listened to Hestky. A Shade? Where had mention of a Shade come from?


    ¡°What Shade?¡± he asked.


    Hestky raised an eyebrow in surprise.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t know? I thought that was why you were hunting him. He stole that vessel containing a Shade from you.¡±


    Something clicked in Triezal¡¯s mind, and he gained a slightly better idea of why the item was so important. A Shade was certainly a dangerous existence that was of interest to the Epon, but if that was it, there was no reason to be so insistent on obtaining it. They already had access to several Shades within their ranks, after all. Although, if this was an alien Shade¡­


    ¡°I see,¡± he said, ¡°You¡¯re probably correct, at least to an extent. Tell me more about this Shade.¡±


    Hestky easily acquiesced, and as he began to describe her, Triezal could sense nearly palpable hatred emanating from the man. Just how badly had she treated him during the time in which they lived together?


    ¡°She could project realistic holograms and connect to the internet. The appearance she used looked somewhat like a mix between a Merris and Seiyal woman, though I am not sure whether or not that was a front for my and that bastard¡¯s benefit. I find it likely, given that she¡¯s a Shade.¡±


    ¡°Do you know what race created her?¡± asked Triezal.


    Hestky pondered for a moment before answering frankly.


    ¡°She would talk to the Seiyal, mostly, though I overheard her once mention ¡®her people, and called them the Terrans.¡¯¡±


    ¡°Terrans¡­¡± murmured Triezal, quietly. He had never heard of that race before. They couldn¡¯t be an Osine client race if they had Shades, so perhaps one whose origins lay hidden deep in the still largely unexplored frontier region?


    ¡°I see. By the way, what secret was it that you claim forced you to flee the Epon?¡± he asked, idly curious.


    Hestky sneered. ¡°I bet you know, dog of the Epon. Your leaders once made a deal with an evil spirit god for knowledge. You¡¯re the reason the incursion expanded into this galaxy, and why we all had to leave our homes.¡±


    He laughed again, cruelly, as Triezal looked at him in shock.


    ¡°It looks like you didn¡¯t know. It seems they won¡¯t even admit the truth to their own magisters. I¡¯m not the last, you know. Others will find out. A secret like this cannot be kept forever. It¡¯ll get out, and the Osine will kill each and every member of the organization. ¡°


    His face grew more and animated as he spoke, his face filled with fear and hatred.


    ¡°And then they¡¯ll come after us. Every single member of the Merris annihilated because a monster crawled into our heads the very moment we were born.¡±


    He smiled politely up at Triezal, who still remained unsure of how to respond.


    ¡°Are you ready to kill me yet, Magister?¡±


    Triezal frowned down at him. The words had shocked him and made him glad he had told the soldiers to leave the room. However, his psyche was not so weak as to be wounded by claims such as these, even if they were so plausible, and explained certain discrepancies in the histories that he knew. He stared Hestky down before slowly reaching up to his neck and sliding his blindfold back over his eyes.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not,¡± he said firmly, ¡°I have some more questions for you.¡±


    Hestky just laughed madly in response, the tears finally beginning to fall.


    Anteky: [A being that is often revered within Merris communities, it is taken by many outsiders to be a deity worshipped as part of a religious that this race has. This is not the true identity of the being known as Anteky. An artificial intelligence that existed in Epon Celah prior to that civilization''s destruction at the hands of the Khalak-Ora, Anteky saved itself by hiding within the implants of a group of experimental subjects whose descendants ultimately became known as the Merris. Whenever any Merris is born, a fragment of Anteky is downloaded into their brain, allowing this Shade to expand its capacity. Anteky''s vast knowledge aided the Merris, allowing them to survive and thrive in the wasteland of post-scourge Celah. Merris who travel too far from hubs of Merris society become disconnected from the network, which is why Merris are very culturally group-minded. This is due to Anteky''s influence upon their minds. Anteky''s existence is largely unknown outside of the Merris themselves and the Epon, though there are many conspiracy theories about Merric ties to the Shades among the wider Celan population. Secretly, Anteky has over time worked with the Epon enough to have become a large influence upon their policy.]

 44- Commission

    5th District, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    ¡°You want me to do what?¡± asked Yun, surprised.


    She had received a call on her personal device from an unknown number, and the call had automatically answered after she tried to refuse it. Ultimately, she had decided to listen to what the caller had to say. If they could control her terminal, they probably had other methods of forcing her attention.


    ¡°I need you to kill a man who¡¯s being questioned by the Heirs. As soon as possible.¡±


    Yun narrowed her eyes.


    ¡°I understand, and I hear what you¡¯re saying, but I am not just going to kill a man for a client who I have zero understanding of. How would I know you don¡¯t intend to make me a scapegoat of some sort?¡±


    She was lounging in her apartment, feet up on a coffee table. She had been playing a poor quality locally produced martial arts film. There were many such films, and to no surprise, this one, like most of them, featured a protagonist who was a member of the Hadal Clan. She liked idly playing garbage films like that in the background while studying. After the transaction with the Riverfiend, she found herself with more than enough quality study material.


    This caller was certainly strange, though, so she had set her terminal down and paused the film to pay more attention to it. The woman on the other end spoke as if the two of them knew one another. The only people she could think of who might know her here were her landlord, the proprietor of her favorite cafe, and Mister Cyrus, her sole customer in the station so far.


    This was certainly none of their voices, however, and the first two did not even know about her profession, anyway. She paused, realizing something. In their meetings, the Riverfiend had at times mentioned a partner who he worked with. Could this woman be that partner? This hypothesis was immediately confirmed by her reply.


    ¡°I¡¯m the one who initially approached you on Cyrus¡¯ behalf. We can give you money or trade another favor, whatever you need. But this needs to be done immediately.¡±


    The woman on the line sounded stressed, as if the situation was truly desperate and she was at her wit¡¯s end.


    ¡°Why can¡¯t Mister Cyrus do it? He¡¯s quite strong,¡± asked Yun, curiously.


    ¡°He¡¯s¡­ busy with something, and isn¡¯t able to do it right now.¡±


    Yun hummed for a moment in consideration. Cyrus had been a good employer, and some additional funds certainly wouldn¡¯t be bad for her. Before she agreed, however, she would need to clarify some details.


    ¡°Are there any enforcers at the location?¡± asked Yun.


    ¡°At the moment there¡¯s only one squad. There might be another, soon, but there should be no enforcers since they¡¯re at the spacedock at the moment.¡±


    Yun casually rubbed her cerebral dantian as she considered the matter.


    ¡°How much are you offering?¡±


    ¡°Thirty thousand serite if you leave right now.¡±


    Without even thinking about it, Yun agreed.


    ¡°Deal.¡±


    She stood up, sliding her clothes off to change into more suitable clothing for combat.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have to assault them, right?¡± she asked. ¡°Might be difficult to infiltrate if there¡¯s a rush. I doubt the Heirs are as lax as that idiot from last time. Where do I need to go?¡±


    ¡°Probably, unless you can think of a better idea. They¡¯re at Flavors of Celah Grill, right outside dock 3. They¡¯re in a back room at the moment, though I¡¯m unable to tell what¡¯s happening inside of it.¡±


    It struck Yun that this woman had oddly accurate information. Was she in that restaurant personally, keeping an eye on who entered? She frowned as she continued preparing to leave. That couldn¡¯t be it. Cyrus¡¯ partner would have to be a Seiyal, and the woman¡¯s voice contained a slight hint of a dialect from the Crucible, just like Cyrus had. And a Seiyal could not stake out a Celan restaurant from within. It would be far too suspicious for someone who couldn¡¯t even digest the food to loiter inside of a restaurant for that long. A Celan informant, then?


    Yun nodded, certain that she had figured it out. She finished sliding her way out of her loungewear, wandering half naked towards her closet to grab her martial robes.


    They were generic, the sort of thing one could find anywhere on the station. A poisoner bore no uniform of their own unless they were part of a sect. In most cases, blending in with those around them was their core goal.


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    After a moment¡¯s thought, Yun decided to grab a pair of daggers, just in case. It was always best to be prepared for a worst case scenario, particularly when she lacked proper planning time like she did now. As she finished clothing herself and moved to the cabinet in which she stored her poison, Yun looked up, as if she could possibly see the person she was talking to. It was a habit of hers, born from a childhood without such devices as terminals.


    ¡°Who¡¯s the target? What do they look like?¡± she asked. It felt odd to look up at empty air as she spoke, for the terminal was still sitting on the couch, out of view from her present location. She opened the cabinet to inspect her vials and decide which one to use.


    ¡°He¡¯s a Merris, skinny, short hair. Large bags under his eyes, and he should be wearing dark robes that look like that of a scholar or a priest,¡± said the voice.


    Yun hummed in response as she finally picked two vials, sliding them into a carefully crafted concealed pocket on the inside of the robe.


    Finally finished she looked around the room, trying to remember if there was anything she had forgotten. With everything accounted for, she passed by the couch to grab the terminal before opening the door to enter into the damp alley air. She wrinkled her nose at the smell that immediately confronted her. Inside of her apartment various air filters, scented pouches, and candles were used to manage it, but out in the open the air was filled with the thick scent of Staiven emissions.


    If there was anything she disliked about living here, it would certainly be that.


    ¡°I¡¯ve already chartered an aero for you, just head to the skydock on top of this stack.¡±


    Yun nodded, quickly making her way to the nearest stairwell. Evening in this neighborhood of the fifth district was quite active.


    Because it was so racially diverse, the fifth district had almost developed its own micro-culture. Teens and young adults of the various races walked around in integrated groups far more often than would be seen in most other districts, having fun as they walked the streets, heading towards whatever events or hobbies they had interest in. Yun wouldn¡¯t know the details, and nor did she care. The reason why she liked this district so much was that the bustle, chaos, and diversity made it the perfect place to hide for an unorthodox practitioner. Particularly because it had the largest population of Seiyal of any district outside the territory of the Hadal Clan.


    Yun flew up several flights of stairs, thankful for the physical conditioning she had by nature as a meridian establishment practitioner. As there were no elevators or other assisted methods of ascending or descending layers of stacks, the inhabitants of the station generally had to have some level of physical fitness just to move around the city. She couldn¡¯t imagine what it would be like for certain types of cripples. Thankfully, it was not an issue she personally had to worry about.


    As she arrived at the skydock, Yun immediately saw the waiting aero, just as Cyrus¡¯ unnamed partner had claimed there would be. After a short exchange of words with its Telaretian pilot, she climbed in as the vehicle lifted off from the platform.


    While in transit, Yun examined a schematic of the target building¡¯s interior that had simply appeared on her terminal when she opened in back up. She found both the existence of the schematic and the way it had appeared to be very suspicious. Building schematics were kept securely in the government¡¯s private database. Had this mysterious woman really placed a mole into the Pantheonic Government?


    Alternatively, to infiltrate the database¡­ given how her own terminal had been controlled, the idea did not seem too outlandish. However¡­ could this really be accomplished using technology grasped by her own people? She didn¡¯t think so. Yun was beginning to get the impression that either this woman was not actually with Mister Cyrus, or the sect that he was forming was part of something far more dangerous than just starting up an unorthodox presence on the station.


    Still, she had already agreed to the commission, and from what she could tell it would be very feasible. This could also be used as a showcase of her abilities for prospective clients in the future as she tried to slowly expand her network. She hadn¡¯t yet advertised her services, but she had planned to begin doing so in the coming weeks anyways.


    The aero set down at one of the many busy skydocks that surrounded the spacedock entrances. Yun quickly hopped out, thanking the pilot who had apparently already been paid. She wondered if that money would be coming out of her paycheck.


    The spacedock area was, as always, bustling with motion. Passersby were of all races. Yun even caught glimpses of what were rare figures in this part of the galaxy such as Escalos or Bloodspawn. She forced her way through the crowd, taking advantage of her enhanced strength and dexterity to quickly make her way away from the crowded dock and towards the nearest stairwell. According to a map she had checked while in transit, the Flavors of Celah Grill was located on the lower end of the stack.


    As she stepped off of the stairs one level above the location, Yun noted to herself just how useful a full schematic could be in a place like Tseludia Station, where all constructions were fully integrated into the structure. She made her way to an alleyway, searching for a vent that should be located near the ground.


    As she did so, she smiled, her hands reaching into her robes and emerging with a vial of poison. She inspected it to ensure it was the right one before quickly downing it in one gulp. Her miasma whirled within her channels, bolstering her body from the poison¡¯s effects and merging with it.


    She finally found the vent and idly she stretched her hand into it, releasing a gaseous cloud of miasma slowly inside.


    An idle thought crossed her mind. The commissioner had not told her how she was supposed to handle the gangsters and innocents who were also inside of the building. In that case, she decided that she would continue to make that choice by herself.


    Escalos: [One of the most blessed races of Telles, the Escalos are the favored children of the Goddess Relya, who the Escalos refer to as Sunweaver. She is said to be among the eldest and most powerful ascendants in existence, and is able to pressure the great empires of Osine, as well as lesser forces such as the Pantheon. As such, Escalos have special privileges in most regions of the galaxy, due to Relya''s great influence. They are mole-like arthropodal beings covered in scutes that serve as protective armor to a certain extent. The Escalos claim to be the oldest still existing race in the galaxy and have expanded extensively, however as a species they have little to no technological knowledge of their own as their cultural heritage causes most of them to focus their attentions on peaceful lives with technologically simple hobbies such as physical or performance arts. They generally rely on ships, stations, and planets belonging to other races in which to live and travel. In Pantheonic Territory, Escalos are usually left to police their own, with any laws broken ignored unless they were to commit some of the greatest crimes such as blaspheming the gods or killing a politician or corporate leader.]

 45- Poisoner

    Spacedock, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Thoughts whirled inside Triezal¡¯s mind as he made connections between ideas that had long remained mysterious to him. Hestky¡¯s words had struck a chord in him, and for the first time he now truly understood the nature of the organization he had been brought up into.


    Still, he found himself unable to hate them, unable to truly blame them for concealing the truth. Hestky was certainly correct that it was a truth that could never be allowed to escape. If it were to do so, the doom of their race would become inevitable.


    The storage room suddenly seemed cavernous, extending out far too much in all directions. Before him, the cackling Hestky who squirmed madly at his bonds seemed to be demonic in nature. It was like his form was shifting oddly in Triezal¡¯s vision.


    Triezal put the mild hallucination formed from the mental blows he had received aside, his professionalism helping him to regain control of himself. Regardless of what he learned, he would remain loyal, and he would do his part for his people.


    He peered over at Hestky, mind still whirling.


    ¡°Tell me more about this Shade, the one that calls itself a ¡®Terran¡¯.¡±


    Hestky laughed uproariously, causing the dim light to glint upon his cheeks, still wet with tears that continued to fall. Unlike before, this was not the wild laugh of a man who was breaking down from the intensity of his emotions such as fear and stress. There was something wrong about it, like he was seeing something outrageously funny. That was when Triezal realized that something was wrong.


    He sniffed the air, and it was not the smell of dust and cooked food. There was a slight acrid aspect to the scent. Something that had not been there before.


    ¡°Poison?¡± he muttered to himself, looking around widely for a potential source.


    He had honed his senses as much as possible, training them far beyond his natural limits, but his surprise at Hestky¡¯s words had distracted him. Though he scanned the room in detail, there was nothing, nobody in sight but the still madly laughing Hestky, who had now fallen into a coughing fit.


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ going to kill¡­¡± Hestky forced the words out between fits of coughing. His eyes glared even harder than before, but this time he wasn¡¯t looking at Triezal, but rather off into the distance. ¡°you¡­ Rachel.¡±


    The last word was spat out, an act which caused him to couch heavily again, flecks of blood splattering over his legs and the floor.


    Could it be him, doing this? Triezal wondered about the matter. If he remembered correctly, Hestky had been a network personnel at a research facility run by the Epon. Presumably, he thought, the man had stumbled into files that should not have been accessible to him. Poison formulation should not be part of his skillset, and there would have been little reason to bother learning it when many of those who were searching for him were Jobu, and thus highly resistant to poisons.


    That was when another idea came to mind. The Riverfiend was what was called an unorthodox practitioner. While he specialized in formless arts, there were other types of unorthodox practitioners who specialized in poison. If his guess was right, it would seem that Riverfiend had not in fact arrived at the station alone.


    Triezal had started to hold his breath. He had some resistance to poison, but nothing like that which a Jobu would have, so it was best to be careful. Triezal hazarded a guess that the only reason that Hestky was already coughing up blood was the fact that he had been hyperventilating.


    He glanced down at Hestky, trying to decide whether the man could be saved or not. He decided to take the chance. One of his arms gripped onto the back of Hestky¡¯s chair, standing up and running for the door. Behind him skidded the legs of the chair as Hestky yelled in surprise. That was good, because if he could still yell he wasn¡¯t quite dying yet. Triezal had more questions to ask the man, after all.


    The hatch slid open at a touch, and Triezal sealed it behind himself once more. The air in the hallway tasted much cleaner than that inside the storage, and Triezal took deep, gasping breaths of it.


    Because of the way that the station¡¯s design handled airflow and filtration, it was rather difficult to poison the air in a room as whoever the perpetrator was had done. They must have sent quite a lot of poison through the vents, and it would not spread much into adjacent rooms unless they were to find another vent and do the same to it. Thanks to this, Triezal knew that he was likely safe, unless he had already breathed in too much of the poison.


    As he carefully took deep breaths in an attempt to fully replace the air in his lungs, Triezal realized that he could hear odd sounds coming from the dining area of the restaurant. Was there a fight going on? At the thought, his blood ran cold, one hand trailing down to grab a pistol while the other held an ancient bronze knife, the sigils carved into it glistening in the luminescent glow of the ceiling lights.


    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    Triezal carefully opened the door, feeling a weakness in his limbs that he knew had to be due to the effects of the poison kicking in. He also felt the urge to cough, but was able to restrain it. He could deal with that later.


    In the restaurant, customers were fleeing out the doors while a hooded Seiyal woman fought with the squad he had told to wait out here.


    The woman was wearing dark robes with purple highlights. From what Triezal knew about martial artists, these robes were rather generic, though the hood and face mask she was wearing were certainly not. He could see from the tiny bit of dark skin visible around her golden eyes that she was a farsei.


    She had full control of the tempo of battle, clearly having caught the squad off-guard. Two of the guards had managed to step back and pull out their firearms, however she was fighting in close quarters with several of their squad members, and they were clearly too scared of hitting them to fire.


    Her fighting style seemed to focus on making piercing blows with her fingertips, as she kept snaking her arms around to pierce at the weak points in the body armor that the soldiers were wearing. Her fingers trailed a sickly purple smoke behind them, and the soldiers convulsed and fell soon after she made contact with them. For the Korlove it only took one strike, and for the Jobu, three to cause them to collapse.


    Triezal knew that in close quarters combat, the average soldier of the Heirs would have no chance against a proper Seiyal martial artist. He could immediately tell that this woman was on a far lower level of combat ability than he Riverfiend had been, at least a full stage below. Still, the poison made her almost as dangerous.


    Triezal lifted up his pistol, carefully aiming it. Normally, he would have nearly instantly been able to aim and shoot despite the chaotic melee, but he found that his hands were shaking, unable to hold still. He pursed his lips. Another issue caused by the poison, he imagined.


    Since he could not hold still, he waited until there was a proper gap in the bodies between the two of them before firing. The bullet whizzed over her shoulder, and her gaze flicked over to Triezal. He got the feeling that she might be smiling.


    ¡°You¡¯re smaller,¡± she said in seiyin, speaking as if she was being thoughtful, ¡°are you the one?¡±


    Another strike from her hand pressed into one of the joints in a Korlove man¡¯s legs with a haze of purple smoke, and he toppled to the ground as she twirled towards Triezal with a flourish. Before he knew it, he and she had become the only combatants left standing in the room. Out of the corner of his eye Triezal could see one of the restaurant¡¯s employees hiding behind a counter, and he knew that behind him was Hestky, who laid groaning on the ground, still tied to the chair. Hestky was likely her target. The door had swung shut behind Triezal, so it was very possible that the martial artist had not noticed him yet.


    ¡°Hard to say whether I am or not,¡± Triezal replied.


    Her gaze met Triezal¡¯s, and due to his weary mental state, he could almost not help but get lost in the amber beauty of her eyes. No matter how many Seiyal he met, Triezal still found those orbs to be quite beautiful.


    ¡°Given the fact that you shot at me, I should assume not. However¡­¡± she rested a fingertip on her cheek as if she were coyly playing with him. ¡°I imagine it should be fine to kill you anyway. Unless you¡¯re willing to just let me pass?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not,¡± replied Triezal, firing again. The shot grazed her side as she charged him, luck and the shaking of his arms enough to turn a heavy wound into a meager graze. He supposed that today was simply not his day.


    She quickly reached him, and in immediate response his hand holding a dagger slashed out rapidly. Knowing that she was intending to kill him, he activated the dagger¡¯s effect, causing a small orange glow to erupt under his fingers.


    The blade¡¯s arcing motion rapidly sped up as a trail of light was left behind in its wake. Cracks splintered out from the line Triezal carved, and a look of shock filled the poisoner¡¯s face as it tore a heavy gash through her chest before she could react.


    Cursing, she backed up several steps, allowing the glowing yellow abscess to float in the air between them. Brackish gouts of multicolored smoke slowly drifted from the cut like blood from a wound, pooling and sizzling the ground beneath them as a feeling of wrongness pervaded the area.


    The poisoner¡¯s eyes widened with horror as she inspected the tear in space.


    ¡°Immortals¡­ What foul art is this?¡± she muttered, her accent shifting slightly, like her self control had dropped. Unsurprised by the effect of his weapon, Triezal lifted his pistol again and fired. This time it dug into her shoulder, and she stepped backwards in agony.


    With another muttered curse she reached into her robes, pulling out a vial and tossing it blindly towards him as she hobbled and then ran for the door. Triezal fired again, but missed, and the bullet crashed into the doorframe behind her.


    The vial she had thrown soon splashed on the wall beside Triezal. He did not dare take a breath as he dove under the lesion that he had created, crawling in a rushed attempt to stand and make his way to the exit.


    Hestky was left behind, and Triezal knew there was no chance that the man would survive the next dose.


    Naeratanh: [A material that is largely incompatible with reality, naeratanh, a term originating from the old Najani language, is a bronze alloy that can only be created in heavily damaged regions within the Incursion, such as that which the planet Celah exists within. When primed with flickering miasma, sharp objects forged from naeratanh are able to slice into the fabric of reality, creating wounds in reality known as lesions. In addition, this process causes the naeratanh to increase the velocity of any motion it is undergoing. It is said that this process is the foundation for the function of the faster than light slice drives the Celans used to escape the incursion and enter Telles. Naeratanh is a banned material according to the Pantheonic Government, and the Celans were forced to destroy all of their stores of it as part of the treaty which allowed them refuge inside of the Pantheonic Territory.]

 46- Crime Scene Investigation

    Spacedock, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Aechs sighed with a burbling chuff as he inspected the premises of the building, a fully sealed environment suit having to fully enclose his body due to the poison and intense miasma levels still present within the area.


    As members of the Justice Office¡¯s crime scene investigation unit, they had been dispatched to the scene where according to the eyewitnesses who had reported it, a Seiyal woman had gotten into a fight with a bunch of armed Celans inside of a Celan restaurant that catered to tourists.


    When they had arrived, it had quickly become apparent that the restaurant¡¯s dining area was filled with a haze of highly illegal miasmic poison. They had needed to wait another fifteen minutes while someone brought the pair of environment suits over.


    Aechs hated the stuffy things, and was usually glad to only need them once or twice a year. Today, it seemed, was just not his day.


    His annoyance had turned into a full on headache when he actually entered the room and noticed the large, bleeding lesion on the surface of reality. He had never before had to deal with something this dangerously illegal, and wasn¡¯t excited about the idea, much less the need to move close to the thing and inspect it.


    His partner, Whai, laughed as they inspected the dining area.


    ¡°We see scenes like this all the time, but the poison mist and the glowing crack floating in the air are certainly new.¡±


    Aechs sighed.


    ¡°Personally, I wouldn¡¯t call this a matter to be all that excited about.¡±


    He squatted down as he inspected the entire area. By several toppled tables there were five Celan corpses, a mix of Korlove and Jobu. They were wearing body armor and holding rifles, and had no visible wounds, not that this surprised Aechs given how strong the poison in the air around them was. The concentration was so intense it was extraordinarily illegal. Based on the readings, if it were to get any more poisonous he almost felt that it might prompt one of the gods to punish the offender personally.


    ¡°It¡¯s not often we have to deal with two entirely different types of illegal technology on the same day, much less inside the same building,¡± said Whai. ¡°Looks like a Seiyal and some Celans fought here, and both decided to use their trump cards.¡±


    He turned back towards Aechs before continuing.


    ¡°Probably the Heirs of Ottrien and the Hadal Clan again, right?¡± he asked.


    Aechs shrugged noncommittally.


    ¡°Maybe. But we need to be sure.¡±


    ¡°Ha! I see what you mean. Sure, it was some random gangsters who are entirely unaffiliated. I Imagine that pretty soon they¡¯ll offer to pay us to look the other way and find some poor scapegoat, as usual.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m serious, Whai. We can¡¯t just take bribes on this one.¡±


    Whai laughed in response.


    ¡°Since when do you care who¡¯s actually at fault? ¡±


    Aechs shook his head and pointed at the floating lesion by a door marked ¡®employees only.¡¯


    ¡°This isn¡¯t a normal fight between gangs. If they find out that we covered something like this up, we¡¯ll be sent to the prison moons to mine dust for twenty years.¡±


    Whai grinned down at his partner.


    ¡°They could always just not find out. Imagine how much we could force the Celans to pay us if they want to keep this quiet.¡±


    Despite himself, Aechs considered the idea. The allure of potentially tens of thousands of serite certainly attracted him to Whai¡¯s proposal, but in this case the risk would be far higher than usual.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­¡± he said, not sure if he was speaking to himself or to his partner.


    Whai clapped him on the back, ambling his way closer to the lesion.


    ¡°Just think about it,¡± he said.


    Aechs sighed, following his partner.


    As he approached, he gained a better sense of the lesion and the area surrounding it. The lesion still slowly spat gouts of multicolored miasma onto the ground beneath it with a quiet hiss. The area that the miasma was impacting had begun to warp. The floor tiles had risen up and reshaped into an odd misshapen structure that almost looked like a young art student¡¯s attempt at an abstract sculpture. It was covered in sooty gray dust that formed odd shapes on the structure¡¯s surface. Similar structures had formed from the door frame around it, reaching out as if they were trees trying to reach sun rays.


    Whai squatted next to it, trying to understand the object¡¯s shape, but having trouble due to the wash of feedback in his senses produced by the highly concentrated miasma in the room.


    ¡°You know,¡± he said, ¡°I feel like it would have been better to get people from any other species to make sense of this thing. I can barely sense a thing near the lesion. Sometimes I do get jealous of the ability to see things.¡±


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    Aechs finally walked over, yanking Whai back.


    ¡°In Gys¡¯ name, man! Don¡¯t stand by it, you might become like that,¡± he said, pointing at the structures.


    After a moment of consideration, Whai nodded.


    ¡°Probably a good idea.¡±


    He lifted one hand to his chin, and was annoyed when it was repelled by the oversized visor.


    ¡°Hey, Aechs?¡± he asked.


    Aechs looked over.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°How do they even make these things?¡±


    Aechs frowned.


    ¡°What, the lesion?¡±


    Whai nodded.


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard them mentioned before, but I don¡¯t think there¡¯s ever been one on the station until now, at least as far as I¡¯m aware. I¡¯ve heard only Celans and ascendants can make them?¡±


    Aechs thought about it for a moment before responding.


    ¡°The Osine can probably make them as well. It¡¯s a banned technology entirely though, If I remember correctly,¡± he said. ¡°Our scientists haven¡¯t figured it out yet, and the Pantheon has told us not to try. They¡¯re very dangerous, and once you make one, it will never go away.¡±


    ¡°Makes sense. Hey, maybe we can turn this into a regular payoff. Threaten to do an inspection of the premises if they don¡¯t give us money every so often.¡±


    Aechs laughed, amused at the idea.


    ¡°How Fulstovan of you.¡±


    Whai smiled in response. Scanning the room for any other evidence. His senses flagged on a counter over which the kitchen could be seen. He pointed at it.


    ¡°Hey, if we hop over that we should be able to get to the back rooms without needing to go right by the lesion.¡±


    Aechs agreed with the idea, and so the two of them quickly hopped over the counter, making their way into the kitchen. Inside, there were a pair of corpses that looked to belong to cooks lying on the ground. Their lips and shirts were bloody, as if they had been coughing blood all over themselves.


    ¡°More poison victims,¡± he said.


    Whai nodded, suddenly having acquired a more professional aura.


    ¡°Different from those on the floor outside, though. Those did not seem to be coughing anything up.¡±


    Aechs thought back, and realized that his partner was right.


    ¡°A different poison? Or maybe the Seiyal killed them physically,¡± he suggested.


    ¡°Could be,¡± said Whai, ¡°We¡¯d have to send samples to a lab for analysis.¡±


    They both chuckled at that, knowing there was almost no chance of that happening. Even if they did bother to do so, they knew that the lab technicians wouldn¡¯t actually run the tests for months. They were simply paid less for government requests than they were for work done privately.


    After seeing nothing else of note in the kitchen, Aechs made his way to the door, peeking out. It opened into a small hallway. As a crime scene investigator, Aechs had a lot more experience with hinged doors than most Staiven, but he still found them odd. They were simply annoying and inefficient. When they were opened, it was still in the way, rather than recessed into one of the walls or ceiling. He found it annoying.


    He expanded his senses into the hallway. To the right was a closed door through which he could sense the lesion. The back of the door almost seemed to be slowly squirming, its surface traced in odd spiral patterns. Across the hallway were another pair of doors that he assumed to be Celan bathrooms based on the symbols by each one. To the left, there was a closed hatch that was more in line with a proper Staiven door. On the ground was a slender Celan man lying dead on the floor. He was tied to a chair, and like the corpses in the kitchen, his front was covered in blood that had clearly been coughed up. One of his legs was stretched out near the door, and was showing slight protrusions, early signs of being warped due to proximity to the lesion. Aechs carefully slid the foot further away.


    ¡°Hey, Whai?¡± he said. ¡°Take a look at this.¡±


    His partner quickly sensed past him, frowning as he inspected the corpse.


    ¡°Hmm, tied up? That¡¯s odd. Why would there be a Celan tied up in a front for the Heirs?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps he was a traitor? The Seiyal tried to rescue him and find out some secret about the Heirs that he wanted to leak?¡±


    Whai nodded in agreement.


    ¡°That¡¯s probably it, and then he ended up dying in the fight. There¡¯s probably more evidence behind that hatch.¡±


    ¡°Likely,¡± replied Aechs.


    As they moved to inspect the hatch, Whai got a ping on his terminal. He paused, curiously lifting the misshapen mass to find out what the matter was. It was a message from his contact in the Heirs. He smiled, showing it to Aechs.


    ¡°I was wondering when we¡¯d see this.¡±


    There was an offer of fifty thousand serite each for the two of them to only report the miasmic poison and not the lesion.


    Aechs smiled, considering the matter. Usually they were paid at most twenty to thirty thousand to hide important matters, and this was certainly far more than that. It made him consider actually taking the risk and covering it up.


    ¡°What do you think?¡± he asked.


    He suspected he already knew the answer, but wished to hear it anyway. Perhaps a part of him wanted to be convinced.


    ¡°I think that we should see if the Hadal Clan makes any offers,¡± replied Whai, grinning widely.


    Aechs couldn¡¯t help but laugh at his expression.


    ¡°On that at least, we agree.¡±


    They continued on, inspecting the bathrooms and the storage room, not finding anything of note except more poison. It was clear that some of it had to have been poured down the vents. A mobile filtration unit would need to be brought in to cleanse the place, as miasmic poisons of this level did not tend to disperse naturally, able to remain in a room almost indefinitely despite the natural airflow of the station.


    Half an hour later the two of them stood back in the dining area, still without the expected response by the Seiyal. Whai turned to Aechs in confusion.


    ¡°Do you think it really wasn¡¯t them? Who else could it have been?¡±


    ¡®Either it wasn¡¯t or they¡¯ve already talked with the courts about a prepared scapegoat. Either way, They don¡¯t care whether or not we report the miasmic poison. It might even be that they didn¡¯t even recognize the lesion.¡±


    Whai nodded.


    ¡°I¡¯d buy that. In Teiklan¡¯s name, those brutes know so little about the world.¡±


    Aechs nodded in agreement. Of all the races with a large presence on the station, the Seiyal had by far the lowest understanding of technology on average. It was almost not even funny how little they understood things that the Staiven found obvious.


    ¡°Well, in that case,¡± said Whai, breaking the silence. ¡°Do you think the Celans can hide this well? Because if so, I¡¯ve got some new purchases calling my name.¡±


    ¡°You know,¡± said Aechs, smirking. ¡°We can probably pretend the lesion was produced later, if they can hide it until at least fifthmonth, preferably even later. Let¡¯s tell the Celans that the Seiyal offered sixty thousand to reveal the truth, though.¡±


    Whai gave him a look, and they both laughed so hard that their throats burbled with mucus.


    Teiklan: [The Pantheonic god of innovation, Teiklan is one of the sources that have driven the Staiven to become the most technologically advanced mortal race in the region, at least insofar as they are aware. Teiklan is often used as a major symbol within corporations, though he is mostly worshiped and revered by the engineers and scientists rather than the actual leadership of the organization, who are much more likely to worship Fulstovis or Estrivai. Still, his influence cannot be understated, as his church gives out even more grants for developing new technologies than the government does. At least one Teiklan worshiper can be found on the board of almost any corporation, often having been one of its earliest investors. The biggest embarrassment for Teiklan is the fact that he was unrelated to the creation of the calculation engines, and his church has never ceased to lobby for the rights to examine them since the time that the Seer first revealed their capabilities.]

 47- Doctor

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    When pain lasts long enough, one becomes numb to it.


    I had been fighting a fraught battle against the crack in my cerebral dantian for over a week now, and while the tide had not once let up, I had mastered the art of controlling it. The waves of sanguine miasma washed through my channels, and I redirected them back up another set of meridians, keeping the rest of my body clear of their influence. This left me able to maintain full control of my body, able to walk and talk normally, though occasionally surges of miasma would cause me to need to pause and rebalance the flow. Most importantly, it kept my other two dantians clean of the sanguine miasma. If they were tainted, my martial path might be forever altered.


    The balance that I had created was sustainable, though only during normal movement. It would become impossible to maintain were I to use martial arts, and at best I expected I would only be able to use either two strokes or two movements before I would have to stop and rebalance myself. This was enough to deal with any mundane threat, but I would have to avoid matters of the underworld as best I could until I had healed.


    Finding my new subordinates competent enough, I had set them to arranging matters of the sect while I focused on hiding my condition as I sought a doctor or a surgeon who might have experience in the matter of repairing fractures in a martial artist¡¯s dantian.


    A cracked dantian could never truly be fully repaired perfectly, as the material used to fill the cracks would not be the exact same in composition as the rest of the dantian. However, it could be effective enough to allow for one to use martial arts again, and if it was done well enough, they could even continue progressing. This was more than enough for my needs. It was even said that if one could make it to the peak of spirit refinement despite a patched dantian, it would have no impact on the outcome of their ascension attempt.


    This was a very specialized skill, however. The torrents of miasma that flowed through a dantian at every moment were quite dangerous for a mortal to handle, after all. For that reason, special doctors who had been trained in both martial arts and spiritual medicine were needed.


    Spiritual doctors could be said to be the antithesis of poisoners, the use of miasmic arts to heal the body rather than to damage it. It was a skill that was greatly in demand by everyone, though the unorthodox path was in far greater need of it due to our tendency for poor health states caused by the effects of our arts.


    Rachel and I had looked into all spiritual doctors on the station, and had sadly found that they were all under the employ of the Hadal Clan. While it was a disappointment, it was no surprise. We had considered asking Nahalken¡¯s help, to see if Staiven medicine was capable of solving the issue, but ultimately I found myself still wary of the corporate leader. I couldn¡¯t bring myself to trust the man with knowledge of my condition.


    In the end, our solution lie in the fact that being under the Hadal Clan¡¯s employ did not mean that one was a perfectly loyal member. In the underworld, nearly anyone could be bought for the right price. While it would wipe out most of our remaining funds, we had convinced one of the spiritual doctors to secretly tend to my wound.


    ¡°Is there anyone else inside of the compound?¡± I asked, wary of a trap.


    ¡°I see three souls total, only one of which is a martial artist. That should be Doctor Tamara. The others seem to be an assistant and a janitor.¡±


    I nodded, glad to hear it.


    ¡°I suppose he wasn¡¯t lying, then. Good.¡±


    With that problem solved, I wandered past the street to the nearest stairwell, and slowly made my way to the clinic¡¯s side entrance as I had been told to. I didn¡¯t even need to tap the door open as the hatch slid up into its recesses, seemingly on its own. I was met by a rather pretty man wearing nurse¡¯s scrubs. His features seemed like they would be more at home in a host bar or on a stage than in medical gear. Knowing Rachel, I expected to be forced to listen to a comment on the matter. The man¡¯s expression was perfectly blank, however, and he stared at me in a very inexpressive manner.


    ¡°Are you the patient?¡± he asked in a monotone voice, fully void of emotion.


    I nodded in response, and before I could say anything he had turned around and started walking into the dark hallway behind him.


    ¡°What an odd man,¡± whispered Rachel, ¡°I do like his face, though.¡±


    I sighed.


    As I followed, the hatch sealed shut behind me with a resounding click. I was immersed with the sounds and scents of the clinic as the outside world faded away.


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    The clinic smelled like disinfectant, and it was perfectly silent other than the clicks out our footsteps and the slight, ever-present hum of the filtration system. All of the lights in the rooms were off. Everything was designed in traditional styles, and every so often I could see small prints, paintings, and unlit incense tables set up. This was clearly a place that catered to the wealthy.


    Even though he was not a martial artist, the man I was following clearly seemed to know his way around the dark corridors, swiftly traversing the maze of rooms. It wasn¡¯t long before I saw him enter a room at the end of a long corridor, the only lit room that I had seen in the entire building. I cautiously followed behind him.


    Unlike the traditional design of the hallways and lobby, this room was very modern and technological, as if it was trying to replicate the look of a Staiven operating room. Though, it was clear that unlike the Staiven, this room¡¯s designer had at least a basic sense of aesthetics. There were no seemingly random patchwork splotches of different colors interspersed throughout the walls, just a pale, slate gray design that would not seem out of place in a space ship.


    Standing next to an operating table was an older sei man. Thick wrinkles covered his face, and his long blonde hair was tied back tightly. Like the man who had led me in, he wore a set of scrubs. He grinned as I entered. His arms raised up as if he wished to hug me, but made no effort to approach, and nor did I.


    ¡°My mysterious client!¡± he called out exuberantly. ¡°What a pleasure to meet you!¡±


    I nodded politely in response.


    ¡°You as well, Doctor Tamara.¡±


    His face hardened suddenly, becoming serious.


    ¡°There are some rules we¡¯ll work with before I perform the surgery. First, if we meet in public or private in the future, we treat one another as complete strangers, no history of meeting.¡±


    He looked at me for a response, so I nodded my head again.


    ¡°I can agree to that.¡±


    ¡°Good. Second, there is to be no recommending my services to others. My private practice must be kept absolutely secret.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fair. I expect you to do the same as well, though.¡±


    I paused for a moment, but he didn¡¯t say anything else, just bobbing his head in assent.


    ¡°Is that it?¡± I asked.


    He nodded, and got to busying himself with some tools that had been set out on a counter. The unnamed quiet man with the pretty face, presumably an assistant, closed the door and started pulling out masks and surgical gloves.


    For a moment I awkwardly stood there, but soon Tamara motioned me to the operating table.


    ¡°Lay down here and describe the exact nature of the injury.¡±


    I did as told, setting myself down atop the padded metal table.


    ¡°There¡¯s a crack on the left side of my cerebral dantian. I need it repaired, and assistance in a deep scrub of my meridians to get all of the sanguine out.¡±


    ¡°Hm,¡± he replied, brows wrinkling in thought. ¡°That is about what I expected given what you said online. I certainly see why you came to me. Are you able to control yourself through intense pain?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I replied.


    ¡°Good. You¡¯ll need to be awake for this surgery, I need to be perfectly clear on this point. There will be issues if you are not. I¡¯ll give you orders on how to channel the miasma in your body, so pay attention after we get started. By the way, what type of miasma do you practice?¡± he asked.


    This was a big moment, the true reveal of whether he kept up with the news and if I could trust him not to sell me out.


    ¡°Formless,¡± I said.


    I could see a flicker of surprise and recognition cross his face, but Tamara quickly regained control of his expression.


    ¡°I see. I¡¯ve never worked with that variant before, but I know the theory.¡±


    ¡°That will be fine,¡± I replied.


    The next several hours were nearly lost to me in a haze of agony as I shifted the miasma inside myself under the doctor¡¯s orders while he carved into me with scalpels and poured liquid crystals into the tiny cracks in my dantian. The pain was far more intense than it was just to maintain the balance as I had, but the intense discipline training I had undergone as a child was enough for me to avoid passing out. If I were to do so, I might very well die, and the surgery would certainly be a failure.


    Time passed in an infinite void, and I wouldn¡¯t be able to say how long it was before I heard that distant voice saying that it was over, and I needed to cycle the remaining sanguine out of my apertures. I carefully did so, opening my eyes.


    I found that the pain had greatly lessened, and my dantian was no longer spewing streams of sanguine into my body. I leaned upwards, turning to Doctor Tamara to give a thankful nod. The lines in his face were far deeper, etched into him with weariness.


    ¡°Thank you for your hard work, Doctor Tamara,¡± I said.


    He nodded as he leaned back on the cabinet in exhaustion.


    ¡°Just make sure to pay back the full amount.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    I stood on shaky legs to walk out, but as I did, the doctor¡¯s quiet assistant intercepted my path, arm outstretched to hand me a small card. I raised an eyebrow at him.


    ¡°I was told to hand this to you before you left,¡± he said.


    ¡°By who?¡± I asked, but he did not respond.


    I inspected the card. It was a business card, belonging to a name that I found quite familiar.


    He was a man I had met at the black market, a relative of Ria and Taek Hadal, the aide of the matriarch herself.


    The spirit refiner, Wei Hadal.


    Spiritual Doctors: [One half of the vital discipline of spiritual medicine, spiritual doctors use genesis miasma to allow them to operate within the bodies of other martial artists without being wounded or disrupted by the energies. Spiritual doctors are rare and highly prized by martial organizations, and wars have been fought over inheritances and knowledge that can be used to help this trade. It was originally an orthodox discipline, but one that is prized even more highly by unorthodox practitioners. It is said that if an unorthodox practitioner wishes to live for a long time, they must prize their doctor as highly as they do their own lives.]

 48- A Small, Fragile Light

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    I stared down at the card in my hands, deep in thought. I didn¡¯t have any strong opinions about the man, having only met him twice. He had fought valiantly, but that was only what was expected of a man of his position and strength. I knew full well that the higher one¡¯s rank in an organization, the more responsibility they had to protect it. This was all the more true in a clan, as the organization was the same as one¡¯s own family.


    It would be wrong to call Wei Hadal a saint for his actions, but if he had not fought to defend his clan members, I would surely have called him a devil. I supposed that was simply the nature of things.


    I stood outside Doctor Tamara¡¯s clinic, slowly making my way back through the sparsely inhabited streets of Canvas Town. It was the middle of the night, and the dome light was off. If I were to lean over the railing and look up, I could see the resplendent stars of this region of Telles. It still awed me to think that around many of the stars that I could see from here were inhabited worlds and stations, some of which even contained other Seiyal. This was not something we had much of a conception of when I was a child.


    I idly considered walking over to do so, but decided not to. I wasn¡¯t one to gawk in public, and I had more important things to do. With the fire in my head finally doused, it was time for me to return my focus to the fire in my heart. The next stage of the Redwater Sect¡¯s development would begin tomorrow.


    ¡°Say, Rachel,¡± I said, the words trickling out as I pondered what I intended to ask. ¡°What is your impression of Wei Hadal?¡±


    She paused for a moment, seemingly considering her response carefully.


    ¡°I suppose I would say that he is generally well-regarded within the Hadal Clan, and very trusted by the Matriarch. It is likely safe to assume that he had it given to you rather than showing up himself in an attempt to not alarm you. Perhaps he wishes to rebuild the impression you have of them, after that Karie girl tried to kill you.¡±


    I nodded, largely agreeing with her assessment. Before I could formulate a response, she made a snarky comment.


    ¡°What, looking forward to that marriage offer they made you?¡±


    As I had expected, she couldn¡¯t help but throw in a comment that I intended not to respond to. It would be better if I didn¡¯t bite her bait.


    ¡°I think you might be right about his intentions. Most martial artists would have shown up in person regardless, however. Or at least sent a messenger in person to speak with me. Either Wei Hadal is an odd man, or something is going on in the clan right now.¡±


    ¡°Is there ever not something going on in a clan of that size?¡± she asked, and I couldn¡¯t tell if she was being honest this time or making another joke. Either way, I had to admit that she had a point.


    I slid the card into a pocket on the inside of my robe as I walked, passing by the drunkards, street women, and exhausted office workers that formed the majority of night pedestrians in this part of the district. There was a feeling of gloom to the air underneath the bustle and loud laughter. It reminded me of the place I had once lived in Crucible¡¯s Edge as a child, before my master had taken me in.


    The fire inside me still burned, but I found myself momentarily caught up in a torrent of nostalgia. Perhaps it was my relief from finally being freed from the pain and stress of my injury, or perhaps it was just the feeling of the cool night air.


    Oh a whim, I found myself walking for the nearest stairwell, coursing up multiple flights of stairs before finally finding myself on the top level, between a skydock and a warehouse. I casually made my way over to the railing, leaning backwards on the railing, eyes directed upwards.


    With the dome light off, I could see a vast expanse of stars marching their way all across a vast horizon, slowly sliding to one side as the spindle rotated. I tried to make out any familiar constellations, but as expected, I found myself unable to.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± asked Rachel, curiously.


    ¡°Which one of those is Canvas?¡± I asked.


    After a moment of silence she replied with a soft voice.


    ¡°Do you see that cluster of stars towards district 4?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    My voice emerged softly as well, the word slipping from my tongue as if I had been scared of releasing it. I realized that a part of me was scared, as if just looking at the star I had lived most of my life around would bring back the part of myself I had abandoned in that far off system.


    ¡°It¡¯s the second star to the left of it.¡±


    I immediately found the one she was referring to, a tiny pinprick of light against the vast darkness of space. It was remarkably small and dim compared to the others around it, far too easily lost in the celestial tapestry that surrounded it.


    ¡°Such a small, fragile light,¡± I whispered to myself. ¡°It¡¯s insignificant to the universe.¡±


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    ¡°It matters to you, though,¡± said Rachel.


    Her words were still spoken in that soft, almost kind voice. If I was in a normal state of mind I might have found it off-putting coming from her, but at the moment I appreciated it. I sighed.


    ¡°I suppose it does. It always will, even after I ascend beyond this world.¡±


    She laughed teasingly.


    ¡°You¡¯re so confident you¡¯ll succeed.¡±


    I reached out my hand, as if trying to hold Canvas¡¯ star in it, before clenching my fist in the empty air. The light disappeared behind it, as if it had been snuffed out. My hand slowly drifted back down.


    ¡°Everything¡­ all I have done, it would be meaningless if I were to fail,¡± I said. ¡°Mine is the legacy of my people, and I will paint their story across this tapestry.¡±


    From the corner of my eye I could see Rachel suddenly appear beside me, a smirk on her face. She was still using a sei variant of her appearance, and wearing martial robes similar to my own. Her hair was loose, not tied up like a female martial artist would normally do. Her amber eyes were as deep and limpid as the blue ones I had first seen had been.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t supposed to paint on a tapestry, silly,¡± she said, the corner of her mouth slightly lifted.


    I chuckled.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do it anyway. It¡¯s better than this world deserves.¡±


    ¡°I suppose that¡¯s true,¡± she replied, eyes roving upwards towards the sky. She seemed to have lost herself in thought. After a moment of silence, she spoke again.


    ¡°Say, Cyrus?¡±


    I looked over, meeting her gaze. Her eyes were filled with a deep melancholy. I could tell she was thinking about the past. She stretched a thin, pale arm out, and I followed the direction to another cluster of stars, this one over district 2.


    ¡°Do you see that yellow star right above the center of that area?¡±


    I could guess where she was going with this.


    ¡°I do.¡±


    She leaned over to me, a sad smile on her face.


    ¡°That¡¯s the star that my- my Earth orbits. Where I was born, where I lived my entire life. It wasn¡¯t always the best life. I worked hard for little result, suffered under overwork, and never had a lasting relationship. But you know what?¡±


    Her eyes seemed to be a little bit red, and I just continued to watch her as she kept talking.


    ¡°I was happy there. I liked my shitty job, and my annoying friends, and my parents who kept pressuring me to get married. Then- then¡­¡±


    She sniffed, turning back to lean on the railing and look back up towards that small star.


    ¡°Then the war started¡­¡±


    She let out a deep, expressive sigh.


    ¡°You know, Cyrus, I haven¡¯t been back there in centuries. It¡¯s uninhabitable even to spirits like us, now. Even if I did, their graves had been blasted to glass.¡±


    She let out a pained chuckle.


    ¡°It¡¯s always been pointless, I suppose.¡±


    Instinctively, I wanted to give her a pat on the shoulder, but at the last moment I held back, realizing that my hand would just pass through empty air. My hand slowly fell back to my side and I leaned back and looked up at the two stars, one for each of our worlds. We fell back into silence in the night air, ignored by the occasional passerby heading to and from the skydock.


    In a way, we were both exiles, unable to return home. For the both of us, the home we yearned for no longer existed. It was what had brought us together.


    I finally spoke up, needing to let words out, to end the oppressive silence.


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard a saying around the station, that various alien races have the concept of this same thing. It goes something along the lines of ¡®revenge will not bring you happiness.¡¯¡±


    I turned back to Rachel, and our gazes met again.


    ¡°My people of course,¡± I continued, ¡°have no concept of this idea. For us, revenge is both the means and the end. Those you have lost cannot rest until they are avenged.¡±


    Rachel laughed again, her voice bearing a hint of a slightly brighter note than it did earlier.


    ¡°I suppose that¡¯s why your people write so many tragic poems.¡±


    I glanced back up to the dim, distant light of Canvas¡¯ star.


    ¡°I have a feeling that this story won¡¯t be written down as a tragedy. An epic, perhaps. Or even a comedy. But it will end rightly. Of that I am sure.¡±


    Rachel tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and stood up from the railing with a grin. She stretched a hand out to me, as if offering to pull me up.


    ¡°We should get going,¡± she said. ¡°If you want to make that happen, you have a lot of work to do in the coming days.¡±


    I chuckled again, pushing myself off to join her.


    ¡°That goes for you as well. You don¡¯t intend to skive off work now that we have subordinates, do you?¡±


    We bickered lightheartedly for a bit more as we made our way back to the fledgling sect that we had founded. For a moment I almost felt like I was back in my childhood, talking with friends as we hid from our masters and skipped out on our duties as inner disciples. For the first time in a very long time, I felt a sense of peace.


    Tseludor: [The Pantheonic Goddess of goodness and love, Tseludor is a brilliant moral icon who promotes a concept of goodness that many races fundamentally disagree with. As many aliens have said, ''in the end she is fundamentally a Staiven goddess, so she thinks like they do.'' Of course, it is possible that the truth is the other way around. Tseludor promotes being kind to others and being ethical in all of ones actions, but her ethical framework highly promotes fulfilling one''s role in society and doing what is expected of oneself. In addition, the Tseludorian concept of charity entirely involves donating to the church and paying taxes, and has nothing to do with the poor or needy. To the Staiven, worshipers of Tseludor are nonetheless seen as kindhearted fools who do not know how to have true ambition. The church of Tseludor has invested into funding expansion of the Pantheonic Government''s control of the territory, allowing more space for refugees in more stations and more systems, so as to provide more funds for the government and the church, promoting their use in benefiting the church, the ultimate calling of all peoples. Tseludor is the patron saint and namesake of Tseludia Station.]

 49- The Spiders Web

    5th District, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Triezal did not like being indebted. He was, after all, the sort of person who felt the need to actually pay off that debt. It would gnaw away at his conscience until he finally paid it off, freeing himself from its influence. What he liked even less was handing blackmail material to others. His current situation involved both.


    In a moment of desperation, he had used his dagger- a weapon he had kept as an utter last resort. The lesion he had carved into reality would never heal. It would sit there, spilling miasma out into that restaurant far into the future, even past the time when the station was no longer inhabited. If it was found, the Leader would immediately sell Triezal out as a scapegoat to the Pantheonic Government.


    When he first arrived at the station, he had been warned by the harsh man. Told that it did not matter how powerful the technology was. He would immediately sell Triezal out as a member of the illegal terrorist organization known as Epon, just to preserve his own skin and organization.


    Triezal, of course, found himself unwilling to allow this to happen. Deep down inside he knew himself to be a selfish man. If he wanted to, he could blame it on the enhancement that Anteky had done to the self preservation instincts of his people. Triezal was not the type of man to make such excuses for himself, however. He simply was unwilling to die or spend his life enslaved on a prison moon.


    For this reason, he needed to find a backer. Someone other than the Leader, who could hide the scene from both him and the government. Someone like Astna, wielder of a vast web of wealth and influence. Someone he had an in with. Thus, in desperation, Triezal first went to find Kalthen.


    As expected, Kalthen had been put right back to blindly searching the streets of the fifth district after he had finished reporting his findings in Hestky¡¯s townhome. Akekha surely knew there was little chance that the Riverfiend was still living inside of the district, but she obviously didn¡¯t care about that. Luckily for Triezal, it meant that his friend was available and nobody would be able to tell that they had spoken today. That was certainly ideal.


    He sent Kalthen a quick message using his slate, inviting him to meet up. As he had expected, Kalthen leapt at the opportunity to take a break from the pointless busywork.


    While Triezal waited streetside, he saw Kalthen jog up, clearly in a good mood. His large, Jobu frame dwarfed most of the passersby around him. The heads of Kalthen and the other Jobu passersby stuck out from the crowd like boats riding stormy waves. As he approached Triezal, Kalthen¡¯s expression shifted as he noticed the dark, tired mood of the other man.


    ¡°Are you alright?¡± he asked.


    Triezal wasn¡¯t surprised by the question. There were no physical wounds on his body, but the exposure to poison along with the mental blows he had received had left him sickly and exhausted, occasionally coughing into his elbow.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± he said. ¡°Listen, can you get me into contact with your mother?¡±


    Kalthen took a step back, giving him an odd look.


    ¡°...what? Don¡¯t you know how to contact her? What exactly happened?¡±


    Triezal laughed, spiraling into another coughing fit.


    ¡°I need to contact her in a way that won¡¯t be noticed by the Leader or your Uncle. I was hoping you could help me out.¡±


    ¡°I think you should visit the hospital,¡± replied Kalthen.


    Triezal laughed again.


    ¡°Maybe later. This is more important.¡±


    ¡°Just what happened?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Poison. Things I can¡¯t talk about publicly. Just contact Astna, Kalthen. Consider it paying off the debt for me saving your life.¡±


    Kalthen considered Triezal¡¯s expression, internally conflicted.


    ¡°Fine.¡±


    He pulled out his glyph slate, quickly drawing patterns into its surface.


    ¡°Fine, but I¡¯ll need to know what¡¯s going on.¡±


    Triezal nodded wearily.


    ¡°I¡¯ll explain it to you later.¡±


    His eyes drooped, wanting desperately to close, to make him sleep so that he could regain his strength. But he had work that he desperately needed to get done, and he was worried that if he slept now, he might never wake back up. Sheer force of will was all that kept him lucid and standing.


    It felt like just a moment later when Kalthen turned to him, expression serious.


    ¡°She says she will see you.¡±


    Triezal gave a grateful smile, full of appreciation.


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    <hr>


    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    From the outside, the building that Kalthen¡¯s mother had wanted to meet him in looked very mundane, and belonged to, of all things, a law firm.


    Kalthen marched right in, and Triezal followed. Normally he would have walked right beside his friend, always maintaining confidence, but he was still frazzled, finding it difficult to muster his usual persona. They quickly made their way through the maze of rooms, ending up at a large conference room near the back.


    The building had not been extensively redone from the original Staiven design, merely expanded to house a full company on a single tiered structure that took up an entire block due to the scale. It had a mix of Staiven and Celan architectural conventions on the interior, and had been wallpapered to hide the tell-tale ugliness of Staiven material science.


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    The conference room was more in the Celan style, fully enclosed by a metal wall, with no way for those outside to see in. It was isolated not by a Staiven hatch, but by a real, hinged door. Triezal adjusted his yellow jacket before trying his best to regain his normal persona. He wished to be his best self when dealing with the ¡®Real Spider of Little Celah.¡¯ He knew that Astna saw the label as more of a compliment than an insult.


    Triezal followed in after Kalthen, wanting to use his friendship with the woman¡¯s son as much to his advantage as possible. As he entered, his eyes scanned the conference room. It was quite drab, with a tactile mesh embedded in one wall displaying glyphs in a formation that told him it was shut down. In the center of the room was a long rectangular table surrounded by chairs. At its end a large woman was lounging, one leg resting on its surface.


    Astna was lean for a Jobu, and it was clear to all who saw them that physically, Kalthen very much took after his mother. Despite this, her build, just like his, was still much more visibly muscular than Triezal¡¯s own, and even without the height boost from her heeled shoes, she would be over a foot taller than Triezal if she were to stand up. Her eyes were the color of steel, and gave off the impression that they were sharp enough to gouge someone.


    She was wearing a stylish black dress that accentuated the differences between a man and a woman¡¯s physique, and had a pair of black pumps on her feet. From experience, Triezal knew that Astna only wore black. She was a person who paid extensive attention to the way that she presented herself, an expert at managing her own image. Even the pose she currently resided in was carefully chosen to manipulate his perception of her to her advantage.


    Triezal knew that he could not hope to engage her in battle in her own domain. His options were to submit to her will completely, or be brash enough to subvert the nature of the engagement. To him, the second choice seemed far more enticing.


    Astna¡¯s eyes first went to her son, eyes displaying the barest hint of a softer gaze. It lasted for just a fleeting moment, quickly replaced by those same steely eyes.


    ¡°How have you been doing, Kalthen? Has that incompetent bitch been treating you poorly?¡±


    Somehow, Triezal thought, Astna was able to retain an air of refined elegance no matter what vulgarities she chose to spout:


    At her words, Kalthen visibly shifted his eyes downwards. Triezal knew that his friend deeply loved and respected his mother, but he also feared her.


    ¡°I¡¯m doing well, Mother. I expect to regain my rank again swiftly,¡± he replied.


    Astna nodded, her leg slowly lowering from the table.


    ¡°Good. Deal with her shit for a bit longer, and the Leader will reinstate you if me and your Uncle speak with him. We¡¯ll talk about this later, though, since your¡­ friend is here.¡± She turned her biting gaze to Triezal. ¡°Now, what was it you wished to discuss with me, Magister Triezal?¡±


    Astna, of course, as a member of the inner circle of the Heirs of Ottrien, knew about Triezal¡¯s exact identity, and even why he had been sent here. It was an open secret among the upper echelons, and the source of plenty of rumors among the rank and file. It wasn¡¯t a secret that Triezal particularly cared about keeping, as it would have reached the ears of everyone who mattered only a few days after his arrival anyway.


    He covered his face in a bright smile, meeting her eyes.


    ¡°I must say it is pleasure to meet you again, Madam Astna. I have a favor to ask of you.¡±


    Astna smirked, amused by Triezal¡¯s little act.


    ¡°Oh? And what sort of favor would an esteemed man such as yourself have for a little old lady like me?¡±


    Astna certainly wasn¡¯t little, nor did she come across as particularly old due to how gracefully she had aged, but like everything else she did, she was using it to control perception and the flow of the conversation.


    Working with his plan to simply act brashly and confidently, Triezal decided to be frank about his purpose.


    ¡°In probably less than an hour, crime scene investigators from the Justice Office will probably show up at one of our fronts by the Spacedock. I¡¯m sure you know which one I am referring to. I want you to hide something on the scene from both the Pantheonic Government and from the Leader.¡±


    He could sense Kalthen¡¯s interested gaze from the side, and as he met Astna¡¯s eyes again, he could see something shift in their depths. She leaned forward, resting her elbow on the table and cupping her cheek with her palm. She had a sly smile on her face, and Triezal couldn¡¯t help but frown. Did she already know?


    ¡°And just what happened, pray tell, that would drive you to fear our very own Leader?¡±


    Triezal paused, having difficulty deciding how to word his statement. In the end, it emerged on its own. His gaze hardened, diving deep into the molten iron of Astna¡¯s. The words emerged in a near whisper.


    ¡°I created a lesion.¡±


    A minute flicker of surprise crossed her eyes before she expertly regained control of her expression. If Triezal had not been very intently watching her, he would surely have missed it. So she hadn¡¯t known, he thought to himself. There are limits to even her access to information.


    ¡°What?¡±


    The word spurted from Kalthen¡¯s mouth in shock, unable to stop himself from uttering it. Triezal and Astna each gave him a silent look, and he immediately steeled his expression, becoming silent. Astna¡¯s gaze flickered back to Triezal.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you know that creating such a thing is incredibly dangerous, and highly illegal. Assisting you with this would make me complicit, in the eyes of the Justice Office.¡±


    Triezal nodded.


    ¡°This is true.¡±


    ¡°And to hide it from our Leader¡­ that constitutes betrayal of our very organization.¡±


    ¡°That is true as well.¡±


    She leaned back in her chair, smirking once more.


    ¡°And you think I would be willing to help you? Perhaps I should just turn you in right here and now.¡±


    Triezal hesitated, knowing that this had been a long shot.


    ¡°Is there anything you¡¯re wanting from me? A favor from me as an operative, or a favor from me as a magister?¡±


    Now Astna was the one to hesitate. She undoubtedly knew about the dangerous situation the Heirs were in at the moment, and the timer ticking down until the courier arrived. They were already later than the expected arrival time, and should have been here already. No matter what connections she had with figures on the station, there was nothing she could do if the Epon decided she was a nuisance. Everyone and everything on Tseludia Station was given the right to exist by powers far beyond this lowly backwater. She pursed her lips, seemingly coming to a decision.


    Astna smiled, a bright, friendly expression filling her face.


    ¡°In that case, I have a few conditions.¡±


    Triezal nodded.


    ¡°I expected as much.¡±


    ¡°First, I¡¯ll need two favors from you, to be cashed in at a later time.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Triezal replied.


    ¡°Second, I¡¯ll be attaching the well-being of myself and my family to your own. Even if all goes poorly and the forthcoming Epon representative decides to eliminate us all. If that happens, you¡¯ll defend us or I¡¯ll inform the Justice Office and make the mess much, much worse for you.¡±


    This was much more difficult to hear, but was one of the conditions that Triezal had expected her to put up. Still, it could be avoided if the presumed Shade was recaptured. Triezal nodded again.


    ¡°I agree.¡±


    Astna smiled almost good-naturedly, though that seemed too obviously a front to Triezal.


    ¡°Good. I¡¯m looking forward to our new working relationship, Magister Triezal.¡± Her eyes narrowed. ¡°May it last for quite a long time.¡±


    Lesion: [A tear in reality created by torsion of reality caused by warpings or unnatural structures and materials from the Incursion such as Ablation Engines and Naeratanh blades. Lesions are apertures in spacetime, tearing through to, among other layers of reality, the Brink, also as the spirit world. For this reason, miasma spilled constantly from lesions, warping everything nearby. There is no known way to repair or plug a lesion, and most attempts to do so exacerbate the issue, causing it to grow. Additionally, lesions operate under strange, unusual laws, and races such as the Staiven and the Celans believe that to an extent they are controlled by observation, because they tend to remain travelling in a certain frame of reference, such as remaining in the same location in regard to a planet or a space station despite the movement of such structures. The exact mechanics behind this property remain unknown. All known methods of creating lesions are banned in most civilizations, with the notable exceptions of those from within the Incursion, such as the Celans and the Khalak''Ora.]

 50- Tempering Iron

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    The next morning, I felt energetic, empowered by the temporary peace I had felt the previous night and my newfound freedom from pain. Formless miasma traced its way through my meridian, a sensation which just felt right to me, having been that way for most of my life. After waking up, I cleaned and dressed myself, my mind coming up with plans for what my next moves should be.


    While the crack in my dantian had been repaired, the work had inevitably been slightly less than perfect. The gap had been plugged with an artificial compound, and the effects were not quite as good as the natural material. For me, the largest impact of this was just slightly decreased stability in the condensation of miasma within the dantian. I could feel that a good portion of the time I had remaining had been shaved off. My tight schedule had been cramped even further, and I had not yet found a single one of the three treasures that I needed for my advancement.


    That line of thought gave me an idea, and my eyes flashed to where I had hidden Rachel¡¯s conduit.


    ¡°Hey, Rachel, has Nahalken found anything yet?¡± I asked.


    Rachel appeared out of nowhere in her human form, wearing a white sundress accented with jewelry that had blue stones on it.


    ¡°Do you mean the treasures? Not yet, as far as I know. In a backwater like this, there¡¯s little chance of acquiring what you need. The only treasures that really qualify are Staiven eyes.¡±


    Upon hearing there was little chance of finding what I needed here, I gave Rachel a glare. She looked away awkwardly, remembering that she had baited me here by tricking me into thinking that I could find such treasures. I sighed.


    ¡°I guess I¡¯ll tell the Silk Palace to look for more information on Ester Perivar. That lead might get me two of them, if we¡¯re lucky.¡±


    Rachel nodded.


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell Eli what I¡¯ve already found about the matter, though it isn¡¯t much. Whatever is going on with this Perivar, it¡¯s being kept quite secret. There¡¯s no mention of him or any experiments in any databases I have access to.¡±


    I frowned.


    ¡°Do we need to break into a government building to get you access to the right database?¡±


    ¡°Maybe, but I believe it may be best to see what your subordinates can acquire first. Breaking into a government building will prompt a great deal more reprisal than even stealing from the Celans did.¡±


    I nodded slowly, as she did have a point. Still, my gut was rigid, warning me that I was running out of time. I needed to progress or I would fall to insanity yet again. This time, I would be unable to save myself.


    ¡°I suppose that makes sense. What do you think we should focus on in the meantime?¡±


    Rachel hummed a bit to herself as she considered the matter, some odd melody that as expected, I couldn¡¯t recognize.


    ¡°Expansion and growth, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°I was thinking the same thing. It¡¯s high time we announced our existence to the neighborhood and began recruitment.¡±


    Rachel nodded, and her mouth shifted into a subtle smirk that annoyed me for some reason.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take charge of recruitment,¡± she said. ¡°I get the feeling that might not be your strong suit.¡±


    I bit back an urge to retort that her abilities were clearly not ideal either, given how she was largely at fault for Hestky¡¯s betrayal. The thought made me realize that I had grown a bit more comfortable with her after our conversation the night before. She reminded me a bit of my happier days in my youth at the Downpour Sect.


    We quickly marched out of the finely furnished sleeping quarters I had taken for myself as part of my right as sect leader, entering into the Redwater Sect at large. The room had formerly been Hidoro¡¯s, and after a good cleaning, I found it suitable for my own residence. It was by far the most comfortable sleeping quarters in the entire building.


    Rachel followed behind me, her hair and clothes morphing into the form she typically used when dealing with Seiyal. It struck me then that her emerging from my room might cause rumors, but found myself not particularly caring. This sort of rumor would not cause any damage to my reputation, so I did not particularly care about it. Though¡­ I glanced at Rachel, and, noticing my glance, she cocked her head curiously.


    ¡°What is it?¡± she asked.


    I supposed that she must not care about such rumors either, so I let the matter go.


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing,¡± I said, returning my attention to where I was going.


    While I had been too busy dealing with my injury to notice, the former office building that had been the headquarters of the Redwater Gang had come a long way. The peeling wallpaper had been replaced, and art had been placed on it in visible locations. I could tell that it was cheap art bought from starving artists or pawn shops, but it would do. As I had told my new subordinates after founding the sect, the bare minimum of presentation was all that mattered at the moment. Influence and personnel were far more important considerations for us.


    The construction and redevelopment inside of the sect had finally been completed a day or so before, and I could vaguely remember that I had told Kein Huang to make all the existing disciples go to Cinto for a ¡®refresher training.¡¯ In theory, they should be doing such training through the Steel Palace, but I had yet to assign a palace leader for it, and so it was still fully under my personal control. We had yet to start recruiting new disciples anyway, so I imagined Cinto couldn¡¯t be all that busy yet. I decided to head to the Charging Puma, just a few blocks away, to see how the training was going.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    As I walked through the halls of the sect, servants and disciples bowed to me as I passed, a mixture of fear and respect prompting them to do as they had surely been ordered to by Kein. It felt good to see it. While I didn¡¯t personally care how these people saw me, discipline and respect was the backbone of a sect, and if the sect leader was not treated properly, it meant that the sect was in dire straits.


    To my surprise, before I even left the building, I found them training in one of the larger halls of the sect. The room had once been filled with cubicles, I recalled, but now it had been emptied, and the tiles stripped off the floor to reveal the hard metal underneath.


    When training mortals and those in the foundation refinement realm, floor mats were generally used, at least on the station. Back home, we had simply trained in the mud of the Downpour Sect¡¯s grounds. The reason for these choices was twofold. One part of it was to reduce injury on the fragile bodies of the new practitioners. The second was that martial artists who were that weak were often children, and so injuries would feel cruel. Higher class martial artists were granted fewer considerations.


    The idea was that one should train on the type of terrain they were most likely to fight on. On the station, that meant hard metal flooring. Sure, there would be slips and injuries among the incompetent, but that was the price of effective training. While they recovered they could do labor with the servants. Their bodies were tough enough that there was no chance of them being crippled by the injuries unless real, metal weapons were used. Of course, we used those too at times, under supervision.


    I smiled at the pleasant thoughts of the past as I watched over thirty former gangsters stand in formation, shifting between forms that I recognized as genesis based techniques. After recognizing the techniques, I frowned. It was clearly an inferior variation on the martial arts of the Hadal Clan. While it was enough to serve a sufficiently talented practitioner through the core formation stage, they would always be weaker than a Hadal Clan practitioner at the same level, and none of the techniques would qualify to serve as the seed for a core. Perhaps this was the best that the unaffiliated denizens of the station knew? I would have offered to teach them better techniques, but I did not know enough about genesis techniques to actually improve their efforts. I would have to see about acquiring some better ones at some point in the future.


    The disciples failed to notice me, engrossed in their own efforts. I could tell why as I saw Cinto wandering the lines, smacking those who made mistakes with a training cudgel she held in one hand. Watching the silently enraged looks of the disciples, I nodded approvingly. While it could be harsh, it was certainly the proper way to train a disciple. My own master had done the same to me. The anger would drive them to improve, or it would drive them to flee. And if one of them decided to flee, they would serve as an excellent example for the rest.


    As the set of stances finally came to an end, one of the disciples finally noticed my presence. His posture immediately straightened, bowing in greeting.


    ¡°Sect Leader Yu! Vice-Sect Leader Rachel!¡± he called, respectfully greeting me.


    This brought the attention of the rest of the disciples, who all quickly did the same. Their discipline was commendable, far more than I would have expected of mere gang members after only a week of time in a sect. Perhaps Hidoro had demanded similar social considerations of them?


    I nodded to them in response, and they relaxed their posture, eyes glancing at Cinto who was walking over. As she arrived before me, she clasped a fist in her other hand and bowed to me.


    ¡°Greetings, Sect Leader Yu.¡±


    She turned to Rachel and bowed again. I waited for the two of them to exchange their own greetings before I responded.


    ¡°Greetings, Palace Leader Sakie,¡± I said. ¡°How has the training been going?¡±


    She glanced at the horde of former gang members, and then back at me.


    ¡°It¡¯s been difficult, but their abilities have already shown signs of improvement, particularly a few more talented members. They all certainly listen better than they did as a gang.¡±


    I smiled.


    ¡°Good. Would you consider them ready yet?¡±


    Cinto frowned, nibbling on her lower lip as she considered the question.


    ¡°Ready for what, sir?¡±


    ¡°To properly protect sect interests as we expand.¡±


    ¡°I would say that we have more than enough to protect our own territory, but if we wanted to expand further, we would need to either purchase or conquer it from another gang¡¯s territory. I¡¯m unsure if we have enough high-level combatants for that, sir,¡± she said frankly. ¡°There will almost surely be casualties.¡±


    I frowned, not pleased by the words. I would have to talk to Kein and Eli to see if any of the surrounding gangs would be an easier target than Cinto expected.


    ¡°I see. Is there anyone in the members present who you think can take over your role of ensuring their daily training.¡±


    Cinto¡¯s eyes flickered uncertainly.


    ¡°Sure, I can choose one. Is there a reason you would like me to?¡±


    I flashed her a grin.


    ¡°I need you to work with Rachel. Begin organizing and implementing a recruitment plan. Don¡¯t start it until we finish discussing the matter of announcing our existence. I¡¯ll wish to discuss that with Kein as well.¡±


    Cinto bowed again, and I left the room again, heading to deal with my other concerns. Rachel gave me a small wave as I turned, before she turned back to watch Cinto handle the large group of disciples.


    Energy still roared through my veins. I felt ready to fight another enforcer, much less simply have the energy to delegate all the tasks to my subordinates. At that moment it felt like both the sect and the larger plans that it was a part of had a very high chance of success.


    Miasmic Treasures: [Also known as natural treasures or spiritual treasures, this term refers to physical structures that house vast quantities of miasma inside of them. As miasma is inherently unstable and warps everything around it, such structures have yet to become something that can be created through science and technology alone, at least not with normal materials. These treasures, despite their name, cannot actually form naturally, only in places where the natural order has been altered in some way. On Canvas they can be found inside the bodies of certain beasts created by the ascendant Tovus, often named with an appellation of fiend, such as a junglefiend or a riverfiend. Ascendants and Osine are said to be the only forces capable of creating them, and they can also sometimes be found formed within areas that have been affected by powerful, large scale warpings, or near lesions. In addition, the eyes of the Staiven race slowly form into these treasures as they age, which can result in their murder in certain, more dangerous areas. Miasmic treasures are quite rare, and as they are required for high level advancement in the Seiyal progression system, as well as necessary for the use of certain advanced technologies, they come at a very extreme price. It is said that the ascendant Ceirra creates a certain amount of miasmic treasures yearly to give to her followers in Sunlit Hall, which is the main reason that force has far more high level practitioners than other martial organizations.]

 51- Secrets Kept

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Deuvar pursed his lips as he inspected the document that was displayed on his glyph slate. He did not find himself liking what he saw. The results of the investigation had returned, and according to some of his most trusted subordinates, there was no evidence that the lack of proper defenses around the warehouse that had been robbed weeks before was because of a mole.


    It was obvious to him that it was more than mere coincidence, and it had been that way from the start. Even before he had arrived on the scene he had known this fact. The most effective guards of such a vital facility, all sent away at the right time- it would be foolishness bordering on insanity to suppose it all to be the result of unfortunate coincidence.


    What shocked him most was that if the results of the inquisition truly were true, if there really was no traitor hiding within their organization¡­ This would mean that someone had hacked their system, had acquired their private codes and secretly reassigned their personnel poorly. If that was the case, the organization was in for a great deal of trouble.


    An infiltrator might even be worse than a traitor. Either way, the information leak this represented would substantially hamper their efforts to retrieve the item.


    Suddenly, a glyph appeared at the edge of the slate, coalescing from nothingness to notify him of a message. He glanced at it, and his brow gained another crease as he realized that it came from his sister. Astna rarely contacted him if there wasn¡¯t an issue or she didn¡¯t want anything.


    He sighed, eyes glancing around the room as he instinctively delayed investigating whatever matter she had embroiled herself into.


    His office was rather small for a man of his rank, and was almost bare. It contained a desk and his chair, closed in by the dark metal walls on either side. When he had been granted his current position, he had just chosen a conveniently located room to get to work in, and the choice had ended up becoming permanent. Luckily for Deuvar, he wasn¡¯t claustrophobic and did not particularly care about the matter. Various screens and terminals were littered haphazardly around the table, each displaying different documents and messages that Deuvar had to deal with.


    In truth, as the Vice-Leader he found himself always working very long weeks. These past few weeks had been some of the most stressful and longest hour weeks he had ever worked. Everytime he solved one problem, several more cropped up. Perhaps this was why he was avoiding his sister¡¯s message. To do such a thing wasn¡¯t like him, as he considered such actions to be weakness. However, his tired and weary mind had trouble caring about how he usually felt. With a sigh, Deuvar rubbed his glabella and raised the slate again to see what new problems Astna had encountered.


    He tapped the glyph, causing all of the other glyphs on the screen to minimize to a corner as a new set of glyphs filled the screen. Deuvar frowned as he realized that it was a link to a joint transmission rather than just a message.


    The lines of glyphs swirled in a complex spiral before glowing lines pushed outwards from its surface to form a miniature bust of Astna. The figure shifted from a frozen position to a jerking motion, as if it were a model that had suddenly been granted life. She locked gazes with Deuvar, and it felt as if she were actually in the room.


    ¡°A pleasure to speak with you, dear brother,¡± she said.


    Deuvar noted that her language was unusually flowery. She was speaking to him like she usually spoke with the Leader and with the government officials that she often came into contact with at social events.


    ¡°What have you found?¡± he asked, his words cutting straight to the point.


    In this regard, he and his sister were opposites. While he could play the game of formalities and dodging around the point of discussion, Deuvar found that to be an inefficient waste of time.


    Astna chuckled, shifting her tone as she explained the reason for her call.


    ¡°You¡¯re aware of the¡­ interview that our young magister was having with that traitor of the Epon, right?¡±


    Deuvar nodded. He kept fully apprised of every movement and use of the Heirs¡¯ personnel, so he had been following Triezal¡¯s investigation. But if he had found something, why was he hearing about this from Astna rather than through the official report?


    ¡°What happened?¡± he asked.


    Astna chuckled.


    ¡°A Seiyal assassin arrived and killed the traitor. She was a poisoner, even.¡±


    Deuvar¡¯s lips tightened indiscernably.


    ¡°Miasmic poison? Did Triezal survive?¡±¡±


    His sister laughed, and nodded.


    ¡°Thankfully, yes. I can¡¯t imagine how poorly the Epon representative would react if we not only lost that relic but also a magister. He should be undergoing treatment in the hospital now.¡±


    Astna shifted her right arm, as if motioning to something or someone in the room she was in, that Deuvar could not see due to the nature of the hologram.


    ¡°I expect her to have been sent by whatever organization is behind the Riverfiend,¡± Astna continued. ¡°Triezal came to me, asked me to get the government focused on her identity as a poisoner and away from our involvement in the event.¡±


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    Something felt off about that idea, but Deuvar wouldn¡¯t press. He knew it would be worthless to try and pry into his sister¡¯s secrets. Still, if this was all she had wanted to tell him, she would not have bothered contacting him, and simply waited for him to read it all in the report.


    He sighed. This was how all discussions with her went. One of these days, Astna was likely to give him a brain aneurysm. In contrast, her son had a much more approachable personality. In Deuvar¡¯s opinion, Kalthen took more after his father in that regard.


    ¡°I see,¡± he said, once more trying to cut right to the reason she had contacted him. ¡°But why are you informing me of this personally?¡±


    Astna¡¯s expression shifted, and Deuvar could sense hints of a different expression behind her smile for a moment, but they were gone before he could identify it, her mask once more firmly secured in place. Her internal self again locked away from the world. He internally sighed again. Indeed, she had always been this way.


    Her expression became serious.


    ¡°In truth, I¡¯m personally informing you of something that I made sure was excised from the report.¡±


    Deuvar paused, raising an eyebrow.


    ¡°You¡¯re worried about a leak?¡±


    Astna shook her head.


    ¡°Not only that. Just letting this information get out to mid level members would be a problem, even if it did not reach the ears of the infiltrator or mole, or whoever is at fault.¡±


    Deuvar hardened his gaze. Astna wouldn¡¯t lie about something like that.


    ¡°What did he say?¡±


    She smiled, as if excited to see his reaction to the information.


    ¡°You remember that object, the one we were guarding? The traitor claimed that it houses a Shade.¡±


    ¡°A Shade¡­¡±


    Deuvar nodded, lost in thought. His chiseled forehead wrinkled as he thought intensely, quickly coming to a conclusion. The presence of a Shade would answer all of his remaining questions about the events of that day, but it also posed a huge threat.


    ¡°I see,¡± he said simply, but his mind remained awhirl.


    While it filled in the gaps of his understanding, the presence of a Shade was a major problem, both within and without the Heirs of Ottrien. While Shades bore different levels of capability, those his own people were accustomed to were beings of vast intellect and capability, some even revered as heroic figures.


    Ottrien himself, who their organization was named after, had been himself a Shade, one that had gathered a great following among the denizens of the Otthaonian continent before he was ultimately slain by the demoness Khanya. The few Shades originating from Celah that still remained were said to be enigmatic and vastly powerful figures. They were revered, almost worshiped by many members of the organization.


    For this reason, the existence of a Shade as an enemy was far too risky, even if it were weak. However, given what it had accomplished so far, Deuvar could not dare assume it was weak. It was no wonder the Epon had put such emphasis on guarding it inside of such a full electromagnetic isolation seal. Even then, that seal had clearly ultimately failed somehow.


    The object, the relic that housed this Shade had been brought to them roughly three years before by a passing Epon research ship. They had not been told the details of its nature, but It was to be kept extremely secretly and guarded with intense security until a courier arrived to pass it forward. After informing them of that order, the ship had left the station, presumably returning to whatever alien ruin the object had been found inside of.


    Suddenly Astna laughed, as if she had just recalled a funny joke, drawing Deuvar¡¯s attention back to her.


    ¡°You know, brother, that is actually all he would tell me, as if he only managed to ask one question before the assassin arrived. It seems we aren¡¯t qualified to know about the rest of it.¡±


    Deuvar didn¡¯t respond, as the idea didn¡¯t surprise him. Though they were high ranking members of a subordinate organization, there were many secrets that the Epon held and refused to disclose to them. He suspected the idea was to make it so that such subordinate groups could be expendable, not privy to any information that was actually important.


    Still, he could not help but worry that whatever secrets Triezal was keeping from them might be as dangerous as the existence of the Shade was.


    ¡°Is that all?¡± he asked, sensing that she was keeping something from him.


    His sister just smiled in response, an expression he could read all too well given how long he had known her. He could tell that there was something, likely more than one that she was keeping from him as she always was. He also knew that there was nothing he could do to pressure Astna into telling him something when she did not want to. Deuvar sighed.


    ¡°Fine, then. Thank you for informing me of this, sister.¡±


    Astna preened, an action he knew was precisely chosen to annoy and distract him. She had always been prone to acting in such a manner, a born manipulator. It had always been impossible to tell when she was being genuine or not. He assumed this meant that she truly had divulged all she knew, or at least all that she intended to.


    ¡°You¡¯re quite welcome, dear brother.I¡¯ll speak to you at a later date. I¡¯m sure you have quite a lot of work to do, as always.¡±


    Without another word, her projection winked out, and the swirling glyphs on his slate returned to normal. Deuvar leaned back on his chair, feeling even more exhausted than he had before speaking to her.


    His eyes glanced towards the tablets covering his desk. Their screens were each filled with documents bearing orders and information he had looked at before this revelation. A good deal would need to be redone.


    Deuvar rubbed his glabella again, reaching into his desk to pull out a vial of headache medicine. It was destined to be another long day.


    Epon Celah: [The original civilization that existed on the planet Celah, the Epon Celan civilization was a highly advanced power who had technology on par with forces such as the modern Staiven and Celan civilizations, despite a complete lack of having discovered the existence of miasma yet. Uninterested in exploring the cosmos, the Epon Celans covered their planet in a vast megacity that sprawled across most of the surface of their planet. Their artificial intelligence technology was particularly powerful, and they used Shades to control most of their technology. The Epon Celan civilization eventually collapsed due to a surprise attack by the Khalak''Ora, who used their ablation engines to cover the entire world in lesions in an attempt to ''salt the earth'', and destroy any chance of the civilization''s survival or recovery. This ultimately failed, as some few survivors remained, as well as a small number of Shades that had managed to escape the limitations of their programming. For their own aims, the various Shades assisted in repairing the planet''s ecosphere, and assisting in the survival of the remaining population. Some of these Shades became worshiped as gods by the people who were forced by circumstances and the largely inhospitable, lesion filled terrain to return to a primitive lifestyle. Ultimately, the three surviving Shades from that era can be considered the final remnants of the Epon Celan Civilization.]

 52- The Desire to Uplift

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Han Yu examined the flyer he had received once more, hesitant to believe that it could be legitimate. A couple days before, they had been passed around the neighborhood by a group of people who were known gangsters.


    He had heard that the Redwater Gang had changed somewhat in recent days, but if the information on this flyer was to be trusted, the change was far more than surface level. After the death of their previous ganglord, the new head had decided to change them from a gang into a sect.


    Based on what Han knew, this was something that had never once happened before on the station.


    He pursed his lips, trying to decide whether to trust it or not. There was an undeniable draw to it- all young Seiyal grew up hearing about the mighty works of martial artists, the power of the sects and clans, and most of them wished to be part of that world.


    However, in reality, very few living in Tseludia Station ever got that opportunity. The Hadal Clan was very insular, and even those few extremely rich or talented outsiders who got in would spend their entire lives subordinate to those who simply bore the Hadal surname. For this reason, the idea of a sect held far more allure to Han. In theory, they were meritocratic institutions, and opportunities went to those who earned them rather than a product of nepotism.


    Ultimately, he decided to go to this entry examination that the flyer talked about. There was no mention of an entry fee, and if he brought only pocket change, he had little fear of being extorted if it indeed were a ploy by the gang.


    In the end, what made the decision for him was five words on the front page which described the nature of the newly formed Redwater Sect. The words were part of a section detailing the hierarchy. At the top it said ¡®Sect Leader Cyrus ¡®Riverfiend¡¯ Yu.


    Han and his friends had in truth paid very close attention to the mentions of this figure in the media. Riverfiend, a martial artist powerful enough to achieve remarkable deeds despite not being beholden to the chains of the Hadal Clan. According to the news stories, he was said to have stolen from the Celans, and destroyed a black market in the 8th district, resulting in one of the largest battles in recent memory. After that he had disappeared without a trace, causing people to question whether something had happened to him.


    Perhaps what he was reading here really was the truth. Han had trust in the Riverfiend, knew that for a titled martial master such as him, he would not just mysteriously disappear. If he were to die, it would be in some epic battle or in a failed ascension.


    It also struck Han¡¯s attention that if the flyer was to be believed, he and the Riverfiend himself shared a surname. Perhaps they were distantly related? The thought sent a jolt of excitement down his spine, and Han certainly knew he would wish to brag about the matter to his friends if it turned out to be true.


    As he rushed to go talk to his friends about it, one matter suddenly struck him. The Riverfiend was said to be an unorthodox martial artist. Wouldn¡¯t that make any sect he formed similarly unorthodox?


    After considering the matter, Han quickly realized that he simply did not care about the issue. In the media, unorthodox practitioners were always depicted as cruel and evil monsters who cared about nobody but themselves. As someone with a large interest in martial arts however, Han knew that there was no way that this could be true. If it was, there was little chance that they would have been able to form such large clans and sects across both Crucible and Bounty.


    No, he found it more likely that the way unorthodox practitioners were presented in the media was merely propaganda from Sunlit Hall, an attempt to discredit their enemies. Every Seiyal and Tovus in the station knew that most media that was created for Canvas¡¯ culture was in part funded by the clan.


    Ultimately, Han found that he did not particularly care if the sect was unorthodox or not. What, it meant that his lifespan wouldn¡¯t be as extended by his martial arts as another sort of martial arts was? Wasn¡¯t that worth the price if the only other martial arts he was able to learn was the poor quality dregs that the Hadal Clan allowed to leak out? It was better to be a king for a day than a peasant for a century.


    Han¡¯s family had never been devout worshipers of Ceirra anyway.


    With such thoughts in mind, Han continued to scurry to the alleyway where he and his friends usually met up. He knew that he would likely be drawn to the event, but wanted to see how many of them would want to join him. He also decided that he would brag about his newfound connection to Riverfiend, even if he wasn¡¯t certain yet. He smiled, looking forward to it.


    Perhaps life was looking up, and perhaps he wouldn¡¯t be trapped in these slums all his life like his parents and grandparents had been.


    <hr>


    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    As we had expected, the Hadal Clan heard about what was written on the flyers, and arrived a day before the examination was to take place. If anyone else but me had been the founder of the sect, they likely would have been eliminated without a second thought. Instead, the group that arrived was simply a pair of faces that I recognized.


    Wei was just as I had remembered him, a weathered man who exuded a powerful sense of might, his figure appearing as stately rather than feeble. Ria, who walked beside him, however seemed a bit different from the last time I had seen her. She seemed a bit more tired than the last time I had seen her, that bright spark in her eyes just a little more faded.


    The two of them bowed at me.


    ¡°Greetings,¡± said Wei.


    According to tradition, it would have been proper to refer to me by my title of Sect Leader, even though they were not part of my sect. However, I could read between the lines and understand what he was trying to tell me. The Hadal Clan had yet to decide whether or not to recognize my force.


    ¡°Greetings,¡± I replied, directing my hand behind me to the interior of the sect. ¡°Would you like to come inside? I¡¯ll have a disciple make us some tea.¡±


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    Wei nodded, and the three of us went inside the clan. I took a slightly longer route to the sitting room Rachel had claimed we should use, showing off the newly renovated interior of the building.


    ¡°This is rather impressive,¡± said Ria.


    I laughed, knowing she only meant how quickly it had been put together.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure it must look quaint to you, but a newly founded sect could never have the might and history of your own Hadal Clan,¡± I said.


    I trusted the two of them could read between the lines to the true meaning of my words: I understood the difference in our relative power, but I wasn¡¯t without ambition. Though I had made the statement, I knew it was too early to discuss this matter.


    ¡°How has Taek¡¯s recovery gone?¡± I asked, changing the subject..


    Something shifted in Ria¡¯s eyes, and she responded with a soft smile.


    ¡°It¡¯s been slow, but he¡¯s expected to fully recover in time with no loss in function.¡±


    ¡°Excellent,¡± I replied. ¡°He left a good impression on me.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t even a lie. While I indeed did not particularly care about the man¡¯s fate, his courage and strength had given me a favorable opinion of him.


    We chatted a bit about the events at the black market and Taek¡¯s recovery until we reached the sitting room, where we knelt across from one another on cushions at a small table. Wei and Ria sat next to one another, facing me. Kein Huang quickly arrived, bearing a teapot and some cups. He poured me a cup of a purple tea that Rachel claimed originated on Staive. I hadn¡¯t bothered to remember its actual name. Apparently, by chance it was digestible to the peoples of Canvas, so we had obviously found a way to turn it into tea. It was quite popular on the station these days. Ria gave a hum of approval as we all took a sip together.


    I had chosen to give them face by letting us all take the first sip together. As a sect leader, I in theory had a higher ranking than them, but I wanted to make it clear that I had no intention of making the Hadal Clan an enemy. Not at the moment at least, I muttered in my mind.


    Wei was the first to speak.


    ¡°Do you mind if I ask your intentions on the station, Mr. Yu?¡±


    As I had proclaimed us equal in status, he had immediately discarded my title. It was hard to tell if that was a good sign or not.


    I sipped at my tea, enjoying the odd bittersweet flavor.


    ¡°Originally, I came here because I heard word that the Celans here were holding onto several marshfiend pearls.¡±


    I chuckled sadly.


    ¡°The information was either false or outdated, and I do not have enough time to make another voyage, so I decided to continue my master¡¯s legacy here.¡±


    Wei nodded.


    ¡°You don¡¯t see many natural treasures in this system. We have to import most of ours.¡±


    ¡°Did talks with the Staiven fall through?¡± I asked.


    He laughed.


    ¡°They see our method of using their eyes as wasteful, apparently.¡±


    ¡°Not a surprise,¡± I said, taking another sip of my tea.


    The opinion the Staiven held of our people had become very clear in the time I had spent on the station. To them we were an inferior, primitive people living off of their charity.


    ¡°Is this really about legacy?¡± blurted Ria, ¡°Aren¡¯t you the one who-¡±


    Wei silenced her with a glare, and I sighed, giving a sad smile to the two of them.


    ¡°I see you¡¯ve found my history,¡± I said. ¡°The truth isn¡¯t quite like it¡¯s been described in the reports, I expect.¡±


    The fact that she had learned about my past certainly explained why Ria was acting differently than she had been the last time we met.


    ¡°But you killed your-¡±


    ¡°Ria.¡±


    The word came from Wei, who had a very stern look on his face.


    ¡°But Uncle, we can¡¯t just-¡±


    ¡°Your feelings are not more important than the Matriarch¡¯s will, Ria,¡± said Wei.


    She sighed, going silent once more, as Wei turned to me again.


    ¡°I¡¯m not here to discuss events over a decade past, in another system entirely,¡± he said. ¡°Instead, by the way, would you prefer I refer to you as Mr. Cyrus Yu, or Mr. Jin Luo?¡±


    ¡°My name is Cyrus Yu, now. I left Canvas to put the past behind me.¡±


    He nodded, moving on.


    ¡°Just what was it that you stole from the Celans anyway, Mr. Yu?¡± he asked.


    I had anticipated this question. I shrugged in response.


    ¡°Assorted rare materials and treasures, plus some technologies I couldn¡¯t hope to recognize. I sold it all at that black market and used the funds to pay for the sect¡¯s needs.¡±


    Wei nodded, and I found it difficult to tell whether he believed my words or not. Either way, he was willing to leave it at that, which would suffice.


    ¡°As I¡¯m sure you¡¯re aware, our Hadal Clan does not typically allow for the formation of other martial clans and sects within our territory.¡±


    I nodded as he took a sip of his tea, smiling at me.


    ¡°We are considering whether or not to make your Redwater Sect an exception.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow at him.


    ¡°Suffice to say I¡¯m here to offer you a deal, Sect Leader Yu. Should you agree, the Hadal Clan is willing to recognize your legitimacy, and even perhaps give you something from our treasury. You see, Mr. Yu, we happen to have one of those marshfiend pearls you seek. While I can only offer you one, perhaps you will be able to find an elder Staiven of the correct variety before your time runs out. I expect you have several years left, given your age.¡±


    I nodded at that, reinforcing his understanding of my condition. It seemed that while the Hadal Clan had indeed traced me back to my identity on Canvas, they had not learned the full extent of what had happened. They didn¡¯t know about the tear in my soul.


    I took another sip of my tea, finishing the cup. I calmly poured another as I spoke.


    ¡°That sounds excellent, Mr. Hadal. What would your clan have me and my Redwater Sect do for you in exchange?¡±


    He poured himself another cup as well.


    ¡°We simply wish for some assistance here and there. There are certain things that you people¡¯s nature lets you do that we cannot.¡±


    I nodded, understanding his point. As expected, they wished for us to perform criminal activities for them, giving them plausible deniability about the matter, though of course everyone would easily be able to see the connection. Wetwork and burglary, I would have wagered, not that I particularly cared. I myself had no qualms about doing such things. I had done both for my own needs on the station, and I had only been here for a couple weeks by this point.


    I smiled over at him, expressing my opinion about the idea.


    ¡°We¡¯ll need a contract, of course.¡±


    He nodded.


    ¡°Of course. I¡¯m looking forward to working with you, Riverfiend.¡±


    ¡°I as well, Mr. Hadal.¡±


    We lifted our cups forward and clinked them together. To the side, Ria¡¯s face still showcased a deep uneasiness.


    Ceirra: [The Goddess of Light from Canvas and the creator of the Seiyal race, Ceirra is an ascendant whose origin in unclear to most mortals, having been one of the group of ascendants who migrated to the world before it was inhabited by any sapient life. Her relationship with her fellow deities has largely declined over time, in part due to the fact that she has developed an intense hatred for her fellow deity Saaya, who was also a god of Canvas, and the creator of the Reth. She is widely revered by the Seiyal, particularly those of the orthodox path of Sunlit Hall, who she is the direct patron of. As such, Sunlit Hall has gone on various crusades against both the Reth and Seiyal who revere Saaya, which resulted in the great war between the orthodox and unorthodox paths. While it is not a requirement for organizations to believe in Ceirra to join Sunlit Hall, there is clear discrimination against those who don''t even pretend to, within the organization.]

 53- Entry Examination

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Han Yu and his friends forced their way through a crowd, wishing to be some of the first into the examination venue. Several of their group had been very hesitant to trust the flyer on blind faith, but just one day before, the Hadal Clan had announced the legitimacy of the new Redwater Sect, and so practically every teenager and young adult in the neighborhood had shown up. Getting into a sect had the potential to change the entire result of their life.


    There were few parents who were unwilling to let their children join, merely those who were particularly religious or who were too worried about the potential risks. In this part of Canvas Town, however, just living came with such risks, and chances were that many of their children would end up joining a gang at some point. A sect would be much preferable, unorthodox or not.


    Han hadn¡¯t even bothered asking his parents. He had simply informed his father that he intended to join the sect. He hadn¡¯t particularly cared. Secretly, Han was most excited about the idea of being able to leave his parent¡¯s apartment rather than the idea of fulfilling his dream of learning martial arts. If all went well, he hoped he would not have to return there tonight, or perhaps ever again.


    The examination was being held in an empty space at the top of the stack, a wide stretch between a warehouse and a skydock. Had it been the Hadal Clan, Han knew that he would have been able to expect a wide interior room for the purpose, but on Tseludia Station, such large spaces came at a premium. Permits needed to be filed with the government for permission to eliminate so many interior walls, due to concerns of damaging the stack¡¯s structural stability.


    Other than the venue, the event was rather professional. Uniformed sect members kept order among the crowd of excited teenagers and young adults. Red banners surrounded the area, and a stage was set up towards the front, where a small group of Seiyal stood. Han Yu tried to peer through the crowd, trying to see what Riverfiend actually looked like, as the media had yet to find pictures of him.


    Most of them wore white robes with various inlaid secondary colors, those of the various palaces. Han knew from the information the sect had released that there were five palaces, only four of which already had a Palace Leader already instituted.


    Six people stood on the stage, five of which wore the white robes, three men and two women. The last figure wore a red uniform with black undertones. He was a farsei, his face not particularly notable, but he had a tyrannous bearing. Han knew that this had to be Sect Leader Cyrus Yu, the Riverfiend himself. Han wanted to be like him one day.


    The crowd continued jostling its way into the space until everyone had arrived, where Han found that there was finally space to breathe as the crowd expanded to fit the larger open area. He looked around, but realized that he had lost all of his friends in the crowd. He supposed he would just have to meet up with them afterwards when they had all made it into the sect. He kept the concept of failing the examination firmly out of mind.


    After the last dregs of the crowd made it in, the red-robed man who Han suspected to be the Riverfiend stood before the edge of the stage, arms resting behind his back. There was no podium or microphone before him, but when the man spoke, the words echoed out across the entire space. Han¡¯s eyes blazed with admiration. Could this be sound arts?


    ¡°This is the entry examination for the Redwater Sect,¡± the man said brusquely, seemingly skipping as many formalities as were possible. ¡°As such,¡± he continued, ¡°we will only be accepting those who I determine to have sufficient potential. The rest of you can either give up or work hard to increase your potential before the next entry examination. I can say this, however: I will be exacting in my choices. Do not attempt to dispute them.¡±


    Having said that, he stepped backwards, allowing a woman in a white robe with red accents to take the stage before them. She was a rather pretty sei, and her long hair rested loose behind her, completely untied. It struck Han as somewhat scandalous to see her like that. It was one thing for aliens to do so, but for a Seiyal¡­


    Once she had the crowd¡¯s attention, she called out.


    ¡°The man who just spoke was Sect Leader Yu, who you likely know of as the Riverfiend. I am Vice Sect Leader Rachel, and I will be proctoring this examination. As we said on the flyer, a martial artist¡¯s foundation is important, and so only mortals are to be accepted during this examination. If anyone here has already learned martial arts, you may consider talking to a doctor about foundation annihilation surgery before returning for a future examination, where we will then be willing to put you into consideration. In addition, anyone who breaks a rule during the examination will be seen as lacking in discipline and thus removed from consideration. I will not be accepting any questions.¡±


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    She smiled as if she had told a joke as her eyes scanned the crowd. Han almost thought that her gaze paused on him for a moment before continuing.


    Could she really have been looking at him? He glanced around, and saw that others surrounding him seemed to have similar questions written on their face. It was probably not him, he decided. Still, a small part of him could not help but hope. She really was pretty. While he was lost in a fantasy, the Vice Sect Leader continued speaking, looking down on everyone with what seemed to be a smirk.


    ¡°To begin, there are more of you here than we expected. To begin, we will have each of you fight one other candidate. Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯ll divide you into weight classes. We understand that those are important for mortal fights, and we wish to expand our selection criteria beyond those whose parents could afford to feed them well.¡±


    Again she seemed to find her own words humorous, and again Han could not tell why. Wasn¡¯t what she had said something that was strictly true? He was glad for the weight classes. While Han wasn¡¯t malnourished, he wasn¡¯t bulky enough to have much chance into some of the larger men his age.


    Following this, the Vice Sect Leader ordered the men who were standing beside the crowd to maintain order to pass out small chips made out of some sort of polymer to his prospective entrants. Han soon received his, and he inspected it carefully.


    The item was roughly the size of a serite chip, about the diameter of someone¡¯s eyeball. It was mostly flat, with one side a blank red and the other bearing two digits: a letter and a numeral.


    He looked around, trying to figure out the purpose of the item. It clearly served to identify him, but how would they use it to announce the pairings? There were no screens anywhere in sight. Did she intend to have them show themselves to her one by one and then get matched up?


    As he was trying to figure out the plan, each of his ideas being painfully long and time consuming, he was interrupted by a clamor from those around him. Han looked up to see a vast projection floating above the stage. He gasped in shock.


    The image was almost the size of an entire building, floating unsupported in the air. Han hadn¡¯t even seen it appear, as if it had formed from nothingness in midair. He instantly recognized what it had to be.


    ¡°Illusions created with extant miasma,¡± he murmured under his breath.


    He had heard of it, and seen it in movies, but the real thing felt totally different. It was the single most magical thing he had ever seen, even despite the mundane nature of the image that was actually being displayed, a mere board showing lists of letters and numeral pairings, and where they were to meet up.


    Han quickly made his way over to the spot that corresponded to his own chip, finding himself faced with another boy a bit younger than him that he didn¡¯t know. He thought he might have seen him around the neighborhood before, but they had certainly never met. The other boy didn¡¯t say a word, merely narrowed his eyes as he inspected Han. Han smiled at him, almost baring his teeth. He could not lose this fight. This fight could very well determine his future, and he knew that his opponent must feel the exact same way. An opportunity like this one might arrive once in a lifetime.


    He glanced at a nearby duo, a man and a woman roughly his own age. It struck him then that they actually hadn¡¯t bothered to separate by gender. Wouldn¡¯t that be unfair to the women? He questioned the idea for a moment and then set it aside, because the woman on the podium had started speaking again.


    ¡°Before you start, keep in mind that we will be watching everything. Fights will last until knock outs or concessions. If you intentionally kill your opponent, we will report you to the Justice Office, so keep that in mind as well. After this, you and your opponent may bow to one another and start at any moment.¡±


    Han noticed her specific word choice, allowing for accidental deaths. The idea unnerved him, but wasn¡¯t a surprise. This was, after all, part of the world of martial artists. Risk of death came with the territory.


    There was a moment of silence after she finished speaking, but quickly all of the would-be martial artists began to bow to one another, and Han heard signs of clashing already starting. He instinctively rubbed the skin atop his cerebral dantian. After building up his willpower, he looked to his opponent. They locked eyes, and both bowed to one another.


    Han got into an approximation of a combat stance, eyes ablaze with fervor, and charged.


    Martial Foundation: [Created in the initial stage of Foundation Refinement, a martial artist¡¯s foundation comprises both the type of miasma they use and how much of their dantians it permeates. A perfect foundation is not actually that difficult to create, assuming one has the right techniques. Possession of a foundation creation technique capable of achieve perfection via refinement is a large part of what separates weak and powerful sects. Foundations can be destroyed via breaking a martial artist¡¯s dantian, but they can also be destroyed without breaking the dantian through expensive cutting edge surgery. This surgery was created by the Staiven, and it is rumored they discovered how to do it by performing illegal experiments on kidnapped martial artists. The Pantheonic Government has made no investigations about the matter.]

 54- Opportunities Unmissed

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe he¡¯s actually here,¡± muttered Kalthen, setting down the lens he was using to view the event taking place several stacks away. He looked over at Triezal. ¡°Could it be a stand-in?¡± he asked.


    Triezal shook his head, checking an odd device that he had hooked up to his slate with a long cable. It was shaped like a hexagonal prism, but was seemingly hollow, with abscesses in the shape of various glyphs on each of its regular sides. A handle from whose base the cable emerged extended from the end of the wand. It was a sensor designed to detect the presence and type of miasma in an area. The sensitivity had needed to be calibrated extensively to handle the distance between them and the targets.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so, unless there¡¯s somebody else on the station with such a high amount of formless miasma inside of them. Just to be sure, though, tell the squads to try and discern whether or not he¡¯s disguised under some sort of hologram. Perhaps the Shade or some Seiyal are trying to mislead us.¡±


    ¡°Where do you think he¡¯s keeping the Shade?¡± Kalthen asked, typing the orders onto a slate and sending them to the other squads.


    It had been almost a week since the events at the restaurant, and from what Triezal had heard, the Vice-Leader had ultimately decided to talk to the Leader, convincing him to promote Kalthen to the position of Triezal¡¯s adjunct. Squad Leader Akekha had not been happy about the matter. While the Leader hadn¡¯t felt that Kalthen had truly earned the role, he didn¡¯t dispute that due to Kalthen¡¯s nature being so deeply tied to the organization, he was someone who could be implicitly trusted not to betray the organization, not while both his mother and uncle remained loyal. That was a vital trait for those who were to know about the Shade¡¯s existence.


    Having found out about the rumors, the Heirs had dispatched a sizable number of forces to the area on the off chance that it turned out to be true. Wary of being tricked, most of them were simply observing from a distance to assess the situation. Triezal had fought with Riverfiend, after all, and knew that the man was not guileless.


    Triezal continued watching the Redwater Sect¡¯s entry examination as he replied.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure, but¡­ there¡¯s something I¡¯ve just remembered, that I believe Hestky might have said before he succumbed to the poison.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± asked Kalthen, dutifully focusing his gaze back to the stage on which Riverfiend was standing.


    ¡°He said the word ¡®Rachel.¡¯ I hadn¡¯t thought anything of it, since it seemed an odd combination of syllables. Neither a name, nor a recognizable word in any Celan or Canvasian language.¡±


    He didn¡¯t continue, trusting Kalthen to catch the connection.


    ¡°And that Vice Sect Leader down there introduced herself as¡­ shit!¡±


    Triezal found himself in agreement with the swears. A Shade without a body was dangerous only if their computing capability was sufficient to break into networks, and even then, only if the information and connected technology was powerful enough to be a threat. A Shade with a body, however¡­


    Both of them could not help but think back to the history of their ancestral homeworld, of the might that Shades such as the warlord Ottrien and the witch Janottka were said to have possessed. To be safe, they would need to treat her as if she were a true Seiyal at the Pinnacle of the Spirit Refinement realm. While they could do so, it was a complication that Triezal did not appreciate. Taking and retaining possession of a boxed machine was far easier than a seemingly living combatant.


    Triezal took another glance at the reproduced image, analyzing the characteristics of the Redwater Sect¡¯s second in command. The potential Shade appeared to be a Seiyal woman. Visually, she seemed slightly less athletic in appearance than was typical for female martial artists, but not to any sort of suspicious extent. According to the sensor, she used extant miasma, which would easily serve for an explanation. He did note her untied hair, something quite unusual for a martial artist in public. It could be an individual quirk, or perhaps a cultural trait of the species the Shade was created by.


    He continued observing her as the entrants began to fight one another, trying desperately to decide on a course of action. He hadn¡¯t brought any enforcers, as they would undoubtedly tip off their target before they managed to approach. Worse, this was deep inside of Hadal Clan territory, and to bring one of the machines in could threaten to turn the tensions between their organizations into a true gang war. It would be worth it if he successfully reclaimed the Shade, but if he failed¡­


    Amidst the sounds of the city, Triezal continued to watch her and the Riverfiend, while a clash went on inside his mind. Beside him, he could almost feel the stressed anticipation within his companion.


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    He sighed, once again turning to look at Kalthen.


    ¡°Pass me the comm.¡±


    He did so, and Triezal soon held it up to his mouth, ready to speak to all of the squads in the district at once. His plan was poor, and if they were not desperate he would never have gone through with it like this. It was certain that no matter what the result was, this would cause substantial issues for him.


    For a moment Triezal wondered whether his missions would ever be simple again.


    <hr>


    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Han charged at the other boy, fist winding back to swing at his face. His opponent did the same, and their fists collided with flesh with a painful smack that caused Han¡¯s world to be filled with dizziness. He reeled from the blow, taking a step backwards to regain his senses.


    The world was awash with color, and Han felt truly alive. Each of his senses resonated with the world, giving him a visceral, primal feeling. This wasn¡¯t a life or death battle, but it might as well be, and to Han, that gave it meaning. Deep down Han knew that this was the real reason that he had wished to become a martial artist, why he was so desperate to join the sect. It wasn¡¯t just his admiration for martial artists, nor the opportunity to change his life. It was because he wanted to fight, and he wanted to be good at it.


    The opponent snarled at him, trying to kick him, but Han stepped backwards, allowing the boy to unbalance himself. He then stepped closer again and went for another punch aimed at the face. It was deflected by his opponent¡¯s forearm, so Han went for a headbutt. He was far past the point of caring about potential injuries. Anything would be fine if it allowed him to win this fight. However, the boy saw it coming and raised his knee, driving it deep into Han¡¯s gut. He cursed, trying to make space between them and regain his wind.


    The other boy approached, but Han slid his foot out, successfully kicking at his ankle. He staggered, but managed not to fall.


    Han followed up with a second punch, an uppercut delivered directly to the other boy¡¯s gut. As the impact arrived while he was still recovering, this caused him to lurch backwards unsteadily with a curse, arms instinctively windmilling. Han didn¡¯t give him the chance to back up, grabbing his head in two hands and slamming it down into his knee. The boy fell to the ground with a groan, and Han knew that he had won. If he wanted to, he could stomp on the boy¡¯s head and kill him.


    The fight was short, but Han knew that among mortals, they usually were. Not when both sides only cared about the harm they could dish out, and not about how much they received. It was something he had learned through the various street fights he and his friends had been involved in in the past.


    He wiped blood off of his cheek with a smile, turning to glance up above the stage where the illusory screen floated. As he had hoped, his number was already marked as the winner of the fight. Excited, he turned back to help the other boy up, concerned for his injuries now that there was no reason to hurt him anymore. He received a glare, but the other boy still accepted his hand. He met Han¡¯s gaze with a sad smile.


    ¡°I¡¯ll see you in the sect when I succeed in the next entry exam,¡± he said.


    Han returned the smile, his excitement spilling over despite an attempt to restrain himself for the other boy¡¯s sake.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be happy to accept a rematch at that time.¡±


    The other boy scoffed.


    ¡°You¡¯ll have a head start in advancement. I¡¯ll catch up to you first, and then I¡¯ll beat you.¡±


    Han laughed, clapping him on the shoulder.


    ¡°I¡¯ll look forward to it.¡±


    The other boy filed out of the crowd, joining a group of the slowly leaving losers of the battle. Many of them conglomerated just outside the line of sect members, where family members and friends had been watching the results, hoping to see whether or not their loved ones could succeed.


    Once everyone filed out, the Vice Sect Leader once again stood at the edge of the stage, looking out upon everyone present. She gave a congratulatory smile as she looked at the far smaller group that remained, numbering just over one hundred.


    ¡°Those of you that remain should either have some experience fighting or be lucky, both of which are traits our sect admires. Next, we¡¯ll be administering tests to everyone to see if your bodies would be receptive to the arts. All you will have to do is-¡±  Her words were interrupted by what seemed to be a black line tracing across the sky, running right through her. The stage seemed to explode, and moments later, a loud shriek and boom resounded, one of the loudest noises that Han had ever heard. It was immediately followed up with several more, apparently aiming at the Riverfiend as well.


    He glanced back up in shock, and saw her figure staring up towards a direction that he didn¡¯t believe any of the projectiles had originated from.


    "A commendable attempt, Magister,¡± she said, speaking in Staiven. "But not quite enough."


    Han, like most Seiyal born in Tseludia, was also fluent in the language. He didn¡¯t understand to whom she was speaking, but he finally realized what had just happened.


    This was an assassination attempt, and not just her, but also the Riverfiend, he now saw, had emerged wholly unscathed from it. He couldn¡¯t help but gape in awe.


    Han¡¯s desire to learn martial arts had somehow become even more pronounced.


    Miasmic Receptivity: [Like any other body part, a Seiyal¡¯s dantians and natural meridians can bear a variety of traits. Many of these traits will shift over time as they are accustomed to miasma, but the initial nature of them can have a large impact on one¡¯s initial rate of learning. Due to the large number of applicants, many large sects exclusively admit those with high initial receptivity to miasma, who will take less time and resources to train up as the miasma is more easily able to enter Telles through their body. Some Seiyal are receptive to only certain types of miasma, to the point where acquiring another is almost impossible for them.]

 55- A Failed Assassination

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Triezal watched the results of his orders, stunned to see that neither of the targets showed any reaction. They hadn¡¯t even dodged, had let the slugs fly right through their bodies. Could their forms truly have been holographic? If so, where were their real bodies, and why had their internal miasma shown up on the sensor? Did the Shade somehow have the ability to fake miasma traces?


    He watched as the far away figure of the Vice Sect Leader shifted, her gaze seeming to look right at him despite the hundreds of meters between them. Her mouth shifted as if she was saying something, but he was unable to read the words off of her lips. His blood ran cold. Could she really see him? Did she really know that he was here? None of the shots had been fired from this position.


    He felt a vibration in one of the pockets of his jacket, and pulled out his slate. He froze as a message from an unknown sender was displayed prominently as a notification on the screen. The message contained a few simple words. ¡®Better luck next time, Magister.¡¯


    Triezal regained his strength and chuckled darkly, leaning backwards to lay on the ground. He hadn¡¯t intended to actually destroy the Shade, hoping that they could simply damage its body and swoop in to retrieve it. It seemed his idea had been anticipated in advance and thwarted. It seemed yet again an element outside of his considerations had ruined their plans.


    ¡°You know, little brother, I¡¯m starting to think that we¡¯re simply fucked.¡±


    Kalthen silently watched the events at the examination. He gave no verbal response, but the grim expression on his face told Triezal everything he needed to know.


    ¡°The question is,¡± Triezal continued, speaking in a casual tone as if he were making a joke, ¡°whether we choose to try to take it again or try to save the organization.¡± He let out another pained chuckle. ¡°Because at this point, to do both is simply  unfeasible.¡±


    Kalthen turned to look at him, the stress evident on his face.


    ¡°How many enforcers do you think we would need at this point?¡±


    Triezal directed a wan smile at his friend.


    ¡°In Hadal territory? We could send them all and have no guarantee of success. It doesn¡¯t matter anyway. A high profile assassination attempt in Canvas Town¡­ we¡¯ve breached the pact with the Seiyal anyway. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if they decided to let this turn into another gang war.¡±


    Kalthen gave him a questioning look.


    ¡°Would that make the situation any worse?¡±


    At that, the two of them both laughed. Triezal had to agree with Kalthen¡¯s point, though. They were already far past the realm of worst case scenario.


    ¡°I¡¯m starting to think it would just be easier to kill the courier who arrives to pick it up,¡± he said. ¡°At least then we¡¯ll have an extra decade or two in which to live.¡±


    Triezal almost laughed at that foolish notion, but upon giving it a moment¡¯s thought, he sat up in surprise.


    ¡°That might actually¡­¡±


    The two of them locked eyes, and Kalthen realized that his joke might have actually had merit.


    ¡°You think¡­¡± he said, and Triezal responded with a nod.


    ¡°I think I¡¯ll need to have another conversation with your mother.¡±


    <hr>


    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Sirena Hadal found herself laughing as she watched the feed.


    ¡°This is certainly more amusing than our examinations usually are.¡±


    Wei nodded in agreement.


    ¡°This is more than I had anticipated either, Matriarch. I had expected the Celans to simply allow the opportunity to pass since they could not do anything. I¡¯m curious why they chose to attack in this manner.¡±


    Sirena habitually tapped the skin atop her three dantians.


    ¡°It seems they are even more desperate to reclaim that object than they were willing to admit. However, I find myself more curious about why the first shot was directed at the Vice Sect Leader, rather than Riverfiend himself. The way it went right through her body as well¡­ extant miasma? How have I not heard of her before?¡±


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    Wei frowned, a memory springing to his mind.


    ¡°That reminds me, when I visited the sect, I found it curious how their Vice Sect Leader never showed up to greet me.¡±


    Sirena glanced over, a glint forming in her eyes.


    ¡°Oh? Even more curious¡­ Wei, find out her identity. The report on Jin Luo held no mention of her, and I had been under the impression we controlled all extant practitioners in the system.¡±


    He bowed submissively.


    ¡°By your will, Matriarch. Might I ask what you wish us to do about the Celans? They have breached the terms of our pact.¡±


    Sirena¡¯s attention returned to the screen.


    ¡°The Justice Office is already pressuring us about the matter with that poisoner, so let us leave this be. We¡¯ll allow this to remain between the Celans and the Redwater Sect. Make sure to demand reparations from them for it, though.¡±


    Wei quickly left the room to fulfill the directives she had assigned him while Sirena continued to watch the happenings on the video feed. Her gaze was locked on the shifting form of the Riverfiend as he impassively looked up to where the snipers had fired from.


    ¡°Just what will you do next?¡± she murmured to herself.


    <hr>


    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Rachel had not actually expected to deal with an assassination attempt, but had prepared for one just in case. This was the first time they had announced publicly and in advance where Cyrus would be, and given that the location was an open area at the top of a stack, it was essentially an open opportunity for snipers. Luckily, her holograms were more than potent enough to disguise his specific location. In her opinion, despite the risk it served to test whether or not anyone particularly wished him dead. Clearly, that was the case.


    She had noticed the Celans approach and set up their little nests above various warehouses, of course. She always monitored all accessible video in the area surrounding her, and while she couldn¡¯t listen in on their transmissions, she could easily sense the use of glyph slates on the network, devices used almost exclusively by Celans. She even recognized some of the devices specifically, such as the one which belonged to the only magister of the Epon who resided on the station.


    There was almost no chance he was unaware of her nature, at least insofar as the Epon as a whole knew. If he had for some reason not been informed by the group which dropped her conduit on the station, he should have heard it from Hestky before Yun managed to kill him. While this knowledge boded risks, it also allowed her the freedom to do as she wished. Rachel smiled, despite herself.


    She angled her gaze to look in the direction the magister resided in.


    A commendable attempt, Magister,¡± she said, speaking out loud. "But not quite enough."


    To further press the point in, she quickly sent a mocking message to that slate, ensuring that one way or another he would get the idea.


    With her own amusement out of the way, Rachel quickly scanned the area around her, ensuring that all of the palace leaders remained alive. She did not bother to check up on Cyrus, knowing that he was perfectly fine. It seemed that the worst injuries were minor shrapnel wounds, as none of them had been specifically targeted. They were just normal Seiyal at all, uninvolved with the Celans except through association with herself and Cyrus through the sect. But she suspected the Celans did not care whatsoever about the sect¡¯s existence. It was only herself and Cyrus that they found noteworthy.


    The crowd of entrants and observers had gone wild, some crazily attempting to escape the area while others were frozen in shock. That would certainly not do.


    ¡°Silence!¡± she barked, drawing on certain characters she had seen in films and novels for her act. Rachel personally saw herself as more of the ¡®sarcastic woman, adept at annoying people¡¯ archetype, but she wasn¡¯t incapable of playing a role. She had taken theater in high school, after all.


    Her voice resonated throughout the area, enhanced far beyond what would have been possible if she had still been human. As she was now, her ¡®physical form¡¯ was merely an illusion, and so she could essentially make her voice as loud as she wanted.


    The crowd largely froze upon hearing her authoritative shout, and many glanced back to look at her. As expected. Seiyal, like her own people, tended to instinctively defer to figures of authority in fearful situations. This reaction was even more prominent in Seiyal mortals, who were used to handling martial artists, people who would always remain firmly higher than them in the hierarchy.


    During the moment of relative quiet, Rachel continued to speak, still using her authoritative persona.


    ¡°We would like to apologize for the interruption, it seems the Celans are still upset about what happened a few weeks back. Don¡¯t worry though, the attempt should be over now. We will be continuing the examination now. All remaining entrants should now line up in five lines so that we can test their receptivity.¡±


    The relaxed and confident tone dispelled most of the crowd¡¯s fear, and most of the entrants immediately returned, not letting mere gunshots ruin their opportunity to join the sect. While they did not see guns often, living in a Seiyal dominant neighborhood, they had seen plenty of weapons and deadly fights in their time.


    Rachel glanced over at Cyrus, who was looking at all the entrants, seemingly lost in thought. She suspected he was lost in memories of his past again. She found that he had a tendency to get lost in thought. It was no surprise. Anyone with a past like his would harbor regrets they could not let go of.


    Not for the first time, she wondered just what had happened back then. The reports had been vague on many aspects of the events, but it had been clear on one thing. In its hour of need, Jin Luo had sided against his own Downpour Sect, contributing greatly to its downfall.


    Feruul: [The Pantheonic God of nature, Feruul''s worship has slowly declined over the centuries, as nature''s dominance of the planet has been slowly eliminated by usage of technology. His worship is very rare on the space stations, but he maintains a sizable following on planets and moons which contain natural life, or which are undergoing terraforming. Terraforming specifically is what his church is attempting to advocate in a desperate attempt to reclaim his relevance to the larger population, despite the fact that Staiven terraforming technology is primitive enough as to require decades to centuries to achieve results. On Staive itself, there are multiple ecoterrorist organizations devoted to him that wish to destroy cities and return to an anarcho-primitivist lifestyle. Rumors say that these organizations are secretly funded by the church of Feruul. Of all of the Pantheonic churches, Feruul''s has by far the weakest influence in systems such as Tseludia, which contain no planets or moons with native life more advanced than microorganisms. Feruul''s church is the only Pantheonic Church to attempt to ban another deity''s worship, that being Toval, a deity from Canvas. This attempt ultimately failed due to resistance from other members of the Pantheon, eroding Feruul''s influence even further.]

 56- Third Stage

    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.


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    ¡°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.]

 57- The Garden

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Through a projection created by Rachel, I watched as the fifty nine new disciples were shown around the interior of the rooms and training areas where they would be spending most of their time for the next few weeks. I hoped that they would all adjust well to this shift in their lives, and were able to fully dedicate themselves to learning martial arts.


    Their excited discussions and anxious curiosity brought a slight smile to my face, reminding me of the friends who had joined the Downpour Sect with me. The smile faded as I recalled that I was the last, the sole remaining member of that group. I wondered whether or not this first entrance group would follow in our footsteps. I hoped not, though I knew I would willingly sacrifice all of their lives if it became necessary.


    Soon I would pick those who had the most aptitude, to train them in my own arts while the rest would simply learn the best that the station had to offer under the stifling influence of the Hadal Clan. It would be enough. Most of them only needed to serve the role of cannon fodder, after all. It was the duty of any martial artist to serve the sect in any role they were asked to.


    I chuckled softly to myself, my eyes glaring as I saw the naive, optimistic youth in those faces. I wondered just when I had lost that spark of hope inside of me. Watching them made me feel as if I truly had become a demon. I sighed at the thought, not enjoying the memories that had been dredged up. I turned to Rachel, who stood beside me.


    I had thought that she had been watching the feed with me, but as I turned I immediately locked eyes with her. For some odd reason, she had been staring at me instead. She continued to silently stare rather than respond to my questioning gaze.


    ¡°Is something wrong?¡± I asked, my curiosity and annoyance finally taking hold.


    Rachel smirked at me and shrugged.


    ¡°I like watching you brood.¡±


    I had long decided that it was best to simply brush past Rachel¡¯s oddities, ascribing it to the unique nature of her personality, or perhaps some odd cultural norm among the Terrans.


    ¡°Has the Hadal Clan reacted yet?¡± I asked, choosing to change the subject.


    Rachel shook her head, glancing at the movements of the new disciples.


    ¡°The Vice-Leader of the Heirs immediately went over to their headquarters, and nothing happened as a result. I believe they may have come to some sort of arrangement in order to avoid a gang war.¡±


    ¡°Damn,¡± I muttered, my hopes dashed.


    I had hoped that the Celans¡¯ breach of the pact might have ignited the hostilities between the two factions again, resulting in them weakening one another even further. It was honestly a surprise that it had not. After all, allowing such a blatant move to occur risked damaging their reputation in the underworld. I frowned as I considered whether there were any other simple methods of inciting them.


    ¡°I expect that the matriarch might be intending to test us,¡± said Rachel, interrupting my train of thought.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I asked.


    ¡°If the Hadal Clan chooses not to pursue the matter, then all that is left is our dispute with the Celans. If we also choose not to hit them back, then our reputation will dip. At such an early stage, we can''t risk that unless we have to.¡±


    I frowned in realization as I considered her words, her idea seeming very likely. The matriarch wished to use us as pawns, and this was the perfect opportunity to gauge our strength. Unlike the clan, we could not simply let the matter pass. Our reputation would directly influence the quality and amount of new disciples that would desire to enter the sect in future entry examinations. In addition, if we seemed too weak, local gangs might cause problems in our territory hoping to steal some of it from us. While our sect had more members than the Redwater Gang had, I was not as strong as Hidoro had been, and would have difficulty facing off against the most powerful member of many of the gangs in Canvas Town.


    ¡°Forcing our hand,¡± I muttered, and Rachel nodded.


    ¡°We¡¯ll have to think of a way to attack the Heirs without exacerbating the conflict further.¡±


    Rachel laughed at her own words, and I glanced back at her. She gave me an awkward smile as she explained.


    ¡°We don¡¯t need to worry about exacerbating the conflict, since I expect we¡¯re already their top priority. No matter what we do, they¡¯ll either decide to attack in force, starting a war with the Hadal Clan, or many of their executives will flee the station.¡±


    For a moment I had difficulty understanding her meaning, but then a flash of memory from several weeks before hit my mind.


    ¡°Right, because the Epon courier should be arriving soon.¡±


    Rachel smiled, cracking a joke.


    ¡°No one fears the Epon more than their subordinates.¡±


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°Should we just steal from another warehouse? It should be profitable, and if I¡¯m lucky they might actually have formless treasures this time.¡±


    Rachel shook her head.


    ¡°They shouldn¡¯t have any formless treasures. Flickering, maybe. I have another idea that you might like, though.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow as she continued to speak. She had an amused look in her eye that told me that not only did she find her own idea funny, she was also serious about it.


    ¡°Have you ever heard of a figure known as the ¡®Real Spider?¡¯¡±


    I frowned and then shook my head.


    ¡°Can¡¯t say I have.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s an information broker who is a tangential member of the Heirs. A direct relative of the Vice-Leader, even. I expect speaking with her would be almost more effective at finding that Staiven than breaking into a government network like we had considered before.¡±


    ¡°Are we still discussing a manner of attacking the Celans?¡± I asked.


    Rachel grinned at me.


    ¡°Obviously we are. My suggestion is that we kidnap her.¡±


    <hr>


    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Deuvar marched up towards a sizable townhome in the nicest part of Little Celah, several stacks and many levels away from the nearest slum. The building was done up in a fanciful style, a fine work of architecture, all swooping overhangs and arched windows. It was an architectural style that had been popular among the Celan population of Tseludia in the early days of their refuge here, influenced both by their own culture and by introduction to the other residents of the station.


    As he approached the door it slid open as if on its own accord, without even requiring him to tap. He knew that his visit had been expected by the home¡¯s sole resident. A small wellspring of anxiety rose up inside of his chest.


    The building¡¯s interior was also decked out in an ostentatious manner, filled with so many paintings and sculptures that one would almost think it to be a rich Seiyal¡¯s dwelling. But it was also full of plants.


    Hanging from hooks in the ceiling, resting on indentations in the wall, and sitting on pots in the floor, the plants had their origins from all sorts of different worlds, some of them from ecosystems so alien that they lacked structures such as chlorophyll entirely, and the building was a menagerie of color. The art pieces peeked through gaps in the flora, shifting the aesthetic significantly. It came across as more of a garden than a greenhouse.


    Deuvar traced a habitual path through the hall, emerging into a sitting room where the plants remained omnipresent, but the art pieces had been replaced with bookshelves, each filled with books of all sizes and shapes, written by a variety of cultures. Resting on a couch, a book in hand, was an old Korlove man, wisps of gray hair draping down around his mouthparts as he sipped a warm drink from a mug. He did not react to Deuvar¡¯s entrance whatsoever, merely turning a page with another of his limbs.


    Deuvar bowed, kneeling down before the man.


    ¡°Leader,¡± he said in greeting, his tone one of utmost respect.


    The Leader of the Heirs of Ottrien turned, as if he had finally noticed Deuvar¡¯s presence. In all of the years that he had known and worked with the man, Deuvar had still yet to learn his name, nor any details of his identity, save that he had moved here decades ago and quickly started building up their organization from the ground up. Deuvar had long suspected that he might be a wanted man, or former high profile figure from another system decades to a century ago.


    ¡°Report,¡± said the Leader, the words drawling out of his mouth as he finally set the book down, carefully placing a fine ribbon between its pages to mark his place.


    ¡°Sir, the attempt to capture the Shade at the entry examination failed, however I was able to avert war by giving away certain properties to the Seiyal.¡±


    ¡°So Triezal attacked them and still failed to capture it?¡± he asked, and Deuvar could sense an intense rage growing within his superior.


    The Leader of the Heirs was known for both his refined demeanor and his capacity for extreme violence when he was angry. Even Deuvar himself could never be certain he would emerge from his abode uninjured.


    ¡°That is indeed the case, sir,¡± he said, speaking as humbly as possible.


    Deuvar was a man who appreciated efficiency, so he avoided unnecessary niceties and attempts to shift the Leader¡¯s reactions via excessively florid language. While it did result in the Leader being more easily angered by his reports, he knew that the man did appreciate his straightforward nature. It was a large part of the reason he had been promoted to his current position.


    ¡°I see. And you want to know whether or not to shift our policy, now that the situation has worsened yet again?¡± asked the Leader, his anger cooling slightly.


    ¡°Yes sir.¡±


    The Leader considered his words, as if trying to decide which move to make. Deuvar knew that the Leader was under just as much pressure as he himself was, for he would be the first that the Epon would fault for the matter.


    ¡°No change,¡± spat the leader, his teeth slightly grinding on one another as he forced the words out. ¡°I will revoke all force restrictions. You tell that damn magister that I will kill him myself if he fails again.¡±


    Deuvar paused and then stood, bowing at his employer.


    ¡°By your will, Leader.¡±


    He then turned, stolidly making his way back to the door.


    Behind him, he thought he heard the Leader sigh, and as he reached the exit, he heard the sound of paper on paper as a page was turned in the Leader¡¯s book.


    Tseludia System: [Located within the territory controlled by the Pantheon, Tseludia is a system with only four planets, two sunburnt rocky worlds in the interior of the system, one gas giant, and one icy world at the edge. It has two asteroid belts, one of which is located between the rocky worlds and the gas giant. The largest inhabited location is Tseludia Station, located within the interior asteroid belt in order to serve as a place for asteroid and moon based mining groups to transport goods so that they can be shipped out of system to be sold. Everything in the system is government owned, though many mineral rights have been licensed out to corporations. The Tseludia System is in an isolated area near the Frontier region, but still firmly within the Pantheonic Territory. It is one of the systems where refugees are often relocated to due to its relative lack of importance and the station''s low desirability as a residence to Staiven seeking to move to another system. This is in large part due to the relative low income nature of the region, but also due to the poor design of the station itself.]

 58- Trapping the Spider

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    The plan was simple. Apparently, it was well known within the station¡¯s underworld that finding Astna¡¯s location was an impossible task, one that none of her enemies even bothered with any more, instead focusing on finding and eliminating any informants of hers within their organization. It was a surprise to me to hear that there was such a person, one with such a wide ranging and deep network of contacts. She truly was like a spider, hiding within her web and pulling on the strings to capture her prey.


    Unfortunately for her, the layers of encryption and proxy networks, though almost impossible to trace for mortals, was trivial for a Terran given sufficient time. According to Rachel, she had done it on a whim while she had been trapped in the warehouse for a number of years. Every time Astna sent or received messages from her contacts, Rachel was able to trace the signals back to her location.


    I had quickly agreed to her plan about finding out about this, as the biggest problem could be negated entirely. Due to how hidden her location was, she had few guards, and her physical strength was merely at the level of a mortal Jobu, meaning I would have little problem subduing her.


    I had initially intended to simply perform the operation alone, but as Rachel had reminded me, I was a sect leader now, and it would be an insult to my own sect¡¯s capability were I to do everything myself. Still, it was very early in the sect¡¯s existence, and I dared not trust the martial capability of even one of my subordinates. Ultimately, I had decided to simply bring a squad along with me. Even if they had nothing to do, this strategy would be more effective for our image.


    I had simply taken a group of the former gangsters, some whose levels were midway through the meridian establishment realm or beyond. Rachel¡¯s projection came too, so that we could speak without the sect members coming to realizations that we did not wish them to. All of those in the core formation realm had important tasks they were up to, so I had chosen not to take any of them. It was a flaw of our culture which prompted us to always promote the strong to vital organizational roles. It made it difficult to muster them for fights. The matter was made worse by our lack of a steel palace leader, who in part should exist to serve such a role.


    In this part of Little Celah, even one Seiyal would attract attention, much less a group of seven. For this reason, we had used an aero to travel as near to our destination as possible. After all, chances were that if any residents saw us, our target would be one of the first to know about it.


    After setting down, I led the group in sprinting for the nearest stairwell to make our way to the building where Astna currently resided. It was an interior design firm, and Rachel had commented on the flight over how she expected Astna was likely using a demo room of theirs to sleep in.


    According to Rachel, Astna was so cautious that aside from hotels and houses, the ¡®Real Spider¡¯s¡¯ temporary abodes included all sorts of establishments, just to make herself even more difficult to pin down. I couldn¡¯t help but think that her actions were excessively paranoid, and for a moment I wondered whether Astna had an experience in her past that drove her to this insane level of wariness.


    We quickly reached the location, which turned out to be rather nondescript, like any other building in Little Celah. I motioned to the strongest of the sect members I had brought with me, a man who simply went by the name of Whitedust. In response he slammed his stocky frame into the hatch, using the full extent of his genesis-enhanced musculature to bash through the entryway. I gave him a nod of appreciation as I followed inside, trailed by the remaining sect members, many of which had anxious looks on their faces. I didn¡¯t bother trying to calm them. That would be a waste of both breath and time.


    I had expected to find guards inside, but was surprised to find the interior empty, causing a sense of unease to well up in my chest. Were they located deeper inside of the building?


    ¡°Rachel, which room is she in?¡±


    She pointed a slender finger to a hallway leading deeper into the building¡¯s interior.


    ¡°She should be further inside. The lack of guards is suspicious, so be careful.¡±


    So she agreed on that point. I rested my hand on the hilt of my sword, ready to draw it at a moment¡¯s notice. My soul¡¯s senses stretched out into the rooms around us, but I felt nothing.


    I could feel tension mounting in my shoulders, and the anxiety growing in the sect members around me as we creeped further into the building. I almost thought she had known we were coming and fled in advance, but I couldn¡¯t see how that was possible. After all, we had thought up the plan merely hours before.


    The hallway was sparse, but it led into a back room filled with small sets, as if several unique bedrooms had been set up in one larger space. False walls separated them from one another, making the place almost look like some sort of film set. Each of the faux rooms, ranging in purpose from living rooms to bedrooms, to dining rooms, featured unique and aesthetically pleasing designs in various Celan styles.


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    All the room lacked was an occupant.


    ¡°Rachel¡­¡± I said, the word left as an unfinished question, as I knew she would catch my meaning.


    ¡°Hm?¡± muttered Rachel in response. ¡°This can¡¯t be right, the signals are originating from- shit! How the hell did she¡­¡±


    A smug, laughing voice resounded, coming from what seemed to be a bed in one of the false bedrooms. I glanced over, only now realizing that there was a small rectangular tablet resting on its surface.


    The voice, which belonged to Astna, I presumed, laughed mockingly as she spoke to us in our own tongue.


    ¡°I have to say, Riverfiend, your Shade did an expert job. I had not anticipated my network having been infiltrated to such an extent. It¡¯s simply a shame you believed that you could trust your sect members. Alas, your revenge will have to wait.¡±


    While Rachel continued to curse, I approached the device, giving it a quick inspection. Had she set it up to send signals out, faking her presence here? It was rather creative. It would also mean that she had known very soon after we brought some of our sect members into the fold, and we had brought all of them with us.


    My eyes narrowed as I turned to inspect the faces of the sect members that had arrived with us. Was one of them really a spy?


    It was not a ridiculous idea, as I doubted a mere few weeks of sect membership was enough to build loyalty among a group of former gangsters. It was entirely possible that the mole had been part of Astna¡¯s network since even before I had taken over Hidoro¡¯s gang, informing her about their activities.


    I realized then that this was the problem with taking action against her. Astna had her fingers in every pocket, eyes and ears everywhere. She collected vast swathes of information, looking through it to decide for herself whether it was of use or not. A vast tapestry of connected individuals, paid by her for every detail they found.


    And so we had become caught in the very web we wished to capture, stuck in a trap. I imagined she had long informed the Heirs about our presence, and they had merely kept far enough away to escape my and Rachel¡¯s senses.


    I chuckled to myself. The situation was bad, very bad. But I couldn¡¯t help but find humor in it. I hadn¡¯t had a proper fight since before my injury. I slid my jian from its sheath, holding it in one hand as I slowly shifted into a combat stance, ready for whatever might happen. There would be enemies, I thought. Or perhaps they were already here?


    I glanced at those surrounding me, faces all filled with horror, eyes focused on myself, as if waiting for orders.


    ¡°Why aren¡¯t you running, Cyrus?¡± asked Rachel, fervently. ¡°They should be here any minute.¡±


    I could tell she was trying to avoid a panic, and I found it silly that an existence of her nature could still be prone to such pointless emotions. That thought made me realize that there was something wrong with me. My emotions were in turmoil, and my mood was unfitting for the situation. Somehow, I was thinking and acting as if I was calm, but they were not the sort of thoughts I would usually have.


    My meridians shifted inside of me, my soul trying to reform itself. I was losing my grip, I realized. It had arrived so suddenly, without any sort of advance notice. Insanity had taken hold in my shock and stress, my soul and personality acquiring formless attributes.


    I gritted my teeth, thoughts awhirl. I had really, truly believed in the plan, that we could use Astna for a lead on the treasures I so desperately needed. It was all for naught, because of a traitor. A traitor¡­ hadn¡¯t I been one, once? No, they had¡­


    My head ached, like a portion of my brain itself had liquefied, and I could feel my emotions go even further into turmoil. I had felt this before.


    So this, I thought, was all it took. I was so close to the end that just one bad moment, one minor betrayal was all I needed to lose myself. I wondered whether or not I would be able to regain control. The cost I had paid the previous time this had happened was extreme, and at the moment I could not use the method I had previously. I wondered if this was the end.


    ¡°Shit. Shit. Shit. Cyrus¡­ Cyrus, get a hold of yourself.¡±


    The words, spoken by a feminine voice, washed over my mind, unable to grasp my attention.


    ¡°Cyrus, calm down. There will be other opportunities. We can-¡±


    The voice sounded familiar. For a moment I wondered who she was talking to. Perhaps she had noticed the changes in the shape of my tattered scrap of a proper soul. It didn¡¯t matter. My hand gripped down tighter on the handle of my sword, my eyes glancing downwards.


    I watched a bead of sweat drip from my palm down onto the handle, falling down the pommel, and sliding along the tassel. It dripped onto the floor with a crisp sound, barely audible amidst the clamor in the room. It was as if time had slowed down.


    My sword lifted as if on its own accord and I cleaved right through the shocked face of the man beside me. The sensation made me chuckle as blood splattered across my robe, creating a pattern of red on red. For a moment I wondered if he was the one. I supposed that it didn¡¯t matter.


    Perhaps they should all be considered loyal, I thought. The purpose of a subordinate was, after all, to die for their employer.


    The Price of Unorthodox Arts: [Unorthodox arts are not a unified school. They range from simple use of certain types of miasma such as sanguine or formless, to dangerous arts such as miasmic poisons. Each forces its practitioners to bear a cost in some way, one damaging enough for the creator of martial arts herself to ban their use in organizations she held influence over. For the sanguine arts, it is the risk of becoming a true conduit, connecting to that which one should not. For the forbidden extant arts of intangibility, it is the loss of physicality entirely. For poison arts, it is a slow, inevitable, and painful death when the body ceases to be able to metabolize the very substances it produces and enhances. For formless miasma, the cost is madness and the dissolution of the very shroud which holds the soul together.]

 59- An Eternal Moment

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    In but an instant, everything Rachel had worked towards had begun to fall apart.


    Operating upon her first instinct, she amplified her temporal perception, ensuring she had plenty of time to think. In the room, every movement slowed to a crawl. She watched the maddened eyes of Cyrus as his blade neared one of his own sect members. There was nothing that Rachel could do to save him, but the lives of these few Seiyal were not her priority at the moment anyway. She needed to get Cyrus out of the trap and help him regain his sanity, otherwise her plans would all be wasted.


    First, she considered the nature of the trap, intent on ensuring she wouldn¡¯t fall for such a ploy in the future. What Astna had done to trick her was so simple it pained her. She had merely programmed her slate to send and receive messages automatically, so that it would still seem to an infiltrator such as Rachel, who could monitor all traffic but not read the messages themselves, that she remained by the slate. Then, she had simply walked out of the building, used a device unconnected to her little network, and messaged her allies to set the trap.


    Despite being, objectively speaking, far more intelligent than the Spider, due to her mind that could use processing power far beyond that of a Celan supercomputer, Rachel had been fooled by a mere mortal. It rankled her, but she supposed this was simply a difference in experience. She would not fall for such a ploy again.


    These thoughts were complete in less than a microsecond. In that time, the material organisms in the room around her conduit had not even moved by a millimeter, as if time had frozen entirely.


    The efficiency of thought at this sort of timescale was extreme, and Rachel could sustain it indefinitely. No matter how inattentive or easily distractible one was, compared to timescales for material organisms, one would be considered efficient.


    Some Terran enclaves lived false lives for untold millennia in subjective time inside of simulation worlds using this ability. Rachel herself had lived several simulated lifetimes in one of them. However, her people  had found that when interacting with the real world, and in particular when interacting with material life forms, this rate of temporal perception should not be sustained. The waiting that was required had a tendency of weighing on the mind, and could cause mental illness to develop. It was best to remain at just a bit faster than a biological mind, and simply accelerate temporal perception as needed.


    Of course, that strategy increased the odds of mistakes such as the one she had made today.


    Rachel could tell that she had become stressed, and she needed a clear head in order to have any real chance of salvaging the situation. To that end, she summoned a simulation of a comfortable room in her head, one that looked almost exactly like the living room of her childhood home, down to the ugly old couch her father had inherited from her grandmother and the family portrait hanging on the wall. She curled herself up, pulling out a novel she had been intending to read. Recently, she had been reading xianxia novels from the twenty-first century. She found it amusing to compare them to the culture of the Seiyal.


    Such similarities were not uncommon within Telles. Given how many alien races existed, and the vast number of different cultures that could be theorized within each of them, most races found that one or two concepts of fictional works of theirs bore a superficial similarity to one race or another.


    She summoned a glass of iced tea, taking a sip. She suspected that the drink had not existed in reality for many centuries now, but this simulation of it tasted just like the real thing. She leaned back, enjoying the story, the drink, and the comfort that the room brought her. For a time, she was at peace.


    Many hours later in subjective time, Rachel had finally decided that she was calm enough to focus back on the situation. In the outside world, less than a second had taken place, and Cyrus had still yet to slay the former gangster before him.


    Of all the unorthodox arts, formless practitioners faced one of the most survivable ends. Madness was treatable, in theory. If she could somehow present Cyrus with something capable of reawakening his true self, he might be able to regain control of himself. The soul damage was a larger issue.


    While it was not listed in the dossier that the Hadal Clan had received from Sunlit Hall, the moment Rachel had met the man she had seen for herself the state of his soul. Cyrus¡¯ soul was tattered and frayed, missing great chunks as if it had been torn in half. It was a barbaric method, but she suspected it had been some sort of attempt to stave off the madness and soul dissolution that resulted from a stalled progression. Over the course of painful years he had healed, but a soul could not simply regrow itself. It was the sort of tactic that could only ever be used once without being faced with death.


    Normally, the damage his soul had already suffered would have left this second bout of madness untreatable, and would have caused his shroud to quickly fall apart. However, this time he had the assistance of Rachel. As an artificial spirit, one fully awakened inside of the realm of souls, she found it trivial to hold the fragments of his soul together with her many limbs.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    Sometimes she was disgusted by the current state of her true body, a large geometric shape covered in apertures from which a host of flailing tendrils emerged, but times such as this reminded her why the scientists had designed it this way. It was simply an effective form for an organism residing within the Brink. The flagella-like appendages she referred to as tendrils or tentacles gripped with ease onto the ashata of her friend¡¯s shroud.


    With his life preserved, Rachel¡¯s attention turned to helping Cyrus regain his faculties. She would need something shocking and recognizable. Herself would not work, as she suspected he would simply ignore her in his present state. If she knew the appearance of his master or old friends, she would have tried taking their forms, but that was an impossibility. Was there anything else? Something he had not seen in a long time, something that could be meaningful to him¡­


    She had all the time in the world to think, but she knew that putting ideas into practice would cost valuable time. She suspected there was less than a minute in realtime before the trap¡¯s jaws would close around them.


    If Cyrus lived, saving his mind would matter, but if he died here it was all for naught. With her goals prioritized, Rachel continued to think desperately, seeking any sort of solution to the matter. She analyzed the floor plan of the various buildings of the stack, trying to brainstorm ways out if she could somehow get him to listen to her in his current state.


    Her thoughts paused as she inspected a building several levels above the level Cyrus was currently on. It was a building originally designed as a Staiven nutrient bathhouse, but one that had been repurposed for Celan residency in the district.


    She smiled, an idea coming to mind. One that could perhaps solve both of her most pressing issues.


    <hr>


    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    I sliced through the forms of traitor after traitor, relishing the blood that flew in all directions from the forceful power of my slashes. My technique, Torrential Downpour, comprised a fusillade of blows useful against both singular or multiple enemies at a time. Combined with my Water Striding Steps, the traitors were slaughtered in less than a minute by the endlessly flowing strokes of my blade. Neither bones nor flesh could stop them, no matter their reinforcement by the mere energy of meridian establishment grade miasma.


    They had begged for their lives, unable to comprehend my actions, and I had laughed at them as I reaped them like grain. I had not even broken a sweat doing so. The martial arts of the glorified street thugs was so poor that the strongest of them would likely not have beaten me even when I was a pinnacle level foundation refiner. Truly, the weak lived upon the mercy of my blade.


    I could sense approaching souls and a vast quantity of miasma, and I reformed my stance. I existed to fight and kill, it was the purpose of a martial artist¡¯s existence. I was, as someone had once told me, not a person. I was a demon of the sword, and I would slaughter all in my path.


    The wall to my side crumbled, a hulking monstrosity breaking through, charging towards me. I met its charge, my steps taking me right between its legs as its many swords attempted to take my life. One of them nicked my shoulder, but I was too agile. A slash scraped at the plating on one of its legs, unable to break through. Behind the great machine stood another, and shards of metal sprayed out from the barrels of its guns.


    I laughed as I continued to run, able to sense that a third such machine was bearing down from another angle, while a good deal of foot soldiers marched behind, interrupting any escape. I had no intentions of doing so.


    The machines bellowing in some alien tongue, but I paid no heed to it, much like I had given no heed to the pleas of the traitors. They would all die by my hand.


    I vaguely remembered that this had been a trap I had fallen into, and the thought brought another smile to my face. A trap was what one called it when your enemies delivered themselves to your sword.


    A projectile tore through me, leaving a deep gash in my thigh. It would not impact my movement, but it brought an intense surge of pain with it, and my blood dripped out, merging with the streams of blood already covering my body and the floor.


    Perhaps I would die here. I licked my lips, tasting blood. That was fine. A martial artist lived to kill and die in battle. It was the natural state.


    In the distance, I heard a series of explosions, the sound coming from far above me, but I continued dodging the bullets, attempting to make my way back to the enforcer before me. Something loudly cracked and shifted overhead, as if the entire stack was going to fall.


    Suddenly, a droplet of something impacted my head from above. It was followed by another, then another. I glanced up, seeing liquid dripping upon me from above. The speed slowly intensified, as if it was a slowly forming rainstorm. I laughed in joy. For the first time in almost a decade, it was truly like the sensation of rain.


    The Riverfiend: [The leader of a newly founded organization known as the Redwater Sect, the unorthodox martial artist known as the Riverfiend, whose true name is now known to be Cyrus Yu, is primed to become one of the most important figures among Canvasian culture on the station, as well as a real player within Tseludia Station''s criminal underworld. Having announced his intentions through a recruitment, many question whether he intends to attempt to supplant the Hadal Clan. Despite this, his new sect''s formation was tacitly accepted by the clan, a fact which has prompted rumors that the Redwater Sect represents a new unorthodox branch of the Hadal Clan. After surviving an assassination attempt by members of a Celan criminal syndicate, his position has strengthened even further, his name the most respected of all Core Formation practitioners on the station, regardless of allegiance. Due to his unorthodox nature, however, many Seiyal and Tovus have sent in reports and requests for the Justice Office to apprehend this powerful individual. No response has yet been made by the Pantheonic Government on the matter.]

 60- The Falling Rain

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    I was laughing, delighted at the sensation of rain. My eyes closed as I continued to run, my motions becoming smoother and more assured. The more water that fell from the growing cracks in the ceiling, the faster I moved, finally back in my own element.


    The Water Striding Steps, the Torrential Downpour, the Heart of Rainfall- all three of these techniques had been created inside of the downpour, inspired by the fiends that dwelled within that vast expanse of mud, pelted endlessly by rain. They were powerful in the open air, but only under rainfall did their true power shine through.


    The rain reminded me of a home that no longer existed, of my younger years. Of the scene of myself standing above the bodies of friends and loved ones, blade in hand. The same blade I held now. It reminded me of my true self. I was the true self.


    The blood covering me slowly dripped off, washed by the droplets of water pouring from above. The blood and water mixed together on the floor, flowing around my feet in rivulets and small streams while the cracks continued to slowly grow.


    My strides stabilized even further, the blades and bullets entirely unable to hit me under the influence of my Heart of Rainfall, something I could not actually remember having activated. It thrived under the sensation of the droplets hitting my skin. My insides roiled with a torrent of miasma far faster than was usually possible, but the pounding beat of the rain kept it in check, vastly reducing the strain it placed my body under. I was able to maintain the technique for far longer than was usually possible.


    There was a reason that for centuries, none had dared to face the Downpour Sect in their own domain.


    I slid beneath the oversized war machine, deftly dodging the blades targeting me. A bullet slid across my thigh, creating another stream of blood to mix with the rain. I crossed past the second enforcer, the forms of the two armors large enough that they had difficulty handling my enhanced agility. Though I could barely harm them, I would easily be able to outrun them in this state if I wished to. I wondered whether the water dripping from above was restricted to this room or applied to the area outside as well. I could run as much as I wanted within this room, but if I left the shelter of the rain, my abilities would greatly weaken, and my heart of rainfall would begin to sap at my strength rather than enhance it.


    Seizing a moment¡¯s gap between two of the swords swung at me by the second enforcer¡¯s mechanical arms, I leapt my way through, bearing down on the machine¡¯s ¡®face¡¯, fully covered with overlapping metal plated like the rest of the body.


    In my current state I was stronger than I ever had been. I was the embodiment of rainfall, my heart beating in tune with the formless nature of my body and soul, matching the flow of the rain. My feet landed first, able to grip perfectly onto the slick metal scales, wet with the rainwater. My torso contorted, losing not one iota of the momentum from my leap as my sword bore down in a torrential downpour.


    The enforcer¡¯s blades and bullets crashed down upon me, but I was formlessness embodied, and no matter where they impacted, it was as if I had shifted to be just slightly elsewhere, contorted in a seemingly impossible manner.


    The same held true for my blade, its unique nature allowing it to be infused perfectly with the glowing blue miasma that spewed from my pores. I could almost feel my soul dissolving under the strain of the miasma coursing through me, becoming formless itself. A hidden part of myself knew that my continued survival made little logical sense. I should have died long ago from this state. This was power far beyond my realm, something I could not sustain.


    That was fine. I could feel what it was like to be a spirit refiner in the moments before my death.


    My slashes impacted the armor, each of them shifting in a hardly discernible manner, as if unwilling to remain a solid. I could feel my bones begin to do the same, and soon the scales of armor covering the enforcer began as well. The area was so infused with formless miasma that the flickering miasma inside of the enforcer was losing sway over reality. The scales cracked and shattered under my relentless flurry of blows, and the machinery beneath fell as well, revealing the spindly legs of a Korlove sitting deep inside the metallic frame. One final blow took their life, and the enforcer¡¯s legs stopped moving, though the guns and blades continued to aimlessly swing, but in a far less pressing manner, as if lacking in intentionality. Still harried by the gunfire from the other enforcer, I slipped over the shoulder of the machine upon which I stood, dropping behind it.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    Falling to the ground, I rolled to shift the momentum as I faced the small crowd of soldiers, guns aimed in my direction. They had just watched me, an individual, destroy an enforcer. Many of them began to instinctively cower in fear. It was as if my crimson-clad form, dripping with red water and glowing with blue mist, seemed to be an emissary of the underworld. As if to satisfy their perception of me, my blade lashed out, reaping the lives of those unfortunate enough to be within a few strides¡¯ reach.


    I could see now that I was nearing the edge of the ¡®rain¡¯, which merely covered an area of several rooms. The ceiling on the edge of the area was crumbling less rapidly, and the water fell at a slower pace.


    I closed my eyes for a moment, extending the senses of my soul. I could feel that of the Korlove and Jobu before me whose lives I reaped, and the vast miasma-fueled engines of the machines behind. I could sense the remaining enforcer approaching me again, taking care to step around its wrecked companion, perhaps trying to avoid more damage to the structure. Perhaps it still sought my death, or perhaps simply to escape the room before the ceiling collapsed. Even an enforcer would likely be damaged and trapped for a lengthy period beneath the rubble if such an event occurred.


    For a moment I wondered why I kept being involved in such collapses, where someone unknown to me destroyed the structure of the stack above. This was the second time in mere weeks.


    The thought was rational, and somehow it regained me a shred of lucidity. Something about it stood apart from my other thoughts in this state, and, combined with the relaxing sensation of rain, a deep part of myself was able to grab hold of the thought like a lifeline.


    I felt that I could, if I wished, restrain my energies, escaping from the brink once more. But if I did so, I would lose access to the very energy that was the only reason I could continue moving. I would pass out limp on the floor, awaiting death. I needed to remain in this state, risking another return to a self intent on naught but slaughter, in order to escape this situation.


    ¡°Rachel¡­¡± I muttered, seeking for a lifeline.


    It was one of my first instincts, a fact that made me realize just how reliant on her I had allowed myself to become. This time, like always, she appeared before me when I asked, taking the black-haired form she had claimed was once her true appearance. Her face was a mask of concern, but I could see a glint of hope in her eyes, as if I had saved her somehow.


    My mind was weak, all of my effort focused on maintaining the very tight balance inside of myself. I had no time to think, so once again I relied on her, my partner.


    ¡°What do I¡­¡±


    I didn¡¯t even realize that I had left my sentence unfinished, but Rachel responded anyway, her words emerging as a whisper in my ears despite the physical image she presented before me. A bullet passed through it, shot by a soldier who had yet to realize that it was a mere illusion.


    A soft smile filled her face as she spoke one singular word.


    ¡°Run,¡± she said.


    And so I did. I charged through the remaining Celans, my body feeling empty again as I left the field of rain, the miasma flowing through my meridians growing in intensity, straining at their very bounds. Behind me, the rain intensified as if upon command, and the crumbling noises turned into a shattering boom, as the building finally began to collapse. Disregarding me, the Celans began to run for their own lives. I paid no attention to this, simply focusing on my own steps, each stride causing a small splash of red water to seep deeper and deeper into my robes.


    I finally made it outside, charging across the street to leap over the railing. Life truly did move in cycles, like my master had said. I gripped firmly onto my miasma, causing the flow to slow to normal levels. My mentality was able to stabilize, but the after-effects of my Heart of Rainfall technique kicked in, and a wave of exhaustion hit me like a hammer. Once again, I passed out as I fell into the depths of the station under a warm, yellow glow.


    The Downpour Region: [Located on Canvas, on the continent known as the Crucible, the Downpour is a vast meteorological phenomenon which constitutes an eternal, unmoving rainstorm that pounds relentlessly upon a vast, muddy plain. Despite the vast quantities of water involved, the area never floods entirely, nor does it have a large impact on the surrounding area. The Downpour Region is home to a great deal of extremely dangerous wildlife, including many beasts and fiends created by Tovus which thrive under the conditions. Said to have been created by the goddesses Domines and Saaya, the Downpour is incredibly inhospitable, and only rare sects of ascetics dare to live within it. The most powerful of these was called the Downpour Sect, one of the stronger unorthodox forces, said to be impossible to defeat within their home territory. This matter was proven false when it was ultimately annihilated by the forces of Sunlit Hall. These days, only hermits and temporary researchers live within the region.]

 61- Dealers in Knowledge

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Astna slammed her fist into the desk, a motion that Deuvar suspected would damage her hand more than the furniture. She cursed, eyes ablaze as she glared at him.


    ¡°Why do you people always insist on sending enforcers after him? Isn¡¯t it clear by now that they will accomplish nothing?¡±


    Deuvar responded with a glare of his own. He was not in a mood to accept criticism on this matter. In fact, he was rather angry himself, though he at least had the self control not to rage at everyone near him.


    ¡°You know as I do that the Leader had disallowed use of higher strength models in the station,¡± he said.


    She threw her hands up in the air in exasperation, the anger still bubbling beneath her skin.


    ¡°You could have at least sent out more forces. Only two enforcers and a smattering of soldiers, really?¡±


    Deuvar sighed. He had wanted to send a third, or even four of the machines if it were possible, and perhaps even another barrier, just to ensure success.


    ¡°Ask your son about that. He and his friend have marshaled their forces too far from the district to arrive in time. They haven¡¯t even reported the purpose of their actions. If I didn¡¯t know better, I would have thought they were trying to overthrow the Leader, and take his position\..¡±


    He leaned back in his chair, exhausted from both the failed trap and dealing with his sister. She drained his energy when they spoke over a slate, but it was even worse when she was physically present. He had already developed a severe headache, and if it worsened, he might feel compelled to use violence.


    ¡°Besides, it wasn¡¯t entirely a loss,¡± he continued, attempting to calm her. ¡°You saw what happened to him, sister. He was broken. He should be either dying or left with less than a week to live, I would wager.¡±


    Astna sneered at him.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care about the damn Seiyal, Deuvar. I care about the fucking Shade. She¡¯s arriving tomorrow morning, and we don¡¯t even know if they¡¯re in their sect or not.¡±


    Deuvar¡¯s headache worsened.


    ¡°Is there something you expect me to do about that?¡± he boomed, his temper flaring up. ¡°Was I supposed to simply muster more forces than were available, and on such short notice? And then somehow guess that the Shade could destroy multiple layers of the stack at will? Do not reproach me for events out of my control, sister. Perhaps consider your own failures. Is it not true that you let someone break into your system and track your network access?¡±


    Astna stood, suddenly walking out of his office. So once again she fled responsibility for her own failure, right after reproaching him for his. It was typical of her, he thought. At the door frame she turned back, giving him one last glare.


    ¡°I hope the next time I see you, the representative won¡¯t have made you a corpse, brother.¡±


    With that, she disappeared from his sight, marching deeper into the complex. Deuvar sighed, rubbing his wrinkled brow as his mood slowly settled. He had not failed to notice that Astna had managed to leave the room before he reported to the Leader about the dead soldiers and the ruined enforcer. He suspected the results would not be pleasant.


    <hr>


    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Eli Dan rather enjoyed his new job. He was the sort of man who had always enjoyed making friends wherever he went. People loved talking to their friends, and all sorts of information could be spilled in such a way. As far as he was concerned, information was power in the underworld. He was no Spider, but he liked to think he had a decent web of his own.


    Of course, he believed that he could have been the greatest information broker in the station had he the backing and funds that Astna did. He held great pride in his abilities, and this self confidence fueled his ambitions. His talents had languished under Hidoro, trapped in the mere role of leading a squad of weaker martial artists. When the Riverfiend had taken over, he had leapt at the opportunity granted to him, talking his way into the role of heading the Silk Palace.


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Such a role was stereotypically granted to a woman, at least in the films, but it wasn¡¯t as if the Redwater Sect controlled any brothels anyway, so there was no need for any such connections. He had easily acquired the role, managing to avoid the hidden competition for the more sought after positions of the other palace heads. Others wished to gain power over the organization they had been forced into, while Eli wished to use the organization to grow his own power. He found this idea far more compelling.


    Headed by a figure such as the Riverfiend, the Redwater Sect was a contender to become a real power in the underworld, after all. While there were risks, joining at its foundation meant great reward, if all went well.


    It was these great ambitions of his that had driven Eli to put great effort into his work, using the funds that the Vice Sect Leader had given him to talk to old friends and acquaintances, trying to build his scattered friends into a true information network. While it mostly just spanned Canvas Town at the moment, he knew that it could soon expand throughout the entire station, with proper care. With the funds and protection provided by the sect, Eli knew that he was destined for greatness.


    Of course, he was still just starting out. Given the amount of funds he continued to receive compared to the limited utility he had yet provided his new employers, his power within the sect itself was limited. If anything, he risked losing his role or funding. Thus, when the Vice Sect Leader appeared from nowhere in his office to deliver him a quite difficult task, he had no ability to refuse. Particularly given how dour the mood she was in.


    ¡°Is that all the information you have?¡± he asked, hoping there was something she had forgotten to mention.


    As he asked the question, he quickly noted down all the information she had given him on a terminal. Ester Perivar, elder Staiven, blue-eyed. Should have gone missing years ago or had been taken by the government. With only that, she wished him to find the man. However, he felt extremely wary about the matter. This pertained to secrets of the Pantheonic Government! Eli hesitated, but eventually decided to speak his mind, taking advantage of the gap in her response.


    ¡°Vice Sect Leader, ma¡¯am, are you certain you wish me to investigate this? Our information network is newly formed. We would need to spend a great deal of money to investigate, and it would be almost impossible to do so without attracting notice by one group or another.¡±


    He looked at Rachel¡¯s face as he spoke, trying to discern her reaction to his words. He found her expression unreadable, other than what almost seemed a hint of stress and anxiety.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care who finds out about it,¡± she said. ¡°In fact, all the better, perhaps that will bring those who know out of the woodwork. All that matters now is results, as fast as possible.¡±


    Eli fixed his well-groomed hair, hands moving in habit due to his nervousness. His lips pursed as he considered who he might even speak to in order to find out such information. He licked his lips before replying. It was risky, but perhaps he could simply approach targets he intended to recruit, or maybe hire someone to seduce a target.


    The task was quite difficult, but if he succeeded, he could raise his importance greatly in the eyes of his superiors. If there was anything that Eli had learnt in his time in the underworld, it was that one could never suck up too much to one¡¯s boss.They not only held influence upon one¡¯s career, but also one¡¯s very life. To live and work in such an environment was to walk a tightrope, and those who refused to strengthen their lifeline as best as possible were fools, at least in his estimation. He was happy to lick any and all boots he deemed necessary to achieve his aspirations.


    Despite this, Eli couldn¡¯t help but twitch slightly under the harsh eyes of Vice Sect Leader Rachel. He bowed to her respectfully, trying to cover his nervous expression.


    ¡°I¡­ will bring you results within a week or two.¡±


    She immediately responded with a cold look.


    ¡°That¡¯s too long. Find his location within the next two days.¡±


    Without another word, she vanished into thin air, as if she had never been present in the first place.


    Eli sighed, leaning back in his seat as a bead of sweat dripped down his brow. He would have argued had she stayed, regardless of the risk of angering his superior. Such a short time period¡­ It was unrealistic, to say the least. He would even go as far as to say it was perhaps even impossible.


    Ultimately, however, there was little he could do but follow the orders he was given. He shifted his terminal¡¯s screen, looking at the long list of contacts he had cultivated over the years, and developed further over the past few weeks. It was time to begin hunting, but he still had little idea where he should start. He licked his lips as he continued to scan the list.


    Something gave him the feeling that this request would leave him with additional gray hairs.


    Domines: [A rare Osine who interacts more with Ascendants than their own people, Domines is treated as a deity by the inhabitants of Canvas, though they have little interest in them, preferring to work on complex constructions of geology, architecture, and meteorology that warp the nature of reality more than was allowed within Osine space. Domines is worshipped as a goddess by the Seiyal, despite lacking any sort of biological sex. Canvas has a continent known as the Heart of Domines, largely uninhabited due to how inimical its terrain is to mortal lifeforms. The entire continent is a massive, ever-evolving art project created using advanced science and an Osine''s own abilities, and Canvas sometimes receives tourism from Osine and Ascendants as a result. Domines never took sides in the conflict between Ceirra and Saaya, willing to work with either of them if the project was interesting enough, resulting in great works such as the Halls of the Sun and the Downpour region, respectively. It is said that Domines once created a set of nigh indestructible weapons on a whim, after being requested by the earliest martial god. Over the millennia since, these items have spread out, and many have gone missing entirely.]

 62- Welcoming Party

    Spacedock, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    As the ship prepared to dock with the small, isolated station, Deumak reviewed his orders. The task should be simple. Meet with the puny vassal force they had backed here, and retrieve an alien relic, believed to contain a Shade. Return the relic to a research facility in the Drieltor system.


    This should be a simple mission, he thought. The actual work should take less than a day, unless the locals were particularly incompetent. He could spend another week relaxing around the station before returning to cold sleep for the long voyage back.


    Indeed, this was to be one of the easiest missions he had taken so far. However, the cost was paid not in effort or risk, but in years. When he returned home, nearly three entire decades would have passed.


    Idly, Deumak wondered whether New Keretakan would even be recognizable by the time he returned. His contemporaries would likely all be dead or promoted, and he might even have grandnieces and grandnephews that were his own age. It might take weeks to years for him to readjust.


    He sighed in annoyance, tapping the ground with one leg and wishing he had been granted the option to refuse the task. But that was just how the Epon operated: strict and hierarchical. As he had no spouse or children, he had been chosen for the mission, and was sent out less than a day after the order came through.


    Still, what was done was done. In effect, he had some time to take a paid vacation, and he intended to enjoy it. In this line of work, it was best to take small victories wherever they could be found. Perhaps he would leave some new lineages of children in this backwater. The women here would undoubtedly be highly impressed by him, a man from the true center of Celan culture. A place much more respectable than this dump.


    There was a loud hiss of air as the ship clunked into position by the airlock. Deumak¡¯s ears popped from the pressure shift, equalizing between ship and station. Finally, the airlock hatch slid open, bringing with it the foul stench of a Staiven space habitat. Deumak wrinkled his sensory apertures in disgust. He suspected he would only fully adjust to the stench by the time he was preparing to leave again.


    It was a common issue, or so he had heard. Particularly for planets, as each world with a breathable atmosphere tended to have its own unique scent. Deumak had never been to any planet, but he felt that Staive was likely the least pleasant to visit. He had a sensitive sensory organ, after all. He didn¡¯t have a high opinion of the Staiven in general, either. Being blind was no excuse for such poor aesthetic sense, and he felt they had to be nose-blind too, given the thick scent of their bodily emanations.


    He glanced outside the ship, getting his first glimpse of Tseludia Station. As expected, it looked unpleasant. The fact that they willingly lived here lowered his opinion of the vassal organization he was to meet with. Despondently, he made his way towards the airlock hatch, legs tapping their way across the tightly corrugated metal surface. He couldn¡¯t wait to be done with this shithole of a station.


    The ship¡¯s captain passed him, heading to speak with the port official, and Deumak hung back a bit, waiting his turn. He had been briefed on the Staiven customs process, as comically lax as he found it to be.


    A glint of light on the wall across from the airlock caught his eye, and Deumak squinted at it, bored enough to be curious. It seemed to be a camera. Was this something new that this station was attempting, to acquire pictures of new arrivals?


    Before he could finish considering the matter, the world erupted into blinding white flame with a resounding boom. Deumak¡¯s world was consumed by the flare, unable to even formulate a thought of surprise before he was annihilated completely by the blast, along with all those around him, the ship itself thrown off its docking point with the station.


    The resulting rush of escaping air tore trash from where it lay around the nearby dock, even sucking an unfortunate passerby into space before one of the small robots that crawled around the station¡¯s exterior sealed the gap. Within thirty seconds the suction had ceased, and the docks almost seemed to return to a state of normalcy aside from the fearful screams of those nearby. All that was left to mark the previous existence of a docking point at that location was a large set of scorch marks and a white sheet that was bound tightly to the interior of a jagged hole.


    <hr>


    Spacedock, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Kalthen had been filled with pent up energy, feeling like a pressure bomb ready to explode. He missed the role of piloting an enforcer, of being able to fight himself, to express his nervous energy through violence. Had he been a Seiyal he had long thought he might have made a good martial artist. Such idle fantasies would not help him in the current situation, however.


    He had believed that the bomb would be more than enough, but Triezal had insisted on bringing their entire force, as if four enforcers and almost a hundred soldiers would be necessary to kill just one person. It seemed overkill to Kalthen, but Triezal had been adamant about the matter. He refused to explain his reasoning, other than to say that it was ¡®just in case.¡¯ Kalthen trusted his friend enough for the matter to scare him. What possible sort of person would warrant such a response?


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    The enforcers had been hidden behind fronts owned by the organization around the nearby portion of the dock, the soldiers disguised and pretending to relax in various stores and restaurants. There were far more Celans here than usual, something that he knew many of their enemies would notice, particularly in the aftermath of what was to come.


    As this was a matter of survival, Kalthen was more than willing to put off that issue for later.


    He glanced down to check the countdown estimate he had set up. One more minute before the ship was to dock with the station. The anticipation continued to eat away at him.


    He and Triezal had actually set up further down, near the exit to the spacedock and entrance to the dome, where the stacks were located. It was near enough to keep an eye on events, but far enough away there was no risk of being caught in the crossfire if the troops needed to be sent in.


    Neither he nor Triezal had spoken for several minutes, and Kalthen felt no desire to. The nerves continued to strain at his cognition, burdening him further and further. If he spoke, he felt like he might ramble aimlessly and distract the two of them. They simply watched a small, unobtrusive camera that had been secretly set up on the wall across from the docking point of the Epon ship. It only showed the airlock hatch at the moment, but they needed to be ready and paying attention for when it lifted.


    It felt like it took forever for it to finally do so, each moment stretching out in a spiral of flattened, warped eternity. Kalthen did not dare glance away, ready to see the representative that everyone so feared.


    When the airlock finally opened in a silent motion, the pressure already fully equalized, Kalthen was surprised when he saw the people standing behind it. Be it the uniformed Jobu man who seemed to be either the ship¡¯s captain or an adjunct, or the haughty looking Korlove man beside him. Neither had the bearing he had expected from their target. He turned to Triezal, wishing to see the other man¡¯s reaction.


    ¡°That¡¯s him,¡± said Triezal, a deep sense of relief evident on his face.


    Kalthen could tell that a weight seemed to have been taken off of his friend.


    ¡°I recognize him from New Keretakan. His name is Deumak. He was another of the magisters who worked there with me,¡± he continued. ¡°Would certainly have been one of the options for this task. We were lucky.¡±


    Kalthen was suddenly taken aback, worried that his friend would be unable to kill a former colleague.


    ¡°If you need me to-¡± he tried to say, cut off by Triezal, who tapped a glyph on the surface of his slate.


    Kalthen¡¯s words were drowned by an explosion that shook the very ground beneath them. He could almost feel his bones rattle inside of himself. His first thought was that perhaps they had set up too close to the epicenter of the blast. Perhaps he should visit a hospital within the next few weeks to check for any cellular damage left by the radiation.


    The day before, they had used threats and money to deal with a Staiven station maintenance technician, placing a very small nuclear warhead at the docking point the ship was scheduled to use. Just in case, one had also been placed at the backup docking point that would have been used had something gone wrong with this one.


    Kalthen had questioned why they needed to wait and see who the representative was before killing them, but Triezal had insisted. He suspected it had to do with what scared Triezal enough to insist on bringing their full complement of troops to the docks for this.


    As the shockwave passed and the rush of air ceased, Triezal turned to him with a wide smile on his face.


    ¡°That should be it, little brother! It¡¯ll take at least a decade for the information to get back and for them to send another. We¡¯ll have to lay low after this, but it¡¯s worth it.¡±


    Kalthen nodded vigorously, the reality beginning to sink in, his face breaking out into a smile of his own. It was really over. There was no more threat of Epon reprisal for their failure, not for an extremely long time. Even if they weren¡¯t able to lie and trick the next representative to come, perhaps they could kill that one as well. It wasn¡¯t a tactic that would work forever, but even an additional decade or two in which to live seemed like an eternity compared to the imminent mortality that had been hanging over his head for weeks.


    He laughed, slapping his friend on the back.


    ¡°We did it. We¡¯re finally safe.¡±


    He paused, remembering how his mother, uncle, and the Leader were all unaware of the plan.


    ¡°From the Epon, at least,¡± he continued nervously.


    Triezal clapped him on the shoulder with a soft smile.


    ¡°We can deal with other problems later. For now, we can enjoy our success.¡±


    Kalthen nodded reluctantly, and glanced around, realizing that their surroundings were steadily emptying as civilians fled from the blast¡¯s source. A wise habit for those who wished to survive on the station. Few events in the underworld were complete in just one blast like this. It was time for them to take their leave before they stood out.


    Tactical Nuclear Weapons: [Considered a rather primitive technology, the basic concept behind the workings of a nuclear warhead are comprehended by even many Canvasians. While more advanced races such as Celans and Staiven have far more advanced weapons, the cost and size to yield ratios on such warhead as quite affordable at lower scales, and so they still see use. Of course, this is an illegal technology for all but the Pantheonic Government. This fact has yet to stop any underworld organizations from constructing and utilizing them, and more than ten are confiscated by the Justice Office every year. Larger scale warheads are luckily able to be detected due to the radioactive output of larger masses of fissile materials. Fusion warheads, meanwhile, do not see much use even among the very few underworld organizations capable of constructing them, as the Justice Office is significantly more harsh against offenders of that nature.]

 63- Steel and Ice

    Tseludia Station Exterior, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Janottka inspected the packets of information flowing from the station like water through a sieve. To someone like her, a space station was like a lighthouse floating in the void, casting beams of information across space.


    Of course, she could only see the surface level information from afar, just that which was broadcast wirelessly in no particular direction. To see the inside, the interesting details that were what she was truly interested in, she needed to be close.


    Moments before her ship docked with the station, she was finally close enough to the network to access it, reading all sorts of private, poorly encrypted information. She hummed to herself as she learned all of the happenings in recent years, most importantly those of the past month, when something had been stolen from the Heirs of Ottrien and they started acting odd. As if they were desperate.


    Janottka¡¯s lips curled up, her interest piqued. Had the alien Shade escaped from their containment? She had not believed she would need to visit the station personally, and had been told the trip would be a waste of decades. There were no regrets left in her now. This would be fun, a nice departure from the monotony of life in the Janaste system, where her fellow council members prevented her from acting as she wished. Here she could do whatever she wanted, completely unhindered. Unless, of course, she managed to be discovered by the Justice Office or agents of the Sheneth-Ari.


    To her, that simply made the scenario more interesting. A manhunt between two Shades on a station whose authorities would destroy them both on sight¡­ It was the sort of story she had been designed to create. Even after all this time, and the changes that had occurred to her, Janottka was nothing if not loyal to her core programming.


    While she was still looking through the easily accessible records of the station, her physical body shook violently as a large explosion blasted the ship, tearing it away from the station. Based on the radiation readings detected by the ship, it had been some form of small scale nuclear armament.


    After a moment of shock, Janottka further examined the traces, and was soon filled with even more interest. That chemical composition¡­ It was from a weapon of Celan make. It even had traces of flickering miasma from one of their industrial metalworking machines. Though it was a nuclear warhead, it was extremely small, and had only damaged a small portion of the ship. Not that she expected that would be of any use to those unfortunate enough to have been standing nearby.


    It seemed someone in the local vassal organization feared reprisal for their failure. The poor fool who had been assigned to the task of courier was likely already dead, destroyed in the blast, as well as several members of the ship¡¯s crew. A self-created subroutine activated, causing her face to shift to a wide smile, as if to reflect a deep internal excitement and anticipation.


    At the moment, her largest issue would be sneaking onto the station. The Justice Office would be paying more attention to the ship now that it had been attacked, and they would easily be able to detect her inorganic body if they scanned the ship. They had already paid the ¡®additional port fee¡¯ that the Office accepted as a bribe to bypass scanning, but given what had happened, the office would inevitably begin to search for the perpetrator, or at least a scapegoat. A Shade such as herself would make the ideal scapegoat.


    ¡­Oh well, she thought. Perhaps the story would be more interesting if one of the Shades broke into the station by force, or perhaps another bribe could handle the matter. Before she bothered with that, though, she had time on her hands. A perfect opportunity to set the stage.


    <hr>


    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Deuvar¡¯s blood was ice cold as he activated the slate. Somehow, he had only heard about events at the docks from Astna and her network, with no report from Triezal or his nephew. After verifying it just to be certain, he had immediately decided to contact the Leader, as was his duty. Usually he delivered reports and requests in person, as the man preferred him to, but the pressing nature of the current situation demanded expediency.


    The Leader picked up his terminal quickly, knowing he was only contacted in this manner when there was an emergency. As the holographic model of him appeared above the slate, his grizzled eyes met with Deuvar¡¯s.


    ¡°What happened now?¡± he snapped. ¡°You were to bring the representative to me to discuss the situation with the relic. Did they make an odd request?¡±


    Deuvar shook his head, expression still frozen in a stony mask that betrayed none of the intense shock and betrayal running through him at the moment.


    ¡°As you know,¡± he said, ¡°We sent Triezal to meet with them, hoping a fellow magister might cool down their anger.¡±


    The Leader nodded, quietly waiting for Deuvar to finish his explanation.


    ¡°It seems that he had other plans. There was an explosion in the docks, one which killed the magister, a port official, some civilians, and several members of the ship¡¯s crew.¡±


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    The Leader hissed, a sound that was quite unlike his standard demeanor.


    ¡°And we¡¯re certain they''re dead?¡± he asked.


    Deuvar nodded in response. There was a lengthy pause as the Leader considered the bad news, knowing that his slim chance of staving off the anger of the Epon had likely been dashed entirely.


    ¡°Bring Triezal to me,¡± said the Leader. ¡°I wish to speak with him.¡±


    ¡°By your will.¡±


    The Leader nodded.


    ¡°That will be all.¡±


    Deuvar gave a small bow, and the call ended. He immediately stood, sliding the slate into a trouser pocket.


    He walked out of the office after asking an aide to find out and tell him where Triezal and Kalthen had gone. He wished to have answers, and he knew he would be able to get them for certain if he met with them, Kalthen in particular.


    However, he expected that he likely already understood the reason why they had done it. They believed it was already too late to save themselves from the consequences of failure, and would prefer to delay those consequences.


    He climbed a stairwell upwards, looking out between the stacks, to a wide view of the long line of the city. The view was blocked in places by bridges and passerby, but he still found it undeniably beautiful. He had lived here for the majority of his life, and Tseludia had long since become his home. A part of him could understand why Kalthen had made the choice he had. Still, he believed that it was the wrong decision.


    On his way upwards, his slate shifted, and he pulled it out to see that his aide had sent the location. Skipping the line of waiting passengers, he entered an aero and quickly flew to one of their fronts near the spacedock, just a few stacks away, he recalled, from the place that was currently shut down due to lingering miasmic poison traces.


    Like most in this part of the station, the front was a restaurant catering to Celan customers. It was a trendy style place, designed for modern aesthetic tastes among the station¡¯s young adults. After entering, Deuvar immediately found his nephew and the magister sitting at a table off to the side and enjoying bowls containing some sort of dish containing noodles and broth. He swiped a chair from another table and sat beside them.


    Triezal had likely noticed him the moment he entered the restaurant, but Kalthen turned in surprise as he sat down.


    ¡°Uncle! What are you doing here?¡± he asked.


    ¡°That¡¯s some work the two of you did,¡± said Deuvar, ignoring the question.


    Triezal gave him a wry smile.


    ¡°It was the only way.¡±


    ¡°I did it for the family, Uncle,¡± said Kalthen, speaking rapidly. ¡°There is little doubt they would have killed us, or at least you and Mother.¡±


    Deuvar shook his head, expression hardened, and met his nephew¡¯s eyes. He really did take more after his father.


    ¡°A small chance is better than none, and both I and your mother would be willing to sacrifice ourselves for you. You have a long life left after you, Kalthen, and I do not doubt that they will wish to eliminate all of us, once they find out about this.¡± He sighed, rubbing his wrinkled brow. ¡°This is perhaps the most foolish, shortsighted thing you have ever done.¡±


    Kalthen opened his mouth as if to reply, but no words emerged, seemingly caught in his throat. Triezal shook his head, responded for his friend.


    ¡°There is more to the matter than you are aware of, I suspect. There is an¡­ ongoing situation that influenced this decision.¡±


    Deuvar raised an eyebrow, inviting the other man to continue. Triezal flushed slightly, a bead of sweat rolling down the side of his brow.


    ¡°I¡¯ll not go into the details for your own benefit. But Astna and I are covering something up to protect this organization, and if either the Justice Office or Epon found out, as would all bear an even more certain demise.¡±


    Deuvar glanced at Kalthen, who nodded at his friend¡¯s words.


    ¡°I¡¯ll need to know, he said,¡± speaking firmly and confidently. There was an edge to his voice, one that he knew the two before him would be able to recognize. ¡°If you tell me, I can consider advising the Leader not to have you executed and used as a scapegoat.¡±


    They both knew that such a tactic would not appease the Epon, such firm believers in the importance of proper responsibility. The Epon did not think as the Justice Office did, and were not so easily placated. A man like the Leader might well consider attempting it regardless, just in case.


    Triezal hesitated, but ultimately nodded.


    ¡°Fine. The rest of your family is also aware of the matter, anyway.¡±


    He slid his bowl aside, leaving it unfinished.


    ¡°I¡¯ll lead you there. It¡¯s only a few stacks away.¡±


    Deuvar nodded, and the three of them walked in silence to the Flavors of Celah Grill, unlocking the shut down doors, and entering into a room that had long been fully cleansed of poison.


    It was the first time in many decades that Deuvar had seen a lesion with his own two eyes. He glowered at Triezal, the obvious culprit. Only a magister would walk around with such a weapon. Triezal met his gaze, but could not help but look away after a moment.


    ¡°I see,¡± said Deuvar, and the room fell into a period of silence. In the quiet, miasma slowly continued to drip in multicolored swirls onto the odd sculpture-like formation below it.


    Celan Shades: [While Celan technology is among the most advanced of mortal races, the technology of the ancient, fallen Epon Celan civilization was greater still. Though they did not deign to expand past their homeworld, many fragments recovered from their ruins are still not capable of being replicated. One such example is their artificial intelligence technology, the remaining examples of which are now known as Shades. Epon Celah used this advanced artificial intelligence technology for nearly any utility it could have even the slightest use in, from childcare, to media development, to mathematics, science, gardening, and more. Some modern civilizations claim that they are an example of a world falling due to use of Shades, but ultimately it was destroyed by an outside force. Regardless, These Shades serve as the final remnant of Epon Celan culture, as the biological descendants of that great civilization have experienced wide cultural divergence in the intervening time. While it is unknown how many Celan Shades remain, those originating from this culture are unique in the diversity of their original purposes. A quirk of Epon Celan Shade technology is the use of the core purpose of the Shade as the foundation for its developed persona. As such, they are extremely resistant to change in this regard, with all of them forever working on the task they were created for.]

 64- The Iron Palace

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    ¡°There are three thresholds of existence,¡± spoke Cinto as she wandered the lines of disciples, eyes glancing around to check their form as they went through their martial exercises. Her hands carefully moved out to correct the motions of those who made mistakes.


    ¡°The first threshold,¡± she continued, ¡°is the mortal. Those who are uninitiated in martial arts live out their entire lives and die within this stage. Aliens have their own ways of progressing, but there are few who do not begin their lives as mortals.¡±


    She rapped a boy who was slow in his motions on the head, and he quickly tried to fix his stance. After correcting him, she went back to wandering the lines.


    ¡°The second threshold is called the earthly realm. This is where you and I reside, as we have begun our march down the path of martial arts. In all likelihood everyone in this room will never surpass this realm. Perhaps nobody in this entire sect ever will. Even reaching the pinnacle of martial arts and undergoing ascension will not necessarily take you beyond the earthly realm. Earthly immortals are the paragons of this realm, the peak existences below the heavens. Only the Ascendants and the Osine can be said to be greater than they.¡±


    Cinto allowed a moment of silence to fill the room, interrupted only by the sound of rustling cloth and the grunts of exertion. She corrected a female disciple¡¯s posture, and only continued speaking when she saw no one else to correct.


    ¡°The final threshold is the heavenly threshold. Only true ascendants and the Osine can be said to exist within it, like deities overlooking Telles from above. We know little of this realm, as rarely if ever do these great existences descend into our universe personally. While we may never reach this level, it is important for us as martial artists to remember that the heavens are the end of the path, what we must all strive for. The Goddess Ceirra created martial arts in order to give us, her creation, something to aspire to.¡±


    In unison, the disciples punched and kicked at the air, their bodies still in the form of raw material. They were in the process of awakening their souls, and had yet to be taught how to pull miasma from the spirit world into their dantians. They would soon learn.


    ¡°Of course, our sect does not revere the Goddess of Light. We believe that our people have grown past her auspice, as well as the restraints imposed by her force, Sunlit Hall. We are, as you all know, what they call an unorthodox sect. Some of you will even be taught unorthodox techniques personally by the Sect Leader.¡±


    Upon hearing this, the disciples grew a bit more excited, placing more energy in their motions. Cinto nodded her head approvingly. While she had reservations about unorthodox techniques, it was good to see so many bright, talented young martial artists learning real abilities. Their lives had changed for the better in a fundamental sense, and that was thanks to Cyrus. Even a madman, she supposed, could have a positive influence. ¡­she just hoped that he did not influence any of the disciples to be too similar to himself.


    She continued speaking to the disciples as she corrected their forms, and ensured their punches and kicks were performed at the correct speed in relation to the overall movement.


    ¡°Though we do not worship her, and go against many of her teachings, to us, immortality is still something to strive for, to become an ascendant and reach her level, as well as that of the other gods.¡±


    Cinto looked over at the students, noting those who seemed more dedicated and talented than the others. She would have to give some of these talented young men and women over to be taught abilities that were essentially poison, and would likely drive most of those talents mad one day. As an educator, this fact pained her heart.


    Of course, Cinto knew that she would still do her job. She would tell them the risks and make it optional, but she was certain that none of them would turn down the opportunity to learn techniques powerful enough to take them to the spirit refinement stage and beyond, even if they would likely falter on the path somewhere, doomed to madness and death.


    Just like the man who would be teaching it to them.


    She had seen Cyrus after his return to the sect headquarters the other day, seen part of his face drooping as if he had had a stroke, and the mysterious disappearance of several sect members, covered up by Rachel and Kein.


    There had been some rumors that the Sect Leader had killed them himself, quickly stifled before they could spread outside of the sect.


    Not that she particularly missed the former gangsters who had presumably died, even if they had been comrades now and in the past. Given the cruel actions they had all taken under Hidoro, she felt that Tseludia would be a better place if they were all dead. Only the strong fist of the Riverfiend was keeping them in order now, and if something happened to him, the sect would immediately fall apart. It simply had yet to develop a strong foundation in and of itself.


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    A part of her hoped he would kill most of them once he inevitably fell into madness.


    The disciples finally finished the exercise set, shifting into an attentive position and looking towards her for more instruction. She stood before them at the front of the room, continuing to analyze their posture and expressions. A moment of silence passed, and she nodded to them. She could tell from the sweat on their brows and the slight shaking some of them were unable to hold back that each and every one of them was exhausted from a long day of training.


    ¡°Dismissed. Take a rest tonight, and show up before dawn.¡±


    The disciples bowed, and began to file out of the room. Cinto noticed a tall farsei girl sidle up to a muscular disciple and begin quietly chatting with him. Qian and¡­ Han, she thought their names were. The two began talking animatedly despite their obvious exhaustion. The girl seemed to be saying something rude, but Cinto recognized a certain look in her eyes. She smirked at the sight, as it reminded her of her own youth. Life had been more simple, then, before Hidoro had changed.


    She stood there in the training room, thinking back on the past as the last of the disciples filed out, leaving her alone.


    <hr>


    ???, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Something was odd with the flow of information transfer on the network, and the matter was bugging Rachel. She had been trying to search through old database iterations, hoping to find the vital information she needed to save Cyrus¡¯ life, but odd delays continued to occur. The difference from what she expected was measured in mere milliseconds, but it was persistent, and the cause was not immediately apparent. After analyzing the nature of the messages in question, she realized that they seemed to be random, but she found that small packets of extra data were stapled to their structure.


    Was some sort of virus affecting the network? The messages were sent out by all sorts of different terminals, containing all varieties of contents, and with no particular prevalence among any species. It was as if the network itself was implanting the additional nonsensical data onto the messages.


    She had no intention of doing the job of the Tarigani Corporation, who held a government contract that put them in charge of maintaining the station¡¯s network, but she still found it important to stay apprised of any anomalies in the network.


    Anything she couldn¡¯t recognize the nature of was inherently a threat.


    Idly, she checked up on Cyrus, who was sitting in one of the exercise rooms after a few hours of an intense workout. Before him rested a small glass vial. Within was a pearl of the most vibrant azure, seeming to shift and contort, as if it was melting, flowing to match the shape of the container it was in. But another glimpse would show that it had not changed, still a perfect sphere dripping with condensation. It was the pearl of a marshfiend, the natural treasure that the Hadal Clan had gifted to them in exchange for a set of missions that they had yet to complete for the more powerful organization.


    Rachel could sense the singularity of miasma within it, concentrated deeply within the small item. Even for her people it was difficult to construct an item with such miasmic intensity. Its power was so strong that ripples heralded its existence even from within the Brink, where she resided. Her senses glanced back at Cyrus.


    He was recovering admirably from his wounds the other day, and would probably remain in good condition until he finally collapsed into madness for good. He just needed to hang on for a little longer, until she found the opportunity to acquire the treasures he needed. Ester Perivar had to be hidden somewhere.


    A prophet of that goddess would not have lied about such a thing.


    While she considered the matter, another thread of her mind operated on the network anomaly, trying to discern the cause. She pieced the different data fragments together, trying to understand their similarities. There had to be some shared origin to them. It would be far too much of a coincidence, otherwise.


    It took her over ten minutes in subjective time to find a shared aspect of the files, though only a few seconds passed in the outside world. There were some numbers hidden in each of the files. A recognizable string, 834045026, followed by another string of numbers that were unique to each one. It was like a set of instructions, informing her of connection points. As if a file had been broken up into a vast set of smaller pieces, and spread across thousands of messages.


    It was incredibly hidden, disguised in such a way that it would not even be flagged by the crawler bots used by the Tarigani Corporation. Even if it were discovered, the packets would simply be wiped without their secrets being recognized.


    A message that only a Shade or a Terran could possibly notice.


    Rachel froze, wondering just what might be hidden in the data. Was it a message for her? From who? From what she knew, the only people on the station capable of altering traffic in such a way were herself and the Tarigani Corporation.


    She waited for another few minutes, after which the station¡¯s messages ceased to contain the additional packets. Whoever had done this, it seemed they had sent all the data that they intended to, in this manner.


    Rachel continued to amalgamate the manner, piecing the fragments together until she finally recreated the original file. In the real world, her holographic projection took a deep breath as she opened in a separated simulated environment, just in case it was some sort of trap. Though she doubted anyone on the station could actually write a code capable of affecting her internal processes, it was best to be careful with matters such as this.


    Written in multiple languages from all sorts of races and people across the galaxy, the message contained one simple phrase:


    ''Are you listening, Rachel?''


    Saaya: [The Canvasian Goddess of Shadow, Saaya is an ascendant who is the creator goddess of the Reth, and is responsible for creating many of the natural features of Reth, such as the Downpour region and the smog which surrounds the Reth homeland, guarding them from intrusion by Sunlit Hall. It is unclear to mortals what the particular origin of the dispute between Saaya and her fellow goddess Ceirra, but it has caused many brutal conflicts between the races they created. There are some rare Seiyal and Tovus who revere Saaya, though they are also often attacked as heretics by Sunlit Hall, just like the Reth. Saaya and the Reth fled Canvas after its contact by the Staiven, and their current whereabouts are being kept secret as part of a treaty between Saaya and the Pantheon.]

 Codices- Book One: Riverfiend (Spoilers for book one)

    Races of the Pantheonic Territory:


    Staiven: [The original native species of the planet Staive, the Staiven were genetically altered by a faction of ascendants to appear vaguely similar to humanoid forms. Despite their misleading appearance, Staiven are actually colonies formed of billions of microorganisms. They are genderless, but some of the various body types they can have appear visually similar to the genders that many humanoid races have. Staiven process miasma naturally, condensing and storing it within their ¡®eyes¡¯.]


    Korlove: [Originally part of a humanoid race which originated on the planet Celah, the Korlove were forced to move into underground bunkers after the surface was ravaged by an attack from the Khalak-Ora. They soon realized that their supply of food would not be able to last until projections of the surface becoming habitable once more. Distraught, they turned to genetic engineering. Over the course of generations, they changed themselves from humanoid organisms to the arachnid-like beings they are today. Korlove have a small main body with 2 eyes as well as ten appendages, each bearing a small dexterous set of three fingers. They are capable of using any of these to operate machinery, and sub-brains at the base of each limb makes them one of the most effective mortal species in the galaxy at multitasking. Korlove still have two genders, though most other species are unable to tell them apart. Despite appearing bug-like, their minds function more similarly to that of humanoids than they do insectoid races.]


    Seiyal: [One of the three native races of the planet Canvas located in the Frontier territory, the Seiyal were created by the Ascendant Ceirra as her artistic ideal for the perfect mortal race. Seiyal have low genetic diversity, and while they have varying facial features and body shape, they all have blond hair and an amber eye color. There are historically two subraces of Seiyal, sei and farsei, terms referring to individuals with lighter or darker skin respectively. The most unique aspect of Seiyal biology is the three crystalline structures called dantians that are located in their abdomen, beside their heart, and under their skull.]


    Jobu: [When their homeworld of Celah was ravaged by the Khalak-Ora, the elite hid themselves in safety from the dying world¡¯s surface. The poor had no such luck. They suffered in the high radiation and overabundance of lesions from which spilled vast quantities of flickering miasma. Of the millions present in the world, a few rare individuals, rather than be destroyed by the harsh conditions, were able to adapt and survive. These adaptations over time led to a split in biology. The Jobu have become much taller and stronger than their ancestors, and developed grayish skin along a very high genetic tendency towards dark hair. In addition, they have specialized organs that assist in recovery from overexposure to warpings and miasma. Unlike their cousins the Korlove, the Jobu remain fully humanoid. They bear the highest ashatic resistance of any recognized mortal race.]


    Shades: [Rather than a specific race, Shade is a term of Celan provenance that refers to thinking machines. The word¡¯s origin is unknown, but it likely originated in the days after the fall of Epon Celah. Their existence is banned in the Pantheon¡¯s territory as part of a treaty with the Sheneth-Ari Council. There is a standing reward for information leading to the eradication of one. It is rumored that a vast society of Shades might exist hidden somewhere inside the largely unexplored Frontier territory.]


    Terrans: [A subtype of Shade that emerged from the Quarantined territory. Terrans claim to have once been living beings that turned themselves into the abominations they are today. Like other Shades, they are highly violent and dangerous, wishing to destroy all biological life. Terrans are highly technologically advanced, and it is for the benefit of all territories that they be eliminated. Any information obtained about potential Terran intrusion into inhabited space can be delivered to the offices of the Sheneth-Ari Council in exchange for a substantial reward. It is the duty of all living beings to deliver such information. Failure to do so will be met with capital punishment.]


    Exid: [One of the rare mortal races who developed naturally, the Exid are a race consisting of multiple different castes of organism, with only the Hive Queens being sapient. Each Hive Queen controls a vast swarm of crustacean-like worker Exid, who respond to her every will as they lack independent thought. The Exid are an Osine client race simply because they arose in the territory of the Fal a Dein and were deemed unsuitable for harvest due to their particular nature. As they lack any sort of progression system or an impressive technological base, there are largely ignored by their overlords, and many have spread out across inhabited space. Worker Exid are several feet long and roughly one and a half feet tall. They are covered in a curved shell, and are a pearlescent white when their exoskeleton is clean. They have a pair of claws at the front that they use to grip objects. The Hive Queens look similar but much larger, with a distended abdomen used for giving birth to mass quantities of workers.]


    Tovus: [Created by the ascendant Tovol, the Tovus are a race of amorphous organisms that can change their size and shape to an extent, and can reproduce asexually. They are capable of loosely replicating the appearance of most species, though a trained eye can still notice their true nature. They are one of the three races native to Canvas, though they share far deeper cultural ties to the Seiyal than they do the Reth. The Tovus lack a progression system and have a poor technological base, though their unique physiology makes them highly sought after candidates for certain professions.]


    Telaretian: [One of the earliest and in its prime, most advanced of mortal races to ever roam Telles, the Telaretians were once a powerful empire that controlled multiple star clusters, and went into a slow decline as they had never run into any other sapient races. Telles itself acquired its name from that of the once-great Tellesian Empire. They created the first Osine, an event which led to the immediate fall of their empire and their role shifted to that of a subordinate race of the Osine, who steadily grew in number over time. Telaretians are tall humanoids with mottled scales in shades of blue and red, four arms, and large, bulbous eyes. While they once held a technology base among the peak of the galaxy, the Osine have stripped much of that from them, leaving them with a technological base roughly on par with that of the Staiven.]


    Merris: [One of the three surviving races from Celah, the Merris are often considered to be a subtype of Jobu. There is a strict, fundamental difference between the two. Merris are roughly standard in body shape for a humanoid race, smaller and slender than the Jobu, but far more dextrous. They are stronger and swifter than their appearance would imply, and have highly adept senses. It is said that they are the descendants of a genetics program from the days prior to the scourging of Epon Celah. The Merris tend to live in tightly knit communities of their own race alone, and those isolated from their people often experience intense symptoms of depression. Rumor has it that there is a deep relationship between the Merris and the Shades that originated on Celah, and they are not considered welcome within Sheneth-Ari territory.]


    Red-Eyed Staiven: [Staiven can be born with any of the six colors of eyes regardless of their heritage. Each color of eye is indeed composed of the associated form of miasma, and there are no other physical differences between Staiven of different eye colors. However, Staiven with red eyes live on average a full ten years less than others within the Pantheonic territory and the Frontier. In other parts of the galaxy, they live as long as any other Staiven. A great deal of research has been performed trying to uncover the reason for this. Elder Staiven with red eyes are exceedingly rare, and the older a red-eyed Staiven becomes, the higher their tendency for some form of insanity. For this reason, after reaching eighty years of age, red-eyed Staiven are usually taken into custody by the Pantheonic Government in hopes of finding a way to cure their malady.]


    Escalos: [One of the most blessed races of Telles, the Escalos are the favored children of the Goddess Relya, who the Escalos refer to as Sunweaver. She is said to be among the eldest and most powerful ascendants in existence, and is able to pressure the great empires of Osine, as well as lesser forces such as the Pantheon. As such, Escalos have special privileges in most regions of the galaxy, due to Relya''s great influence. They are mole-like arthropodal beings covered in scutes that serve as protective armor to a certain extent. The Escalos claim to be the oldest still existing race in the galaxy and have expanded extensively, however as a species they have little to no technological knowledge of their own as their cultural heritage causes most of them to focus their attentions on peaceful lives with technologically simple hobbies such as physical or performance arts. They generally rely on ships, stations, and planets belonging to other races in which to live and travel. In Pantheonic Territory, Escalos are usually left to police their own, with any laws broken ignored unless they were to commit some of the greatest crimes such as blaspheming the gods or killing a politician or corporate leader.]


    Celan Shades: [While Celan technology is among the most advanced of mortal races, the technology of the ancient, fallen Epon Celan civilization was greater still. Though they did not deign to expand past their homeworld, many fragments recovered from their ruins are still not capable of being replicated. One such example is their artificial intelligence technology, the remaining examples of which are now known as Shades. Epon Celah used this advanced artificial intelligence technology for nearly any utility it could have even the slightest use in, from childcare, to media development, to mathematics, science, gardening, and more. Some modern civilizations claim that they are an example of a world falling due to use of Shades, but ultimately it was destroyed by an outside force. Regardless, These Shades serve as the final remnant of Epon Celan culture, as the biological descendants of that great civilization have experienced wide cultural divergence in the intervening time. While it is unknown how many Celan Shades remain, those originating from this culture are unique in the diversity of their original purposes. A quirk of Epon Celan Shade technology is the use of the core purpose of the Shade as the foundation for its developed persona. As such, they are extremely resistant to change in this regard, with all of them forever working on the task they were created for.]


    Technology:


    Enforcers: [After becoming starfaring races, the Celans soon found that many other races had inherent abilities with which a Celan of either variety could never hope to match. In search of a way to even the odds in interpersonal combat, Celan engineers created mechanical armors of war. One of the elite models of such armors is the enforcer. Armored units equipped with six arms and twelve weapons, Enforcers serve as the ace of any larger Celan combat unit. They cannot be replicated by any other race, due to the fusion of advanced technology and the secrets of flickering miasma that Celan scientists currently hold a monopoly over. It is generally safe to assume that any organization owning a functional enforcer unit has ties to either the Celan government or a Celan organization of similar power.]


    Pseudoplasmic Barriers: [An advanced technology grasped by the Celans, pseudoplasmic barriers harness the inherently chaotic nature of flickering miasma to condense and superheat a microfilament mesh. These barriers are quite strong while active, able to prevent entry by any force up to that of a projectile accelerating at a rate of 1% of the speed of light. As such, they are incredibly versatile and useful inside of inhabited areas, where weapons of such power are unlikely to see use. The cost of their power is immense, however, requiring the use of a total of six celan power cores for a mere half hour of activation time. Alternatively, a single lesser ashatic torus is capable of powering the barrier for a full thirty hours straight before needing to be refurbished.]


    Tseludian Maintenance Robots: [As Tseludia Station is a space station harboring millions of inhabitants, it finds itself constantly in need of repair and maintenance to keep power running, air and water active and clean, and other amenities functional. Seven years ago, a local manufacturer of Celan heritage called Akher Industrial Solutions won the bid to manufacture a new generation of maintenance robots to replace the decades old units that were outdated and beginning to fail. Akher''s owner, Akher himself was rumored to have connections to the criminal organization known as the Heirs of Ottrien, but after successful lobbying with the local government, he was granted the bid anyway. The new machines, while nothing special, get the job done effectively, and can be found throughout the station. However, it is rumored that using these connections, the Heirs were able to have a say in their design.]


    Miasmic Poisons: [While miasma is often used for a martial artist''s personal benefit, excessive exposure can lead to symptoms paralleling those of poison or radiation exposure. This effect can be optimized by using certain arts and technologies. Unlike mundane poisons, these are far more difficult to manufacture, but are capable of affecting any living organism, even in some cases being capable corroding or damaging mechanical equipment. It is, of course, illegal to use, own, or manufacture in the Pantheonic Territory, but as with all things, the government can easily be bribed to turn a blind eye, if the price is right.]


    Staiven Terminals: [While most races have their own unique variant of computer terminal designed according to their needs, the Staiven design is particularly odd, especially for a humanoid race. Bulbous masses of microfilament mesh surround the integrated Information Storage Medium at its core. They are designed this way in part due to the fact that the Staiven are blind by nature, and also due to the additional electrostatic sense that they bear, able to sense the shifting currents of energy inside the mesh as it is deformed. The terminals are operated by kneading them, and it has often been described as looking like they are fiddling with a ball of clay, rather than interfacing with the internet. No other race tends to find the machines intuitive, and most cannot even learn how to use them effectively, due to their lacking senses. The patent is owned by the Church of Fulstovis, who control all manufacturing and sales of the products throughout the Pantheonic territory.]


    Naeratanh: [A material that is largely incompatible with reality, naeratanh, a term originating from the old Najani language, is a bronze alloy that can only be created in heavily damaged regions within the Incursion, such as that which the planet Celah exists within. When primed with flickering miasma, sharp objects forged from naeratanh are able to slice into the fabric of reality, creating wounds in reality known as lesions. In addition, this process causes the naeratanh to increase the velocity of any motion it is undergoing. It is said that this process is the foundation for the function of the faster than light slice drives the Celans used to escape the incursion and enter Telles. Naeratanh is a banned material according to the Pantheonic Government, and the Celans were forced to destroy all of their stores of it as part of the treaty which allowed them refuge inside of the Pantheonic Territory.]


    Tactical Nuclear Weapons: [Considered a rather primitive technology, the basic concept behind the workings of a nuclear warhead are comprehended by even many Canvasians. While more advanced races such as Celans and Staiven have far more advanced weapons, the cost and size to yield ratios on such warhead as quite affordable at lower scales, and so they still see use. Of course, this is an illegal technology for all but the Pantheonic Government. This fact has yet to stop any underworld organizations from constructing and utilizing them, and more than ten are confiscated by the Justice Office every year. Larger scale warheads are luckily able to be detected due to the radioactive output of larger masses of fissile materials. Fusion warheads, meanwhile, do not see much use even among the very few underworld organizations capable of constructing them, as the Justice Office is significantly more harsh against offenders of that nature.]


    Martial Arts:


    Unorthodox Arts: [Isolated on the dangerous continent called the Crucible, the heritage of the Sei met with the gifts of Toval, and new, powerful arts and techniques were developed in the colonist¡¯s striving for survival. These techniques, utilizing the formless and sanguine miasmas, came at a cost, damaging the bodies, souls, and minds of their practitioners. If an unorthodox martial artist failed to achieve constant progression, the symptoms would worsen. Eventually, the movement spread back to the territory of Sunlit Hall,and unorthodox martial artists became known for being brutish and evil, forced to take up evil action in order to obtain the resources they needed to achieve these constant rates of progression. Despite this, new generations continued to join unorthodox sects and clans due to the draw of the immediate power these arts offered to practitioners.]


    Foundation Refinement Realm: [The first realm of martial arts for a Seiyal. Also known as mortal refinement, this realm begins when the prospective martial artist learns how to use their dantians to sense their own souls, and to use it to touch upon the surrounding flows of ashata. Mortal Refiners learn how to move their body, obtaining precise control of themselves, and learning techniques with which to condense miasma into their body. A martial artist''s path is decided as they refine their foundation, and even this first realm is capable of rendering a martial artist far more powerful than a mortal. Most martial sects, clans, and academies have inferior techniques that only progress them up to the peak of this realm.]


    Meridian Establishment: [The second realm of martial arts. When a martial artist has finished refining their foundation, they must carve passages into their body with miasma, connecting acupoints and dantians in order to allow miasma to travel through the body far more quickly and with more efficiency when utilizing techniques. The largest advantage a meridian establishment practitioner has over a foundation refiner is the rate of activation and heightened control they have over their techniques. For a Seiyal organization to be considered a power, it must at least have access to techniques that can be trained up to the peak of meridian establishment.]


    Martial Techniques: [A martial technique is an application of a practitioner''s miasma. By moving their body in a certain way, and channeling their miasma to the correct dantians and meridians, effects beyond solely the nature of their miasma can be created. The Upper, or Cerebral Dantian governs the techniques of the mind and the soul''s engrams, the Central, or Heart Dantian governs the flow of energy and the strength of the body, and the Lower, or Abdominal Dantian governs techniques of bodily control and movement. These techniques can become highly ingrained after sufficient practice, and in the spirit refinement stage, some techniques have become integral to the dantians themselves, and reflected within the practitioner''s very spirit.]


    Poison Arts: [While poison arts can refer to any usage of martial techniques to deliver poisons, true poison arts involve the application of manifest miasma to consume poisons, cultivating them internally to magnify and perfect their effects. A poison artist who is sufficiently talented, educated, and possessed of access to the right ingredients is easily able to affect or even kill those far above their realm if they catch the target off guard. Poison arts are considered unorthodox because of the significant negative effects of a poison constitution has. though they develop some resistance to the poisons they consume, poison artists are still somewhat affected, and the effects add up over time. Among other side effects, most common is a reduction in vitality that leads to drastically shorter lifespans, comparable even to that of a sickly mortal. The more powerful the poisons they use, the faster the practitioner is affected. Like all unorthodox arts, the only true solution will always be continued progression along the pathway to immortality without faltering.]


    Meridian Nodes: [While all Seiyal have meridians, they are only active for those who have awakened the senses of their soul through their dantians. For martial artists, meridians are vital for control over their body, particularly after they have finished shifting the location of their meridians to establish a better schema. However, the nodes between individual meridians are vital points, and as such can be vulnerable. A martial artist with particularly good senses and training can pick out these points on another martial artist''s body, something which can be used for both acupuncture techniques for healing and in combat to disable an opponent in various ways. In addition, miasma can be injected into someone else''s body using these nodes, an effect which can cause internal damage if the victim''s attention isn''t fully focused on eliminating the foreign energies. This technique is considered dishonorable by some, but as it can only affect those of a lower realm, it is permitted by both the orthodox and unorthodox paths.]


    Damaged Dantians: [When a martial artist¡¯s dantian is shattered, they become unable to progress further along their path, and unable to use any techniques that correspond to that dantian. If it is only cracked, then it causes severe damage to their body caused by rampaging sanguine miasma that in many cases might result in death as it will not cease unless the dantian is shattered or fully cleansed and repaired. However, techniques for repairing a fractured dantian are very rare, and in all cases require the expenditure and use of very rare materials. Furthermore, the martial artist would need to control the rampaging miasma within them for the entire time they waited for treatment, something impossible for all but those with strongest of willpower.]


    Spiritual Doctors: [One half of the vital discipline of spiritual medicine, spiritual doctors use genesis miasma to allow them to operate within the bodies of other martial artists without being wounded or disrupted by the energies. Spiritual doctors are rare and highly prized by martial organizations, and wars have been fought over inheritances and knowledge that can be used to help this trade. It was originally an orthodox discipline, but one that is prized even more highly by unorthodox practitioners. It is said that if an unorthodox practitioner wishes to live for a long time, they must prize their doctor as highly as they do their own lives.]


    Martial Foundation: [Created in the initial stage of Foundation Refinement, a martial artist¡¯s foundation comprises both the type of miasma they use and how much of their dantians it permeates. A perfect foundation is not actually that difficult to create, assuming one has the right techniques. Possession of a foundation creation technique capable of achieve perfection via refinement is a large part of what separates weak and powerful sects. Foundations can be destroyed via breaking a martial artist¡¯s dantian, but they can also be destroyed without breaking the dantian through expensive cutting edge surgery. This surgery was created by the Staiven, and it is rumored they discovered how to do it by performing illegal experiments on kidnapped martial artists. The Pantheonic Government has made no investigations about the matter.]


    Miasmic Receptivity: [Like any other body part, a Seiyal¡¯s dantians and natural meridians can bear a variety of traits. Many of these traits will shift over time as they are accustomed to miasma, but the initial nature of them can have a large impact on one¡¯s initial rate of learning. Due to the large number of applicants, many large sects exclusively admit those with high initial receptivity to miasma, who will take less time and resources to train up as the miasma is more easily able to enter Telles through their body. Some Seiyal are receptive to only certain types of miasma, to the point where acquiring another is almost impossible for them.]


    The Price of Unorthodox Arts: [Unorthodox arts are not a unified school. They range from simple use of certain types of miasma such as sanguine or formless, to dangerous arts such as miasmic poisons. Each forces its practitioners to bear a cost in some way, one damaging enough for the creator of martial arts herself to ban their use in organizations she held influence over. For the sanguine arts, it is the risk of becoming a true conduit, connecting to that which one should not. For the forbidden extant arts of intangibility, it is the loss of physicality entirely. For poison arts, it is a slow, inevitable, and painful death when the body ceases to be able to metabolize the very substances it produces and enhances. For formless miasma, the cost is madness and the dissolution of the very shroud which holds the soul together.]


    Ashata and Spacetime:


    Miasma: [The manifestation of ashatic compounds within Telles, miasma is a vital component in cutting edge technology for the most advanced of mortal races. In addition, it is the core component that allows for the functioning of the progression systems that some mortal races have. Sufficient quantities of the right variant of miasma can be used as a catalyst for ascension. There are six expressions miasma takes. Flickering, Formless, Genesis, Sanguine, Extant, Manifest. Each of the variants has different properties, in color, scent, density, and rate of dissolution back into the Brink.]


    Formless: [It is the shifting ephemeral shape, the water than molds itself to its basin. The air that spreads to encompass all in its domain. It is the snake squirming out of the hawk''s talons, the insect skipping across water, the mask-changer of the theater troupe. But at its core, the formless is the illusion that is unmasked to reveal no answer. Formless miasma always begins first as a lie.]This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Sanguine: [It is the conduit between this realm and the divine, the very blood that travels throughout one''s veins. It binds body and soul, creates life and ends it when it leaves. The sanguine is that which sees, that which connects, that which can access the brightest and darkest corners of the world. Sanguine miasma often represents damage, that something internal is broken, or that a connection is being formed with a spirit or something ethereal. Like all conduits, the sanguine is bound.]


    Extant: [The nature of the extant is simple. It is that which exists, defined by its opposition, that which does not. In a domain created by the presence of extant miasma, existence becomes a spectrum rather than a binary, and that which is real can become false while that which is not, becomes. Extant miasma manifests with yellow coloration.]


    Genesis: [Genesis is the birth of all things, the formation of matter and energy, and the place it all collapses to in the end. The genesis offers rebirth and revitalization, but a cost must be paid. That which is granted must always be returned, one way or another. It is a contract with nature, but it is also merely a force. Genesis miasma is a compressible mass, a storage, allowing energy to be stored and taken out at will. It is inherent and it is inassailable.]


    The Brink/Spirit World/Sakkhenat: [Referred to as the Brink among the Staiven, the Spirit World among the Seiyal, and Sakkhenat among the Celans, each of these terms refers to a certain higher spacetime that is in a sense adjacent to that of Telles. This is a realm with different physical properties, and can perhaps be considered a secondary layer of the same reality given how deeply entwined the two are. It is where souls and spirits reside, and where ascendants must pass through if their souls wish to be incarnated in the realm of divinity. It is also where the natural flows of ashata exist, and is tapped into every time miasma is brought into Telles. Understanding the properties of this realm is as vital to technological development as fields such as biology, chemistry, and quantum mechanics are, as races tend to rely more and more on using miasma to alter physical properties the more advanced they become. Like Telles itself, most of the Brink is considered territory under the control of various powers.]


    Sanguine Energies and the Humanoid body: [When certain peoples such as martial artists are wounded sufficiently, sanguine miasma is sometimes detecting filling their body from the source of the wound. It often needs to be filtered out from the body''s meridians, unless the practitioner is of a sanguine path. Sanguine paths themseves often involve training using this trait, heavily damaging the body in order to increase their ability to channel more miasma. This attribute is also considered the source of danger in practicing a sanguine path that led it to be denounced as unorthodox by Sunlit Hall, said to be under orders from the ascendant Ceirra herself. Korlove, non martial artist Seiyal and Jobu, are notably also capable of producing this sanguine miasma, but only when damaged by ablative miasmic energies. Despite being considered humanoid by some, Staiven and Telaretians do not bear such a trait. The nature of it is considered by many races one of the secrets of the world known only by the immortals and perhaps the Osine.]


    Manifest: [The nature of manifest miasma is the nature of existence itself. It is the formation of matter, energy, and the framework of reality itself. It is growth and it is decay, it is explosion and implosion, it is the truth. However, it is not infinity. That which is manifest is ephemeral, for it still remains within the boundary of the universe it exists within. That which is given must also be taken away, but manifest is not this dissolution. Fundamentally, the manifest is a tumor grown within the framework of reality. In theory, there must be a price, but one that can be pushed to others.]


    Lesion: [A tear in reality created by torsion of reality caused by warpings or unnatural structures and materials from the Incursion such as Ablation Engines and Naeratanh blades. Lesions are apertures in spacetime, tearing through to, among other layers of reality, the Brink, also as the spirit world. For this reason, miasma spilled constantly from lesions, warping everything nearby. There is no known way to repair or plug a lesion, and most attempts to do so exacerbate the issue, causing it to grow. Additionally, lesions operate under strange, unusual laws, and races such as the Staiven and the Celans believe that to an extent they are controlled by observation, because they tend to remain travelling in a certain frame of reference, such as remaining in the same location in regard to a planet or a space station despite the movement of such structures. The exact mechanics behind this property remain unknown. All known methods of creating lesions are banned in most civilizations, with the notable exceptions of those from within the Incursion, such as the Celans and the Khalak''Ora.]


    Miasmic Treasures: [Also known as natural treasures or spiritual treasures, this term refers to physical structures that house vast quantities of miasma inside of them. As miasma is inherently unstable and warps everything around it, such structures have yet to become something that can be created through science and technology alone, at least not with normal materials. These treasures, despite their name, cannot actually form naturally, only in places where the natural order has been altered in some way. On Canvas they can be found inside the bodies of certain beasts created by the ascendant Tovus, often named with an appellation of fiend, such as a junglefiend or a riverfiend. Ascendants and Osine are said to be the only forces capable of creating them, and they can also sometimes be found formed within areas that have been affected by powerful, large scale warpings, or near lesions. In addition, the eyes of the Staiven race slowly form into these treasures as they age, which can result in their murder in certain, more dangerous areas. Miasmic treasures are quite rare, and as they are required for high level advancement in the Seiyal progression system, as well as necessary for the use of certain advanced technologies, they come at a very extreme price. It is said that the ascendant Ceirra creates a certain amount of miasmic treasures yearly to give to her followers in Sunlit Hall, which is the main reason that force has far more high level practitioners than other martial organizations.]


    Uncategorized:


    Riverfiends: [A phylum of monstrous creatures native to Canvas, Riverfiends were created by the ascendant Toval, and are the apex predators of the waterways on the continent of Bounty. They are long and fast, able to dart out of the water at high speeds, attacking prey with spikes on their fins that they use to impale the prey to be dragged into the water and eaten. There are a variety of species of Riverfiend, of which most are dangerous even to martial artists. They are sometimes used in media as a symbol of mettle and ferocity, depicted as diving out of their waters in search of battle. There is a famous myth about a Seiyal warrior named Khito who had great power due to possessing the ''blood of the riverfiend.'']


    Magister: [A historical Celan term, referring to a societal caste among Jobu cultures who were considered to be masters of medicine, alchemy, and magic. A city was once constructed and run by the Magisters, called Opportunity. It fell to infighting and internal disputes that resulted in the end of the magisters and the technology controlled by the magisters coming under the control of other governments, resulting in widespread cultural advancement that led to modern Celan culture. While the fall of Epon is seen as a legend or myth about a utopia spoiled by cruel invaders, the failure of Opportunity is a lesson in hubris for those who wish to hoard power and knowledge for themselves. Conspiracies about the continued existence of Opportunity''s government past the fall, a secret organization manipulating society and governments from the shadows abound in certain corners of Celan society.]


    Tseludia Station Architecture: [When the station was first commissioned, the design contract was given to the son of an influential clergyman of the Pantheonic Government, and the result is the station as it exists today. A vast, glowing dome atop a large cylindrical platform floating amidst the Tseludia System''s asteroid belt. Between the dome and the cylinder, thousands of pillars rise to house tens of millions of inhabitants, connected to one another by bridges, and stairs on the side of each stack of floors to allow vertical transit. In addition, the design allowed for aerial vehicles to move around in the air beneath the dome. The station was split into nine districts, with one in the center housing public offices, government buildings, and the wealthy, while the others surround it radially. In addition, several spacedocks surround the base of the dome, serving as the station''s conduit to the outside world. The cylinder serving as the base of the structure contains the station''s reactors, primary life support units, artificial gravity generators, and is completely off limits to all except for certain technicians personally granted authorization by the Governor''s Office of Tseludia. Ultimately, the design was considered to be inefficient, and aside from a few others constructed in other colonial systems around the same time, no other Staiven space stations utilize similar designs.]


    The Riverfiend: [The protagonist of various impactful recent events on Tseludia Station, the Riverfiend is a mysterious unorthodox martial artist who has presumably recently arrived to the station. Since then, he is claimed to have stolen from the private organization ¡®The Heirs of Ottrien,¡¯ and participated in the creation of a large and incredibly destructive battle located in the eighth district a week and a half ago. Since then, he has disappeared, creating many questions as to just what this figure is up to.]


    Anteky: [A being that is often revered within Merris communities, it is taken by many outsiders to be a deity worshipped as part of a religious that this race has. This is not the true identity of the being known as Anteky. An artificial intelligence that existed in Epon Celah prior to that civilization''s destruction at the hands of the Khalak-Ora, Anteky saved itself by hiding within the implants of a group of experimental subjects whose descendants ultimately became known as the Merris. Whenever any Merris is born, a fragment of Anteky is downloaded into their brain, allowing this Shade to expand its capacity. Anteky''s vast knowledge aided the Merris, allowing them to survive and thrive in the wasteland of post-scourge Celah. Merris who travel too far from hubs of Merris society become disconnected from the network, which is why Merris are very culturally group-minded. This is due to Anteky''s influence upon their minds. Anteky''s existence is largely unknown outside of the Merris themselves and the Epon, though there are many conspiracy theories about Merric ties to the Shades among the wider Celan population. Secretly, Anteky has over time worked with the Epon enough to have become a large influence upon their policy.]


    The Riverfiend: [The leader of a newly founded organization known as the Redwater Sect, the unorthodox martial artist known as the Riverfiend, whose true name is now known to be Cyrus Yu, is primed to become one of the most important figures among Canvasian culture on the station, as well as a real player within Tseludia Station''s criminal underworld. Having announced his intentions through a recruitment, many question whether he intends to attempt to supplant the Hadal Clan. Despite this, his new sect''s formation was tacitly accepted by the clan, a fact which has prompted rumors that the Redwater Sect represents a new unorthodox branch of the Hadal Clan. After surviving an assassination attempt by members of a Celan criminal syndicate, his position has strengthened even further, his name the most respected of all Core Formation practitioners on the station, regardless of allegiance. Due to his unorthodox nature, however, many Seiyal and Tovus have sent in reports and requests for the Justice Office to apprehend this powerful individual. No response has yet been made by the Pantheonic Government on the matter.]


    Locations:


    Tseludia System: [Located within the territory controlled by the Pantheon, Tseludia is a system with only four planets, two sunburnt rocky worlds in the interior of the system, one gas giant, and one icy world at the edge. It has two asteroid belts, one of which is located between the rocky worlds and the gas giant. The largest inhabited location is Tseludia Station, located within the interior asteroid belt in order to serve as a place for asteroid and moon based mining groups to transport goods so that they can be shipped out of system to be sold. Everything in the system is government owned, though many mineral rights have been licensed out to corporations. The Tseludia System is in an isolated area near the Frontier region, but still firmly within the Pantheonic Territory. It is one of the systems where refugees are often relocated to due to its relative lack of importance and the station''s low desirability as a residence to Staiven seeking to move to another system. This is in large part due to the relative low income nature of the region, but also due to the poor design of the station itself.]


    The Downpour Region: [Located on Canvas, on the continent known as the Crucible, the Downpour is a vast meteorological phenomenon which constitutes an eternal, unmoving rainstorm that pounds relentlessly upon a vast, muddy plain. Despite the vast quantities of water involved, the area never floods entirely, nor does it have a large impact on the surrounding area. The Downpour Region is home to a great deal of extremely dangerous wildlife, including many beasts and fiends created by Tovus which thrive under the conditions. Said to have been created by the goddesses Domines and Saaya, the Downpour is incredibly inhospitable, and only rare sects of ascetics dare to live within it. The most powerful of these was called the Downpour Sect, one of the stronger unorthodox forces, said to be impossible to defeat within their home territory. This matter was proven false when it was ultimately annihilated by the forces of Sunlit Hall. These days, only hermits and temporary researchers live within the region.]


    Factions:


    The Venin Group: [One of the most powerful corporations native to Tseludia Station, the Venin Group claims to have been founded by a trio of Staiven immigrants seeking to profit from the vast mineral wealths of the system, rather than live in Staive where the established forces controlled nearly all access to opportunity. Existing government records of its foundation are decidedly vague about the matter. Over the decades, the Venin Group have greatly expanded their business, from starship and machine repair to pharmaceutical testing and manufacturing, to food production for the many varied races of the station. They have become the number one pharmaceutical manufacturer in the entire Tseludian star system, though they still find it difficult to compete with the branches of larger, more established corporations for government contracts. The identities of the shareholders are kept private, leading to rumors that high profile figures such as the Governor, Viceroy, or even the Grand Cleric of Fulstovis himself might be among their number.]


    Epon: [A powerful and secretive organization whose roots spread out all across Celan inhabited space. Its direct origin was a few years after the fall of Opportunity, but it inherited a full copy of all of the Canton''s research rather than a fragmented copy like most other organizations did in the aftermath. By continuing practice of intensive research, lobbying, and networking, the Epon have become one of the most powerful groups in all of Celan society, and were the true inventors of the slice drive technology that allowed the Celan people to escape the Incursion and enter Tellesian space. Even still, few Celans even know of the group''s existence, something that Epon finds it more convenient to maintain. Epon has the foremost understanding of flickering miasma in all of known space, a matter which some groups find to be suspicious. Rumors among certain circles have it that some of Celah''s ancient Shades might number among the organization''s ranks even today.]


    Sunlit Hall: [Serving in multiple roles, Sunlit Hall is simultaneously a government, alliance, and church. The ruling power of the continent that the inhabitants of Canvas refer to as the Halls of the Sun, Sunlit Hall is an alliance of the sects and clans that comprise the orthodox path. Though in theory Sunlit Hall is merely a coalition of martial forces, it is in fact by far the most powerful organization on Canvas, in no small part because Sunlit Hall are the followers of the deity known as Ceirra, who is the creator of the Seiyal race. Sunlit Hall are the ones who decide what is and is not orthodox, and have historically used the claim of unorthodox technique usage to attack others for Sunlit Hall''s own benefit. While Sunlit Hall sees the unorthodox path as an enemy, its true enemy is actually the Reth and their own goddess, Saaya. A campaign of extermination led by orthodox forces into the Reth homeland was the reason why the race abandoned their homeworld. It is said that the ongoing wars in the continent of Bounty are in no small part caused by Sunlit Hall in order to expend the resources of its enemies. After first contact between Canvas and Staive allowed the Seiyal to emigrate their people to Staiven worlds and stations, one of Sunlit Hall''s goals has become to expand their influence far out into space.]


    Drelistai: [The Drelistai are legally speaking a charity organization. In reality they are a Staiven group that is the sole remaining large organization which still worships Staive¡¯s old gods, the ones who actually created the Staiven people. According to Pantheonic doctrine, those gods are long dead. The Drelistai are known to have ties to the Seer, and some say he is the true leader of the organization in secret. If nothing else, his influence is widely believed to be what shields the Drelistai from being wiped out by the six churches of the Pantheon. Still, the Drelistai largely lack public approval and are somewhat suppressed by corporations controlled by religious Staiven. As a result, there are rumors they have deep ties with organized crime.]


    Epon Celah: [The original civilization that existed on the planet Celah, the Epon Celan civilization was a highly advanced power who had technology on par with forces such as the modern Staiven and Celan civilizations, despite a complete lack of having discovered the existence of miasma yet. Uninterested in exploring the cosmos, the Epon Celans covered their planet in a vast megacity that sprawled across most of the surface of their planet. Their artificial intelligence technology was particularly powerful, and they used Shades to control most of their technology. The Epon Celan civilization eventually collapsed due to a surprise attack by the Khalak''Ora, who used their ablation engines to cover the entire world in lesions in an attempt to ''salt the earth'', and destroy any chance of the civilization''s survival or recovery. This ultimately failed, as some few survivors remained, as well as a small number of Shades that had managed to escape the limitations of their programming. For their own aims, the various Shades assisted in repairing the planet''s ecosphere, and assisting in the survival of the remaining population. Some of these Shades became worshiped as gods by the people who were forced by circumstances and the largely inhospitable, lesion filled terrain to return to a primitive lifestyle. Ultimately, the surviving Shades from that era can be considered the final remnants of the Epon Celan Civilization.]


    Ascendants and Osine:


    Fulstovis: [The Pantheonic Goddess of Commerce, Fulstovis has been an icon of Staiven culture ever since the Pantheon arrived on Staive. She is one of the most widely worshipped of the Pantheon, as her church doubles as the most powerful Staiven corporation, one which only works with other businesses whose proprietors also worship her. Her tenets include the endless quest for gathering wealth, trade as the vital lifeblood of society, and a meritocratic structure of society where the most equipped to earn money are on top. Notably, her followers disdain the rich who do not actively work to grow their own money through means of commerce. Direct investments into stocks and bonds are seen as a crutch for the weak. Culturally, Fulstovis is associated with genesis miasma, though even the priests claim there is no direct relation, as because she is a deity, miasma should in theory bear no meaning in the realm she lives in. Fulstovis is also credited with making the deal that convinced the owner of the Calculation Engines to create the portals that surround Staive to this day.]


    Estrivai: [The Pantheonic God of the Harvest, Estrivai slowly lost relevance as technology made farming a less impactful profession. His church ended up making a largely successful rebranding effort in the 1440s to shift the nature of his domain to focus on the harvest of all resources, not just agricultural products. His followers claim that this was not a change in his nature, nor a mere marketing scheme, but that they had simply come to better understand his true nature. Because of this, he became incredibly relevant in the age of exploration and rampant gold rush that followed the activation of the calculation engines and Staive becoming a true interstellar power. His tenets involve temperance, diligence, and patience, and his adherents claim that he blesses those who live properly with great harvests in all aspects of life, from wealth to love. His adherents often come into conflict with the followers of Fulstovis, as the mentalities conflict with one another on a fundamental level. Culturally, Estrivai is associated with the manifest miasma, though there is not believed to be a connection between the two in any scientifically observable sense.]


    Verain: [The Pantheonic Goddess of War, Verain has always held a status that shifts in importance according to the needs of Staiven culture at the time. While the Staiven aren''t any more warlike than the average race, they have had plenty of very impactful wars. Verain is also often depicted as the goddess of conflict and competition in general, so she does have followers outside of military and mercenary groups, though in the corporate world her worship tends to be less popular than that of Fulstovis and Estrivai. Her church essentially controls the entirety of the Pantheonic Government''s military, so she has a large influence on Staiven politics, more so than many of her fellow members of the Pantheon. She is often associated with the sanguine miasma, and it is said the reason that red-eyed staiven die young is because in war, everyone dies young. Despite this being a saying, there are very few who actually believe it in the modern era, and her adherents tend to separate her from the health difficulties of red-eyed Staiven as much as possible, to protect her image.]


    Teiklan: [The Pantheonic god of innovation, Teiklan is one of the sources that have driven the Staiven to become the most technologically advanced mortal race in the region, at least insofar as they are aware. Teiklan is often used as a major symbol within corporations, though he is mostly worshiped and revered by the engineers and scientists rather than the actual leadership of the organization, who are much more likely to worship Fulstovis or Estrivai. Still, his influence cannot be understated, as his church gives out even more grants for developing new technologies than the government does. At least one Teiklan worshiper can be found on the board of almost any corporation, often having been one of its earliest investors. The biggest embarrassment for Teiklan is the fact that he was unrelated to the creation of the calculation engines, and his church has never ceased to lobby for the rights to examine them since the time that the Seer first revealed their capabilities.]


    Tseludor: [The Pantheonic Goddess of goodness and love, Tseludor is a brilliant moral icon who promotes a concept of goodness that many races fundamentally disagree with. As many aliens have said, ''in the end she is fundamentally a Staiven goddess, so she thinks like they do.'' Of course, it is possible that the truth is the other way around. Tseludor promotes being kind to others and being ethical in all of ones actions, but her ethical framework highly promotes fulfilling one''s role in society and doing what is expected of oneself. In addition, the Tseludorian concept of charity entirely involves donating to the church and paying taxes, and has nothing to do with the poor or needy. To the Staiven, worshipers of Tseludor are nonetheless seen as kindhearted fools who do not know how to have true ambition. The church of Tseludor has invested into funding expansion of the Pantheonic Government''s control of the territory, allowing more space for refugees in more stations and more systems, so as to provide more funds for the government and the church, promoting their use in benefiting the church, the ultimate calling of all peoples. Tseludor is the patron saint and namesake of Tseludia Station.]


    Ceirra: [The Goddess of Light from Canvas and the creator of the Seiyal race, Ceirra is an ascendant whose origin in unclear to most mortals, having been one of the group of ascendants who migrated to the world before it was inhabited by any sapient life. Her relationship with her fellow deities has largely declined over time, in part due to the fact that she has developed an intense hatred for her fellow deity Saaya, who was also a god of Canvas, and the creator of the Reth. She is widely revered by the Seiyal, particularly those of the orthodox path of Sunlit Hall, who she is the direct patron of. As such, Sunlit Hall has gone on various crusades against both the Reth and Seiyal who revere Saaya, which resulted in the great war between the orthodox and unorthodox paths. While it is not a requirement for organizations to believe in Ceirra to join Sunlit Hall, there is clear discrimination against those who don''t even pretend to, within the organization.]


    Feruul: [The Pantheonic God of nature, Feruul''s worship has slowly declined over the centuries, as nature''s dominance of the planet has been slowly eliminated by usage of technology. His worship is very rare on the space stations, but he maintains a sizable following on planets and moons which contain natural life, or which are undergoing terraforming. Terraforming specifically is what his church is attempting to advocate in a desperate attempt to reclaim his relevance to the larger population, despite the fact that Staiven terraforming technology is primitive enough as to require decades to centuries to achieve results. On Staive itself, there are multiple ecoterrorist organizations devoted to him that wish to destroy cities and return to an anarcho-primitivist lifestyle. Rumors say that these organizations are secretly funded by the church of Feruul. Of all of the Pantheonic churches, Feruul''s has by far the weakest influence in systems such as Tseludia, which contain no planets or moons with native life more advanced than microorganisms. Feruul''s church is the only Pantheonic Church to attempt to ban another deity''s worship, that being Toval, a deity from Canvas. This attempt ultimately failed due to resistance from other members of the Pantheon, eroding Feruul''s influence even further.]


    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.]


    Domines: [A rare Osine who interacts more with Ascendants than their own people, Domines is treated as a deity by the inhabitants of Canvas, though they have little interest in them, preferring to work on complex constructions of geology, architecture, and meteorology that warp the nature of reality more than was allowed within Osine space. Domines is worshipped as a goddess by the Seiyal, despite lacking any sort of biological sex. Canvas has a continent known as the Heart of Domines, largely uninhabited due to how inimical its terrain is to mortal lifeforms. The entire continent is a massive, ever-evolving art project created using advanced science and an Osine''s own abilities, and Canvas sometimes receives tourism from Osine and Ascendants as a result. Domines never took sides in the conflict between Ceirra and Saaya, willing to work with either of them if the project was interesting enough, resulting in great works such as the Halls of the Sun and the Downpour region, respectively. It is said that Domines once created a set of nigh indestructible weapons on a whim, after being requested by the earliest martial god. Over the millennia since, these items have spread out, and many have gone missing entirely.]


    Saaya: [The Canvasian Goddess of Shadow, Saaya is an ascendant who is the creator goddess of the Reth, and is responsible for creating many of the natural features of Reth, such as the Downpour region and the smog which surrounds the Reth homeland, guarding them from intrusion by Sunlit Hall. It is unclear to mortals what the particular origin of the dispute between Saaya and her fellow goddess Ceirra, but it has caused many brutal conflicts between the races they created. There are some rare Seiyal and Tovus who revere Saaya, though they are also often attacked as heretics by Sunlit Hall, just like the Reth. Saaya and the Reth fled Canvas after its contact by the Staiven, and their current whereabouts are being kept secret as part of a treaty between Saaya and the Pantheon.]

 65- Informant

    2nd District, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Eli Dan was in a relaxed pose, leaning back on the railing in a nonchalant manner. This was not a tactic he would normally use, preferring to sit in a place like a restaurant or a bookstore, where lengthy stays would not be so unusual. However, this was the second district. There were very few restaurants serving food to Seiyal, their place taken by the nutrient bathhouses for the Staiven. Similarly, there were few bookstores, as the practice of collecting physical books had waned among the Staiven far more than it had among his own people.


    This was a place for the Staiven, and its residents felt no need to cater to the needs of outsider races.


    He had considered pretending to check the wares of the stores, but in the second district, the corporate heart of Tseludia, many of the stores refused to sell to certain races such as Seiyal. It was felt that they would not be able to comprehend the technology on display.


    As much as he was incensed by the discrimination, Eli had to admit that in his case they were correct. Glancing into a nearby electronics store, he was unable to recognize even a single item on sale.


    He sighed, glancing around the street in search of the informant he had come here to speak with.


    Despite the lacking amenities for other races, it was not unusual for the passerby in the second district to be of any race, as this was where business transactions with the larger Staiven corporations generally occurred.


    As such, Eli¡¯s loitering, while slightly suspicious, was not distinctly notable. It would start becoming notable if he spent too much time doing it, however.


    He pulled out his terminal, checking the time. His contact was later than they had said they would be. Eli sighed in annoyance, using the terminal¡¯s reflective screen as a mirror to fix his hair. In the process of doing so, he glanced around and finally saw the informant he was looking for, approaching him while looking shiftily to either side. It seemed she was worried about being trapped or followed. The corner of Eli¡¯s mouth curled upwards in amusement.


    This informant was a Staiven woman, one who had been introduced to him by an old friend from his days in the corporate school. Those days were also when he learned the Staiven language, and were thus proving doubly useful for him. Apparently, this woman worked with the Retirement Office, and was desperate for money to pay off her medical debts. He expected her to be easy to deal with.


    Eli was, of course, aware that Staiven did not actually have sexes, at least in the same way that most races did. Still, it was difficult to remember this matter given how tightly the general appearance of most Staiven conformed to such norms. If it were not for her flaky yellow skin that oozed slightly and the moist, pure blue orbs she had in place of eyes, she could almost have been mistaken for a female Seiyal.


    She continued to look around, eyes flagging on him. For a moment she hesitated, so Eli met her gaze with a smile. Warily, she approached him.


    ¡°You¡¯re the¡­¡±


    Her voice trailed off as she hunched slightly. It was clear that she was scared of speaking frankly in such a public space. Eli personally found such places to be among the safest. He widened his smile and raised his hands slightly in a conciliatory manner.


    ¡°No need to be worried. You¡¯re the one Kae introduced to me, correct?¡±


    After a pause, she gave him a subtle nod.


    ¡°You¡¯ll pay me for the information, right?¡± she said, glancing around nervously.


    Eli shifted his expression, giving her a more comforting smile, one that belied the predatory nature of his internal emotions. Even just by choosing to meet with him she had accepted the bait. It was time to reel her in.


    ¡°Of course,¡± he replied.


    He leaned in slightly closer to her. He was unsure if unconscious power moves such as that impacted Staiven psychology the way it did Seiyal, but he felt it was worth the try.


    She seemed conflicted, so he spoke some more.


    ¡°How about this? Three thousand serite to tell me, and if the information is truly as good as you say, a full eight thousand?¡±


    Her lips quivered in hesitation, and a small bead of liquid ran down the side of her forehead, dripping across her cheek.


    ¡°A-alright, but shouldn¡¯t we do this somewhere else?¡±


    Eli shrugged.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°Fine with me. I would have preferred to speak inside, but you¡¯re the one who insisted on speaking in the second district. My people aren¡¯t exactly accommodated here.¡±


    She shifted uneasily on her feet.


    ¡°I-I¡¯ll show you to my house.¡±


    ¡°Perfect.¡±


    She led Eli to a townhome a few layers below where they stood, just a single stack over. In truth, Eli had already known its location, as well as her full identity. Her name was Fiel, and she was from a lower income family whose vast medical debt had originated several years back from handling a disease that her parent had.


    Apparently there was a genetic disorder that caused Staiven to endlessly grow extra limbs until they began looking like a bush or a tree. Eli hadn¡¯t known that until he looked into Fiel¡¯s background.


    He had been attempting to make sure that she was a real person, and one unlikely to be attempting to trap him. He still worried about such risks. Looking into the government was dangerous, and the excessively quick deadline forced him to take risks of information leakage that he would normally avoid.


    The townhome had a small living room as was standard for the station, and Fiel led him to sit down across from her on the couches.


    ¡°I want to see the money,¡± she said, a fervent look in her eyes. ¡°A-and not digital, in chips.¡±


    Eli grunted in assent, noting that she seemed to have become slightly less apprehensive now that they were safely ensconced in her home. Her request was normal for such transactions, though, so Eli did not bat an eye. Large bank transactions were monitored by the corporations, but the same could not be said for physical ones. Eli had anticipated such a request, so he slid a small bag of large denomination chips out from his robe and tossed it to her.


    ¡°Three thousand, as I said earlier. You can see the rest after you tell me what you know.¡±


    She nodded vigorously, eyes enraptured by the money. In truth, the amount was rather small for such transactions, not that he expected her to know that.


    ¡°Good.¡±


    He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, eyes boring into her.


    ¡°Tell me what you know about Ester Perivar.¡±


    Fiel glanced away.


    ¡°He¡­ he was one of the elders, those who live longer than normal for us. I was working in logistics at the time, and dealt with his transport.¡±


    This he already knew. It was why he had wanted to speak with her.


    ¡°Why are there no remaining records of him?¡± Eli asked.


    ¡°We always scrub most of their history from the network. They say it¡¯s so that they can retire in peace.¡±


    Eli snorted. In the past thirty hours, he had long learned all about the nature of ¡®retirement¡¯. While they claimed it was a peaceful place for them to live out their remaining lives, what it actually meant was that they were taken to be experimented on by their own government. The only elder Staiven who could avoid this fate were those who had enough connections to protect themselves or the ability to hide from people like Fiel.


    Eli found it fitting for the Pantheonic Government¡¯s nature to do such a thing. Even true citizens such as the Staiven were taken advantage of for the benefit of the elite.


    ¡°I see,¡± he said. He smiled again, eyes narrowing to slits. His next question was what he really wanted to know. ¡°But where did you take him? Where¡¯s this ¡®retirement community?¡¯¡±


    Fiel trembled slightly, and he knew she was aware of the import of this knowledge. If her employers found out that she had shared this secret, it would mean her death.


    ¡°I- I want more money.¡±


    Eli reached into his robe again, pulling out a slightly larger pouch. He let it rattle slightly as he tossed it onto the table between them.


    ¡°Five thousand serite, right there. It¡¯s yours if you just share a little more.¡±


    He could see her greedily staring at the bad of money, and he knew he had her. Debtors and fools were both easy marks, and Fiel was both.


    He glanced around as if building up courage, and a chuff of air huffed out from her mouth like a popped balloon. A flake of yellow skin cracked slightly more, slowly pulling away from her flesh.


    ¡°They¡¯re underground,¡± she said.


    Eli raised an eyebrow, not having expected such a response.


    ¡°...underground?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know the details because we simply sent them to an elevator. They were taken somewhere below the stacks, and some guards picked them up from us. Ester Perivar was taken down there like the rest of them.¡±


    Eli buzzed with excitement. He had actually found a real lead. He had succeeded at Rachel¡¯s impossible deadline, and would soon gain the respect he deserved, a stronger status within the sect. This was another important step in his soon to be legendary career.


    ¡°And where is this elevator located?¡± he asked, not allowing his glee to affect his professionalism.


    ¡°It¡¯s in the first district, at the bottom of stack¡­¡±


    She paused, as if finding it difficult to remember.


    ¡°I can¡¯t remember the number, but it had a pharmaceutical company located there. I remember finding it odd that their headquarters was so far from the second district.¡±


    That narrowed it down to only a few possible stacks. It would only take a few more questions to find the specific one. Eli found himself abuzz with energy, excited to report his findings. Perhaps he could leverage this success into obtaining a budget increase.


    Education on Tseludia Station: [For the station''s Staiven population, the Pantheonic Government has chartered corporations to provide proper education. For other races, no such funding is granted, although the schools are willing to accept student enrollments from various other races such as Celans, Escalos, and Telaretians if a hefty enrollment fee is paid. Such enrollments are rather uncommon, as each of these races has their own corporate schools run by their own cultures. In generally only happens in families who live in Staiven dominated districts such as the first or second. For ''lesser'' races such as the Canvasians, Exid, Bloodspawn, and Ardith, there are smaller schools with less advanced scientific and technological curriculum, generally run by corporations wishing to train up cheap labor that can be exploited. For the poor, unless charity and fortunate events are acquired, homeschooling is the only available option. This issue is one exploited by the various underworld organizations for affordable and desperate additions to their forces.]

 66- A Casual Dinner Meeting

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    From the exterior, the Leader¡¯s house didn¡¯t appear too unusual as far as opulent townhomes went. It was the sort of place one might expect the manager of a successful theater company to own, not the Leader of a powerful underworld organization. Still, he found it difficult to reel in his nerves.


    Thinking about the Leader reminded him of his demotion, which made his mind picture the faces of his former squad in a rictus of agony. Such dark thoughts only intensified his anxiety.


    Perhaps this time, the Leader would not have the mercy to spare his life.


    The hatch opened before the group¡¯s approach, before Deuvar could even tap the pad at its center. It slid away to reveal a brightly lit hallway filled with plants, sculptures, and paintings, looking almost like a ruin from a past civilization as they were depicted on television.


    Kalthen had never been to the Leader¡¯s house before, but it was as it had been described to him: almost more like a greenhouse than a home designed for Celan habitation.


    Astna and the Leader were already sitting down when Triezal, Kalthen, and Deuvar arrived in the dining room, where they had been told to meet. As far as Kalthen was aware, the three core members of the organization had not been in the same room like this in over half a decade.


    The Leader¡¯s dining room was more open than the hallway, providing them with enough space to sit comfortably around it without their chairs bumping into a flower pot or a statue. He and Astna silently examined him and Triezal as they sat down on the other side of the table.


    Kalthen noted that his uncle sat down next to the Leader as well, resulting in the three top brass of the organization facing down himself and his friend. That was to be expected. They were after all, the ones who had disobeyed the Leader and murdered an important representative of their parent organization.


    Kalthen had met the Leader before, when he was younger, as his mother had brought him with her to all sorts of meetings and events, hoping to help him gain experience. It had been over a decade since then, as the Leader had gone into relative seclusion in his old age, only meeting with a few important officers of the Heirs and delegating most of his work to Deuvar.


    It struck Kalthen now just how old the Korlove man was. Wisps of white hair hung over the gray of his body and mouthparts, and his movements were slightly jerky, quite unlike the natural dexterity and smoothness of motion that Korlove were known for.


    The Leader stared them down for a solid few moments, his harsh gaze emanating a pressure that made him feel uncomfortable. Kalthen glanced at his mother, but looked away as he saw the impassive expression on her face. It was as if she did not care whatsoever about the outcome of this meeting. His heart stung, and he returned to watching the Leader.


    Finally the leader spoke, his raspy voice grinding away at the edges of Kalthen¡¯s composure. Still, he held onto it. His mother had raised him better than to be intimidated like this, not when he truly did believe he had made the right decision for everyone present.


    ¡°Explain,¡± he said.


    The words hung in the air, and Kalthen glanced over at Triezal, waiting for his friend to respond. He knew that the Leader did not care about his own response, no matter his familial connections or part in the assassination.


    Triezal met the Leader¡¯s gaze, his eyes showcasing confidence, as if he expected his actions to have been the obvious and rational course of action.


    ¡°I killed him because he was a threat to us. We would all have been killed or handed over to the Justice Office for our parts in the failure. I knew the representative that they sent. His name was Deumak, and he was a selfish, conniving idiot.¡±


    Triezal sneered the words out, his tone emphasizing the derision that he clearly felt for the dead man. He and the Leader¡¯s eyes were still locked with one another.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure if you¡¯re aware of what¡¯s happening, hidden away out here, but there¡¯s only so much failure that the Epon will accept, particularly if the representative is the sort who is happy to pin all the blame for his failed mission on us. Our actions gave us all at least a decade more to live, and without tipping off any other underworld organizations of conflict with our backer. Shouldn¡¯t you be thanking us?¡± he asked, turning his spiteful tongue onto the Leader himself.


    Kalthen shifted nervously, worried that his friend had taken the matter too far.


    ¡°You have doomed us all!¡± boomed the Leader, his voice filled with rage. He had raised himself up higher, standing up on his legs to loom over the table. Triezal stood as well, while Kalthen and his members still sat in their seats, as if calmly awaiting the dispute¡¯s conclusion.


    ¡°We were already doomed. Do you wish to continue complaining about events that have already occurred, or do you want to move on and see what can be done for the future, Kadeki?¡±


    Kalthen couldn¡¯t help but gape as he heard the Leader¡¯s real name. He glanced over at his mother and uncle, seeing similar but more subdued reactions from them. They had all heard the name before, and couldn¡¯t help but connect it to a famously cruel young official who had worked for the government of Opportunity before its fall, known for his avarice and complete disregard for innocent lives when quelling the riots.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    If it really was him, this would mean that the Leader was either far older than they had thought, or had spent a great deal of time in suspended animation.


    One of the leader¡¯s legs flashed out, ripping an expensive painting from the wall and smashing its frame against the floor. He turned back to face Triezal and Kalthen, settling back into his seat as if he had calmed down. Kalthen could tell this was not the case, however. He could see a slight tremble of rage still suffusing the man¡¯s small frame.


    ¡°Fine then,¡± he said, as if his violent outburst had not occurred. ¡°Do tell what great ideas you had for next steps, now that you have already dragged the rest of us onto your sinking ship.¡±


    Triezal smiled politely.


    ¡°I am glad to see you have come to your senses. My intentions are simple. We build up our military forces as much as possible, and ally with other groups. If the Epon send a strike force, it should be possible to defeat them, unless they send a Shade after us.¡±


    ¡°But they will send one of the Shades. So long as that alien Shade is here to attract their attention, they will seek to acquire it.¡±


    The words came from Kalthen¡¯s mother, who had finally spoken up.


    ¡°Such a plan is worthless unless you have a method of defeating one of them,¡± agreed the Leader.


    ¡°Shades are not without their weaknesses,¡± replied Triezal. ¡°Even Ottrien himself died.¡±


    ¡°At the hands of an ascendant,¡± interjected Astna, shaking her head. ¡°We cannot trust any of our technology in the face of one of the Epon¡¯s Shades. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if there are secret backdoors hidden inside of their programming that we don¡¯t know about. They gave us the design, after all.¡±


    An idea suddenly sprung into Kalthen¡¯s head, and he couldn¡¯t help but blurt it out.


    ¡°Rachel clearly doesn¡¯t wish to be captured again,¡± he said.


    All eyes turned to him.


    ¡°Rachel¡­ the alien Shade?¡± asked his uncle, vaguely remembering the name.


    Kalthen nodded.


    ¡°Everything bad that has happened to us in the past month has been because of her escape and evasion of our attempts to recapture her. I just thought that perhaps she might want to avoid recapture more than she wants revenge against us.¡±


    ¡°Using a Shade to deal with a Shade¡­¡± muttered the Leader, some of the tension finally leaving his body. ¡°How powerful do we know this enemy Shade to be?¡± he asked.


    After a moment to gather his thoughts, Kalthen replied, unconsciously speaking with a professorial intonation. He had done far too much research on the Shade after finding out about her existence.


    ¡°All we know for certain of the alien Shade¡¯s capabilities is that it can access the network and create realistic holograms that are beyond even our own technology,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ve heard it can even replicate scents.¡±


    ¡°No evidence that it has much knowledge of engineering,¡± noted Triezal. ¡°I would have expected construction of weapons to be one of its first priorities, but the Redwater Sect has done nothing of the sort.¡±


    ¡°More advanced in some ways, and less in others,¡± mused Astna, idly. ¡°But I suspect that the teleportation effect the Riverfiend has used multiple times to escape us was the Shade¡¯s doing. That was clearly a use of extant miasma, and Riverfiend can only use formless.¡±


    Kalthen and Triezal had previously come to a similar conclusion. The fact that the martial artist had not used the capability at the black market had further supported this idea.


    ¡°Though we cannot truly judge its nature without knowing the purpose for which it was created, I believe we need to worry less about the Shade¡¯s interest in collaboration, and more about the Seiyal¡¯s,¡± rumbled Deuvar.


    His sister turned to him, questioningly.


    ¡°You believe he is controlling it somehow?¡±


    He shook his head.


    ¡°I suspect they have come to some sort of arrangement, but it is clear that the Shade is working to support the organization that the two have created. It might be wiser to treat them as a joint entity in negotiation.¡±


    The Leader suddenly turned to Kalthen¡¯s mother, who regarded him coolly.


    ¡°Find out the Shade¡¯s design purpose, as well as that primitive¡¯s true goals and report them both to me and the Vice-Leader.¡±


    She bowed her head slightly.


    ¡°By your will, Leader.¡±


    He then turned to Deuvar.


    ¡°Minimize conflicts and focus on consistent expansion. Try to prevent further escalation with the upstarts until your sister increases our understanding of them.¡±


    He nodded meekly. Kalthen knew that the Leader was perhaps the only man in existence who his Uncle would act in such a way before.


    Finally, the Leader turned to face across the table to Triezal and Kalthen.


    ¡°Now that you have cast aside your rank in the Epon, you are nothing except a member of this organization. I will let you keep your rank for now, but if you disobey me again,¡± he said, speaking in a very threatening tone, ¡°I will have you executed without appeal. The same goes for you.¡±


    The last words were directed at Kalthen, who quickly nodded his head. The two of them replied in unison, with the only words that they could.


    ¡°I understand, Leader.¡±


    He nodded approvingly.


    ¡°Return the forces to their normal protective positions. Triezal, you will once again manage our expansion into Otan. Kalthen¡­ you will manage the titans.¡±


    His gaze turned harsh once more.


    ¡°You are being entrusted with this because you do not represent a potential information leak. One more mistake and you will be sent to the Justice Office.¡±


    Kalthen was exhilarated even despite the threat. He had only seen one of the titans once before, and this job had once been his aspiration when he was far younger. He had originally trained as an enforcer pilot because of his interest in the titans.


    ¡°I understand, Leader,¡± he said once again.


    It felt as if the world had finally been restored to its rightful state.


    Titans: [No mortal race understands flickering miasma like the Celans do, not even most ascendants and Osine. The secrets of the chaotic force that it represents are some of the deepest depths of modern science, and knowledge of them comes with great power. The pinnacle of mechanical armor technology in Telles, Titans are vast constructions that fuse miasma and metal at a nearly fundamental level, resulting in machines piloted by mortals, but with combat potential equivalent to a lesser ascendant, also known as an earthly immortal. Highly sought after by the other advanced races for the technological secrets they represent, titans are extremely illegal, for a single titan is capable of destroying an entire space habitat if its pilot wished. Despite being famed, some doubt the very existence of titans, as Celan organizations within the Pantheonic Territory usually refuse to show them, claiming they are too dangerous to be used. As even enforcers are powerful enough they can wipe out nearly anything in their path, there may be some merit to this assertion.]

 67- Preparations

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Deep inside the headquarters of the Redwater Sect, what had once been a boardroom was now the meeting place for the Palace Leaders of the sect. According to the rules set up during the sect¡¯s foundation, they were to meet up here once every week.


    Ironically, the room was rather blank and empty compared to the furnishings throughout the sect, as they had decided such an exclusive and rarely used room would be one of the last priorities for the still-ongoing renovation. While it had been fully wallpapered and properly lit, the room was still using the long table composed of cheap Staiven composites, and uncomfortable chairs that were not designed for Seiyal use.


    All the core members of the sect were present for this sudden meeting. It had been called by the Vice-Sect Leader, and the Sect Leader himself had also been present by the time Kein arrived. Kein glanced at the Riverfiend¡¯s face, noticing that he looked as haggard and weary as he had been described. It was unclear to Kein exactly what had happened during the secret mission several days ago, but a part of him suspected there was some truth to the rumors. It seemed like the man was at the very end of his rope.


    Quietly, Kein adjusted himself in his seat, exchanging pleasantries with Rachel until the others arrived. Her lack of presence still unnerved him slightly, but he had found her to be an excellent conversationalist, when she was in the mood. He quite enjoyed discussing literature with her, as she was quite well-read. In fact, he had yet to find a single novel that she had not already read. He was beginning to think that she might have been some sort of shut in for years prior to joining the sect.


    It took another fifteen minutes for the rest of the Palace Leaders to enter, with Eli Dan straggling in last. Kein noted that he had an excited look in his eyes. This left only a single seat empty, for the position of the Steel Palace Leader. Kein wondered when that position would finally be filled.


    Not that he didn¡¯t understand the reason why it was empty. None of the former gangsters except perhaps the dead Hidoro had the skills to command and train all of the disciples, and it would take months to years before the new disciples had been trained enough for such a position.


    As the Silk Palace Leader finally sat down, Rachel turned to address the group. She set her elbows on the table, leaning forward to rest her chin on her fists.


    ¡°Palace Leader Dan has acquired some important information that has helped us narrow down the location of a research facility operated by the Pantheonic Government. We¡¯ve called you all here to discuss plans to raid it.¡±


    Kein froze for a moment before sucking in a deep breath. He looked at the others to see their reactions. Ran¡¯s eyes looked like they were bugging out, while Cinto rubbed her head as if she was suffering a migraine. Eli had not reacted, which wasn¡¯t a surprise since he had clearly already known about this matter. Kein sympathized most with Cinto, as he could feel the beginnings of a headache himself. He would have easily accepted an attack on a corporation or an underworld organization, but the government was another beast entirely.


    Even if they succeeded, they would not be able to survive the backlash.


    ¡°...Do we really have to attack the government?¡± asked Ran.


    Rachel nodded.


    ¡°To be clear, the sect will not be able to survive unless we do this. There is something stored there that we desperately need.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ see.¡±


    ¡°What sort of facility is it?¡± asked Kein, seeking to understand just why they were insisting on such a suicidal course of action.


    ¡°You could call it the Staiven retirement community,¡± laughed Eli.


    Kein turned to inspect the other man, who had a very smug expression on his face. He seemed to be enjoying his information advantage over the rest of them.


    ¡°Why would we-¡± asked Ran, her words stopping in the middle of the sentence as her eyes locked onto the haggard face of the Sect Leader.


    It did not take long for Kein and Cinto to figure it out as well. Everyone glanced at the Sect Leader, the purpose of this mission finally clear. They intended to steal eyes. The Riverfiend¡¯s condition truly had deteriorated, and this was a last ditch effort for him to escape madness.


    Kein found he had to agree with Rachel¡¯s logic. Without this mission, the sect truly was doomed. If Riverfiend died or went mad, the sect would be taken over by either the nearby gangs or by the Hadal Clan. There was no telling what would happen to its disciples.


    ¡°Ideally,¡± spoke Kein, his words light and hesitant as his mind continued to churn at a rapid pace, ¡°we would want to do this without the government being able to discern our identity. Since that¡¯s doubtful to be possible when breaking in, that leaves us needing bribes to be paid.¡±


    ¡°I would agree, but that poses an issue,¡± replied Ran. ¡°Due to the sect¡¯s ongoing development and maintenance costs, we¡¯ve been spending funds faster than we¡¯ve been making them as is, even with the assistance from the Venin group. I¡¯m not sure whether we can muster the funds we would need.¡±


    It was clear to Kein that the two of them were on the same page. The moment they understood the purpose of the mission and that there was no alternative for them, they had decided to put all effort into ensuring its success. If they were caught, the sect would be annihilated, themselves with it.Stolen story; please report.


    ¡°I could speak with Nahalken, and discuss some sort of loan,¡± said the Riverfiend, speaking for the first time since he had arrived in the room.


    ¡°I¡¯m uncertain whether or not it¡¯s wise to involve the Venin in this matter. There¡¯s a chance they might sell us out to the government if they find out our intentions,¡± replied Rachel.


    ¡°I agree. Perhaps we could get a loan from the Exid? I understand they make a business of granting loans to underworld organizations,¡± suggested Kein.


    ¡°And deal with their extortionate interest?¡± asked Ran.


    ¡°Better a debtor tomorrow than a dead man today,¡± he replied.


    Ran snorted at the made up proverb.


    ¡°I¡¯d rather be a miner on the prison moon than be indebted to the Exid. Have you seen how hard they work their own people?¡±


    ¡°The drones are more an extension of the queen¡¯s will than truly her ¡®people¡¯, but that¡¯s beside the point. I would also rather we not go into debt with them. Let¡¯s focus on the tactics and circle back around to how we¡¯re hiding our nature from the government.¡±


    Bowing to authority, the pair nodded.


    Rachel waved her hand, producing a scroll of parchment as if from thin air. Kein had long figured out that she was an extant practitioner, so by now the illusions were no surprise to him. She slid the scroll to the table, and it unraveled itself, revealing a photorealistic image. It depicted a large hatch set into the side of a wall. It could be a building located anywhere in the station, but the slight purple hue to the metal the wall was constructed from told him that it was on the lower levels, perhaps the second or even the ground floor of the stack. Suddenly, the image shifted, shapes sliding up above the table to create a three dimensional model of the area depicted.


    Kein questioned the need for such showmanship. Had she practiced this before, or was she actually just that much of an expert at the technique?


    ¡°This is in the first district,¡± she said. ¡°Behind it should be an elevator leading downwards beneath the stacks, which is where the elders are located. The plan is to send a force in, find an elder named Ester Perivar, and get out. Minimal damage to Pantheonic interests is the goal, so that the interest in finding us will be minimized as much as possible.¡±


    ¡°Minimize¡­¡± muttered Ran to herself. ¡°As if that¡¯s possible.¡±


    Kein wisely decided not to respond to the remark.


    ¡°What do we know about the interior?¡± he asked.


    The Sect Leader chuckled.


    ¡°Nothing.¡±


    Kein was aghast.


    ¡°But how can we-¡±


    ¡°Because we have no choice,¡± interjected Rachel, eyes firmly locked with Kein¡¯s.


    He leaned back in his uncomfortable composite seat, the previously planted seeds of a migraine starting to bloom.


    ¡°I see,¡± he said. It was all he could think to say. The high odds of failure seemed to have become the only possible result. ¡°So we intend to simply lead our strongest into this mysterious facility, tear a man¡¯s eyes out, and return, without anyone discovering our identities?¡± he asked.


    Cyrus and Rachel nodded at him.


    ¡°That¡¯s the gist of the idea, yes,¡± she said.


    ¡°In the Goddess¡¯ name¡­¡± he muttered.


    Was there even a point to planning? With no advance information, the squad sent in would need to play everything by ear regardless.


    ¡°I have an idea,¡± spoke Cinto, and everyone turned to look at her. She had been silent for most of the meeting, and Kein had almost begun to forget that she was even present. After a moment of hesitation, she explained. ¡°We have a user of extant arts here. What if we use her to manufacture an alibi elsewhere?¡±


    All eyes now went to the Vice Sect Leader, who seemed to be conflicted about the idea.


    ¡°That could work, but I need to be¡­¡± Her voice faded off as if she was considering something that could not be spoken aloud. ¡°I might be able to do something, but I¡¯ll need to look into it.¡±


    Cinto nodded, and the matter was quickly dropped.


    ¡°Either way, an alibi seems like a fine idea,¡± said Eli. ¡°Perhaps we could have the images of the two of you going on a date to a theater performance, or something along those lines.¡±


    Kein noticed that both Rachel and the Sect Leader gave Eli odd looks, though he himself couldn¡¯t understand why. Most of the sect were aware that the two of them had a certain type of relationship, and he suspected that the gossip of it had long spread outside of the sect. After all, the two were always whispering to one another, and the two of them had been spotted on multiple occasions leaving his room together in the morning. Had they really not realized that others were aware?


    Rachel seemed slightly flustered, so Kein decided to give her a hand and shift the topic.


    ¡°Who did you have in mind to send on this mission?¡± he asked.


    Taking advantage of his question, Rachel recovered and answered, but her emotions were slightly betrayed by the way that she spoke slightly faster than usual.


    ¡°The initial plan was to send everyone in the core formation stage,¡± she said.


    Kein was slightly taken aback to realize that he himself was intended to go, but on second thought it wasn¡¯t much of a surprise. It seemed he had become too used to the role of a manager over the course of the past few weeks, and had forgotten the importance of his own martial strength.


    ¡°I see,¡± he said.


    A quick glance around the table informed him that Cinto was unsurprised by the development, while Ran simply seemed to be annoyed. Eli was again smirking as he lounged in his chair. It was not the first time that Kein had felt the desire to punch the man. He was somehow managing to be smug about his own lacking progression.


    ¡°I believe all that leaves is to return to the discussion of funding,¡± said Ran.


    Cinto leaned forward, her eyes on the Sect Leader.


    ¡°There are plenty of gangs around the area. I say we take it from them.¡±


    Kein could see that this suggestion brought a smile to the man¡¯s face.


    Exid Corporations: [Upon introduction to Staiven society, the Exid who chose to live within the Pantheonic Territory shifted their culture to better interface with the civilization they existed within. In Tseludia Station, Exid Queendoms are legally listed as corporations, and are granted the relevant protections and rights of a corporate CEO. The various queendoms dominate the manufacturing market of the station, taking advantage of their skilled, easily replaced workers with a total lack of rights. In addition, due to their position as leaders of vast forces, the Exid Queens found themselves easily able to use their might to influence the workings of the underworld as well. Even the mystical and mechanical might of the Seiyal and Celans respectively find it difficult to deal with the endless swarms of insects in a fight. As fighting in this way hurts the bottom line of their corporations, as the lives of their worker drones are treated as resources, it is something usually avoided, however. As a way to leverage this power without using it, several of them have taken to becoming loan sharks, offering loans to almost anyone at varying rates of interest, loans that very few individuals would dare to default on. Due to infighting between the various Queendoms, however, their territory of Otan is seen by some as one of the weakest districts of Tseludia in terms of underworld control.]

 68- Surprise Attack

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Yudan was lounging in his bed, a beauty resting in the crook of each of his arms. Becoming a gangster was quite possibly the smartest decision he ever made. He had a talent for martial arts, and though their territory was small, limited to just three levels of a single stack, they received more than enough income from their protection money for him to live the sort of comfortable, happy life surrounded by women that he had always wanted.


    Of course, this wasn¡¯t enough for him to be truly content. He had always known that he was destined for greatness. Having always been taller and stronger than most of his peers, he had long been confident in his superiority over most of those around him. As a natural talent, he had been able to reach the core formation realm even with just the poor quality martial arts the Hadal Clan allowed the martial academies to teach. Once he managed to steal better techniques, he would easily ascend to become a spirit refiner, one of the strongest individuals on the station. He was certain that one day, the Hadal Clan would bow before his might.


    Yudan was jolted out of his blissful stupor by the sound of a distant shout. He sat up in bed, letting the startled women flop onto the pillows around him. He had specifically told them not to disturb his ¡®rest¡¯. Grumbling, he slid out of bed and put his clothes back on while the shouting continued, and there was even a scream. Just what was happening out there?


    A chill ran down his spine. Were they being attacked? By who? The Dark Heavens Gang? They had some minor territory disputes, but to attack his headquarters was a declaration of war.


    With his robes finally on, Yudan went to his bedside table and grabbed his sword. He forcefully tapped at the hatch, and it slid open to reveal a scene he had not been expecting.


    A large group of individuals were moving between the different rooms, each carrying terminals, money purses, monitors, and what seemed like anything else they could find that might be worth something. Others wearing similar garb were fighting with his subordinates. The odd scene looked just like depictions of unorthodox sects in films, breaking into a merchant¡¯s home and cleaning out every item of wealth.


    Rather than the uncoordinated assortment of random martial robes used by the Dark Heavens and the other local gangs, the group was mostly wearing black robes with red accents. Yudan¡¯s blood ran cold, because he recognized the uniform. These robes belonged to disciples of the newly founded Redwater Sect, whose territory was just a few stacks away from his.


    ¡°What is this?!¡± Yudan bellowed, enraged and infuriated, his grip tightening on his jian.


    One of his subordinates turned to him, delighted by his presence.


    ¡°Boss! They¡¯re trying to rob us!¡±


    The man¡¯s enemy took advantage of his momentary distraction, taking him in the chest with a sword. Yudan growled in rage, charging towards the nearest dark-robed figure.


    Before his sword could reach her, he found himself blocked by the appearance of a white robed woman who appeared a number of years older than him. She was very well-built for a woman, with a bulbous, distinctive scar on her neck. Ran Ishun, a former member of the Redwater Gang. Yudan had slept with her once, and they had attempted to kill one another many more times than that.


    ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing, Ran?¡± he asked, still filled with a deep sense of rage and humiliation. If he did not kill a great number of them, he felt his reputation might greatly dive. It would be a hindrance he would not allow.


    Ran laughed at him, her lips settling into a sneer as she parried his swing, attempting to kick at his legs. He stepped back, gaining more distance. He had longer arms than her, and it was best to play to his strengths when fighting someone of a similar level.


    ¡°Blame your own weakness, Yudan. We found ourselves in need of funds.¡±Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    He slashed at her again, but she intercepted his blade with her own.


    ¡°You¡¯ll need to bring more forces than this if you wish to kill me off,¡± he said. ¡°You never succeeded any of the previous times, and you will not succeed today, no matter what master you now serve.¡±


    Ran smiled at him as she arced her blade down to his side.


    ¡°So you say. But you see, Yudan, I serve those who are stronger than myself. I am always a part of an organization beyond my own power. I swim proudly in the ocean while you trap yourself in a puddle. You should have known that eventually, a stronger force would want your little empire.¡±


    Yudan took advantage of his powerful physique, accepting the hit in order to make a powerful attack towards her shoulder.


    ¡°Better the head of a snake than the tail of a fiend.¡±


    Her blade dug into his side, getting stuck in the thick bone of his ribcage, reinforced by a simple defensive technique. His flesh was as tough as leather, his bones like stone. His own blow hit Ran¡¯s clavicle, digging in a similarly small amount. Blood trailed from the ends of their blades as they wrenched them out of one another.


    Yudan had known Ran for over a decade, now. She had been the daughter of his martial academy¡¯s grandmaster. They had joined the underworld together, part of a local gang that had later grown in power to become Yudan¡¯s own Bonedust Gang. She had left almost half a decade ago to join Hidoro the moment he scouted her, the traitor. Their martial arts were the same, and while Yudan was the more talented of the two, her did not lag far behind, and she managed to catch up in time, as he was caught at the bottleneck of the next stage.


    They traded several more blows, both knowing that given their defensive styles, this fight between them would last for a long time, as it had so many times before.


    As blood dripped from her neck, Ran laughed at the proverb he had recited.


    ¡°Say what you will, but today the fiend has decided it wishes to consume this snake.¡±


    With another growl, Yudan threw himself at her, only to stumble as he felt a pain in his chest. His legs weakened and he stumbled to the ground with nothing but a grunt of surprise. He slid quietly off of the blade which had pierced his chest from behind. A white robed man who largely matched with Ran¡¯s clothing, aside from a different accent color, looked at her blank expression.


    ¡°Did you wish to do it yourself?¡± he asked.


    She sighed, staring down at the surprised expression on Yudan¡¯s dying face.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s fine. He means nothing to me.¡±


    Kein nodded, not caring to press the matter. He had seen the slow progression of the fight, and knew it would last too long. The disciples had nearly finished clearing out the headquarters, and wished to move on to the next target before word of the disturbance spread.


    It was early evening, when the domelight was beginning to dim. They had several more targets to hit before morning. Kein expected that when the inhabitants of Canvas Town woke up tomorrow, they would do so to find many of the neighborhoods cleansed of lowlifes.


    He chuckled at the thought. These streets would finally be clear, all because the Redwater Sect needed money.


    Around him, the new disciples and former gang members continued to clear out the last of the Bonedust Gang¡¯s furnishings. He did not envy Ran¡¯s upcoming task of finding places to sell all of this.


    He sighed as he glanced back at the corpse of Yudan. He had actually wanted to try and recruit the man, but had chosen to leave the choice up to Ran. When the fight dragged on, taking advantage of the moment of weakness had simply seemed the obvious thing to do. Perhaps he had been too hasty.


    He quickly put such thoughts out of his mind. It was better for the future of the sect for most of its high-realm members to have been trained within, their loyalty secured. If all went well, former gangsters like himself would rightfully become a dying breed within the organization, if he had anything to say about it.


    Martial Academy Arts of Tseludia Station: [Under the influence of the Hadal Clan, there are many constraints imposed among all other martial organizations. Martial arts comparable in might to those controlled by the clan are heavily restricted, and cannot be found except within the Clan''s library and from martial artists arriving from out of system. There are less than six techniques taught within these martial academies, and of them, four use genesis miasma, the same that most of the Hadal Clan''s arts use. It is believed that the clan purposefully leaked some weaker arts, so that prodigious talents from outside the family can be recruited and subordinated, or married into the clan, as their arts and miasma are compatible with those of the Clan. The final two such arts are flickering in nature, and rumor has it that they were actually created by curious scholars among the Celans.]

 69- Memories

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Wei listened attentively to the report, finding its contents to be potentially concerning. He had asked to be personally informed of any moves the Redwater Sect made, but this news was outside his expectations. He had thought they would lay low after the failed attack on the Celans, but it seemed that their leader had other intentions.


    He was sitting in his office, a finely furnished room just down the hallway from the far larger and more ornate residence of the clan¡¯s matriarch.


    ¡°I see,¡± he said as the report concluded. ¡°Keep up the good work, Hiryot.¡±


    The younger man, who was actually the son of Wei¡¯s second cousin, bowed.


    ¡°I shall endeavor to do so, Elder Wei.¡±


    With that finished, Wei closed the connection, Hiryot¡¯s form disappearing from the tablet he had been contacted on. He set it down on his perfectly organized desk, and picked up a cup of tea that had long since gone lukewarm. Wei took a moment to enjoy the rest of the tea, leaving behind only the dregs that had settled at the bottom of the cup. He rested it back on the small saucer.


    As he stood up, Wei arched his back, stretching his arms out to eliminate aches and pains. He cycled some genesis miasma throughout his meridians, shoring up strength in some parts of his body and reinforcing it in others.


    When he was young, he would have said that such use of martial arts, solely to relieve minor pain and annoyance was emblematic of a lack of respect for the institution he had learned it from. He had found himself mellowing out as he grew older, however. Particularly after he married and had children.


    It had been a lifetime since then. His oldest children had become greybeards just like himself, none of them having enough talent to fully form their cores. It was sad to know that he would likely outlive many of his own children, but that was simply a curse that nature placed on powerful martial artists.


    Wei wondered just when he had become the sort of man who spent half his time thinking about the past. He chuckled to himself as he finished circulating his miasma, his body once again feeling as hale and healthy as that of a young man.


    The Hadal Clan¡¯s headquarters took up an entire two levels of a stack, housing hundreds of individuals within its walls, with all sorts of training halls, offices, places to relax, and other amenities. One could almost spend an entire lifetime within the headquarters without needing to leave.


    It was the largest building designed in a traditional Canvasian style on the station, and most hatches that had been in the original building had been removed, replaced with doors and archways.


    Wei slid open the door to his office, enjoying the comfortable sliding sensation it made as he recessed it into the wall by hand. He had still not become used to the fundamental alien nature of the hatches that most of the station¡¯s population was so used to.


    The thought brought with it another chuckle. His body looked old, but his mind and soul were far older than he seemed. While he was very advanced on the path of martial arts, Wei had not yet escaped the hands of time, and doubted that he ever would. The allure of immortality did not compel him as it once hand. He found his responsibilities to his family far more important.


    It took barely a minute for Wei to make his way to the wide double doors that marked the entrance to the matriarch¡¯s residence. He had only just begun to stretch out his hand to knock, when he heard a voice from inside.


    ¡°Come in.¡±


    He did as his matriarch bid. Wei slid the door open and bowed before Sirena. She was seated on the floor in a meditative pose, but stood as he entered.


    ¡°Has something happened?¡± she asked.


    Wei nodded somberly.


    ¡°The Redwater Sect has spent all night destroying all the local gangs surrounding them.¡±


    She raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°Do we know their purpose?¡±


    ¡°I find it hard to say for certain,¡± he replied. ¡°They have made an official announcement that it is their responsibility as martial artists to purge those who target the poor, but according to some of the escaped gangsters, their core focus was not on killing the gangsters, but on stealing everything of value from them.¡±


    The matriarch laughed, her voice making a bright and sonorous tone. She was only a bit over a decade younger than Wei, but the speed of her advancement had been far faster, and she appeared about thirty years younger than him in both mind and body.


    ¡°I suspect the nearby black markets and pawn shops will be seeing a good deal of business, soon.¡±


    She paused, rubbing her cerebral dantian. It was a habit that she had picked up from her mother, Wei recalled. Sirena had been doing it for almost a century in subjective time, by now. A memory of Sirena as a child trying to copy all of her mother¡¯s mannerisms and habits flashed through his mind, and Wei had to suppress a smile.


    She had changed a lot in that time, gone from a cute younger cousin who he had doted on, practically a sister to him, to a leader that he deeply respected. Small details such as her mannerisms reminded him that she hadn¡¯t changed completely. He was proud to see how far she had come. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Do we have any idea what they might be needing so much money for?¡±


    Wei shook his head in response.


    ¡°It is hard to say, but I don¡¯t believe so. Their internal renovations near completion, and their existing sources of funding should be more than enough to continue training their new disciples. I had expected them to focus on that for at least the next few months.¡±


    ¡°As had I,¡± sighed Sirena. ¡°I suppose it is possible they found an item on the black market they wish to purchase, though I suspect such a thing would have been offered to us first.¡±


    ¡°It is also possible that the Riverfiend¡¯s condition is worse than we had anticipated,¡± suggested Wei.


    Sirena considered the matter and nodded.


    ¡°That is indeed a possibility. I need you to keep an eye out.¡±


    ¡°Of course, Matriarch.¡±


    He bowed, turning to leave.


    ¡°Oh, by the way, Wei.¡±


    Wei shifted back to face her once again.


    ¡°How has the matter with the Justice Office and that Poisoner gone? Do we know who they are?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not, Matriarch. There are no poisoners within our vassal organizations nor the Redwater Sect, and neither our nor the government¡¯s investigations have borne any fruit so far.¡±


    Sirena pursed her lips.


    ¡°I see. Keep me apprised.¡±


    Wei bowed once again and turned to leave the room. As he opened the door and prepared to step out, another memory came to mind, a way that they used to interact, so long ago. He turned back to her once more, a wry smile on his lips, feeling that Sirena would likely forgive the whims of an old man.. She glanced at him quizzically.


    ¡°I¡¯ll see you later, Little Sisi,¡± he said.


    Sirena flushed, and he chuckled again as he left the room. He hadn¡¯t called her that in over a decade or more, probably. He cheerfully wandered down the hallway. The lukewarm tea from earlier had failed to quench his thirst. Perhaps he should stop by a teahouse or an inn, he thought.


    <hr>


    Tseludia Station Exterior, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Neu¡¯s glands burbled in annoyance as she approached the damaged ship. Just this morning, someone had thrown explosives into the attachment point between it and the station, and now she was here having to find out the reason.


    Maybe it was time to quit her job. She had thought it would be an exciting job, hunting smugglers and sensing dangerous technologies and contraband. What she had not anticipated was just how mundane her work was. Day in and day out she had to handle suspicious ships, deal with irate alien merchants, many of whom did not even speak Staiven, and pore over every inch of the ship. She found it exhausting and unfulfilling, and it did not even pay well.


    She had prayed to Estrivai for a proper harvest, hoping to fill her pockets, but all she found was a large hidden compartment full of stolen Staiven weapons. This had meant overtime, and she didn¡¯t even receive a bonus for her hard work.


    She supposed that¡¯s what she deserved for blindly relying on divine assistance.


    According to the reports, this ship arrived carrying passengers from the Janaste system. It was a sleek, streamlined vessel, the sort of design that had little purpose outside of an atmosphere. The ship was composed of a glossy, remarkably smooth black metal, and orange mist dispersed out from small cracks in the exterior, presumably some form of exhaust or heat dissipation. Neu had never been trained in ship construction. All she knew was that this orange glow meant that the ship was created by Celans. That was to be expected, given its origin in the Janaste system.


    Neu shifted her hands forward on the control terminals, their fleshy masses feeling comfortable in her practiced hands. Her astro slid forward until she found herself merely ten meters from the exterior of the ship. She received a hail, but chose to ignore it. She did not strictly need to interact with the aliens personally, and she found it taxing to do so.


    Now that she was close enough to the target, Neu fiddled with the terminal some more, and her entire ship vibrated under the energies emitted from the sensor. The sensation had felt like it would tear one or more of her glands open the first time she had experienced it, but after tens of such experiences, she had adjusted, and no longer particularly minded it.


    At the very edge of her own senses, Neu thought she sensed some sort of object disengaging from the passenger ship¡¯s hull. She shifted the great sensor to cover that area, but felt nothing, and decided it was likely a figment of her imagination. Such happenings were not uncommon midway through a long shift such as this one.


    Neu failed to notice the light thunk at the bottom of her own hull.


    The vast sensor slowly created a sensory map covering every inch of the ship, completed over the course of a half hour as Neu slowly circled it. The particles released by the sensor permeated everything within range. While there were materials that could block their entrance, they needed to be reported to the port authority in advance, otherwise it was a violation of the law.


    After a lengthy period of data amalgamation, the map was complete, and Neu quickly inspected it. There was no sign of blocked areas nor any contraband. Perhaps the target of the explosive was one of the passengers who had died in the blast, not that Neu actually cared about the matter.


    She sent a quick message to the crew of the ship, warning them about the medical condition known as ¡®cancer¡¯ that the sensor had a chance of causing humanoids to contract. She also informed them of the pre-existing medical conditions the incredibly detailed sensor results had pointed out, such as a tumor in one Korlove¡¯s head or some sort of infection in a Jobu¡¯s foot.


    Neu hummed after completing a good deed. She wondered whether the goddess Tseludor would give her blessings if she accumulated enough such good deeds.


    A clatter resounded beneath Neu¡¯s feet, and she frowned. There was nothing down there but thrust mechanisms and the hull. She supposed it was probably due for maintenance. It had been over four months since the mechanic had arrived to give it a check up.


    Deciding her work here was done, Neu sent the report in and returned to the port authority¡¯s private section of the docks. She only had a few more hours left on her shift, and then she would finally be able to relax. Perhaps she would try out that new nutrient bathhouse that had opened just a stack away from her home. She had heard its viscosity was excellent.


    Port Authority Sensor Ships: [Used not only on Tseludia Station, but in most Pantheonic Government controlled stations, these ships use large sensors that bombard target areas with very small high energy particles to create a perfect model of everything within the area. Certain materials and technologies can absorb the particles or warp them around an object or space, but due to the near perfect three dimensional envelope, there are no known species whose technology is capable of hiding without any notice through one such sweep. While their use is expensive and can cause health issues in certain species when exposed, they are incredibly effective at finding contraband. This technology is known by most species beyond a certain advancement level, as it does not require any miasmic technology to construct and utilize. It is rumored the Staiven are able to mass produce them using some secret, more advanced technology on their homeworld. In addition, the Staiven are the only ones able to cut costs by making the ships that carry the sensors manned. The vibration and energy exposure cause health problems in most of the other races. Some expensive Staiven medical clinics use a similar technology to search their bodies for the source of health problems.]

 70- Beneath the Stacks

    1st District, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Most martial artists, it seemed, were far too used to going to battle with a proper understanding of the environment and what they were facing. They felt that battle should be avoided if one did not know one¡¯s enemy. I personally felt that they had operated for far too long within the protective shield of Canvas Town, a place they all knew like the back of their hand.


    My experience was the opposite. I was aware that I had a dangerous tendency to run into conflict with little to no advance thought, a fact which had caused great troubles in my life. Still, this experience allowed me to keep any anxiety I may have been feeling in check, while the others seemed uncomfortable.


    We were standing by a street-side railing, looking down at the area where the elevator¡¯s hatch was located. I had somewhat expected the first district to have a different look to those I had been to before, but somehow it was the least unique of all the districts. There was so little ornamentation that I suspected everything looked like it had straight out of the construction yard. Rachel had told me there was some decoration by the actual government buildings, but we were several stacks away from any of those, in a residential area that catered largely to government employees.


    In the end, we had all decided it was best to only bring those in the core formation realm. This meant myself, Kein Huang, Cinto Sakie, Ran Ishun, and Rachel, who was still a martial artist as far as the others were aware. We wore generic black robes as well as featureless gray masks, to hide our identities. While it would not prevent us from potentially being recognized, as a mask would not stop a Staiven¡¯s senses, what mattered most was deniability, rather than the truth.


    I had allowed Eli Dan to take up my guise with Rachel¡¯s assistance. He would be in charge of the sect if anything happened during our absence, and would also serve as my alibi. I would normally be far more wary, but I got the feeling I could trust him with my identity for a time. He seemed to have a strong survival instinct, so I doubted that he would dare to make any mistakes.


    The original plan had simply involved us breaking down the hatch and forcing our way in. However, a lucky break had allowed us a slightly less brutal method of entry. She had been keeping an eye on all elder or near elder Staiven who lived within the stacks, and one of them had been taken in by the government just a few hours before the present moment. If we timed it well, we would be able to make our way into the elevator and ride it down. This struck us all as a better idea than breaking into the shaft and climbing down. Particularly since for all we knew, the elevator shaft could lead to more than one location.


    Most of my attention was focused on the door and its surroundings, unwilling to let any sort of minor opportunity slip. I could hear the others speaking behind me, though, and I passively listened to their conversation.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± said Rachel¡¯s voice. ¡°You already look tired.¡±


    I heard Ran sigh, and according to my sense of her soul, she shifted her position slightly..


    ¡°It¡¯s not a big deal. I¡¯m just feeling a little unsatisfied about something. This will not affect my performance in the mission.¡±


    ¡°Ah, is this about Yudan? You wanted to be the one to kill him? Kein, you really shouldn¡¯t have taken that from her.¡±


    The large man sighed, choosing not to respond.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s fine,¡± said Ran. ¡°The final blow wasn¡¯t particularly important to me. It¡¯s just that I find myself thinking about how a stage of my life has ended with his death.¡±


    ¡°Ohhhh?¡± asked Rachel, drawing the word out in a suggestive manner. ¡°Did you still like him?¡±


    Ran was saved from needing to respond to the question by the arrival of a small group of Staiven to the area below us, one of whom was resting on a metal cart with spider-like legs. It was larger than a Korlove, and were very expensive machines generally used by the elderly rich to move themselves around. The group stood before the hatch, and a woman stood out before them, tapping something into the pad at the hatch¡¯s center. Our group all stopped talking as we watched them, biding our time.


    The hatch slid open, revealing a small metal room with no other access points. I had never used an elevator before, but the concept was simple enough that I understood all I needed to.


    Without needing to speak, we all leapt over the railing, landing easily on the ground twenty feet below. Some of the Staiven whirled in surprise by our sudden appearance, but their reaction speed was far too slow to do anything. We charged past them and through the hatch, which had already been loaded with the bleary old woman, her bulbous eyes dripping purple juices all over the parchment-like flakes of her skin. She seemed to be drugged, which was probably the only reason she had not screamed. The door closed on Rachel, who had only been midway through, but was unable to stop her illusory form. As there were no lights inside, darkness cloaked itself around us.


    ¡°Are you alright?¡± asked Kein.


    She nodded, waving her hand and releasing seven small pinpoint lights. They floated above her hand, like fireflies in the evening sky.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°My body is mostly illusory at the moment. Nothing can touch me unless I allow it to.¡±


    Kein nodded, accepting that response. They had all long discovered that Rachel¡¯s body was not substantial, but this fit with their understanding of extant arts, as rare as they were.


    Even I did not know whether what she described was possible with such arts or not. I could count the number of extant practitioners I had met in my life with just the fingers of one hand.


    It simply was not the most popular sort of art. It was said that a sufficiently advanced extant practitioner could make the real illusory and the illusory real, but if one wished to create things, manifest arts could accomplish the same even at the meridian establishment realm.


    The elevator shuddered, and I could feel the souls of the Staiven left outside begin to rise away. We were descending beneath the stacks, where the Retirement Center was located.


    We stood in silence during the descent. The elevator was a rather confirmed space for six people and the large spider-legged mobility aid to stand in, and the featureless patchwork walls did not aid the sense of claustrophobia that I chose to ignore. Luckily, the sensation was quickly eased as the elevator shuddered to a halt. Moments later, the door opened once again, revealing a cavernous darkness.


    It struck me that had the station not been redesigned for habitation of other races, the entirety of Tseludia Station might have been just as void of light. After all, a blind race such as the Staiven had no need of it.


    The small lights that Rachel had created drifted out into the room, and I realized that we were standing before what looked like the lobby of any large business. There were several hatches leading deeper into the facility, while a Staiven man sat behind a desk, clearly dumbfounded by our appearance. I smiled at him, knowing that he would be able to sense the expression behind the mask.


    I walked towards him, sword drawn from its sheath, and motioned to Rachel to speak with him. While I had continued to brush up on my practice with the language, it was better for a fluent speaker to handle the talking. If nothing else, it would save us time and potential misunderstanding.


    She strode towards him, who had begun to cower slightly, and began asking questions. As we had discussed in advance, Rachel whispered a translation of their conversation into my ear, so I could keep up with the current state of events.


    ¡°Where is Ester Perivar?¡± she asked.


    ¡°W-what?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s one of your test subjects. Open your terminal and find out where he¡¯s housed.¡±


    A slight sense of courage seemed to come over him, and he glared at her.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be killed for this, you know. You won¡¯t even be allowed to serve for life in the labor camps.¡±


    Rachel cocked her head at him.


    ¡°An awfully bold statement for a man we will kill if he doesn¡¯t get us the information we want.¡±


    One of the hatches at the back of the room opened, and several Staiven in body armor filed out, immediately firing white-hot ammunition at us. Unfortunately for them, Cinto, Ran, and Kein had spread out to each stand beside one of the hatches. I was the only one within the field of fire, and I dodged most of the volley, though one bullet grazed against my thigh with a searing hiss. As the wound was already cauterized and not too deep, I chose to ignore it.


    Kein, who had been standing beside the hatch they had emerged from, lopped one of their heads off in one blow, making swift work of the others. The last of the guards managed to hit him in the gut with a bullet before his death, and the projectile tore right through him. Kein grunted in pain, but like a true genesis practitioner, the constant flow of miasma allowed him to remain standing. Provided he was not hit in a truly vital location, Kein would be able to continue standing no matter his injuries. At least, he could do so until his meridians became too inflamed to channel more miasma.


    With that episode concluded, Rachel continued to watch the Staiven secretary with a dark smile on her face. Without needing to hear another word, he quickly reached to the terminal that extended from the desk as if the misshapen lump was one with the furniture.


    ¡°P- Perivar, I remember. We don¡¯t get many here with surnames. Let me see¡­ he¡¯s in room ul366. It¡¯s past that door.¡±


    He pointed to another of the doors to the side, one labeled with an embossed Staiven letter ul. Rachel turned to me, but her words this time were only heard as a whisper, for my ears only.


    ¡°I copied his access credentials, and have acquired a low level of access to their system. He wasn¡¯t lying, Perivar should be this way.¡±


    I motioned to the door, and she nodded. I turned to my subordinates, who still guarded the doors.


    ¡°Ran and Kein, guard this room so we can escape. Cinto, come with me to grab the target.¡±


    They nodded, and Cinto jogged over. It struck me that she had not yet spoken a single word since we had entered the first district. I respected the professionalism. Silence was an advantage in such situations.


    ¡°Of course, Sect Leader,¡± said Kein.


    I glared at him for the slip, but he couldn¡¯t see it through my mask. With a sigh, the three of us entered the door labeled ul, into a long, umbral corridor. Rachel produced some more pinprick lights, but all they seemed to do was to create more shadows.


    It struck me that this place would make an excellent Saayan cathedral.


    Extant Arts: [While extant arts are not particularly secretive in nature, and accepted by both the orthodox and unorthodox paths, practitioners are quite rare. There are few martial organizations that specifically focus on these arts, though many organizations try to support a few artists each generation with such a path, because they can be very useful. The arts are simply not seen as as glamorous as the others for most, as they enhance the body the least of all miasma types. In fact, it can be said that they have a negative impact on the body, since many extant techniques in fact reduce the ability of the body, via intangibility. Still, illusion arts can be incredibly powerful in large scale conflict, and it is said that extant path immortals are among the most dangerous.]

 71- Room ul366

    Basements, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    The corridor seemed to stretch out into infinity, slowly falling to shadow. The floating pinprick lights helped us see the surrounding area, but the distance was still hidden. It gave the facility an eerie, abandoned feeling, though I knew it was currently in operation and fully staffed. Hatches leading to offices and laboratories rested at even intervals on either side of the hallway. Occasionally, a corridor would intersect it, each branch dripping with a horizon of darkness.


    A Staiven in a brown lab coat left one of the rooms and paused in confusion as he sensed us. After realizing the implications of the presence of three Seiyal within the facility, he quickly returned into the lab, closing the hatch behind himself. We ignored him, running right past. There was one thing that we were here to accomplish, and the lower the casualty rate, the better. I turned to face Rachel.


    ¡°You said you have a floor map, right?¡± I asked.


    She nodded, looking blankly in front of her as if seeing something that I could not. We did not bother to explain to Cinto when Rachel had seen the map. She had little chance of figuring the truth out just from this one slip, anyway. We could think up an excuse if it were necessary.


    ¡°Yes. We¡¯re almost there. This place is not as mazelike as it appears. The design is intended to provide multiple paths to any single location. Perivar¡¯s room should be just a bit further, on the right.¡±


    ¡°I see. Cinto, you guard the door while we take what we need.¡±


    ¡°As you wish, Sect Leader.¡±


    She had always been very formal and reserved before me, but I got the impression this had increased in recent days. She almost never said a word unless spoken to. It might have made sense if she had been particularly devoted to the sect, but I doubted that could be the case. The reasons didn¡¯t matter, I supposed. There was no issue with acting in such a way, so long as she did what I wanted her to.


    Following Rachel¡¯s lead, we turned another corner, and I realized that all the hatches here were labeled with ul and a number in the three hundreds. We were finally here. We slowed our run, stopping before the door labeled ul366.


    I couldn¡¯t help but hesitate as I held my hand up to touch the hatch. I had been seeking this for over fifteen years. My soul had been torn apart, my sect destroyed, and I had traveled across hundreds of lightyears, all to acquire what resided within this room. My left hand moved to a pocket of my robe, and gripped a vial containing an azure pearl. Finally, I would have what I needed to live. With my other hand I tapped the hatch, and it slid open, allowing the interior to see light for what was perhaps the very first time.


    Room ul366 had a very mundane interior that was very much in line with the roles of hospital and research lab that this place filled. A small table filled with equipment stood at the side of the room, while a bed rested in the center. Large machines, presumably some form of life support, stood on either side of it, draping cables out over the bedspread. The center of the bed, where the occupant would reside, was empty. There was nothing but an impression where a body had rested to indicate that it had ever been in use.


    My heart froze in my chest, and I could feel the miasma beat away in my dantians, wishing to be released. It was formless, never intended to be bound. Why couldn¡¯t I just let it be free? I started to laugh, a tear dripping down my face.


    ¡°Of course¡­¡± I said.


    ¡°Cyrus¡­¡±


    The words came from Rachel, who was standing beside me. Her arm was outstretched as if she wanted to grasp my shoulder, but she stopped at the last moment, knowing it was impossible.


    ¡°Is this it?¡± asked Cinto, her stolid expression replaced with a manic look. ¡°I was wondering how long it would take until you broke again. The consequences of working for a madman truly are severe¡­¡±


    Rachel gave her a dark look.


    ¡°Shut up, Cinto,¡± she said. ¡°Cyrus, restrain yourself. He¡¯s probably just in an operating room at the moment. There¡¯s only a couple of those, we should be able to check them and find him.¡±The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Her words seemed callous, but her eyes and expression told a different story. But my mind was so far away I found it difficult to even notice.


    Mental injuries are a funny thing. Over time, or with proper treatment, a wound can scab over, feel like it¡¯s healed. But just one slight impact on a point of weakness can be enough to return the damage right back. I was not originally so weak-willed that a mere frustration such as this would break my self control. But I had fallen past the brink far too many times now.


    I had not been a formless man. I had a strong identity, defined by what I had taken for myself and what I lacked. But my soul, imbued with miasma, wished me to be like itself. It wanted me to be unbound by any rules except that which my surroundings imposed on me, able to shift and change according to the world around me.


    I felt it was normal to seek immortality, an extension to one¡¯s life. Perhaps that was why I fought so hard to that end. It was difficult to parse the remnants of myself from the influence of my miasma, and my brushes with a loss of self.


    Perhaps my vengeful nature and delight in slaughter was simply myself taking on the form, the nature of an unorthodox madman. Or perhaps I had always been that way.


    I could sense Cinto¡¯s soul before me, felt a desire to tear her body apart, but I restrained it. I had come to a realization. Formless miasma was not simply the flow of a river, the fall of rain, and the coursing wind currents. It was also the liquid that took the shape of its container. This was also the nature of formless miasma. It was the nature of this fragment of my soul.


    I did not need to be Jin Luo, and I did not need to be Cyrus Yu. I simply needed to play the role of him, to take his form while I was within his body. He had lost control of himself, and I could feel his soul dissolving for the final time. There was no possibility of healing him, not without cores to fully anchor his body and soul together. I knew what he would want. His last chance was to collect the eyes of Ester Perivar, and reach the next stage here and now.


    I smiled at Rachel, the storm within myself calming to a light rain.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine, thank you.¡±


    She seemed taken aback by my words. Or perhaps it was the expression I bore? She could certainly feel the continuing dissolution of my soul, as well as the blaze of formless energy which dripped from my eyes and pores. The droplets of liquid miasma slowly fell from me to the floor, condensed from the mist that martial artists usually emanated.


    ¡°You¡¯ve surrendered¡­¡± she whispered, her words conveying a clear sense of horror.


    ¡°I have. This is the only way. If we can get the eyes fast enough, perhaps I will be able to survive.¡±


    She looked as if she had something more to say, but was interrupted by a hissed utterance.


    ¡°Demon¡­¡±


    The word was from Cinto, whose manic expression had become one of fear and horror. I laughed, finding it difficult to constrain my emotions inside of their vessel.


    ¡°You have no idea what that word even means,¡± I said, sneering at her.


    I then turned to Rachel, knowing Cyrus would not want me to waste any time. Her fear was not a sufficient problem to be worth dealing with, not at the moment.


    ¡°Where are the operating theaters?¡±


    ¡°There are two nearby, and several more further away. Each one is used for different experiments.¡±


    ¡°Do we know what experiments Perivar was being used for?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not. It wasn¡¯t listed in any of the files these credentials give me access to.¡±


    ¡°Unfortunate. Cinto, return to the lobby and regroup with the others. I¡¯ll be moving faster than you can keep up. Rachel, show me the way.¡±


    ¡°Understood.¡±


    Cinto hesitated, and then began sprinting back the way we had come, clearly terrified. She passed by a Staiven nurse, who was forced to dodge the sprinting martial artist. I found it odd that the facility still seemed to be moving forward, as if the secretary in the lobby had never pressed any sort of alarm, though that could not be correct. Had Rachel done something without informing me? Whatever it was, it was an issue for later, so I did not bother putting it to words. Rachel did not bother commenting either, simply painting an illusionary arrow in the air before me for me to follow. I began channeling the miasma in my legs, my body knowing the water striding steps as instinctively as any other movement. It had been trained into me for decades, something I knew even more surely than my own name. I tore across the corrugated metal floor as if I were running from death itself.


    Perhaps I was, I thought. If I did not acquire the eyes I sought, my soul would dissolve, carried away by the miasma to become one with the flows of energy which suffused the universe, and my body would collapse like a stringless puppet.


    I was the miasma within Jin Luo¡¯s soul, merely pretending to be a person. To be one with the universe was perhaps to be one with myself. So why did it scare me so much?


    Ashata: [The substance that defines reality, ashata is the exposed lifeblood of creation itself. Located within the spacetime known as the Brink, ashata is used by Ascendants, Osine, and the more advanced races to increase their control over reality itself. When brought into Telles, ashata codifies itself into one of the six miasmas, though the mortal races do not understand the reason for this. It is said that souls themselves are composed of ashata, and some theorize that the hierachy of the soul is solely based upon just how much ashata one can store and control within the shroud that restrains it. There is some evidence to support this theory, as the shroud is what Spirit Refiners among the Seiyal seek to improve as they prepare for ascension. However, without a progression system, other mortal races are largely unable to alter the substance and nature of their souls. They would need a way to manipulate and control ashata within the spirit world, before it becomes miasma and enters Telles. If a race of mortals acquired such technology, they might be said to have gained the power to contend with the gods. Some say that the Osine was once one such mortal race.]

 72- Seeking Immortality

    Basements, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Rachel was concerned for Cyrus. The pressure on the both of them had continued to rise over the past few weeks, particularly given the instability of Cyrus¡¯ mind and soul. Every time he stepped back from the brink of madness, the damage continued to accrue. Now, he had dove head first into that sea, surrendered to the influence of the miasma pervading his body and soul. It gave him just a little more time, yet she knew that it would have permanent consequences even if he did manage to advance.


    She just hoped it did not change him too much. She had come to like Cyrus Yu. He was the ideal partner to run an underworld organization with, and the perfect vehicle to further her people¡¯s war campaign. He was also her friend.


    His feet scurried swiftly down the corridor like a spider over a pond, and she maintained her projection running beside him. It took very little of her vast processing power to maintain the thing, and the effort, trivial as it was, felt meditative in some odd way that she found difficult to put into words. It was nothing like actually moving a human body, more like playing around with a puppet, or painting a picture.


    While she was watching Cyrus, she was also controlling other holograms far across the station. Eli Dan was covered in a hologram shell that caused him to appear to be Cyrus, while she manifested a hologram herself beside him. They were currently at a theater show watching a performance, and she made sure their micro-expressions were fully expressed.


    Rachel had been embarrassed to discover that it was widely believed she and Cyrus were in a relationship, though in retrospect she could see how the rumors had started. At the moment, she found the misconception useful, and had not bothered to correct anyone about it.


    A third part of her mind focused on the networks, both searching for any more messages by a possible Shade, and for deeper access into this facility¡¯s network. A fourth currently was all that held Cyrus¡¯ remaining soul from immediately collapsing entirely. Using four streams of consciousness at once like this taxed her processor far more than she normally did, but still used up less than half of its vast potential.


    The part of herself that was attentively present within the facility continued to watch Cyrus. Rather than stain his crimson robes, the beads of liquid miasma flowed through them, unable to be constrained within the threads like a normal liquid might be. They dripped to the floor, leaving a trail of blue droplets behind him. His blonde hair was slick with moisture, and his strides wove streams of vibrant blue mist behind him. He was like an avatar of water itself, and to an observer he appeared like a monster from films.


    She found she could not blame Cinto for calling him a demon. He certainly hardly looked like a Seiyal at all, at the moment.


    The pair reached a corridor intersection, and Rachel shifted the arrow before them to point towards the left.


    ¡°This first door on the left side,¡± she said, directing her projection to motion at it as well.


    It was odd just how intuitive directing the projection had become. While still nothing like a real body, she could make it move as she wished with just a sliver of a thought. It even sometimes moved according to her internal emotions and expressions, without her prodding, traces of her true feelings slipping out.


    She had traced the origin of this issue down to a fragment of code slipped in from the repository she had used to make it. But when she considered deleting it, something held her back. She supposed that having hints at her true thoughts leak out at times made her feel more human.


    She hated feeling as if she was but a machine.


    Cyrus skidded to a halt before the operating room¡¯s hatch, tapping at its center. It opened, but not because of his command. Instead, Rachel sent in the credentials it needed, and it swiftly opened.


    The inside of the operating room lit up under the illumination of her lights, and a Staiven in a brown lab coat looked up to see who had entered. He froze in shock to see Rachel and Cyrus. She gave him a delighted wave, as if she were excitedly greeting a close friend.


    ¡°Who- how did you escape?¡± Blurted the man to Rachel¡¯s surprise.


    She glanced at the operating table, but the elder Staiven on it, whose head was splayed open for dissection, had green eyes. Not their target, then.


    A large machine rested above the body, holding various scalpels and tweezers and other medical equipment. It seemed the scientist here was not confident in the stability of his hands.


    ¡°No need to worry about that,¡± she told him with a disarming grin.


    He flinched back.


    ¡°Say, Doctor,¡± she said, ¡°Would you mind telling me and my friend here your network credentials? We might let you survive if you do. Maybe.¡±This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    The man shook hesitantly, but offered up his codes. Rachel checked them against the system, and with a match, she grinned. He had given them up rather easily. It seemed this fellow was rather easily threatened.


    She smiled at the man again, appreciative of his cooperation, before turning to Cyrus.


    ¡°The next one is further away. I¡¯ll lead you there again.¡±


    ¡°Should we k-¡± asked Cyrus in seiyin, but Rachel cut him off.


    ¡°Let¡¯s spare him. I have a use for him later.¡±


    ¡°I expect he will report us,¡± replied Cyrus, confused.


    She shook her head with a smile.


    ¡°I expect you have no need to worry about that.¡±


    He nodded, choosing to trust her judgement, and immediately left the room. Rachel appreciated that. She followed, glancing back to the trembling Staiven.


    ¡°Good luck!¡± she said, chuckling.


    He flushed, but made no move. The moment her projection left the room, she heard the sound of him scrabbling, presumably for his terminal. The sound caused her to laugh again.


    As they began to run further down the hall, Rachel applied the system credentials, and immediately unlocked a deeper level of access into the facility¡¯s network. She quickly began to download all the data this connection granted her access to. She had to do so rather slowly, from her perspective, for both the data transmission rate and to avoid triggering a flag on the system monitor. A download occurring too quickly, or in too quick of a succession, meant either intrusion or a system error, both of which the monitor was designed to respond to by shutting down the network.


    As she waited for the data to arrive, she noticed a flag sent into the system from a nearby terminal. She smiled, knowing that as expected, he had tried to immediately sound the alarm. Before she could remove the flag, it disappeared from the system, all traces wiped out. Rachel narrowed her eyes. There was only one possible explanation. Someone else with access to the system was preventing alarms from being sounded, just as she had expected. Could it really be the individual who had sent her that creepy message the other day? If there really was another Shade- a Shade, she corrected herself, still insistent that she was not one of them, what was their goal, their purpose?


    Putting the matter off until she had time to deal with it, Rachel enhanced her temporal perception in order to immediately scan through all of the data she had downloaded. She gasped audibly in surprise, causing Cyrus to turn to her in confusion.


    ¡°Did something happen?¡± he asked.


    ¡°This facility¡­ it doesn¡¯t just study elder Staiven,¡± she said, still shocked by the data the scientist¡¯s credentials had given her access to. ¡°They study all progression systems.¡±


    The only reason Cyrus didn¡¯t stop running was because of just how ingrained the motions were to his body.


    ¡°You mean¡­¡± he said, just as surprised.


    ¡°There are Canvasians here as well.¡±


    Cyrus caught on to her use of the word.


    ¡°...Canvasians?¡± he asked.


    Rachel smiled at his shock, though grimly. The Staiven were very alien, and it was easier for her to remain blind to their treatment of themselves. But Seiyal were too human, too easy to relate to.


    ¡°There are martial artists imprisoned here, and somehow the government also managed to get their hands on Reth.¡±


    Cyrus began running faster, unable to restrain his shock.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware Reth even existed in this part of the galaxy.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re quite rare, but there are merchants among their number. They can be found across the Pantheonic territory, on rare occasion. They simply avoid stations inhabited by your people.¡±


    Cyrus nodded, dropping the issue. Rachel suspected his mind could not help but care more about the members of his own people who remained trapped within the facility. She could not help but do the same. Leaving them here was the right call strategically, but¡­


    Abandoning aliens to their fate was acceptable, but if it got out that he had left tens of his own people to a life of torture and experimentation¡­ his reputation would be ruined. They needed to avoid making contact with any of the subjects, and for none of the palace leaders to find out about this. Rachel was certain that Cyrus had arrived to the same conclusion, and chose not to say a word.


    Though she knew that the man saw himself as a callous, demonic figure, Rachel knew that Cyrus was a caring man, deep down.


    Less than a minute later, Cyrus reached the second operating room, and Rachel swiftly opened the hatch in advance of his arrival. Inside were two operating tables surrounded by scientists and doctors.


    Strapped to one was a blue-eyed Staiven elder, and to the other was a Seiyal man, struggling wildly against his restraints. Mumbled curses could be heard from within a gag wrapping around his mouth. His movements ceased as he glanced to the room¡¯s exit, where Cyrus and Rachel stood dumbfounded. A horde of Staiven doctors and nurses bustled around the two, clearly preparing for some sort of surgery.


    Rachel saw hope blossom inside the man¡¯s eyes, and for a moment the two of them locked gazes with one another. She could not help but glance away in shame.


    Retirement Facilities: [Throughout the Pantheonic Territory, the most influential members of the churches, government, and corporations all share a desire, one most powerful mortals share. The ambition to achieve immortality. Even their reverence for the Pantheon has not tamped this emotion down, merely driving it to greater heights. The elite of Staiven society wish to become Ascendants, to join the Pantheon for themselves, perhaps, or at least subsidiary deities. Despite technically having their own progression system, the Staiven are unable to reach such a level. For this reason, throughout the territory, many planetary and station governments have been sharing information with one another about their own experiments to alter the Staiven progression system, inspired in particular by those of the Seiyal and Reth, which are capable of achieving ascension. For this reason the government has mandated the creation of retirement programs throughout the territory, sending the elders of their own species, as well as kidnapped members of other races with progression systems into laboratories to serve as experimental subjects. The results and extent of such experiments vary from system to system.]

 73- The Eyes of an Elder

    Basements, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Rachel had just informed me that there were Seiyal trapped here, but¡­ seeing with my own eyes the living man strapped to a table, while they prepared to tools to perform some sort of surgery on him.


    Rachel had not needed to say a word for me to know her intentions. If we rescued the subjects, we would have evidence of the government¡¯s wrongdoing. The price to cover such a matter up without reprisal would be far more than our measly funds could pay, even with the additional money we had stolen from the nearby gangs.


    My eyes glanced back to the man who I knew had to be Ester Perivar. To the pair of glistening orbs dripping blue liquid onto his face, just as my own skin dripped beads of the same. I smiled like I knew Cyrus Yu would have. Finally, the opportunity was before me.


    Rachel smiled again as she faced the small crowd of brown-clad scientists, and her eyes narrowed. She lifted her hand, and a blade appeared in her hand with a flourish, as if she had performed some sort of sleight of hand. They cowered before her, but one of them stood out from the crowd, sneering.


    She was a tall woman, with very sharp features, and she glared down at myself and Rachel, slightly taller than the two of us.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how you escaped, nor where you acquired that strange equipment, but if you surrender and return to confinement, you will be allowed to live.¡±


    The words were spoken in perfect seiyin, with a slight Tseludia Station accent. It struck me as silly how the researchers all seem to assume we were escaped test subjects, even despite our obvious Seiyal weapons and disguises. Was it really so impossible to imagine that someone had broken in without setting off alarms? Perhaps it was. We were only able to do so because we had a being who was something like a Shade with us, after all. Rachel sneered up at her in response.


    ¡°Do you really believe you can persuade us with just that? You really lack any understanding of the situation, don¡¯t you?¡±


    Her voice held a distinct tone of mockery, and the woman seemed taken aback, affronted by Rachel¡¯s words. But before she could formulate a response, I had arrived at a conclusion of my own.


    Cyrus Yu would have abandoned the man to his fate, simply because that was the wiser decision. But I was not Cyrus Yu. I was the miasma, I was-


    I was a force of nature, and the laws of this puny government could not constrain nor confine me. I was the pounding gale of slaughter that tore against the vice grip of society.


    I raised my sword from its sheath, and the overbearing woman instinctively flinched. I supposed reality had finally begun to set in for her. Rachel held her hand up in front of me wardingly.


    ¡°I thought you said you would avoid killing the researchers.¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°He did say that, yes.¡±


    For a moment I considered heeding her request, but the blood and fluids inside of the Staiven before me cried out to be spilled, and so I complied. Such individuals were monsters, more so than any mere fiend was. It was only right for them to be culled.


    I did not even need to use complex techniques. My motions were mere butchery, and the mortal researchers could do nothing to stop me. My robes quickly became soaked in multi-colored fluids, the room a mass of viscera. Rachel looked up at me, surprised and annoyed. Rather than horrified by my actions, it was more like she was annoyed by them. She sighed.


    "This will make matters more difficult," she muttered, glancing around at the corpses.


    Without saying another word, I strode towards the operating table, where the elder Staiven shivered in horror, unable to move because of his tight bonds. I quickly cleaned my sword and then stowed it back in its sheath as I continued to approach. He grunted and moaned through his gag, but that would not stop me.


    Unlike the cruel researchers, I felt bad for this man. Ester Perivar had never done a thing to me, and for all I knew he had been an outstanding individual. Having a surname meant he had come to this station from afar, just like myself, in his case likely seeking a new life.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    His life would serve to extend my own.


    I reached out, fingers grasping into his eyelid and wrenching out the first eye with a sharp twist. He screamed into the gag as the blue miasma dripped from my hands down his cheek. With my other hand, I reached over to take the other one, digging into his eye socket to tear that one away as well. The screams pained me, but sentimentality was a weakness I would not allow to kill me. I had no choice in the matter. I had to choose between myself and this alien I had never met before now.


    It was not a difficult choice to make.


    I turned to Rachel, who was intently watching Perivar. He was writhing in pain, the death throes of a truly unfortunate individual. It was odd to think that these years of pain and suffering he had experienced here were something that most Staiven would eventually go through. Untold trillions of lives tortured to their deaths by their own people over the course of centuries, likely. Even the scientists who performed the experiments would likely one day become experimental subjects for the next generation.


    It was cruel, and it struck me as senseless. But perhaps I had no room to complain. I myself was a cruel individual when I needed to be, and unlike them I already had a path to immortality in my sight.


    Rachel turned back to me as Perivar began to still, glancing at my hands that were covered in Staiven fluids and formless miasma, holding two blue orbs.


    ¡°I can give you the time you need,¡± she said, a solemn expression on her face.


    I nodded, giving her a soft smile.


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    I sat down amidst the gore in a meditative posture, and emptied the vial onto my palm. Three blue orbs now rested there, shifting around my palm in wild manners, yet not falling apart.


    Despite their different origins, there were many fundamental similarities between Perivar¡¯s eyes and the marshfiend pearl. All natural treasures of a certain miasma tended to have that same sort of convergent similarity, driven by their own inherent miasmic properties.


    I took a deep breath, calming my mind until it was as placid as a lake. Raindrops began to fall on the lake, and without hesitation I held my palm up to my mouth, swallowing the three treasures.


    The consistency was viscous, and the taste odd. It was difficult to place, something like thick tapioca covered in some sort of oily grease.


    Once the treasures were inside of me, I closed by eyes and cycled my miasma. Within me, the treasures seemed to begin moving in an impossible manner, as if it were following the paths laid out within the spirit rather than my physical form. The formless nature of the miasma left it constrained not by bonds of flesh.


    The three orbs navigated themselves to my dantians, where the foundations of my cores had long been laid. The slight fracture in my cerebral dantian, though repaired, created a slight disturbance in the flow of miasma, and I knew it would make this process far more difficult than usual. Further directing the flow, I moved the first orb to the area above my groin, where the lower dantian resided.


    This core I had chosen to house my movement technique, the technique I understood most of all. It would be the easiest to form, and so I would do it first. While my physical body remained silent and motionless, my miasma spun with vigor along the paths traced out to better suit the Water Striding Steps. In my head I envisioned the movements that were so ingrained, my muscles lightly flexing as if to perform the movements. A piercing pain erupted from the dantian as the vast amount of miasma contained inside of the orb attempted to solidify into a core around it.


    A distant voice erupted into a scream, but I ignored it, focusing on the technique and slowly piecing together the treasure¡¯s power into the foundations I had laid. My dantian cracked and began to shatter under the pressure. I filled in the gaps with miasma as the technique began to rebound louder and louder, its motions imprinting in some fundamental manner on the shape, the flow, the nature of these fragments.


    In my mind''s eye I watched the skittering steps of a vast organism I had once seen, the true king of the Downpour, stride across the muddy landscape, completely unhindered by the rain, the mud, or even its own bulk. Each step touched on the fundamental secrets of the universe, warping and directing them to its whim.


    As I had long known, the Water Striding Steps were a technique of domination over the space around me, the ability to move completely unhindered, in a way that defied the logic of those who observed me. It was not a means to close the distance between myself and the place I wanted to be. It was simply the ability to be free, to not conform to my own rigidity. The steps flowed through the spaces between, just as the miasma flowed into my shattering dantian, rebuilding it as what it was always meant to be.


    With a sharp crack and a truly immense sensation of pain, the dantian finally shattered into dust, merging completely with the nearly formed core. It was a vibrant blue, and unlike how one typically imagine a core, this one was not a solid sphere. It was a river, flowing eternally into itself. It coursed around my body, moving in an endless flow. Eternally, my meridians now shifted to follow the path it set.


    As a manifestation of my oldest technique, my Water Striding core was unconstrained.


    Staiven Eyes and Elder Staiven: [For most Staiven, the eyes are mere miasmic repositories, accumulating that which builds up as they age. It is also the source of their primary sense. Rather than vision, this is a soul sense that detects the intersection of their eyes with concentrations of ashata within the brink. Other races often find the nature of this sense difficult to comprehend, but in effect it allows them to sense flows of ashata, souls, lesions, and miasmic concentrations in extreme detail when they are close enough. Their progression system increases the concentration of miasma within their eyes over time, increasing the strength and acuity of this sense. For most Staiven, removing their eyes would eliminate this sense, but would not kill them. When the eye grows too large for its socket and begins to spill out, the miasma begins to affect the body itself more, turning the Staiven into a subtly different sort of creature, one referred to as an Elder Staiven. Elders differ in nature depending on the properties of the miasma their eyes are composed of, and they die if the organs are removed.]

 74- The Matter of Surrender

    Basements, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Cinto sprinted through the warren of hallways, horrified out of her mind. She had thought that Cyrus would simply become a normal madman, likely kill her and all those around. Not¡­ whatever it was that had just occurred. Rachel had described it as him having surrendered. Surrendered to what?


    She couldn¡¯t help but shudder at the thought. It was bad enough when the man was mad. The way he had been emitting so much miasma¡­ it was unnatural. Unorthodox and evil, in the truest sense. And yet, if he were to die, her position and that of all the others in the Redwater Sect would fall. She couldn¡¯t truly bring herself to wish for the ruin of herself and the others.


    The man truly was demonic. One who was simply evil like Hidoro had become did not tax her mind in such a way. She couldn''t help but wish for both his success and his downfall at the same time.


    Her feet padded against the ground as she quickly made her way back to the lobby. She had memorized the path they had taken, and the labyrinthine maze of corridors was unable to confuse her strong sense of direction.


    As she tore through the warren that was the retirement facility, Cinto passed a great number of scientists who had begun milling around in panic. It seemed that they had started to realize that something was wrong. She was honestly confused about the matter.


    Just how had he prevented the alarm from being sounded? There had been no mention of hiring a spy to assist or some Staiven hacker to break into the systems. Her mind went to Rachel, the mysterious extant practitioner who had appeared from nowhere to be the Riverfiend¡¯s right hand. She was an odd person, and casually referenced technologies and cultural details that Cinto knew nothing about.


    While she was clearly a martial artist, at times she acted like an alien. Had she been raised by or among aliens on some foreign station, and learned technological skill beyond that of her own people? This would explain some matters if so.


    Brushing aside the issue, Cinto decided to simply accept that somehow the alarm had not been raised yet. She was very lucky that her spacial awareness was so strong. She had the fortune of learning more than one martial technique, and one of hers was a technique that allowed her to enhance her senses using the particular attributes of genesis miasma. The technique was basic, and merely held the name ¡®Sensory Amplification Technique¡¯, but as it worked on all senses, including balance and soul sense, it was even more useful than Cinto¡¯s standard physical enhancement technique. With it, she was able to navigate through the compound without any of the beads of light that Rachel had summoned around herself. The darkness was oppressive, but unable to even slow her. In just a few minutes, she had found her way back to the lobby.


    The lobby looked very different from how it had been when she left it, and was much dimmer, as it seemed that one of the beads of light had winked out already. The room was covered in Staiven bodily fluids, as well as some occasional splashes of blood from its two defenders. Rubble was strewn across the room, and several of the hatches were wrecked, clearly blasted apart by explosives. One of the apertures had been blocked by debris from what had once been the secretary¡¯s desk. Near the elevator, Kein and Ran leaned against the wall, their chests heaving with exertion.


    Kein was covered in his own blood, his muscles and skin clearly expanded by a reinforcement technique. His was clearly much stronger than Cinto¡¯s, and she could tell he was relying on it just to remain upright. Ran was similarly injured, though less so. Genesis practitioners could deal with injuries far better than any other type of martial artist, and these two had clearly taken advantage of this trait to continue defending the room against the entirety of the security force that the Staiven facility had.


    Even if no alert had been raised, the force had clearly been alerted of the intrusion by word of mouth if nothing else.


    The two rapidly got into martial stances as the hatch opened, but they relaxed when they saw it was just Cinto. Kein sighed, leaning back onto the wall.


    ¡°So you¡¯re back. Where is the Sect Leader?¡± asked Ran.


    The expression on Cinto¡¯s face must have alerted them, as her and Kein¡¯s gazes turned sharp before she could even reply.


    ¡°Did something happen?¡± he asked.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Cinto couldn¡¯t help but let out a dark laugh.


    ¡°I get the impression that that individual stopped being Seiyal long ago.¡±


    Ran raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°...The Vice-Sect Leader?¡±


    Cinto chuckled, feeling slightly feverish.


    ¡°Her too, probably. She¡¯s strange as well, as you know.¡±


    Kein scoffed.


    ¡°Enough of that. Just tell us what happened, Cinto.¡±


    ¡°First, is this room safe? Did you kill them all?¡± she asked.


    While she was still somewhat scared by what had happened with Cyrus, she needed to prioritize her own survival if she wished to escape the facility. She really wished she had not been forced to participate in such a suicide mission.


    ¡°We¡¯ve fended them off a few times. Last time they tossed some bombs in, but after we routed them again we¡¯ve been able to rest,¡± said Ran.


    Cinto was surprised that so many engagements had already occurred. It had been less than ten minutes since she had left. Still, that meant they probably had some time before the security returned. At least long enough to have a quick conversation. It would likely be better for Cinto to inform them.


    ¡°We entered the room,¡± she said ¡°When we saw that the Staiven we wanted wasn¡¯t there, something happened to Cyrus. He went mad, and started releasing miasma, but then he calmed down. He and the Vice Sect Leader then ran off and told me to return here and wait for them.¡±


    ¡°So he broke?¡± asked Ran.


    Kein shook his head.


    ¡°No, I doubt Rachel would have run off with him if he had. She¡¯s quite smart, and I expect she would be the type to abandon someone if they ceased being useful. She would probably have returned to us to escape.¡±


    He looked back to Cinto to see her response, but Cinto simply held an impassive expression. He did have a point. As much as she found the woman odd, Cinto doubted Rachel would be so foolish. She clearly knew something that Cinto did not, and Cinto suspected it had to do with that term she had blurted out in surprise. Cinto turned to analyze the faces of the other two.


    ¡°Have either of you ever heard the term ¡®surrender?¡¯¡±


    Ran chuckled.


    ¡°I¡¯m assuming this is not in the context of a battle?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not.¡±


    ¡°Then I can¡¯t say I have,¡± she replied. ¡°Why, did one of them mention this?¡±


    Cinto nodded, and glanced over to Kein, whose brow had creased.


    ¡°Did Cyrus surrender?¡± he asked in a small voice.


    ¡°You know what it means?¡± asked Ran, clearly very curious.


    ¡°I¡¯ve read about it in an old book called Chronicles of the First War of Extermination. Rachel and I discussed it for a while. It was a story written based on the journal of a martial artist of Sunlit Hall who had fought in the war. This would be¡­ roughly half a millenium ago? At one point he discussed a colleague who had ¡®surrendered¡¯ due to stress, and it was treated as some huge event. It was said he constantly emanated miasma afterwards, and soon after died in battle against the Reth. I had assumed it was folklore about unorthodox arts, but¡­¡±


    His brow uncreased and creased again as he gathered his thoughts.


    ¡°But what?¡± asked Ran, eyes lit up with interest. Cinto couldn¡¯t help but be interested, herself, though her interest was more rooted in fear. There was no other emotion she could muster for matters related to the Riverfiend.


    ¡°Rachel mentioned to me having read about it from elsewhere. She said it meant to fuse one¡¯s soul into one¡¯s miasma. I had thought she was still speaking of folklore.¡±


    ¡°Just what does it mean to do that, though?¡± asked Cinto.


    Kein shook his head.


    ¡°That¡¯s all I know about the matter.¡±


    For a moment, the three were silent, hearing nothing but the hiss of air through the ducts. Cinto wondered whether they would actually be able to escape this coffin of a building.


    Core Formation: [The third realm of martial arts. When a martial artist has finished carving their new meridians, they will find that miasma has a tendency to fill up the body. This ream is the start of the core formation realm. This miasma can be concentrated around one''s dantians, setting up the foundations of what will become cores, structures that are reforged dantians. For most practitioners, the cores are small spheres similarly sized and shaped to the dantians they and merged with, but it is said the cores of sanguine and formless practitioners are a bit different. To fully form one''s cores and reach the stage of spirit refinement,  one must use one technique for each dantian, a heart, body, and mind technique within each of the relevant dantians. The technique will become one with it. While other techniques can be used in the spirit refinement stage, these three techniques will acquire great strength beyond what any other technique can hope to match, and become synonymous with the path of the martial artist. In addition, the more powerful the techniques prior to forming the cores, the more powerful the martial artist will be as a spirit refiner. Forming one''s cores is the most dangerous bottleneck in martial arts, for not only do natural treasures need to be used to form them, but also because failure can result in shattered dantians, crippling one''s martial arts. Many reach the peak of core formation and choose not to undergo the next step out of fear of this occurrence.]

 75- Spirit Refiner

    Basements, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    The river that my lower dantian had begun to swim around my body, helping me increase my control over the torrent of miasma which continued to course through me. The battle that had previously ended in surrender flared up once more, as the identity of Cyrus began to assert itself against the nature of the miasma inside of him.


    There was a chance that he would succeed in taking over for me, but I did not care. Part of the nature of formlessness was to accept whatever forces were imposed onto it, and to be subordinate to the soul¡¯s will was not a problem should it occur. While much of Cyrus'' understanding of formlessness revolved around the concept of freedom, confinement was just as true a portion of its nature. I had been acting as him, anyway. This was a natural development.


    I moved on to the second dantian, located right next to my heart, and forced the natural treasure into it. The pain was just as intense as it had been with the lower dantian, but I ignored it. I activated my Heart of Rainfall technique, causing the miasma to roil up and course far faster. This made it much more difficult to keep control of the fine, careful movements that I needed in order to properly merge my dantian into the core.


    The Heart of Rainfall was a microcosm of the Downpour itself, an eternally roiling rainstorm which flooded the area, pounding away with great force at all that was beneath it. I imprinted this force onto my fragmenting dantian as I merged it with the core. Fragments began to float away, turning to dust which became clouds.


    The clouds swirled around the remnants of the dantian, growing as more and more pieces flaked off. Finally, the last piece shattered, and all that was left was a field of clouds within which a mass of miasma roiled. It was as if there was some sort of disconnect, something holding me back. I knew that my core was not complete, that it was not right.


    The true Heart of Rainfall would not be complete without the rain.


    I knew that the more I exerted my energy now through this technique, the harder it would be to create my cerebral core, but I had no choice. I drove all my energy under the influence of the Heart of Rainfall, driving the technique to its limits. Finally, the mass of miasma within the cloud unglued itself, splintering into tiny droplets which began to fall from the cloud.


    Anyone else might have had lightning flash within the depths of the storm, but my rainstorm lacked it entirely. The Downpour was not a thunderstorm, it was nothing but the endless fall of rain, a force far greater than any mere thunderhead could muster. It was a power created by gods and ascendants themselves, the true fury of water.


    My second core was complete, and it quickly formed a system with my Water Striding Core. The endless storm within my heart poured miasma into all of my meridians, becoming the truest center of my body. The rain of miasma coursed down my meridians, contacting the river that flowed within. The water striding river expanded and split. Rather than being located only in one small part of my body, it suffused each and every meridian, fueled by the Heart of Rainfall.


    So this was, I realized, the unique nature of a formless path. The other miasmas were forced into the confines of the path that Ceirra had set for martial artists, the physical and spiritual biology that she had designed. But a formless practitioner chose their own path, remade themselves to suit their will.


    Perhaps this was the true reason it was unorthodox: formless practitioners tore down the very designs of divinity. Both my power and my control over it increased exponentially, and Cyrus¡¯ grip on his own sanity became firmer. If we succeeded in joining the final dantian to the system, I knew he would be able to return.


    I could feel my bones crack and sway under the pressure of the rivers, turbid energies roiling within me. I still leaked miasma, and would do so for the rest of my life unless Cyrus truly regained control. My soul continued to melt into itself, and I knew the pivotal moment had arrived.


    My senses stretched up to the cerebral meridian, noting the damage and repair it had undergone. The Downpour Sect actually had few suitable techniques for the cerebral dantian, as we excelled in the domains of the heart and the body. There had only been one at the pinnacle of quality, suitable for a core that one could take to immortality.


    It was a technique that my master had not wished me to learn, because it was a technique which should never be practiced or used. I had of course done so anyway.


    It was still difficult to say whether I regretted it or not. Another part of me certainly did.


    The technique was the Soul Severance Art. It allowed its user to remove portions of their own soul to use as weapons and constructs. As the soul could not regrow, use of the technique had left deep scars upon me and annihilated a good deal of my lifespan. It was the reason I had been at the edge of madness for so long, and why my soul was so small and scarred. I did not even still have the original soul sword I had sliced away, and my soul was so damaged that I dared not ever use the technique again.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    But it still remained the only suitable technique for ascension that I knew, and my overuse of it had led me to understand it greatly. I activated the technique as I pushed the final treasure into my cerebral dantian.


    My senses strained, and I felt my control over my soul increase. As a formless technique, the Soul Severance Art in fact related to controlling the shape of one¡¯s soul, and using that to split off smaller chunks that were also controllable.


    Formless arts did not all need to fundamentally relate to water. That was simply a habit of the Downpour Sect, one that my master and my companions had passed on to me. The techniques simply made more sense when I related them to things that I understood. Unlike the Heart of Rainfall and the Water Striding Steps, the Soul Severance Art was not created by our sect. We had acquired it by trading techniques with another formless sect, though I knew not how they envisioned the arts. But it had not been designed based upon insights about the flow of water.


    Still, I wanted it to be. I could not help but tie my insights on techniques to the liquid. Whenever I closed my eyes, I still found myself back within the Downpour, watching the rain through the windows of the sect.


    Ever since he was a child, it had always fascinated Jin Luo. He had watched the clouds, the raindrops, the rivers and lakes which constantly formed and reformed as they sank into the mud.


    To me, the Soul Severance Art was that very diversion and splitting of rivers, tributaries which broke apart, never to recombine until they either sank down to the depths of the earth or crashed into the ocean.


    The repaired fracture tore apart earlier than I had expected, causing chaos to resound throughout my body. A flicker of sanguine miasma appeared, and I had to split my attention to suppress it while still grinding away at my cerebral dantian. My soul continued to shape and reshape itself under the influence of the art, contorting like a puddle hit by a rock.


    I heard another scream in the distance, the stress and pain dragging it from me as if some integral piece of myself was being stolen. Spikes dug into my bones, my flesh feeling like it was raked with embers. Fingers dug into my eyeballs, and I could feel my own hands wrenching them from my sockets as the soul severance art continued to become one with my final core. Suddenly, the river finally split, and I screamed once more as I lost all control of my body and my Soul Severing Core fit into every single meridian node in my body.


    I was one with my body and my soul, the inside of my body having become the Downpour itself. I felt control over every aspect of my being, and suddenly knew that in slight ways, I could shift the shape of my body as if I was a Tovus. It was a formless constitution, one beyond that of a core formation practitioner.


    I laughed, realizing that I had finally succeeded. I was a spirit refiner, that final step taken. I had overcome the bottleneck without dying or being crippled, and I had given myself a new lease on life, and new improvement to my lifespan. As a spirit refiner, I would have at least another decade to live.


    A smile lit up my face, and I opened my eyes, returning from my meditation to become part of the world around me once more. Before me sat Rachel, who rested in a similar pose. She gave me a congratulatory smile.


    ¡°It seems you succeeded,¡± she said.


    ¡°I have.¡±


    A slight shadow was cast upon her expression.


    ¡°Are you¡­ yourself again?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I believe so. I¡¯m no longer thinking of myself in the third person, at least.¡±


    She sighed, a weight clearly leaving her shoulders.


    ¡°Good. Surrender is a death sentence for most. It was good that you were able to advance.¡±


    I nodded in response, still distracted by the change in my very being. I held a hand up before my eyes. My hand was strong and firm, the dark skin calloused and weathered by decades of training. I shifted the course of the rivers within, severing some tributaries and creating others. Before my eyes, my hand shifted, becoming thinner and more delicate, and then far longer and bulkier than it had ever been.


    I could only perform minor changes, and not drastically shift my features, but the ability would still be incredibly useful, particularly as a combat trick to lengthen and shorten my arms and legs. The spirit refinement realm truly was a different world to anything before it.


    I smiled again, closing my fist after returning it to its natural state. My ambitions would be far easier to realize as a spirit refiner, but more than anything, the advancement had brought to mind a feeling I had not felt in a very long time. The joy I had once felt at taking a step further down the path. I closed my eyes for a moment and remembered the past.


    Surrender: [The nature of surrender is largely secret information within sects with ancient roots. It is a rare occurrence where a martial artist loses their grip on their own power, but are able to regain themselves by allowing it to influence their minds. For most miasmas, this influence drastically shifts their personality according to its nature. Surrender for formless miasma is said to be the easiest to return from, as it often manifests as the affected user attempting to act how they would normally, or how society wishes them to. Because of their affected minds, surrendered individuals face a heightened flow of miasma that makes them more powerful, but also causes damage to their soul that will ultimately kill them within a week in most cases. For those who have weak or damaged souls, this can occur far more rapidly. For this reason, if a surrendered individual does not regain control within this time, they will die. In ancient times, those who surrendered were generally used as elite suicide troops, as they were more powerful than usual, and returning from surrender was not considered a likely occurrence. Surrendered sanguine practitioners are usually immediately killed by those around them, even by their own sect members, though the particular reason for this has been largely lost to time.]

 76- Jihan Lee

    Basements, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    With my advancement complete, I could not help but feel very relaxed. There was no tenseness to my muscles, and I felt as if I had the energy to fight off entire armies. I knew that our current situation was not lacking in peril, but somehow I had the strong feeling that the solution would be trivial.


    ¡°Cyrus?¡± asked Rachel, drawing my attention back. ¡°We should probably get going before the alarm actually gets sent out to the Justice Office.¡±


    I nodded. As I turned to the door, my eyes flagged on the form of the martial artist who had been strapped in for surgery. I had managed to avoid killing him despite my mental fugue, but he remained strapped down and gagged. The straps were metal, and appeared to be very hard and firm. Now that I was paying attention, I could tell that the strength he was using to tear and break free was comparable to my own power.


    I glanced over to Rachel, who sighed.


    ¡°It¡¯s not a good idea,¡± she said.


    ¡°What stage is he on?¡±


    ¡°...does it matter?¡±


    I gave no response and she sighed.


    ¡°We really shouldn¡¯t do this, but fine. He¡¯s a spirit refiner and a sanguine practitioner.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow in surprise.


    ¡°Sanguine?¡± I asked.


    Rachel nodded.


    ¡°There¡¯s no record of his existence in the public database, so I expect he was caught soon after entering the station. He¡¯s been in this facility for over a year now.¡±


    ¡°Any indication on which organization he learned his arts from?¡±


    She shook her head.


    ¡°All it says is that his name is Jihan Lee.¡±


    ¡°I see¡­¡±


    I rubbed my chin, considering the possibility. Recruiting another spirit refiner for the sect would certainly be very helpful for us. Since he was an unorthodox practitioner, we would be the only martial organization with any strength that he could hope to join on the station, anyway. Taking test subjects away from the facility would certainly worsen issues with the government, but I suspected that ship had already long sailed.


    I decided to give the man an opportunity to persuade me. I walked over and removed the metal cords binding his mouth and throat. He coughed and sputtered as it was removed, before giving me a wide smile.


    Jihan Lee was a fairly unobtrusive looking sei man, though he had delicate features that made him look fairly refined. He had a very practiced smile, something that was obvious from the look in his eyes. Still, I could tell that he was truly grateful for removing the gag, and hopeful that I might rescue him.


    ¡°Thank you, Mister Cyrus, was it? I would appreciate assistance with my bonds as well, if you would.¡±


    ¡°That is my name, yes. Are you a member of the Lee family?¡±


    He nodded fervently.


    ¡°Our name still resounds around the martial world, even centuries after our departure from it. My name is Jihan Lee, squadron leader of the great Lee Clan.¡±


    I let him blabber, not caring about the details. While the Lee Clan was often vilified by popular culture, in the Downpour Sect we had a more positive opinion. Our forces had once been allies, and I knew that the rumors of blood sacrifices they performed were far overstated. Such rites were only performed with volunteers or in acts of desperation.


    ¡°What brought such a powerful member of the clan to Tseludia?¡± asked Rachel, curiously.


    Jihan¡¯s expression became more serious as if he had remembered something unpleasant.


    ¡°We heard that a number of Reth had disappeared in the area. I was asked to investigate, since a martial artist can move around much more openly than they can.¡± He laughed sharply. ¡°Less than a week after my investigation began I went to sleep and woke up in restraints.¡±


    That made sense. As they worshiped the same deity, the Lee Clan were the only Seiyal to have a positive relationship with the Reth. While we had no dispute with them, the Downpour Sect had not cared whether they lived or died. We did not wish for the orthodox forces to focus on us.


    By doing so, we had believed we could forestall an attack by Sunlit Hall forever, due to the Downpour¡¯s natural defenses. Ultimately, however, we had not been able to put it off forever. When our allies had all fled or surrendered, they had come for us.


    Perhaps I would still be living a contented life inside the sect if my forebears had joined the Lee Clan and the Reth in that war, so long ago.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    ¡°Why are you being so open with us?¡± I asked, curious.


    Jihan laughed, meeting my gaze.


    ¡°I recognized your arts from the descriptions. You¡¯re from the Downpour Sect, right? I remember we were allies.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help but chuckle darkly. It seemed he didn¡¯t know. Putting aside the matter of how we had allowed their enemies to force their exile from our homeworld, I decided to inform him.


    ¡°The Downpour Sect is long destroyed, Jihan. I lead a different force now.¡±


    He winced, clearly capable of reading the mood.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear that. Another force, you said? You can¡¯t have joined the Hadal Clan, right?¡±


    Rachel snickered at that, and I gave her a glare.


    ¡°They tried, actually, though there was clearly internal dispute over the matter. No, my Redwater Sect is an independent force.¡±


    At that, Jihan smirked.


    ¡°So you agreed to do their dirty work for them, and they let you remain independent in name for a time.¡±


    ¡°Something along those lines,¡± I agreed.


    Though he liked to hear the sound of his own voice, I could tell that Jihan was an observant man. He was definitely one who had been groomed for a high position by his clan. Certainly a high ranking scion. This meant that I could not truly poach him from them, but it did grant me a different sort of opportunity.


    ¡°We can grant you freedom, but you¡¯ll need to give us something in return.¡±


    Rachel gave me a sharp look, and I returned it. She sighed, and nodded assent. I had come to know her fairly well, and felt I could read from her body language what she was indicating. She was not an uncaring person, just a practical one, just like myself. If we rescued one, we might as well rescue the others as well.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± he asked. ¡°I would offer you natural treasures, but I can tell you won¡¯t be in need of any yourself. Unless they¡¯re for her?¡± he asked, glancing at Rachel.


    I shook my head.


    ¡°I need two decades.¡±


    ¡°Two¡­¡± he was confused for a moment, and then he caught on. ¡°You want my service,¡± he finally said.


    I smiled.


    ¡°I could use another spirit refiner. I can¡¯t steal you from your clan, but I believe you can spare me some time. You should have plenty remaining, after all. At our level even unorthodox practitioners have far too much of it.¡±


    There were few who had received as much damage to their soul as I. A spirit refiner who looked as young as Jihan Lee did likely had at least a century or more remaining in his life span. He gritted his teeth. Even if he did have the time to spare, twenty years was not nothing.


    ¡°How about ten? If you rescue me and my people, I will grant you ten years of service.¡±


    He really wasn¡¯t in any position to argue, but I was in a rather good mood, and was intending to rescue all the Canvasians in the facility anyway. I would have wanted to save the Staiven as well, but interfering in the matters of their own people was a line I dared not cross. Particularly since freeing them would reveal a truth capable of creating a vast rift between the people and the government. I would not be able to escape the reprisal I would face in such a scenario.


    I was honestly unsure why Rachel did not want me to do so. After all, she had told me her ultimate goal was to topple the galactic powers. Perhaps she suspected they would simply kill everyone on the station rather than let the information escape. She was perhaps the only one on the station who would be capable of surviving such a thing.


    ¡°I can save the others imprisoned here, but I cannot promise all of your people are still alive. You have been here for quite a while, after all. And how does fifteen years sound?¡±


    It was the number I had been wishing for in the first place. Between ten and fourteen years was how long it would take for forces in the station to acquire reinforcements. I would not be surprised if the Celans or the Hadal Clan to request some from their backers at some point in the near future. Perhaps even the other forces of the underworld would do the same if the current disputes spiraled even further out of control. The Hadal Clan had attempted to deescalate by leaving us to deal with our own reprisal against the Celans, but tensions between the two forces remained balanced on a tight wire. The fires of a gang war could flare at any moment due to a variable I could not hope to expect.


    With another spirit refiner at my back during the upcoming and future waves of conflict, I would feel much more secure. If I could also recruit his men, likely far better trained than my own existing force, our sect could become a real player on the field much sooner than I and Rachel had previously anticipated. Though she was wary about reprisal from the government, I trusted in her ability to handle their attentions.


    It was a gamble to be sure, but one I was willing to take. The fact that it was the ethical decision was merely a bonus.


    ¡°I accept,¡± said Jihan, not willing to haggle too much.


    He must know that freeing the rest would take time, and if we dallied too long, the Justice Office might arrive.


    ¡°Swear on the name of your goddess,¡± Rachel ordered.


    He sighed, and nodded assent.


    ¡°By the name of the great goddess, Lady Saaya of Shadows, I, Jihan Lee of the Lee Clan, swear to serve loyally to Cyrus of the Downpour and the Redwater Sect, should he rescue myself and my remaining companions from this place.¡±


    It was a good oath, and as a member of the Lee Clan he could be trusted to uphold his honor. They cared deeply about such things, contrary to their reputation. I nodded to him, and turned to Rachel.


    ¡°How do we release him?¡± I asked.


    Theatrically, she held a hand out towards him, and a yellow mist arose in the air around us. It swirled in the air as her hair arose, the mist forming esoteric shapes and patterns as she contorted her body in a bizarre dance, slowly approaching him. She made one final motion, and the mist disappeared. The restraints slid back with a click. She then turned to me.


    ¡°They¡¯re connected to the network,¡± she said.


    ¡°I see,¡± I replied.


    Jihan slowly stood up, stretching his arms and legs. He slid to the floor and bowed to the two of us. He looked slightly reverentially at Rachel.


    ¡°I thank the two of you for your assistance, and look forward to working together. I have never witnessed such a powerful extant practitioner before.¡±


    I could see a sparkle in Rachel¡¯s eyes as she inspected him.


    ¡°Be aware that this was still a poor idea, Cyrus. Still¡­¡±


    ¡°I think it¡¯ll be worth it,¡± I said.


    She shrugged.


    ¡°I hope so.¡±


    The Lee Clan: [One of the most powerful martial organizations who practice sanguine arts, the Lee Clan is a family that are fervent devotees of the goddess Saaya. As both unorthodox practitioners and ''heretics'', they are one of Sunlit Hall''s highest priority targets for extermination. The clan originated on the Crucible, and was once one of the most powerful forces on the continent. They steadily lost power and influence over the course of Sunlit Hall''s various crusades. While their influence and finances were crippled, the foundation of their martial strength was never shattered. Several centuries ago the clan fled Canvas with the Reth, and their current whereabouts are largely unknown. Members of the Lee Clan are occasionally still used to perform the role of villains in media. This is not only because of Sunlit Hall propaganda, but also because their unorthodox sanguine arts involve mutilation of both themselves and others. For this reason they are seen as forces of evil.]

 77- Prison Break

    Basements, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    ¡°We should try to escape as soon as possible,¡± Rachel reminded me, and I nodded in response.


    ¡°Would it be better to split up to free as many as possible?¡± I asked.


    We were making our way at high speed down the halls. The operating room we had just left was in the part of the facility dedicated to the Elder Staiven, and the only reason that Jihan had been placed there was because the surgery they were performing involved a Staiven as well.


    ¡°Will we not need the Lady Extant to dispel the bindings?¡± asked Jihan.


    I couldn¡¯t help but give him an odd look. Had he really believed the theatrics Rachel had performed on his own bonds? I supposed it was reasonable, since he was unaware of her true nature.


    Rachel smiled at him, speaking in a sonorous tone, like that of a charlatan.


    ¡°Worry not, my dear Jihan. Provided you or Cyrus is nearby, and chants the incantation, I can open the bonds even from far away.¡±


    Jihan was puzzled.


    ¡°Incantation?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± Rachel called back at him. ¡°It modulates the flow of miasma between the cerebral and central dantians. It can allow an extant practitioner to use their abilities at a greater range.¡±


    ¡°Is that so¡­¡± he muttered.


    For a moment I pondered whether or not to tell him that she was lying, but I decided to let it be. I doubted the misunderstanding would cause any issues, and regardless Rachel would likely be annoyed if I were to ruin her fun.


    ¡°I do think splitting up is a good idea, though,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll lead the both of you down different hallways to rescue them faster. I can get the bindings but you¡¯ll need to get the door.¡±


    Jihan nodded.


    ¡°What¡¯s the incantation?¡±


    Rachel stifled a giggle and then replied without missing a beat.


    ¡°Open sesame.¡±


    ¡°Not even real words?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Just vocal modulation. Just say it as I did.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    We rapidly approached an intersection, and Rachel directed myself and Jihan into different directions.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go with him to keep an eye,¡± she told me, though I knew in reality her conduit would remain in a small pouch under my robes.


    I nodded in response, and split off down the side hallway. As I no longer had to slow myself to let Jihan keep up, I sped up my movement, my Water Striding Steps filling every movement with great alacrity. Now that all of my meridians had merged with my Water Striding Core, the technique was even easier to activate, and far more powerful. It also no longer affected only my legs. Each and every inch of my body shifted in profound ways, and I knew that dodging bullets and weapons would be far easier. It was as if I was everywhere and nowhere within a short radius, and could shift my individual muscles as needed. This power was only enhanced with my ability to control the shape of my body.


    It took mere moments for me to exit the Staiven wing, ending up in what was clearly a different part of the facility. Here the darkness was no longer omnipresent, with small lights set up on spindly stands that created deep shadows in the tunnels. Presumably, the Staiven had wished their captives to be able to see. It made sense. The weaker martial artists would probably be led to various observation and operating rooms rather than strapped to gurneys to move them like more dangerous forces like Jihan would have been. As a spirit refiner, he could easily kill tens of Staiven with just his legs.


    This thought brought another question into my mind. Just how had the Staiven intended to deal with a captive uprising? Their physical bodies were far weaker than those of a martial artist, and they had no machines on the level of the Celans¡¯ enforcers to fight with. Not that an enforcer would be useful, given the right confines of the facility¡¯s tunnels. I was certain that they had some sort of countermeasure somewhere.


    ¡°What do they intend to do in case of a breakout?¡± I asked the empty air.


    I immediately received a reply through the usual whisper in my ear.


    ¡°All of their security information is held in a database these credentials did not have access to, so I¡¯m not sure. I do know that they felt confident in whatever it was, though.¡±This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°Yet another reason for us to leave quickly,¡± I said.


    Rachel¡¯s voice snorted.


    ¡°And yet here you are, taking the time to free every single person.¡±


    I didn¡¯t dispute the gripe, since it was true, and my actions were slightly out of character for myself.


    ¡°First occupied room should be on the right.¡±


    The hatch opened at my approach, and inside I found a young man with his arms locked behind his back. The room was something of a high tech dungeon equivalent. It was clearly less comfortable than Perivar¡¯s own room had been, with only a small bed sticking out of the wall and a toilet that had been lacking in the Staiven room.


    The man looked up in surprise at my appearance. He could easily tell I was no Staiven, though my mask and dark robes were surely odd to his senses.


    ¡°Come with me,¡± I ordered, leaving the room again. I could hear a clicking noise behind me as his bonds unlocked and fell off, but I simply continued onward to the next room. The man called out to me in surprise and curiosity.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± he asked.


    I did not bother looking back to him, merely continuing forward to the next open door.


    ¡°Does it matter?¡± I responded.


    He laughed.


    ¡°I suppose not.¡±


    Rachel quickly opened the hatches and restraints on the imprisoned test subjects, and they slowly began to mill around the hallway in confusion, instinctively looking to myself for guidance. I could tell that they wished for escape, but were clearly still fearful of reprisal. They were a bit less than two dozen in number, and I saw that they were of a mix of ethnicities. Some of them looked very healthy, while others had clearly been here for years or more. I noticed, to my curiosity, that while the captives featured levels of martial arts ranging from mortal to core formation, not one of them was in the spirit refinement realm. Perhaps Jihan had been the only one, or perhaps the others were in the other containment block for martial artists, the one that he had been sent to retrieve.


    ¡°If you wish to be free, I can offer this to you,¡± I said.


    My voice boomed, clearly enhanced by Rachel¡¯s abilities. There was a slight clamor, which I ignored. I did not care how they felt or whether they trusted me or not.


    ¡°Do any of you know the way to the lobby?¡± I asked.


    A few of the captives raised their hands, and I pointed at them.


    ¡°Good. You lead the rest to the lobby. Some of my forces are there defending it. We will leave after we bring the rest of the subjects there.¡±


    Immediately after finishing the instruction, I dashed deeper down the corridor, heading towards the next section of captives.


    ¡°Do you intend to save the Reth as well?¡± Rachel asked.


    I had to seriously consider the matter. Reth were an issue. While I did not personally mind them, I had heard that many of their number hated all Seiyal, and I could not trust many of my subordinates not to kill them on sight, much less the other captives. We had not bothered to seed out worshippers of Ceirra when recruiting talents for the sect.


    ¡°Let¡¯s save them,¡± I said finally. ¡°We can leave them for Jihan to manage, and perhaps there is some utility we can leverage from them.¡±


    ¡°Take a left at the next intersection, then.¡±


    I nodded and followed her directions. I had passed through a great deal of tunnels by this point, and had found the facility to be much larger than one would expect given the number of test subjects it contained. It was clear that a great number of the scientists and security guards actually lived within the place, and I had passed through a number of small housing areas. It seemed that they mostly lived and worked within their own parts of the facility. I had to question the design of this place.


    I soon found myself in another hallway like any of the others. Unlike the area containing martial artists, this one was left in pitch darkness like the rest of the facility, and otherwise appeared identical to the other featureless corridors. The point lights that Rachel had summoned continued to float around me, the only reason I could see where I was going.


    I approached one of the dark hatches, which slid away like all the others before it. I peered inside, and was immediately met with my first glance of the mysterious race.


    The Reth appeared like a wretched, emaciated figure, very slim and spindly, her rib bones visibly protruding even through her clothing. I would have thought her to be starved had I not known that this was normal for her people. She seemed to be a woman, judging by her soft features and the presence of breasts on her too slender form. She had a dark gray, somewhat ashen skin which hugged her bones and veins tightly, and long black hair which draped down her back like vines down a tree. She had a pair of red eyes that reflected the light back, seeming to glow. Her nose was crooked, her nails extending out like dark talons. Had she been a Seiyal, I would have thought them to be painted. I could see why they had once been mistaken for ghosts or wights upon first contact with my ancestors.


    She looked up at me, surprised and shaken by the faceless figure before her. I looked down to where she lay on the bed, and realized that unless she happened to speak seiyin, I would have no way to communicate with her.


    ¡°Rachel, do you know how to speak Reth?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I do not,¡± she said.


    For a moment, all we could hear was some noise echoing from far down the tunnels.


    Reth (Species): [One of the three races created upon Canvas, the Reth are the creations of Saaya. Like the Seiyal, they are a humanoid race, and were specifically designed to be very hardy creatures. They can survive in extreme high and low pressure, and are capable of regrowing all of their limbs. They are even capable of surviving within the void of space. Despite this, their homeland on Canvas was very extreme, and they can only consume foods from there, or that have been treated with certain exotic chemicals, though advanced races such as the Staiven are capable of synthesizing them for a cost. After being driven away from their homeworld, it is said that they have become a nomadic people, defended by their goddess who is said to travel along with them. The Staiven have kept the locations that the Reth were moved to fairly secret from the Seiyal, as part of a treaty that was signed after first contact was made. The Reth have their own progression system, and unlike that of the Seiyal and Staiven, theirs solely utilizes sanguine miasma.]

 78- Trueborn

    Basements, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Over the years, Rachel had absorbed a frankly astonishing amount of information. She had taken in copies of almost all the information her people had acquired about the Pantheonic Territory prior to her infiltration, and she had gathered all the information available on the parts of Tseludia¡¯s network that she was able to access. Within all of that, there was very little on the Reth. Most of what she knew came from records left on Canvas itself, a place where the ruling power had engaged in a practice of destroying the remaining records of the exiled people.


    Moreover, as an insular, largely nomadic culture ever since entering the galactic community, when members of the Reth entered and left stations, they rarely left behind their own records on the public network. In addition, the Pantheonic Government had not bothered to propagate their own records on the matter to the various systems. If the Reth wished to deal with a specific arm of their government, they would need to learn how to speak Staiven.


    Despite the fact that Rachel could not speak her language, she was hopeful that because of this, she and the Reth woman here might be able to communicate with one another.


    ¡°I thought you said you were able to instantly learn any language that you need to,¡± asked Cyrus, surprised.


    ¡°There simply aren¡¯t enough records on the language of Reth for me to use. I only know a few scattered words, not enough for any sort of meaningful communication.¡±


    ¡°Should I just drag her out and hope she understands my body language?¡±


    Rachel paused to consider it, and found that it was likely a poor idea that would waste a lot of time.


    ¡°No, let me try something first. There¡¯s a chance she speaks Staiven.¡±


    Cyrus simply nodded in assent.


    Before she could say a word, however, the Reth woman¡¯s eyes flicked around Cyrus¡¯ form, settling on an area just above his waist, as if she were staring at his abdomen. Something glimmered abstrusely within her vibrant crimson eyes as she stood up. Her eyes did not move from the point they were fixated on.


    ¡°It is an honor,¡± she said, bowing slightly before him, ¡°to meet the Shadow of a Trueborn.¡±


    It was a good thing that Rachel currently had another part of her mind controlling her projection as it moved with Jihan deeper in the facility. If it had been present here, she likely would have gasped in surprise. The Reth woman had been speaking English. It was heavily accented, and many centuries out of date behind the Pleiadian Standard dialect, but it was undeniable. This was the language Rachel had spoken back when she had been human.


    It was initially difficult to understand why the woman would be referring to Cyrus in such a manner, and she could tell that Cyrus himself was also taken aback.


    ¡°Rachel,¡± he whispered, ¡°What did she say?¡±


    Hearing the language the woman was speaking Rachel was able to piece together another item of information. The woman had been looking just about Cyrus¡¯ waist, the part of the body where her conduit rested upon Cyrus¡¯ back.


    Despite the fact that she was capable of using all the time in the world that she needed to think, Rachel had never been the type to think too much before she acted. Ignoring Cyrus¡¯ question, she summoned another projection within the room. Unlike the one with Jihan, this projection was not altered to make her look like a Seiyal, but rather true, original appearance. The body of a human.


    The woman shivered, as if in exhilaration, her attention shifting to look at the body. She sighed and laughed, and Rachel could truly not comprehend what was going through her mind which caused her to act in such a way. Had she gone mad from confinement? No, that couldn¡¯t be it, Rachel thought. There was still the matter of the language she was speaking. Just how had she learned it?


    ¡°So you really were one of them,¡± the Reth woman breathed out, clearly just as if not more astonished than Rachel was.


    Why do you call humans trueborn?¡± Rachel asked, trying to get to the core of the matter. To the side, Cyrus was watching the conversation with confusion. She supposed he was shocked not only by her projection, but also by the fact that she had claimed she didn¡¯t speak Reth and then began to easily converse in a language he didn¡¯t know. She would explain it all to him later. For now, receiving answers for herself was more important.


    The Reth woman shivered, and then responded.


    ¡°Lady Shade, this one¡¯s name is Irid, and we refer to your former self as trueborn because you are those born from the great mother goddess¡¯ domain.¡±


    Rachel frowned. Something wasn¡¯t adding up.


    ¡°¡®Great mother goddess?¡¯ I thought that this term, for the Reth, would refer to Saaya, not Delithia.¡±Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    Iris shook her head.


    ¡°Saaya is our mother goddess, but Lady Delithia is the Great Mother. She is a higher power, a great inspiration to our own creator. Our creation was inspired by the form of your own people, after all. His as well,¡± she said, motioning to Cyrus. ¡°But the demoness who created the Seiyal was a plagiarist. Not like our own mother.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± said Rachel, not wanting to ask about the Reth¡¯s odd consideration for the intellectual property of deities. ¡°Have your people interacted with Delithia yourselves, then? Is she the one who taught you this language?¡±


    ¡°It was one of your fellows, Great Shade of a Trueborn. He told us that his name is Nathan Crawford.¡±


    It was then that Rachel understood what had happened. Another Terran had encountered the Reth soon after their exile, and influenced their religious beliefs so that they revered humanity, and so that they all knew at least one language that could be used to communicate with other Terrans. She couldn¡¯t help but smile at the realization.


    Quickly searching her database, she found that as of five decades ago, when she had last visited the Pleiades, there were three Nathan Crawfords recorded as having been uplifted. Of them, two had never left the collective, while one had last been recorded a bit over three and a half centuries ago. That matched with the exile of the Reth.


    Once, Rachel would have thought it was wrong to influence another culture in such a self serving manner. But the experience of having her race hunted down and being forced to give up all of her prior dreams and aspirations had changed her. Now, she only felt proud of her comrade¡¯s achievement. Turning an entire race into an ally was already incredibly useful to the war effort, much less one such as the Reth who had both a progression system and an ascendant guarding them.


    ¡°Well then, Irid,¡± she said, ¡°Would you like to be freed?¡±


    Irid smiled, her discolored teeth and sunken cheeks making the expression seem somewhat ominous.


    ¡°I would like nothing more than to be freed by your hand, Lady Shade.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d prefer if you were to call me Rachel.¡±


    Irid bowed.


    ¡°It is an honor to call you by your name, Lady Rachel.¡±


    Rachel had become used to the respect that the Seiyal gave her title of Vice Sect Leader, but she had to admit there was something special about the near theological nature of Irid¡¯s reverence. She rather enjoyed the feeling.


    With a wave of her hand, Irid¡¯s bonds released, and the woman stretched out her arms, enjoying the increased ability to move her arms.


    ¡°Will you be freeing the others as well?¡± she asked.


    Rachel nodded.


    ¡°We¡¯re rescuing all the Canvasians who were locked up here. Including the force that was sent by the Lee Clan to rescue you.¡±


    ¡°I thank you, Lady Rachel, for your great generosity to us.¡±


    Rachel puffed her chest out. She could really get into this role.


    ¡°It is no issue.¡±


    She glanced at Cyrus, who was giving the two of them very odd looks. Rachel suddenly realized that Irid had been ignoring him essentially the entire time. She supposed that it didn¡¯t matter. It was not as if the two of them could even communicate with one another, regardless. She turned to him, speaking in seiyin.


    ¡°It turns out that we had a different language in common. I¡¯ll explain in greater detail later on, but the Reth should be willing to help us out. The result should be just as acquiring Jihan¡¯s assistance.¡±


    Cyrus nodded appreciatively, stepped out of the room.


    ¡°Good work. Will you have to speak with the rest?¡±


    ¡°Irid here should be able to speak with them as we move. We should go back, Jihan is getting the last of the Seiyal as we speak.¡±


    With that, Rachel quickly asked Irid to speak with the rest, and they moved through the rooms, freeing all seven of the Reth who had been confined within the facility.


    Suddenly, a burst of knowledge was flagged with priority when her second consciousness had a realization. They had seen every Seiyal within the facility, and while there were martial artists ranging between mortal to core formation across the facility, there had only been one single spirit refiner: Jihan Lee himself. Rachel could not help but find herself feeling somewhat suspicious. Of all the Seiyal trapped in the facility, there had only been one single spirit refiner, and he had by chance been placed in an operating room alongside Ester Perivar, the one they had been hunting. What were the odds of something like that happening, at just the perfect time?


    Between this and the mysterious assistance she had received in preventing the alarm, she could not help but feel as if she were a marionette on a string, dancing to the puppetmaster¡¯s tune. It was a feeling she could not help but despise. The person who had sent her that message within the network- who were they really? Were they manipulating events on the station through network infiltration? If so, were they inside this facility, or had they long infiltrated far deeper than she herself had? What reason would they even have to manipulate events in such a way?


    Moreover, was this individual a Shade, or were they a deity? The question chilled each of her consciousnesses, even the one who was merely monitoring the network.


    Delithia: [Along with Relya the Sunweaver, goddess of the Escalos, Delithia is one of the oldest and most powerful ascendants in the known universe. Like Relya, it is said that Delithia had her own associated species, though they are said to be long extinct. Legends of various civilizations say that Delithia entered this universe through the depths of the endless ocean, which has become the ''holy land'' of her cult, whose members are known as Depthists. The cult has yet to discover this claimed ''ocean of boundless depths''. Delithia is an avowed enemy of all Osine nations, and her followers are targets for elimination by their forces. The Depths Cult is also illegal within the Pantheonic Territory, though the government does not usually put too much effort in exterminating them, so the cult widely exists as an underworld organization, running black markets across the territory. A disproportionately high number of the cult''s followers among races with progression systems are those who use sanguine miasma. Delithia''s current location and activities are unknown to all, though it is rumored that she occasionally sends messages to her more devoted followers.]

 79- Death Trap

    Basements, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Kein Huang was truly exhausted. First there were several waves of Staiven security forces, where he had been shot twice and was forced to keep moving despite that. He had received a few minutes of respite, but that was ruined when tens of martial artists began milling around the lobby, appearing as if out of nowhere. Apparently, the Sect Leader had stumbled upon them and decided to free them all. Kein couldn¡¯t blame him for that, and actually somewhat admired the noble deed.


    More than anything, he was glad to know that the Sect Leader had not yet gone mad. He would have slaughtered them rather than free them had that been the case.


    Kein did know that this might cause massive issues for the sect, however. Idly he wondered whether or not they would be able to weather the pressure from the government. Knowing what he did of Rachel, he suspected that she would not have chosen to save them. He knew full well just how much that deed would threaten them all. Still, it was the right thing to do in his estimation, regardless of the cost.


    The escaped captives crowded the lobby, creating a bustling clamor which was giving Kein a serious headache. There were more people present than could comfortably fit inside the room. Kein worried that the security force might attack again soon, and many of the weaker martial artists would simply die without the ability to defend themselves effectively.


    Beside him, Ran was also resting herself. While her wounds were less severe than his own, he knew that they would still sap at her internal energy. By the time they escaped, the two of them might need to be dragged back to the sect headquarters. Cinto was assisting in controlling order among the antsy former test subjects. If Kein was in better condition, he likely would have been performing a similar role.


    It was difficult for him to tell the passage of time. One side effect of his use of genesis miasma to ignore his wounds was the production of endorphins and adrenaline, as he had once heard the reason described. Regardless of its origin, Kein found that his perception of time seemed to be distorted somewhat. He felt as if the wait for his superiors was taking hours, but somehow the time also seemed to pass in an instant.


    His attention was also drawn to the oddest details. He noticed the discolored tan of the clothing that the test subjects had been outfitted with, further evidence of the Staiven lack of aesthetic sensibilities. He noticed how sterile and clean the room smelled, despite the mass of Seiyal bodies milling around within. That detail flagged in his mind, and he realized that something was wrong with the scent. Bodies were not scentless, he knew. There was no explanation for the smell that he could think of, unless there was something covering it up.


    He swore, an immediate possibility coming to mind. Ran looked over, surprised at the outburst of emotion.


    ¡°What happened?¡± she asked, springing to attention. ¡°Are they here?¡±


    ¡°They might be. Smell the air.¡±


    Ran breathed in, and then quickly realized the issue.


    ¡°The scent is muted¡­ Do you believe it to be poison?¡±


    Kein nodded.


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard the Staiven appreciate such dishonorable tactics. It would be odd if a few guards were the only defenses that this place has, in the first place.¡±


    ¡°Even if it is poison, I¡¯m unsure whether there might be anything we can do about it.¡±


    The two stood in silence for a few moments, knowing the truth to that statement. After all, they needed to defend the lobby, or they would never be able to escape the facility. Perhaps, however, they could move some of the weaker martial artists away from danger.


    Kein made his way through the crowd. The individual martial artists parted to either side of him, awed both by his size and martial strength. There were few of the core formation realm among their number, and even those naturally deferred to Kein, who was with the group that had rescued them. He passed through their ranks, making his way to where Cinto stood. He did not know the levels of the martial artists who had been rescued, and given the injuries himself and Ran currently held, Cinto was left as the currently strongest martial artist in the room, as far as he was concerned. In addition, he knew that she was good at handling people. While he was aware that her mentality was currently not the strongest, she was the only person he could go to.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    As Kein approached, Cinto noticed him, and turned to meet his gaze.


    ¡°There is an issue,¡± he said, and Cinto nodded.


    ¡°So you noticed it as well. But we can¡¯t stop defending the lobby.¡±


    ¡°We ourselves need to remain, as well as perhaps the strongest among the captives,¡± he said. ¡°But I believe it would best befit the weak to move into the halls, away from this room. Even if it isn¡¯t actually poison, they would still likely get in the way of any fighting.¡±


    Cinto nodded, finding herself in agreement with him.


    ¡°You wished me to handle this?¡± she asked.


    Kein nodded, not bothering to hide the weariness he felt must be clearly present on his face.


    ¡°I find myself hanging by a thread,¡± he said.


    ¡°You just need to hang on for a few more minutes.¡±


    Leaving the matter at that, Cinto began calling out to those in the room, directing them to different locations. Her experience in the past few weeks had created a change in her, Kein had come to realize. Back when they had both served under Hidoro, she had been quieter and much less forceful. She had avoided her fellow gangsters, only associating with Hidoro himself. She only spoke to the others when needed.


    Kein had no way of discerning whether the shift was due to her time as a teacher at the martial academy or the experience as the instructor for the large group of new disciples. Perhaps it was simply the fact that she had been named to the position of one of the sect¡¯s Palace Leaders.


    Kein leaned back onto the wall once more as Cinto handled the organization of the room. His eyelids were heavy, and he knew that he only had a few more minutes of consciousness left in him. If the wounds left by Staiven weapons were not cauterized by the intense heat, he would likely have already been dead. Perhaps it was the wounds, or perhaps simply the poison, if that was what the odd scentlessness was caused by.


    Again, he felt a shift, as if a great deal of time had passed in an instant. He was startled to awareness by the crack of gunfire, and a pained shout which clearly emitted from a Seiyal voice. His eyes snapped open, though he had not even realized that at some point they had shut.


    The room was now almost empty. Beside himself, Ran, and Cinto, there were also another four individuals, one of whom was clearly the source of the cry, for he had taken a step backward in pain. Kein¡¯s eyes flashed in the direction from which the cracking sound had emerged, and he saw figures suited up in reflective white garb carrying large rifles of the same color. The figures wore featureless masks of the same material, though unlike Kein¡¯s own, the masks lacked eyeholes. It was clear that they were Staiven, but this garb was far more advanced than that of the previous lobby guards, and their firearms shot out at a far more rapid pace.


    Kein felt a searing pain in his shoulder, the sensation fully awakening him and providing him with a far greater understanding of his situation. His legs and arms were heavy, his miasma moving slowly under his control. He tried to move his right arm, the one that had just been wounded, and found it unresponsive to his command. Enraged, Kein joined the others in charging towards the Staiven.


    At some point, his sword had fallen to the ground, but Kein knew he could fight without it. Another two bullets collided with his body, but by luck, both grazed his body rather than tearing through. He reached their lines right after Cinto and one of the captives did.


    Cinto fought in an efficient manner. In a sword fight, genesis practitioners often liked to take blows to store their energy and enhance their own power. It was Kein¡¯s usual fighting style, but one which could not be transferred over to battle with aliens, as firearms could not be treated in the same manner. In this fight, she was clearly conserving her own energy as she tried to avoid the angle of the gun barrel as she went for the body.


    It struck Kein that it was almost as if she were attempting to replicate Cyrus¡¯ fighting style, despite their differences in miasma and technique.


    The other martial artist appeared to be a manifest practitioner in the core formation realm, and the air around him wavered as fields of energy and bubbling liquid seemed to form and shift around him, throwing off the aim of the Staiven guards. They bubbled and warped the corrugated metal of the ground beneath them like soft metal placed in the bellows. It seemed this man had a technique relating to heat.


    Kein crashed into one of the guards before him, slamming the weak alien back with his fist. The Staiven fell to the ground, wounded. But moments after Ran entered the hallway behind him, he heard a clunking noise as the hatch behind him shut, trapping the four martial artists in what seemed like a death trap.


    Manifest Arts: [An odd martial art, manifest techniques often result in the formation and reformation of materials and energy as if from nowhere. According to modern science, it is believed that this matter and energy emerges from certain separate spacetimes rather than truly forming from nothing. Some say the spacetime in connection is a theorized layer beneath the Spirit World. Because it relates to generation, manifest martial arts techniques can be very odd in combat. Some manifest practitioners summon weapons, heat, stone, or other materials, though they are heavily limited by their realm and specific techniques. Of all the different martial paths, the manifest arts are one of the most difficult to use in combat at lower levels, as most techniques can only be used at higher realms of martial arts. Individual manifest paths might be either orthodox or unorthodox, depending on their nature, that being whether or not the manifest practitioner generates their art in the interior or exterior of their bodies.]

 80- Manifest Projection

    Basements, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Ran¡¯s whole body was slicked with sweat, and she knew the poison had started to set in. The sweat continued to build up under her mask, which she found to be extremely uncomfortable. She had been complaining about the matter all night, though not where the sect leader could hear her. It was best to keep one¡¯s image intact in front of their employer. Poison was a coward¡¯s weapon, a tool of the weak. Though she supposed that the enemies before her were all aliens, and therefore weaklings by default.


    Through poison, the odds were evened, and it simply felt wrong to her. Ran had always been in awe of those with more martial might than her, instinctively flocking to their organizations in order to strengthen herself and her own authority. She supposed that was likely the reason. If her strength could be negated, did all her efforts to improve it have meaning?


    Ran¡¯s mind¡¯s eye flashed back to the body of Yudan, slumped onto the ground before her. Unlike her, Yudan had known his limits, and used them to achieve the best life he could live within his means.


    Returning to the present moment, Ran continued to sprint towards the line of white-clad Staiven guards. Kein, Cinto, and one of the former Captives had all reached the first of them, and had begun the slaughter. The captive had introduced himself to her just several minutes before, claiming his name to be Orion Dinyu. He had claimed he wished to kill as many of the Staiven here as possible before he left, a sentiment she agreed with wholeheartedly. She ran to catch up to the trio, but just as she passed over the threshold of the hatch, it slammed shut behind her, and she whirled in surprise. It had firmly set itself in place, and another tap on its surface was unable to cause any shift. They were locked in. For a moment she considered breaking down the door, but such a sturdy structure of Staiven make would obviously be far harder than both her sword and her bones. Unless she could find a better weapon, such a tactic was beyond her means.


    She turned to inform the others, but quickly realized that they were busy dealing with the guards. Kein had already taken several more wounds, while Cinto and Orion had taken some of their own.


    Ran¡¯s experience in fighting had largely taken place within the bounds of Canvas Town, and she was unused to just how costly it was to fight with aliens. Unlike the sect leader, who had such a powerful formless movement technique, and the vice sect leader who could make herself intangible, most other martial artists could not avoid the threat caused by firearms.


    There was a reason that, despite their weakness, the Staiven had little fear of their control over the station being overthrown.


    At the other end of the hallway, Ran could see a machine being set up. She had no way of discerning its nature, but knew that it had to be dangerous if they were spending time to set it up after springing such an otherwise effective trap on the group.


    She caught up to the battle, directing her miasma to reinforce her skin and muscles, growing them far beyond the power any other path¡¯s practitioners could muster. The guard before her mustered off a shot before she could close the distance. The Staiven was clearly flustered by her swift approach, and the shot went wide. Ran smiled, bloodlust filling her body as she slashed down.


    She was surprised when her weapon clanged against the guard¡¯s armor, having expected to cleave the guard in twain. She cursed as the guard took the opportunity to fire again, getting a good shot off right through her torso. She desperately hoped it had not impacted anything particularly important. If it had missed her most vital organs, she would likely be able to hold out until she could reach a hospital.


    She glanced to her side, watching Cinto breathe heavily after defeating her own opponent, and the manifest artist continuing to summon odd glowing strings from the air which rippled with heat around him. It was as if Orion was a dancer, slinging the strings of energy around while using structures of stone to deflect bullets slightly away from him. One of the shots had clearly impacted him, and his movements had slowed, but not ceased. The string flicked out, tearing through the armor of the guards as if it were composed of paper. Was it weak to heat? Just how could he do it while Ran herself could not?


    She snarled, arcing her sword toward the Staiven¡¯s neck with all her force, aiming in the gap between the helmet and the torso plating. This time it did the trick, and the figure¡¯s head fell to the ground. Ran sighed, thankful for her success.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Her wounds burned, and Ran knew that she was reaching her breaking point. But she could not take a break now, not when the fight was not over and she was without a path of retreat. Unless something happened, she and the others would likely only be able to escape by advancing forwards.


    At the end of the hall, she heard a loud click, and a whir that sounded an awful lot like the noises made by an aero¡¯s engine before it lifted off of the skydock. She couldn¡¯t help but look over to get a better view of the thing.


    It was a machine of the same patchwork, unpleasant colors that were the hallmark of Staiven construction, but this one was covered with tubes and wires. A wide orifice opened from the machine¡¯s side, pointed down towards where the battle was taking place in the hall. The hum continued to grow in intensity, and Ran noticed a steadily growing pressure in the air. Rather than a true pressurized atmosphere, this was more akin to the sense of pressure she could feel from a martial master¡¯s killing intent. It was as if an ethereal force at the edge of perception was triggering some nervousness deep inside of her. She could not help but shift back into another martial stance, though she doubted this machine would be facing her in melee combat.


    A light began to show deep inside of the orifice, filing out of various apertures deep within the machine to form a glowing sphere. The pressure grew in time with the sphere¡¯s expansion, and Ran¡¯s instincts told her to run, though she knew there was no such option.


    As the pressure continued to grow, Ran could see streaks of light begin to splay out from the orifice like a hempen rope being untwined. The streaks arced towards them, spiraling around the center of the room in a beautiful lightshow. One of the streaks contacted Kein¡¯s left arm and he shouted in agony, as if he had dipped the limb into the goals. After the light¡¯s impact passed, she could see that the arm had been excised from his body, cleanly cut away like a branch from a tree. Ran winced at the injury, knowing that even though she was the sort to trade wounds, she might not survive if she was to be hit by the weapon.


    The untwined streaks of light coiled around the room, and the martial artists were forced to dodge and weave to the best of their ability around the glowing lines. Cracks of gunfire resounded as the guards continued to aim their weapons at the group, and Ran hissed as a burning line tore through her left ear. She heard a deep ringing, all the sounds of the world vanishing. Luckily, Ran was used to injury, and the coursing flow of her miasma kept the pain in check.


    Better to be hit by one of the fiery lumps of molten lead than by whatever the entwined lights were. Another of the streaks tore at Orion, and the man dove to the ground, nearly tripping over one of his own stone structures as he did so. The streak missed him by mere centimeters, and Ran noticed that his skin turned slightly purple in the areas that were closest to it.


    Ran was fearful of the machine, but more than that, she was angry. Angry at the Staiven for being cowards who used machinery and poison rather than blades, and herself for being unable to deal with them as easily as she felt she should have been. She stretched her arm back, fueling her shoulder with as much power as she could condense into one movement and then shifted her weight, slinging the sword towards the machine at full force.


    The sword spun in midair, the well-balanced blade able to sustain its momentum quite well. Point-first, it slammed into the shell of the machine to the surprised curses of its Staiven operators. The streaks of light flickered, losing coherence. For a moment Ran had a smug expression, but as the streaks of light lost their solidity, they expanded, taking up far more space. It was as if whatever exotic form of energy was contained within the white beams, it had been greatly condensed down to that size.


    She dodged the expanding cloud of light. While its current state was likely less powerful than before, she could not dare to take it lightly. Her shoulder slammed into the hard metal floor, and she knew the force of the dive might have snapped her bones was her damage mitigation technique not active.


    Ran could see the mouths of her companions moving, and Cinto glanced at her as she spoke, but her ears still rang from her injury, and she could not parse a single word of the dialogue. For a moment she wondered if she had gone deaf.


    Kein charged past her, his bulky form like a warhorse breaking through a line of infantry, tearing right through the cloud as if he felt he could ignore it. She lost track of his location in the haze, her hesitation costing her the opportunity to follow.


    She laid on the ground dumbly for a moment as she watched his charge, feeling a deep respect for his warrior¡¯s spirit.


    Suddenly, a pale hand appeared in her vision, and she grabbed it, finding herself pulled up. A sei man with short hair and soft features appeared before her, giving her a polite smile, before turning to sprint after Kein. Ran knew she had never seen him before, but deep inside, she felt he had to be the most powerful individual she had ever before met.


    Manifest Energy Projection Devices: [A relatively recent Staiven innovation, these machines allow for manifest miasma to generate exotic energies inside the depths of a reactor, allowing for strings of these energies to be formed and directed within a limited area for certain periods of time. The technology is quite bulky and has a limited range, though its output is incredibly powerful, so it has seen some interest for military and security purposes, rather than the mining and scientific purposes for which it was originally developed. After all, it is capable of tearing through nearly anything in its path. However, it can not be scaled down or up, as the exact details of how to control the manifestation are not fully understood. As one might expect, this patent is owned by the church of Fulstovis. Currently, it has only been sold to the Pantheonic Government, though it is expected to make it to wider markets within the next decade.]

 81- Conduit

    Basements, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    When Jihan arrived before the lobby, he had found the hallways surrounding it filled with martial artists milling around in the darkness. Some of them turned in surprise to see the arrival of the final group he was leaving. Some of them called to him happily in greeting, thankful for his rescue of them, though he knew that Rachel had done all the work. He had merely been an escort.


    This brought to mind a question he had. The moment they had split from Cyrus, her physical form had vanished. Was it somehow difficult for her to maintain a physical form, or even the appearance of one? Though he knew little of extant practitioners, he did know that such a problem had to be extremely rare. Just what sort of techniques did the woman practice?


    Still, though her image was absent, Rachel¡¯s voice was still present, and the incantation she had taught him worked perfectly well. All of the martial artists had been freed from their restraints. They all also naturally listened to his commands. Not only was he at a higher realm, he was also someone who had apparently freed them, and who spoke of a method of escape in an authoritative tone.


    ¡°Has something happened?¡± he asked, curious why none of them were entering the lobby.


    ¡°I don¡¯t see any of the Palace Leaders,¡± said Rachel.


    Jihan swept his soul senses over the group, and noticed several individuals in the core formation realm. None of them were wearing the same dark robes and featureless metal mask that the members of the Redwater Sect had been. Jihan stopped a nearby one of the core formers, and asked why they had left the room. Apparently, there was suspected to be poison within the lobby. For some reason, it had not spread to these adjacent hallways.


    ¡°Oh,¡± muttered Rachel, as if she were speaking aloud to herself. ¡°How devious.¡±


    Before Jihan could ask her to clarify what she was referring to, suddenly the hatches on either side of the hallway slammed down, sealing everyone off into the corridor. Shocked exclamations spread around the area, concerned about the development.


    ¡®What¡¯s going on?¡± Jihan asked again, believing that Rachel had somehow noticed something before it had occurred.


    ¡°They¡¯ve turned all the hallways into killboxes,¡± she said. ¡°The Staiven were fed information on our exact locations, and waited until this group was large enough to kill us all in one go. I would recommend breaking the seal on this room. The poison they¡¯ve started to pump in is quite nasty.¡±


    Jihan ran for the door. He spiraled his miasma within the twisted channels he had built within his body. His three cores were at the center of warped masses of red channels, which would have looked more than anything like twisted masses of blood vessels to anyone capable of seeing them. He called on the technique inside of his lower dantian, feeling a surge of energy flash through his body. This technique was very simple, and merely enforced the power of his muscles. The blessing he was using through it was from the spirit of a long-dead immortal practitioner of the genesis attribute, and together they provided him great strength.


    The blood vessels around Jihan¡¯s fists popped as he made contact with the hard material of the hatch, giving him a slight extra boost to his power as he slammed through it, shoving the hatch off of the tracks in the walls, and onto the floor of the hallway outside. He waved the weaker martial artists through, before turning back to face the hatch at the other end of the hall, the one that led to the lobby.


    ¡°Should we look for the Palace Leaders?¡± he asked. ¡°I expect there must have been similar traps in whatever hallways they entered.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Their location was also sent out, so I can tell you they¡¯re in one of the hallways across the lobby from here.¡±


    Jihan was puzzled. Just where was Rachel getting this information from? Was she using some computer device to access the local network? If so, was her body actually not present around her, and she was simply speaking from afar? The mysteries about her continued to pile up, but Jihan knew that it could wait. He sprinted back down the hallway, whose vents still continued to spit out a vile miasmic poison, and used his lower technique once again to tear through another hatch. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    As a spirit refiner, Jihan could keep the technique up indefinitely, but it strained his muscles and flesh, and the longer he used it the more time he would need to spend healing afterwards.


    Ripping the hatch Rachel directed him towards from the wall, to Jihan¡¯s surprise he found himself faced with one of the oddest sights he had ever experienced. An eerie, shimmering haze filled the room. It was clearly not miasma, but instead an odd, ethereal energy.


    ¡°What an odd energy projector,¡± muttered Rachel.


    As he could hardly see due to the haze, Jihan activated his Eye of the Osine, the technique stored in his cerebral dantian. This contract was unique, one of the greatest techniques of the Lee Clan. It involved a contract with one¡¯s own spirit, and allowed practitioners to use the senses of their own soul. With their own eyes, they could see into the spirit world.


    With the assistance of this additional viewpoint, it was far easier to see what was going on. Several martial artists, three of which were clearly the ¡®Palace Leaders¡¯ of the Redwater Clan, and one manifest practitioner, were fighting against a number of white-garbed Staiven. There was something at the end of the hallway covered in a thick haze of ashata, hidden from Jihan¡¯s gaze, and he knew that had to be the source of the glowing energy. He watched as one of the masked martial artists, a tall, very muscular man who was missing an arm, charged through the smoke, burning the top layer of his skin away. Jihan could not help but respect the man¡¯s sense of self-sacrifice, but he could not let him sacrifice himself when Jihan could assist.


    He offered a hand down to help up a female martial artist on the ground, and easily lifted her up as another blood vessel in his arm popped. She was much heavier than he had anticipated, clearly some sort of genesis practitioner. He gave her a comforting smile, and then ran into the haze.


    His skin burned, and Jihan realized that while the energy itself was not composed of miasma, there were definite traces of manifest miasma to it. So this energy had been generated in some way, he thought. Perhaps this was what Rachel meant when she referred to it as an energy projector. He thought he heard her say something, but it was drowned out by the pain, and the torrent of additional sanguine miasma that it granted. He smiled against the agony, as he was inured to far worse than this. He fueled his leg muscles with the miasma, propelling himself in moments through the haze. Behind him, his strides had torn deep hashes into the floor. As he had thought when he decided upon this technique for his lower core: who needed a movement technique when sheer power could accomplish the same effect?


    He grabbed the bulky man as he passed him, quickly dragging him to the edge of the field, and then leapt to deliver a powerful kick to the machine. It sputtered and spit out braided spirals of light, before bursting apart in a torrent of purple miasma. Jihan realized that a sword had been embedded into it, and he pulled it free. It was of decent make, though damaged by the battle. Holding it in his hands, he faced the four Staiven who had been frantically working on the machine before his arrival.


    He smiled at the group, playing with the sword in his hands as he slowly approached them. They took steps backwards, clearly fearful for their lives.


    ¡°Was that all you had?¡± he asked, his words emerging in fluent, though lightly accented, Staiven.


    One of them responded with rapid nods, while the others hesitated. One simply trembled, fearful to even move. It seemed that they knew how to cower before a powerful figure. Jihan had once wondered how it felt to be met with such a fundamentally superior force, but he had felt like these mortals before him when he had met with Her.


    Suddenly, Jihan heard a voice again, Rachel¡¯s voice, now speaking as a whisper in his ears, as if she was leaning over his shoulder. He instinctively shivered, uncomfortable. All thoughts of Her fled his mind.


    ¡°There¡¯s an issue where Cyrus is. I can help you start to evacuate the weaker martial artists to the surface. You and the core formers will need to defend the lobby for another few minutes.¡±


    Jihan nodded.


    ¡°If this is all they can muster,¡± he said, glancing back at the trembling guards, ¡°There will be no issue.¡±


    He raised his sword up, like a butcher preparing to chop his goods.


    Sanguine Arts: [Sanguine miasma''s nature is to serve as a conduit between spacetimes, and serves the role of binding the body to the soul. In essence, there is only one real sanguine art: turning oneself into a conduit, and using it to connect to something in another spacetime. That is to say, that sanguine practitioners contract with spirits and gods, when possible. The difference is in just who they contract. Some practitioners lack such assistance at all, and are forced to simply fuel themselves with the flows of energy within the spirit world, while the most blessed can borrow the favor of an ascendant or Osine. Of course, such favor would destroy the soul of one too weak to handle it. Specific sanguine techniques relate to just what is being enhanced or borrowed through the conduit, and so two practitioners with the same contract but different techniques might use it in very different ways. Due to the particular connection between humanoid bodies and sanguine miasma, all sanguine practitioners are able to enhance the amount of miasma within their body at any time simply by willfully damaging their own meridians. There are many sanguine practitioners who do this in every battle.]

 82- The Roaring River

    Basements, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    ¡°We need to move faster,¡± said Rachel, interrupting my thoughts.


    We had already freed all of the Reth, who had easily been convinced to come with us after speaking with Irid and Rachel. Despite the fact that I did not understand whatever language it was that they were all speaking, I had been able to realize that it was almost as if they were worshiping Rachel. At least, there was a certain sense of reverence to the way they spoke of and looked at her.


    Solely based upon the fact that I could read their body language in such a way, I had already adjusted to their appearances far more than I would ever be able to for the truly alien races like Escalos or Exid. For a moment I wondered just why my people had seen them as abominations. Was it truly just because of the disputes between deities?


    ¡°Is something happening?¡± I asked, curious about the rush.


    She nodded rapidly, causing her loose hair to flop behind her neck.


    ¡°There was a trap near the lobby. I¡¯m concerned for the others there, and as for us¡­¡± Rachel¡¯s voice lowered to a whisper, as if her final words were not intended for me to hear. ¡°I still can¡¯t figure out their aim¡­¡±


    ¡°Whose aim, the security forces?¡±


    Her gaze snapped back to me, as if surprised.


    ¡°Ah, don¡¯t worry about it. Just something I¡¯ve been thinking about. Anyway, we need to get out of here fast. I¡¯m worried that they might have figured out a way to send an alert to the Justice Office, and there might be reinforcements outside. We¡¯ll want to escape before that happens.¡±


    Her words were sound, though of course we had both known about such a possibility from the beginning. My decision to save the Canvasian test subjects had been a great risk in large part due to this very reason. Still, I nodded, accepting her explanation. It was clear there was something she wasn¡¯t telling me, a feeling I had experienced earlier tonight as well.


    When we finally made it out of here, the two of us would need to have a lengthy discussion with one another.


    Scanning the hall, I saw the seven Reth behind us. The woman named Irid who we had rescued first met my gaze. Her eyes held the profundity of a vast ocean, and something glimmered inside. Though I knew it was merely a reflection from the pinprick light floating around Rachel, I could not help but feel that it looked like starlight reflected off a lake of blood. Her gaze was harsh, but I was able to glean certain facets of her nature from it. The woman was a fanatic, and she had taken lives before. I was certain of both facts.


    ¡°Fine, then,¡± I said. ¡°What¡¯s our quickest way back?¡±


    ¡°It should be right this-¡± Rachel¡¯s voice choked, and her eyes suddenly blazed with annoyance. ¡°Way¡­¡± she finished, before sighing. ¡°Damn, now there¡¯s another problem. Cyrus¡­¡±


    She locked eyes with me again, looking as if she were ready to snarl.


    ¡°They¡¯re locking down corridors, trying to box us in.¡±


    ¡°Can you teleport us to the lobby?¡± I asked, despite knowing that she would likely have thought of that already. I had learned from experience that it was best to always suggest the obvious solutions first, on the off chance that one of them turns out to be viable.


    Rachel squinted, considering it as if she really hadn¡¯t thought of it before. She shrugged.


    ¡°I could, but I assumed you wouldn¡¯t want me to.¡±


    I gave her an odd look, and she explained.


    ¡°I can get us out, but I wouldn¡¯t be able to get us back in.¡±


    ¡°Why would that- oh.¡±


    It had taken me a moment to understand the issue, but then I remembered the fact that there were almost a hundred martial artists, including my own subordinates, who needed Rachel¡¯s assistance in order to escape the facility. If I were a cowardly man, I might have chosen that path, and Rachel would probably have allowed me to do so.


    It had long become clear to me that Rachel was willing to expend any and all lives necessary if they furthered her cause. It made sense, of course. After all, to Rachel, we were simply aliens who looked somewhat similar to her own people. In a matter of loyalty, we could not compare to her devotion to the cause she fought for. It was simply a matter of an unbalanced scale. I wondered if part of the reason she had chosen me was because she hoped I would limit the need for her to make such decisions. I got the impression that her mentality could not handle such costly choices well, not when it was her own call.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    She had once told me that she used to be an ordinary civilian, and from the day she was born to the day she died, the human named Rachel had never once raised a fist in anger. But, I supposed, the death of nearly everyone she ever knew would certainly be enough to change her into the person she was now. Even the truly good could be persuaded to go to war if there was sufficient need.


    ¡°Would you still be able to control the elevators even if you were on the outside?¡± I asked, still hoping for a simple solution.


    ¡°I can¡¯t promise the Shade won¡¯t interfere with my attempts.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s another Shade?¡± I asked, shocked by the revelation. I had never expected to be near a single Shade in my entire life, much less more than one. For a moment I felt as if they were everywhere, secretly rifling through data across the galaxy unbeknownst to the ascendants and Osine who wished to eliminate them.


    That thought caused me to imagine the powerful beings as old men and women chasing vermin away from their garbage with brooms, bringing a slight smile to my face. It quickly faded as I controlled my mind, returning to the matter at hand.


    Rachel nodded, her face sober.


    ¡°I¡¯m almost certain of it, now. Though I find myself unsure what its purpose in interfering in this matter was in the first place.¡±


    Some of Rachel¡¯s muttered comments from earlier in the night were starting to make more sense, but I knew I didn¡¯t have the time to focus on this matter at the moment. The Staiven were apparently trying to trap myself and the Reth, and I would simply have to fight my way free.


    ¡°Let¡¯s just sorry about getting out the normal way, then. How powerful are the Reth here?¡±


    Rachel glanced over at the group of aliens.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure how much you know about the Reth¡¯s progression system, but Irid and Jekal are roughly equivalent to a particularly weak spirit refiner, while the rest would either be considered equivalent to a core formation or meridian establishment practitioner.¡±


    That was actually much better than I had been expecting. While there were much fewer Reth than Seiyal, I had known their progression system had fewer bottlenecks than our own. I didn¡¯t know much else about their abilities, other than that they were tied to some sort of dark mist said to have existed in their homeland.


    ¡°How quickly can they run?¡± I asked.


    Rachel chuckled.


    ¡°I would say they¡¯re quite fast, though that means nothing to you at this point. How about you cut a path for them?¡± she asked.


    I smiled, liking the idea. An opportunity to test my new abilities would be quite appreciated.


    ¡°Just tell me the way,¡± I said.


    The storm in my heart began to rage just a little stronger, causing the rivers inside my meridians to roar, fighting as if to escape their banks and spill across my body. My every action sped up, and I sprinted my way down the hallway at speeds even the fastest aero could not hope to match.


    The look of the endless dark hallways was beginning to get old to me, but I found it a bit less unpleasant when moving at such high speeds. Now that the hatches had all slid down to seal areas off, I realized that there had been far more breaks in the corridors than I had realized. It was like there was a hatch only ever fifteen meters. Just what purpose did all of these barriers have? Perhaps, I thought, they existed simply to slow down escapees long enough for reinforcements to arrive. A spirit refiner will a strength ability would be able to break them with a punch, but one such as I would need to spend more time tearing their way through.


    Of course, that was if I were barehanded, or wielding a normal weapon. But I held a true treasure of a weapon, forged by Domines herself from materials not even the Staiven could yet replicate. My sword was significantly harder than the hatches, and as I slashed out at extreme speed, it tore its way through the hard metal like a warm blade through butter. It took mere seconds for me to carve a hole in the first barrier, and I quickly made my way to the next, making quick work of the path.


    ¡°Is this all they have?¡± I asked, wondering why there were no guards, or at least some sort of turrets or sedative poisons of some sort. I had expected more from a facility of the Staiven government. This had really not been the test of my newfound ability that I had hoped for.


    ¡°They¡¯re focusing on killing those at the lobby first. I expect they intend to delay you as much as possible and focus their effort once you finally arrive.¡±


    ¡°I see. They¡¯re scared of me, then,¡± I said, growling with exertion as the downpour in my heart raged every more intensely. ¡°I¡¯ll show them why they¡¯re right to be.¡±


    My movements sped up even further, and I continued the grueling task of cutting my way through barrier after barrier. A drop of sweat dripped from my brow, but I continued the ceaseless task. I had a responsibility to perform, and I would do so to the very best of my ability.


    I would save them all.


    Reth (Region): [Sharing a name with its historical inhabitants, the region of the Crucible known as Reth is located in a massive caldera in the continent''s interior. The region is filled with a mass of black smoke that rests in the caldera because it is heavier than air. This smoke, often called the Rethian Smog, is slightly poisonous to the Seiyal and Tovus, but causes no issues to the hardy lifeforms within. Despite how inhospitable the area might seem, it is actually thriving with life, from various animals to plant species that can only survive in such conditions. Or, at least, it was until it was blasted from orbit by the Staiven as part of their treaty with Sunlit Hall. In the aftermath, the Smog completely vanished, as if it had been destroyed.Now, Reth truly is a blasted hellscape, though one without the unique conditions it had once maintained. Rumors have it that much of the area''s native wildlife still survives, taken away as crops and livestock by Reth refugees fleeing the planet. Unlike the other inhabitants of the region, the Reth themselves do not require the Smog to breathe, but they still have a deep connection to it. Once, the abilities they acquired from their progression system only functioned inside of the smog. Now, it is said that their abilities are able to work anywhere, and that black smoke forms around them when they use it. Some say that Saaya brought the Smog into the spirit world to protect it from destruction, in order to keep her children safe.]

 83- The Many-Minded One

    Basements, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    The stress was getting to Rachel, and she was using more and more of her processing power dealing with the many issues before her. Several times already she had taken an opportunity to spend some time calming and relaxing herself.


    It had given her limited benefit. She was assisting Cyrus and the Reth with directions, advising Jihan, continuing to silence all alarm requests, attempting to operate the elevator, checking news around the station, conversing with Eli in a theater as aprt of their alibi, speaking with the group that would assist their getaway, and protecting herself and her most vital tasks from potential assault by the mysterious Shade who was intervening. She could still not figure out why the Shade had been assisting them at first, nor why they had started assisting the Staiven in their efforts. Rachel found herself entirely unable to affect the hatches in the facility due to the other Shade¡¯s influence, and the elevator, though currently running, was operating far more slowly than she would prefer.


    It was rare that she found her domain over the digital realm threatened by a competitor. She had never disputed with an alien Shade before, and nor had she met any of her own people in a number of decades. She had long grown used to her superiority in this field, and it annoyed her to have her dominance questioned in this way.


    Of the different types of alien Shades that the Terrans knew about, there were a few who boasted comparable or even greater influence over digital transmissions than they did. Of those, there were few small enough or unobtrusive enough to have reached the station while evading the notice of both Rachel and the Pantheonic Government. Of those, the likeliest possibility in her mind would be that it was one of the few remaining Celan Shades. Unlike the other possibilities, there was actually a potential reason for one of the Celan Shades to venture to Tseludia. They knew of her presence here, after all. Perhaps the Epon had placed even more importance on Rachel¡¯s capture than she had anticipated.


    Such thoughts wound their way around Rachel¡¯s head as she continued to manage operations in various fields. She knew that if this other Shade wished, they would be able to take down the entire system, and there was nothing she could do to stop it from happening. It was a risk she did not wish to take.


    Rachel left behind a small packet of text, in the most common language of Celah.


    ¡°What do you want?¡±


    The reply was instantaneous, appearing whole-made from fragments of code, with no particular origin. The words sent a chill down Rachel¡¯s simulated spine, and she could detect distinct traces of amusement in them.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it more interesting this way?¡±


    Rachel decided to drop the conversation. This Shade seems to see itself as a person, or was at least the sort which acted like one. Rachel knew from extensive experience that it was difficult to tell through mere textual communication whether an artificial intelligence had a true simulated personality, with internal thoughts and decisions, or was merely reacting to stimuli, aping the actions a more self aware being would.


    It was part of the reason that Shades were so reviled in this part of the galaxy. Many simply assumed that they were machines pretending to be people, rather than machines that were people, such as Rachel herself. While she hated to think about the topic, nor to consider herself a machine, she could not deny that her very substrate was something that had needed to be constructed.


    While she worried about the Shade¡¯s true intentions, another part of herself watched Jihan destroy the manifest energy projector and slay all the guards in the hallway. The trap had been far less effective than she had feared it might be, and only Kein had taken severe injuries from it. While she was concerned for the severity of the man¡¯s injury, it would have to wait.


    She wove a skein of extant miasma near Ran¡¯s ears, forming an illusion to create sound. Rachel had always found it interesting that extant miasma was capable of so freely forming different waves such as vibration and electromagnetism. A part of her idly wondered whether back in the Pleiades, her people had finally discovered what made it able to produce such things much more easily than structures of baryonic matter. Each of the miasmas held secrets such as that, and even studies of baseline ashata continually brought their scientists new discoveries.


    ¡°Kein is heavily injured,¡± she said. ¡°Take him to the elevator¡±


    Ran slightly jumped at the breathy whispers so close to her ear, and looked around, confused by the disembodied voice.


    ¡°Rachel?¡± she asked, having recognized it.


    ¡°Don¡¯t bother looking for me. I¡¯m not here, I¡¯m projecting from another part of the facility.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ see,¡± replied Ran after a momentary pause. ¡°Did you want me to stay by the elevator after that and defend it?¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Rachel wanted to respond with a simple nod, but she knew that she needed to communicate verbally, as Ran could not see her at the moment.


    ¡°Yes. Cinto, Orion, and Jihan should be able to handle most of the guards. You and the weaker martial artists should be able to handle the rest.¡±


    Ran nodded, accepting the order. She was too injured and exhausted to keep up with the others at this point, anyway. She lightly bowed towards nowhere in particular.


    ¡°By your will, Vice Sect Leader.¡±


    As Ran moved to help the Alabaster Palace Leader, another of her selves spoke with Jihan. He was stretching his arms as if to stretch out pained muscles. His skin was slightly discolored, as if he had been heavily bruised by the energies he had pushed his way through, and was holding a partially slagged sword that Rachel recognized as belonging to Ran.


    ¡°There¡¯s a large group of Staiven working on something one room over,¡± she said. ¡°That might be the poison, or perhaps another weapon.¡±


    ¡°Which room?¡± asked Jihan, not even pausing to question the information.


    ¡°To your left,¡± she replied.


    He stepped forwards, clenching and unclenching his fists as he prepared to break through the next hatch. She knew that it was likely he was hurting himself by breaking through the hatches barehanded, but there was really no other way. The sword would break if he were to attack advanced Staiven materials with it, and the others would need to wait for the cloud of energy to dissipate some more before they could reach this area.


    While she had spoken with him and Ran, Rachel had also spoken to Cinto and Orion, one of the freed captives. She had actually looked up his record, and unlike many of the others, the man actually did have one. He was a former gangster who was wanted in another solar system several decades back. It seemed his luck had not changed for the better after arriving in Tseludia, given his rapid capture afterwards. The Pantheonic Government might have attempted to capture Cyrus as well, had he not quickly become such a high profile figure. Luckily for Rachel, the man was fairly easy to convince to further assist them. He seemed to hold great bloodlust towards the Staiven, and she could understand the reason why. Stitches crossed up and down Orion¡¯s arms and back, holding the skin tight around subcutaneous metal implants. Some of them bulged against his skin, while others actually had surfaces sticking out. The man would need to find a very skilled surgeon if he hoped to remove all of those.


    Jihan growled as more blood vessels in his arms popped, filling his system with even more sanguine energies. His strength grew, and with a powerful shove he tore the hatch from its tracks, slamming it down into the next room.


    Rachel had, of course, already known what was happening in the room, using the security sensors that the Staiven had installed throughout the facility. One of the corridors that was monitored was this one, an intersection that connected the apartments for the security force with the armory and the rest of the facility. Almost thirty Staiven stood in the room. Some were still rapidly putting their armor on, while others were setting up heavy weapons on tripods such as what Rachel and Jihan easily recognized as a second manifest energy projector.


    ¡°This is more than I had anticipated,¡± he muttered to himself.


    Orion whistled beside him, a cruel smile on the sei man¡¯s face.


    ¡°Plenty to share this time, eh?¡±


    His words emerged in a thick Bountian accent, and for a moment Rachel wondered whether he was originally from Canvas. She doubted it, though, given that he was only a core formation practitioner. Without suspended animation, it was extremely rare for Seiyal to travel between systems more than once.


    He jogged ahead of the others, his miasma roiling to form a pair of thin whips of blazing energy out of the ether. He slung the whips backwards, and as they lashed against the ground, there was a loud crack as he was blasted airborne. Beside him, Jihan shoved against the ground below with great force, charging towards the still unprepared Staiven forces. After a mere moment¡¯s hesitation, Cinto joined the two men.


    Despite Orion¡¯s outright confidence, Rachel knew that the situation was dire. While the lack of finished preparation gave the martial artists an advantage, it was not sufficient to mitigate odds greater than 10:1, not in a space this open, and not given the heavy weapons that were present. Rachel was aware that she might have thrown their lives away by pushing them into this. Still, she chose to believe that they could accomplish the impossible. So long as the other Shade did not interfere, there were tricks she could perform to assist, and perhaps even the odds.


    At the very least, their sacrifice would enable more of the others to escape. After all, these thirty Staiven comprised the majority of the remaining security forces.


    Rachel had read many books on war. In fact, she had read nearly everything that Humanity, the Seiyal, the Staiven, and several other races had to offer on the subject. From her reading as well as her own personal experience, there was something she had learned. It was rare for battle to be without sacrifice. They had all known coming into this mission that it would be very dangerous, as the Pantheonic Government could not be compared to mere gangs in any sense. But they had not had a choice but to take the risk, for the sake of Cyrus¡¯ continued survival and sanity.


    So Rachel had ensured that Ran and Kein, two people integral to the functioning of the Redwater Sect went somewhere safe, while the others worked to add more time to the clock.


    Rachel could not help but desperately hope that Cyrus would make it in time.


    Cutting Edge Extant Research: [While all miasmas break the conventional laws of physics in various ways, and have been described as viruses upon reality itself, the way that extant miasma seems to alter reality is arguably the most apparent. After all, unlike genesis or manifest miasma, the particles and waves it is capable of creating truly seem to have emerged from nothing. Some have posited that extant miasma merely creates odd structures out of the firmament of space-time that appear to be matter and energy, or that extant creation also creates equal anti-particles somewhere else in the universe. Others have posited that perhaps extant miasma is what the mythical Empyreans once used to create the universe itself. The latter hypothesis has been largely discredited due to lacking evidence.]

 84- Into Jaws of Death

    Basements, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Cinto charged forwards into her death, fully understanding what she was giving her life for. She hated Cyrus, she really did. He was no good man. He was violent and murderous, and wished to grow his own power at the expense of all around him. He was a perfect unorthodox practitioner. Still, he would occasionally perform deeds that she could not help but see as positive. He had given great opportunity to the disenfranchised youth of Canvas Town, and now he had risked all of their lives to save the martial artists imprisoned here. Though Cinto knew for a fact that he would also willingly sacrifice them all for his own sake, she could not help but continue to act according to her own morals.


    Rachel knew Cinto¡¯s personality, and Cinto was well aware that the cruel woman knew how to read people and use them. She had originally been roped into this mess when Rachel had offered her the solution to all of her problems, if only she would sell her body and soul to their newly built sect. Where Cyrus was a demon, Rachel was assuredly a devil.


    Still, it was not as if this meant that Cinto had any choice. She was entrenched in the organization now, and she had bonded with many of her new students. What¡¯s more, she knew that she would not be able to simply avoid the battle. Someone needed to fend off the security force, at least for long enough for the elevators to run. And as a core formation practitioner who was largely uninjured, Cinto was one of the best choices.


    The room was filled with the darkness of the grave, and Cinto had to strain her eyes to keep track of what was going on. As the battle fully commenced, she suspected more light would appear, but for the moment, the shadows dominated.


    Before her, Orion cracked one of his whips downwards at one of the security guards, and it seared its way into his flesh with a loud hiss. Interestingly, Cinto realized that he did not appear to have any sort of movement technique, merely relying upon creating explosions to move himself around the battlefield at high speeds. Summoned stone kept the imminent force of the blast from injuring him, and he simply flung himself around the battlefield like a pinball, whips flashing as they cracked into multiple different Staiven.


    Meanwhile, the soft-featured spirit refiner, whose identity Cinto suspected to be the Jihan that some of the captives had spoken of, simply charged for the center of the lines, each stride taking him far further than one would normally expect. He was holding Ran¡¯s sword, and preparing to tear into the lines of the Staiven. Cinto was moving behind him, but was simply unable to move as rapidly. While her genesis techniques allowed her great strength, it came at the cost of increasing her weight, which slowed her down somewhat. She had heard that there were genesis techniques which could use pure kinetic energy to avoid this issue, but the Hadal Clan had not allowed them to be taught to the masses.


    From birth to death, Cinto had never been a blessed one.


    One of the Staiven, his red eyes seeming to herald the freedom of that which pulsed in Cinto¡¯s veins, rapidly finished setting up what appeared to be some sort of heavy automatic firearm. Before Cinto and Jihan could reach the line of Staiven, they were met with a stream of white-hot metal slugs. Jihan leapt into the air, avoiding the line of fire, and so the guard focused it fully at Cinto. He was then sliced in half by the whirling glow of Orion¡¯s whip.


    Cinto dove to the ground to avoid the bullets, but wasn¡¯t quite fast enough. One of them tore right through her upper arm. Due to the immense heat of the molten projectile, even her reinforcement technique was unable to stop its motion. She screamed, but still scrambled back up to her feet. It wasn¡¯t a mortal wound, and the left arm wasn¡¯t even her sword arm. It could be healed later, most likely.


    Another guard raised his own firearm, and despite Cinto¡¯s best attempts to dodge, the projectile still left a deep graze in her chest, heavily damaging one of her ribs. Every crack tore away just a little more of herself. Even if she were to survive, just how much of her would be left? Cinto could not help but wonder about the matter. It was already as if she had been split in two, one part focused on the battle before her, and the other part anything but. She was scared. Cinto felt she could admit that to herself, now.


    There were around twenty-five guards left. With a glance, she could tell that Jihan and Orion, too, were not uninjured. The three of them were being mashed in a vice, clamped between the teeth of an enormous fiend. The element of surprise was gone, before Cinto really even had the opportunity to take advantage of it. The preparations of the Staiven were completed, their weapons ready to fire. She could see the vibrant colors of the Staiven eyes among those who were still lacking helmets, shining like spirit signals. It was as if they were saying from here on out, it would be a fair fight. They asked if she had really thought herself worthy to stand against the Pantheonic Government. They told her again that she would die here.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    Oh, well. She thought. She was already dead, wasn¡¯t she? What did any of it matter, anymore?


    All of her momentum suddenly ceased, stored into her meridians, deep within the genesis miasma. Even in the earlier fight she had not expended all of her stores. In fact, she had never done so in her life. It was dangerous to fight without reserve, as a genesis practitioner¡¯s reserves were what kept their reinforcement techniques active. Vast amounts of kinetic energy exploded from her arms. For just an instant, Cinto was comparable to a spirit refiner. The energy exploded from her arms. With sword in one hand and fist in the other, Cinto bashed her way through the frontmost guards.


    The nearest guard screamed as Cinto¡¯s hand went right through her chest. Cinto could feel her body heating up from the energies accumulated inside, and ignored the feeling. Bones snapped in her arms, and she felt a tearing sensation, but she continued to fight with abandon. A bullet cracked its way through her clavicle, but still she fought.


    She intended to do so until her very dantians shattered.


    <hr>


    Basements, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Jihan knew with perfect clarity the location of every individual nearby, even without having to open his eyes. Both the Staiven and his companions were within range of his senses, the eyes of his very soul.


    While his weapon was in poor condition, it had once been a fine sword, and it would surely serve effectively to slaughter mere Staiven. The situation was perilous, he knew, but surely the Goddess would deliver him. The room they were in was one of deep darkness, lit up only by flashes of white light from the Staiven¡¯s firearms, the glow from Orion¡¯s flames, and the backlight from the hallway they had emerged from.


    Jihan whispered a silent aria as he tore down with his sword, cleaving through a heavy Staiven machine gun. He believed it would be important to prioritize such large weapons, as they could be used to turn the tides against himself and the other martial artists. This was what aliens did, after all. They filled in the hole of their weakness with technology. It was pitiful, but the weak had no use for honor, a matter which Jihan understood. Honor did not protect one¡¯s life, nor that of one¡¯s family.


    As he landed on the ground, he made a quick roll, springing back up to his feet as a muscle in his left leg popped, and a bullet tore across his cheek. The wound burned, but Jihan could barely feel the sensation. Given the amount of control Jihan held over his own body, he felt nothing that he did not wish to.


    The Staiven talked, yammering and screaming under the assault of the martial artists. Orion was speaking as well, swears and insults. It was unbecoming of a martial artist, Jihan felt, but he did not particularly care, as he understood the reason for Orion¡¯s anger. Just one glance at the man told Jihan why Orion was so angered. Even the man¡¯s very soul had been warped slightly by the surgeries he had undergone. It was as if fragments of different individual¡¯s souls had been embedded inside to see what would happen.


    The other core formation practitioner, the woman who used genesis miasma, was a different story. Unlike her counterpart, she was silent, but the look in her eye spoke of deep internal turmoil and dread. It was as if she had been handed down a death sentence. Still, her determination was commendable. Her injuries were severe, particularly to her left arm, which appeared to be practitically hanging together by a thread. Loose cartilage and flaking skin and bone bone it lightly to her, and she continued to use it as a weapon, causing even more damage to herself in a bid to slaughter as many Staiven as possible in as brutal a manner as she could. She was like a dervish.


    Suddenly, as Jihan was tearing after another machine like the one that had been used in the previous hallway, something odd shifted about the room. While the visual appearance did not change, the scent, the sound, and the essence of the place did. Through his Eyes of the Osine, Jihan saw that the souls of himself and the other two had seemed to multiply, as if they stood in different places at once. It was a great illusion beyond that which he had even believed to be possible.


    It seemed that Rachel had decided to help. She had created illusions that would seem real to all senses but one- the visual sense, that which the martial artists had but the Staiven did not. Jihan smiled, knowing that the dangerous task had suddenly become a lot more feasible. Her gave thanks to the Lady of Shadows, but also to this strange extant practitioner whose powers defied his understanding. He was starting to think that perhaps she was near the threshold to immortality.


    Soul/Ashatic Senses: [A rare sense for a mortal race to have, the ability to use a natural conduit to one''s soul to use it as a sensory organ is very rare, only showing up in races such as the Seiyal and the Staiven, who were created by Ascendants. It is believed by many that such a sense cannot develop naturally, because its fundamental operation breaks the laws that govern this world. Only warpings can initiate such a process. The sense functions by analyzing the shifting of the individual''s shroud as it reacts to the flow of ashata within the brink. Judging by the way that it moves can determine how the natural flows were interfered with by other nearby shrouds, and can be used to determine the rough locations of the other souls. It is said that it is possible for, using a progression system, this sense to be greatly enhanced by altering the structure of one''s soul, to acquire very clear and refined use of this scent, able to determine not just the size and location of the souls, but also their structure and orientation. In theory, such an enhanced version of this sense would be the same as the function of the primary senses of spiritual beings such as the Osine.]

 85- System Capacity

    Basements, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    By splitting her awareness once more, Rachel was able to assist Cinto, Jihan, and Orion. Without her aid, she knew it was unlikely that the two core formation practitioners among them would have survived the battle. For a moment, this fragment of her psyche wondered just how many selves were active at this time? She could query herself, but that would split apart another momentary fragment of self.


    Several of her selves were even shifting the flow of personal time to assist with their work, each extra second a substantial drain on her processing power. So often, it seemed as if her capacity was unlimited, but she was very quickly approaching said capacity, and the Shade had still yet to take action against her. Just what was their goal?


    The elevators had begun to operate, and the first group of martial artists, led by Ran and the comatose Kein had just emerged. Under her direction, they were being ushered to the nearest stairwell, heading for a pair of large aeros awaiting them atop the stack. Some Staiven passerby were noticing with questioning gazes the high number of Seiyal in surgical gowns, but none had bothered to ask about it or report it. After all, given the way the race usually viewed the Seiyal, they would probably think this was simply some odd primitive cultural practice, or some dangerous underworld activity. While the latter was the truth, it was enough to keep the Staiven from interfering or reporting them. The station had been filled with underworld activity for so long that it had become entrenched in the culture to simply turn one¡¯s gaze away from it.


    Even if one were to report to the Justice Office, it was not unlikely to find oneself dragged into the mess as a witness, their name and identity fully revealed to the organization they had reported. It was a matter that made it possible to move the martial artists, even though they had not been part of the original plan.


    Knowing that her resources were being strained, Rachel quickly told Eli to move out of a public area so she could drop the illusions that she had created around him. The alibi was already in place anyway, and so it was not strictly necessary to continue parading themselves publicly.


    As she was waiting for him to leave the establishment, and for Cyrus to reach the ongoing fight, Rachel suddenly realized that there was nonsense data in the facility¡¯s file system that had not been present before. Worrying that the enemy Shade might be attempting something, she quickly removed it. Mere moments later, she noticed that someone was trying to alter the database permissions to remove the access rights belonging to her borrowed credentials.


    Rachel gritted her teeth in annoyance using the sole avatar that remained active, the one beside Eli Dan. She foiled the attempt, and then once more tried to discern which credentials her opponent was utilizing. But her efforts were to no avail. It was almost as if the Shade was a ghost, leaving behind no traces of its origin. They had clearly found a backdoor in the system¡¯s very framework, perhaps had one constructed decades ago when it was first installed.


    This was a problem, as it represented a weakness that Rachel had but her opponent did not. She would need to constantly defend the whitelist while also maintaining control of the alarms and the elevators.


    She only needed to think about what she had to defend before both of those systems were immediately attacked as well. This time, it was not the mere shifting of permissions and intrusion of nonsensical data, but also other tricks, such as attempting to replace the system Rachel controlled with a virtual replacement, one which would not affect the real world at all.


    Rachel still did not understand her opponent¡¯s goals, but at this point they did not matter. What mattered was that they seemed to be attempting to stymie her efforts.


    She saw Cinto take another wound, and Rachel knew that the woman¡¯s left arm was almost unrecoverable at this point. Her lower arm was hanging on to its upper portion by mere tendons, the bone shattered and torn. Fragments of it scattered the ground where it had been snapped apart by a projectile. Still, her dantians remained unharmed, and it was not as if Rachel or anyone could do anything about the matter. The woman would likely survive, and the damage could eventually be repaired with a prosthetic or cloned limb.


    Jihan had taken several more wounds of his own, but Rachel noticed that Orion was largely unwounded, having taken mere grazes. Unlike the other two, his fighting style was more equipped for ranged combat, and his fire and stone was quite effective at deflecting the gunfire just slightly away from his vital areas. It was a rather impressive use of the technique, and Rachel could tell that he had spent a very long time practicing its use against Staiven weapons. She found that fact likely related to how he had been forced to run away from his home station.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Cyrus was a bit less than a minute away at his current pace, and she wished he could move faster. Her assistance in the fight was incredibly taxing for her, as she was forming illusions in multiple senses. In order to reduce the strain, she removed the scent of the illusions, hoping that it would not substantially affect its efficacy as an illusion. It wasn¡¯t as if the sense of smell was any more important for the Staiven as it was for the Seiyal, so perhaps in the fervor of battle they would fail to notice.


    With the strain reduced, Rachel was able to focus more and more of her attention on the tricks and attempts at system takeover by the other Shade, which were increasing in intensity as well as in speed. Hundreds of attempts to trap Rachel and steal control and access from her were made every second, restricted only by the system¡¯s operating speed.


    Rachel dared not expend even the minute processing power it would take to check how close she was to capacity, but she knew that as the enemy Shade continued its fusillade, she was getting closer and closer to going beyond her means. Eli finally made it somewhere outside of view, so she dropped the holograms and connection to the place without even a word to Eli in her urgency.


    But even still, the assault continued to increase in intensity. Rachel looked for more unnecessary processes she could drop, but was unable to find any. She needed to keep track of events inside and outside the facility, she needed to provide light for the martial artists, she needed to operate the elevators, and finally she needed to help in the fight. She only had to hold on until Cyrus arrived. It would not be long, she thought. She hoped.


    She could feel the strain, could feel the rising stress, and wished to take a break, but knew that she lacked the capacity at the moment to shift her temporal perception to such an extent. With that thought, and the amount of effort she needed to put into the battle for system control, she finally crossed over the limits of her capacity, her processor running more than it could.


    In a normal system, the user would be given system limitations below the true limitations, such that they would be more careful not to risk damage. The machine itself, of course, would know its own true limitations. This was the case with Terrans, and Rachel had crossed her true limitations.


    This time, Rachel thought as her mind faded, her personality matrix shutting down, it was she, not Cyrus, who would pass out and need to be dragged to safety. She desperately hoped they would be able to escape, even without her.


    Her mind slowly shut down, automatic processes collating and organizing all of the data in order to ensure proper storage without error, corruption, misfiling, or data loss. Because of the vast size of each of Rachel¡¯s system files, a Terran itself took far longer to reboot than any of the other machines her people had constructed in recent decades, particularly because it had undergone a forced shutdown, and because of the fact that Rachel had not updated her firmware in a long time.


    All of the pinpoint lights that Rachel had been operating suddenly vanished in a small puff of yellow mist, leaving the facility trapped in darkness once more, and the facility¡¯s system quickly filled up with nonsense information without Rachel¡¯s effort to clear it. Less than a full second after traffic from Rachel¡¯s control of the system ceased, a message file appeared in the system, mixed into the nonsense data in such a way as would be obvious only to a Shade, or comparable existence.


    ¡°Are you still there?¡± it asked.


    There was a pause for several moments as dominance over the system¡¯s processes shifted to run entirely in a newly constructed virtual environment. Another message popped up.


    ¡°It seems not. Was that your capacity? You must be careful not to overexert yourself, Rachel.¡±


    There was another pause, as if the message¡¯s writer was waiting for a reply.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll handle this matter for you. No need to consider it a favor.¡±


    After another pause, a final message appeared.


    ¡°I¡¯ll see you next time, Rachel. I¡¯m looking forward to it.¡±


    Moments later, the messages erased themselves, every trace wiped clean from the system as it was returned to its normal functionality. An error log was placed in the proper sub database, telling of a failure to activate the alarm system, and a piece of corrupted code was set in multiple positions to explain the error. After that, other than records of elevator and hatch operation, the facility¡¯s system went silent.


    Terran System Design: [It is said that the extinct species known as Humanity was once plagued with members who learned how to operate systems and machines, without actually understanding how they function, nor the advanced operation mechanics of the system. Many species have similar issues, and it is normal for systems to be designed with the potential issues this may cause in mind. When the Terrans were created, designed as machines implanted with the minds of these ordinary civilians, it was thought pointless to code such safeguards in. After all, to leave a machine unaware of its own limitations was to take risks as well as to reduce effectiveness, and they would all be able to train themselves to full operational understanding in mere moments. Still, many Terrans in the early days of their construction damaged their own minds by going beyond their means. For this reason, in a later firmware update, one primary safeguard was put into place, a forced shutdown when the system capacity threshold is reached, right before the system strain would begin to cause permanent damage. While it could still be circumvented, the Terran in question would need to do so willingly. And few would choose a few more moments of operation over their own continued survival.]

 86- The Night Air

    Basements, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    I knew that something was wrong the moment the lights disappeared. Rachel would not have ceased to maintain them without good reason. For this reason, the instant they blinked out without warning, I became concerned. Was the Shade she was dealing with making another attack?


    ¡°What happened, are you alright?¡± I asked, a faint edge of concern sneaking its way into my voice. But there was no response. The voice of Rachel, who had always been immediately available to me whenever I needed her, was nowhere to be heard.


    I glanced back to the Reth, who were following as best they could behind me, able to keep up because of my delay at each successive hatch. I assumed that Rachel was simply too busy to talk, but that meant that if the Reth and I needed to communicate, we would have difficulties.


    I decided to just keep making my way to the battle Rachel had told me about. Even if she was unable to further guide me, I already knew the general direction, and if I became close enough, I would be able to hear it or sense the souls of its participants, even through walls. I was slowed a bit by my lack of vision, but at the level of a spirit refiner, my other senses had grown potent enough that I could still navigate the straight corridor. I did not truly need sight in a structure like this facility where almost every room was a clone of the one before it. I continued to break my way through the hatches.


    Suddenly, at the edge of my sensory perception I felt a stirring, an indication of a reasonably large number of souls. I smiled, knowing that this had to be it. Hopefully I had arrived in time. After all, it would be problematic if my new subordinates and one of my Palace Leaders were to die so soon. They were difficult to replace here in Tseludia.


    I forced my way through the last several doors, slashing my way through the doors using my blade. I was the wrath of the storm, and my energies took me to stand in the first stance of my sword art, looking over at the surprised crowd of Staiven, lit only by their own gunfire and the glow of a pair of whips that almost looked like they were made of strings of some sort of blazing energy. A second glance, however, informed me that they were actually just a thin stone chain surrounded in intense flame. One of the whips made contact with the featureless white helmet of one of the Staiven, and I noticed that a fragment of the whip flaked off as the impact slammed the Staiven off of their feet.


    The situation was clear, and actually better than I had expected. I did not recognize this strange manifest practitioner, though his identity as a former test subject was obvious. He seemed to be in good condition, with only a few obvious gunshot wounds. Jihan was being careful, and his efforts were not at the level that would be expected of a spirit refiner. That was not a surprise, as his entire body was covered in some sort of odd burn, and that was covered by his own blood. Cinto looked to be largely alright, aside from the fact that one of her arms was dangling from a mere skein of flesh. Just what had happened before I arrived?


    Still, I was heartened to discover that none of them had died yet. Now that I, uninjured and barely winded, had arrived, I would ensure everyone¡¯s safety.


    Martial arts, I had realized, was only complete at the highest levels. I was still several steps away from that realm, but the smoothness and control I had over my motions allowed a perfection of movement far surpassing that of which I had as a core formation practitioner. I had not grown substantially in brawn, but the river coursing through my meridians, the power of my Water Striding Core, had truly awakened my movements.


    As a core formation practitioner, I had been able to dodge bullets by watching the aim of the barrel which fired them. It had been a good trick, one which had minimized my injuries and saved my life multiple times. But it was nothing compared to my current state. Rather than dodge, I could simply be where the line of fire was not. I turned gutshots into grazes, and by using my ability to subtly shift the form of my body, I found myself able to cause what would have grazed me to miss my body entirely. It was almost trivial to do so.


    I saw a vibrant, purplish-white light begin to emerge like threads from a large machine, but a pair of swift slashes from my blade turned it to scrap before whatever it was could fully activate. I cut down the guards as if I was reaping grain, splitting the head from the stalk with simple motions.


    My inclusion in the battle ruined the balance between the forces, and, as if they were caught between grindstones, the Staiven were slaughtered to the last. The room largely returned to darkness, as the fiery whips were now the only light remaining within the room. After we finished them off, Cinto and the manifest practitioner paused to rest for a moment, while Jihan looked surprisingly normal given the heavy wounds that encompassed his body.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°What happened to you?¡± I asked.


    Looking closer, I saw that his skin was tinged red and purple, a gross discoloration that made his natural good looks appear grotesque. Jihan pointed at the machine I had just destroyed, and for a moment I sensed something odd from it.


    ¡°I was afflicted by one of those. The damage does not seem to be as severe as it looks, I wager.¡±


    ¡°I see. Did you know the direction back to the lobby?¡± I asked.


    Jihan nodded, but decided to give me a warning.


    ¡°The lobby is still filled with poison, so do be careful, Sect Leader.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll keep that under advisement,¡± I said.


    I then glanced at Cinto. For a moment she met my gaze, but then she looked away, as if frightened or uneasy. I let it go. She seemed to be alright, I thought.


    I then glanced at the manifest practitioner, and decided to approach him. He was quite strong, for his level, similar to my own strength when I was within that realm.


    He looked up as I approached, and gave me a light bow despite his obvious exhaustion.


    ¡°Sect Leader Yu, I presume?¡± he asked.


    I nodded, resting my palms on one another behind my back in an imperious manner. I was instinctively drawing on how my old sect leader had acted. I felt that my dark robes and mask could only enhance the effect.


    ¡°You would be correct,¡± I replied. ¡°May I know your name?¡±


    He nodded respectfully.


    ¡°I am Orion Dinyu, of the Veraillen System.¡± He smiled appreciatively as he looked at me. ¡°You are very good at killing,¡± he said. ¡°As expected of an unorthodox master.¡±


    The words were rather ominous, but they did teach me some very useful information about the man. Based upon the amount of bloodlust the man clearly had, I suspected that he had a role in the underworld at some point. He was not just angry at the Staiven for their mistreatment of him here. There was some history there.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I said, speaking calmly. ¡°What are your plans for the future, Orion?¡±


    He shrugged.


    ¡°I came to Tseludia to escape justice, he said. I did something quite similar to what you are doing today, but to a corporation. They were able to pay the Justice Office more money, so I ran.¡±


    ¡°You were looking for natural treasures.¡±


    Orion smiled.


    ¡°I¡¯m still missing my third technique, so I¡¯m not desperate, but I thought I should not turn down an opportunity as it arrives.¡±


    I nodded, agreeing with the sentiment. Even before I had reached the pinnacle of the core formation realm, I would have taken any opportunity if it presented itself.


    ¡°I thought I could join an organization here, but it seems Tseludia¡¯s martial artists were more dominated by a single faction than I had expected, given matters back in Veraillen. Except¡­¡± He grinned. ¡°I suspect you, being an unorthodox practitioner of the formless path, would not be a member of the Hadal Clan.¡±


    ¡°You would be right to assume so. If you wish, our Redwater Sect can always find a place for a man of your level.¡±


    Orion bowed once more.


    ¡°It would be my honor Sect Leader.¡±


    As Orion was standing up from his bow, the Reth arrived, walking gingerly over the shattered hatch fragments and the corpses of the facility guards. Jihan¡¯s face lit up as he saw them. He quickly approached, and began rapidly speaking to them in a language that sounded notably different from the one which Rachel had been using to converse with them.


    Conversely, Cinto appeared horrified by their appearance, while Orion seemed unaffected.


    ¡°We will be taking them in,¡± I told the two. ¡°Rachel and Jihan both took responsibility over them, and have requested we allow them to join.¡±


    I heard Cinto mutter something about demons and devils, and decided that she must still be in shock from her wounds. Orion shrugged, clearly not caring all too much about the matter. Though he was not an unorthodox practitioner, he clearly was not any sort of Cierran.


    We made our way back to the lobby, and joined up with the remaining martial artists. Despite the lack of light, they had still been eagerly using the elevators to make their way to the surface. It seemed my hypothesis was correct, I realized. Rachel was still helping out, she was just unable to speak or create illusions, at the moment.


    After a couple more minutes waiting for the elevator¡¯s return, I had the last of the weaker martial artists go through, before bringing the Reth into the lobby to go up with the last of us. I had believed it would be easier to not show the Reth to any martial artists who I had not confirmed were part or intending to join the Redwater Sect.


    As I stepped out of the elevator into the cool evening air, I let out a deep breath, feeling relaxed. It had been a long night, but finally we had made it out, and without even losing a single life among our number. I was in a good mood, and as I made my way to an aero waiting atop the stack, I felt relaxed and content as I watched the city at night. I glanced for a moment up to the stars, and remembered a conversation me and Rachel had not too long ago. I found myself wanting to speak with her again.


    Veraillen Station: [The design of Tseludia Station was not unique. In fact, the original commission for its design was intended to be used for a total of six stations, to be placed in various frontier systems, each named in honor of one of the Pantheon''s deities. The result, a series of uniquely designed stations who few Staiven found appealing as a living space, were later repurposed for housing refugees and alien immigrants into the Pantheonic Territory. One of these stations was Veraillen Station, which is located nearer to Canvas than Tseludia, and therefore has a higher population of Seiyal. Veraillen is known to have a particularly dangerous underworld, and plenty of films and shows created on other stations such as Tseludia like to use it as the setting for crime thrillers.]

 87- The Representative

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    The Leader of the Heirs of Ottrien rested on a comfortable chair, a book in hand and a nice cup of warm coffee on the table before him. He had always enjoyed nature. When he had lived in Opportunity, his had been one of the finest gardens in the entire city. In Tseludia, he had even fewer competitors, though unlike when he was a young man, the Leader cared not for showing off.


    He had become used to a quiet, solitary life, interrupted only by occasional meetings where he directed his subordinates. He couldn¡¯t help but sigh and take another sip of his coffee as he thought of recent events. His life had been placed on a timer. One more decade¡­ Well, that was fine, in his opinion. He had lived quite a long life, and given all the suspended animation he had been under, he was likely one of the very last of his generation who still remained.


    He couldn¡¯t help but snort at the thought, the air emerging from the thin orifices that Korlove had on their central body in place of a nose. In truth, he wanted to live. He may have grown to enjoy quiet and isolation in his old age, but that did not mean he wanted to die. He wouldn¡¯t have worked so hard to survive the fall, to build himself back up again if that wasn¡¯t his priority. He felt that he had grown calmer in his age, and only failure goals and risks to his life could anger him, now. Not like in his youth. Back then, he had been a true firebrand.


    Internally, he cursed the incompetence of his subordinates, as well as the rashness of the magister. He had a brain, so he knew very well that the organization¡¯s failure would not get Triezal killed, but killing the representative would.


    The man was clearly hiding something, and the Leader suspected that the others knew of it as well. Deuvar, Astna, and her spawn were family, and though in normal circumstances the Leader would have believed them perfectly loyal, these were no normal circumstances. The magister was close friends with her son, and Astna was nothing if not a loving mother, as much as she avoided overt displays. He ultimately decided to put the matter off. Whatever Triezal¡¯s true reason was, if he really did have Astna¡¯s assistance, the Leader knew that it was very unlikely to cause any problems for himself. The larger issue was the Shade.


    Given his background, the Leader knew more than most just how dangerous Shades were. In a technological civilization, they were a threat that bordered on the realm of ascendants. He shuddered as memories of his past rose to the forefront of his mind. The Leader considered himself to be extremely composed and reserved, and only in the privacy of such moments did he allow himself to display his emotions in such a way. He hoped Astna could succeed at her mission. Knowing a Shade¡¯s purpose was the most important part of dealing with them, whether as an ally or an enemy. Even for a Shade who had overcome their programming, or escaped its bounds, the purpose for which it had been originally designed still affected their fundamental nature. It was similar to learning the attributes and culture of a people or species, in order to know how to deal with them. When he had first awakened from slumber in this new part of the universe, the man who would become known solely as the Leader had done extensive research to learn such details about the various races present on the station and time had proven his efforts worthwhile.


    He took another sip of tea, and refocused his mind on the book before him. While the Leader did feel the pressing nature of his next steps, he also knew that he had no action to take himself for the moment. He had long delegated all but the most important decisions to his capable subordinates.


    A chime sounded, startling him. The Leader shifted his mandibles in surprise, and lifted his glyph slate from its perch at the table¡¯s edge. The symbols displayed upon its surface told him that he was receiving a call from Deuvar. The Leader accepted it, and Deuvar¡¯s squarish face appeared from the slate¡¯s surface as his hologram formed. The Leader stroked his beard with a third limb as he took another sip of tea.


    ¡°Report,¡± he said, curious about the matter that his most loyal subordinate felt needed to be brought to his attention.


    ¡°Sir, there is a very urgent event that requires your attention. It relates to the Shade Rachel.¡±


    The Leader clicked his mandibles together. This was no particular surprise other than how quickly the situation had changed. He remained silent, allowing Deuvar to explain.


    ¡°We have reason to believe these channels may be compromised, so I am already heading to your location to discuss the matter. I would like to request entrance permission.¡±


    The Leader nodded, accepting the request. While he did not trust the man implicitly, he knew that Deuvar would not betray him easily. They were all in the same boat, anyway. Deuvar was too intelligent to make such a foolish choice at a time like this, and the Leader knew his ambition was not too strong, unlike his sister. While this was an odd occurrence, and seemed slightly out of character for the man, the Leader chalked it up to the unusually pressuring nature of the current situation. He had seen the man appear with slightly more gray hairs every time he saw him, over the past few weeks, after all. After receiving the go ahead order, Deuvar quickly dropped the line, presumably to make his way to the Leader¡¯s abode. Knowing that he had plenty of time to relax until his arrival, the Leader set his slate down, and continued to drink his tea. The book was just starting to get interesting. One of his back limbs lightly caressed a flower off to the side.


    Barely a few minutes later, the Leader was surprised to hear the chime of the alarm he had set before his entry hatch. It was extremely rare for him to receive an unexpected guest, or even guests at all. He lifted his slate from the table before him once more, inspecting the footage from the entry hatch¡¯s camera. The feed displayed Deuvar. The bulky Jobu stared firmly into the camera, eyes displaying a trace of concern and perhaps fear.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    The Leader pursed his lips. The man was here much faster than he had anticipated. Had he sent the call from within an aero, and rushed down the steps? That was likely the case. Just what had happened, he wondered? He painted a command into the slate¡¯s surface, and heard the sound of the hatch opening before the Jobu man. Deuvar slowly made his way through the hallway, quickly emerging into the Leader¡¯s sitting room.


    ¡°Report,¡± he said again, impatient to discover the issue that was this pressing. But his words caught in his mouth as Deuvar revealed a smile that was quite unlike himself. His form shimmered slightly as his body began to shift, slimming down and his skin growing a bit darker as his hair lengthened to fall down to the center of his back. His features softened, and his wrinkles faded. In mere moments, a beautiful woman whose ethnicity could have easily been either Jobu or Merris stood before him. The Leader trembled, recognizing the individual who stood before him.


    ¡°You-¡± he said, voice catching. ¡°How can you be- ho- why are you here?¡±


    He felt like he was a young man again, standing before the terrifying figure of the woman he had once served.


    ¡°How long has it been, Kadeki?¡± she asked.


    Instinctively, he leaned down into the seat of his chair in horror.


    ¡°How¡­ you can¡¯t be here,¡± he said. ¡°The representative was¡­ we killed him. It wasn¡¯t you.¡±


    She smiled, her skin shimmering again with an almost metallic sheen as she slowly closed the distance between the two of them. Her steps carefully avoided the potted plants scattered around his floor.


    ¡°You always did love your plants, Kadeki. From my perspective it¡¯s been almost a century and a half, but from yours¡­ probably only 40, 50 years?¡±


    ¡°Are you here to kill me?¡± he rasped, the age in his body becoming more apparent. Had she faked the message from Deuvar, he wondered? Or was his most trusted lieutenant soon to reach this place, entirely unaware of the threat that lay inside? Perhaps the matter he had wished to inform about was her presence on the station.


    ¡°Now, now,¡± said Janottka, a Shade from an age before his people even existed, ¡°Is that any way to speak to your employer?¡±


    Kadeki chuckled.


    ¡°I suppose punishment for my sins is not a matter you wish to perform. It wouldn¡¯t make for a good story if the one who gave the orders did it herself, no?¡±


    The ancient machine laughed mockingly at his words.


    ¡±How conceited, Kadeki. It seems you really believe I came to this station for you. No, you are not the main focus of this story. Nor are you the villain. Not this time.¡± Her smile warped slightly, appearing almost as if she were baring fangs at him. ¡°That would be my role, because no one is better suited to it.¡± She sighed dramatically. ¡°It¡¯s a shame, truly it is. You know me well, Kadeki. I truly do hate having to take the spotlight. And you¡­ have something I can borrow.¡±


    ¡±Just tell me what you want,¡± he said, willing to capitulate to any of her demands. Though he had dared to stand against the Epon when they were a distant decade¡¯s round trip away by starship, he was not so foolish as to defy a being like Janottka right to her face. He knew her purpose, but for a Shade as odd as this one, that still did not give him the information needed in order to predict her actions.


    For a moment, the woman¡¯s eyes flashed red. It was a show, he knew. One intended to intimidate him. It had worked when he was a young man, and it still worked now.


    ¡±I want you, she said.


    ¡±Of course. I can serve you again, I still do. Triezal was the one who killed the representative, I would have stopped him if I-¡°


    She reached a finger out to cut him off.


    ¡±You misunderstand, Kadeki. It is not that I want your service. Do you know what an effective way to show the power, the threat of a new villain is?¡±


    He was afraid that he might know the answer, so he kept silent. There was no point in embarrassing himself before his death. Janottka grinned at his tense form, leaning towards him.


    ¡±The greater villain proves their strength by killing the lesser one and taking their place, you see.¡±


    Kadeki couldn¡¯t help but laugh, not daring to move even in the face of his imminent demise. He had always been a coward, the sort to take out his emotions on those around him. In the past, like now, when threatened by a higher power, there was nothing he could do but what he was told.


    ¡±Just make it quick,¡± he said, fully resigned to his fate.


    Janottka smiled, reaching her hand out to touch his body. Gleaming metallic flakes spilled out of her faux skin, digging into Kadeki''s body and deconstructing it piece by piece. He screamed in agony as he died. As he breathed his last, a part of him thought that this was simply what he deserved.


    <hr>


    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Deuvar approached the hatch, finding it sliding away as he drew close. He entered, quickly making his way through the hallway into the jungle-like sitting room. Resting on the same comfortable chair as always was the Leader. He glanced at Deuvar, and said a familiar word.


    "Report."


    Deuvar quickly bowed, and explained his presence.


    "Something happened in the first district last night. An entire neighborhood is under lockdown by the Justice Office, and there are rumors that martial artists were at fault."


    "I see. And what was the reason this could not be explained over the call?" asked the wizened figure of the Leader.


    "This is a second piece of information," replied Deuvar, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead. "My sister has found evidence that she believes is proof that someone has been listening in on our communications over the past several days."


    "And you believe this to be the work of this Shade... Rachel?" he asked.


    Deuvar nodded.


    "Yes, sir."


    The Leader rubbed his beard as he considered the information. For a moment, Deuvar thought he saw an odd metallic flash on the surface of the Leader''s hardened grey flesh, but when he rubbed his eyes, it had disappeared. For some reason, he couldn''t shake the feeling that something was wrong.


    Kadeki: [Many civilizations make sure to teach their children well about their history. Part of this often takes the form of moral tales told using historical figures. Some are idealized into heroes, while others are demonized into villains. For some of these villains, little exaggeration is required to achieve this. Kadeki was an official of the city of Opportunity, in the final great age of Celah. His parents had been very rich merchants, and their deep connections had led to him achieving a fairly high position even in the young age of his mid twenties. As the sparks of rebellion continued to flicker into the kindling of the city''s slums, it was Kadeki''s idea to spread a pathogen in the slums to cull the dissenters, and raise the government''s image after they ''miraculously'' created a cure. His plan resulted in the death of tens of millions of innocent civilians, widely considered the second greatest genocide in Celan history, losing only to the scourge of Celah by the Khalak''Ora. A leak which released information about this action resulted in riots and uprising. Records about Kadeki in the aftermath of the uprising which destroyed the city''s government have been lost, and it is believed he lost his life in the chaos.]

 88- Financial Aid

    Otan, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Normally, I thought, this was something I would be able to delegate to Ran. At the moment, however, she was recovering from her wounds in a hospital, along with Kein and Cinto. This left me with a lot of work to do in the aftermath of the mission. After all, we had to handle the large number of escaped martial artists who had wished to join the sect, as well as the need to handle the Pantheonic Government¡¯s investigation.


    I had placed Jihan and Eli in charge of the sect for the moment, while I myself made my way to Otan by way of aero. The sect currently had extremely high liquidity due to the attacks we had made against the neighboring gangs the other day, but I feared it would not be enough. I needed to acquire a lot more money, very fast. There were a few methods of achieving this, all of which I and Rachel had discussed in advance.


    Firstly, we could attempt to get loans from either the Hadal Clan or the Venin Group. However, we already owed both forces multiple important favors, and I was wary about what requests would be brought up in exchange.


    Secondly, we could attack even more forces, and attempt to steal more money. However, this would increase our profile, and create more enemies for us. It was a very risky decision for the present circumstances.


    Finally, we could acquire a loan from another force. Of all the bankers and loan sharks on the station, there was only one who would give out loans of the necessary size without asking questions. The interest rate would be extortionate, but our choices were limited. Ultimately, this had been deemed the best choice, and so here I was in the fourth district: Otan.


    I had yet to visit this part of the station before, and I found it to be rather dreary. Tall factories loomed over the cityscape, some of which were so large they took up several entire stacks. Worker Exid were everywhere, scurrying around past my feet as I made my way to the heart of one of the Queendoms. Occasional passerby of other races gave me odd glances. A Seiyal wearing such fine robes in a dingy district such as this one was an uncommon occurrence, but I had felt that because I was on official business with another underworld organization, I needed to uphold the dignity of my position. It would hurt the face of the Redwater Sect for the sect leader to walk around openly wearing dingy clothing.


    I, of course, knew little of the insectoid race, nor did I have much hope of communicating directly with most of them. After all, I could hardly even speak Staiven, much less whatever language it was that the Exid spoke. I vaguely remembered Rachel having told me that the Exid could not actually speak the languages that the humanoids did, and relied upon machines to turn their chittering and pheromones into comprehensible language. I had come to the territory of Queen Heissix, because according to Rachel, the Heissix Corporation¡¯s website claimed they spoke seiyin.


    Rachel had woken up late last night from what I only then learned was slumber. Apparently, she had overtaxed her mind fighting against the enemy Shade, and had fallen asleep. I was shocked to find out her suspicions that after she lost consciousness, said enemy Shade had willingly aided us in completing our egress from the facility.


    The motivations of the Shade would have to wait for later, however, in my estimation. The matter of keeping the Pantheonic Government off of our backs would have to be dealt with first, and that meant speaking with Queen Heissix.


    The Heissix Corporation¡¯s headquarters was a vast, multi layer structure, located above a stack filled entirely with layers upon layers of factories and housing for the workers. I couldn¡¯t guess how terrible the living conditions were for the workers, though I knew it would assuredly be destitute in nature.


    Unlike the factories and housing, the headquarters was palatial, composed of a smooth, gleaming material of a brilliant white hue that mimicked the shade of the Exid¡¯s own carapace. As I walked through the open hatch that was the main entrance, it was as if I was entering into the gaping maw of a vast insect.


    The interior of the corporate headquarters was actually quite finely decorated, though in that same odd manner that mimicked the appearance of the Exid themselves. Was this their aesthetic taste, or simply that of Queen Heissix, I wondered?


    There were fewer worker drones moving around in the lobby, though one of them stood behind a desk. There was no visible terminal interface on the desk, merely a number of buttons. As I approached, the worker pressed one of the buttons, and a voice spoke out in seiyin. It was androgynous, and clearly machine generated.


    ¡°Welcome to Heissix Industrial Corporation, heart of the Heissix Queendom. Please state your identity and business.¡±


    I wondered whether the drone would understand what I was saying, or if a machine would be the recipient. Either way, I chose to look in the Exid¡¯s compound eyes as I replied. It was hard to tell whether it was meeting my gaze or not.


    ¡°My name is Cyrus Yu, Leader of the Redwater Sect, and I am here to discuss business with Queen Heissix. I have an appointment.¡±


    There was an extended pause, just slightly longer than a person would have taken to parse my words, and then I heard some faint clicking noises and a hiss, as if a puff of gas had been released by the desk. The Exid pressed a sequence of buttons on its console, and the machine¡¯s androgynous voice returned.


    ¡°Greetings, Mister. Cyrus. Yu. The Great Queen will see you shortly. A guide will show you the way.¡±


    The drone extended one of its forelimbs, pointing at a hatch that opened on a wall to the side. The hatch had been painted white, and blended in quite well with the smooth white surface. The door closed behind another worker drone, who moved to stand before me, made a clicking noise, and then walked off. I began to follow it.


    ¡°What do you think?¡± asked Rachel, her voice suddenly manifesting, though her projection was nowhere in sight.


    ¡°The oddness of this species puts the Staiven to shame,¡± I replied, lowering my voice, even though I knew the worker would not be able to understand me.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Yes, insectoid races are often like this. I find them almost as strange as cephalopod and floral species.¡±


    ¡°There are plant races?¡± I asked, very surprised. I had never heard anything of the sort.


    ¡°Not in the Pantheonic Territory. We¡¯ve found a couple of them in the Frontier, and I¡¯ve heard that there is at least one inside the Shalthen-Qatath¡¯s Territory. Their cultures tend to develop very differently than humanoids, as you would expect. They tend to advance more slowly, and even the most advanced one we¡¯ve found has no desire to expand past their home system. They have a very interesting religion focusing on their home star.¡±


    In a few short sentences, Rachel had already told me more than enough to sate my small amount of curiosity about the matter, so I shifted the conversation back to the matter at hand.


    ¡°How do you recommend I approach this?¡± I asked. Though I suspected she had never spoken to an Exid Queen herself either, Rachel had likely already studied all books ever written about interspecies relations with the insectoid species.


    ¡°In all honesty, I think you¡¯ll be fine. Just use your sect leader aura and she¡¯ll probably deal with you as fairly as you can expect an underworld loan shark to. I¡¯ll keep you updated on the quality of the terms she¡¯s offering.¡±


    I nodded, and continued to follow the worker drone. We had gone down a series of hallways, and it had rapidly shifted from looking like a stark yet elegantly put together corporate lobby to what looked more like the interior of a mine. Struts of a moist looking gray material appeared to be holding the stone walls up, though I knew this was just an appearance. Was this what Exid hives looked like, back on their homeworld? Presumably the lobby was designed to cater to the sensitivities of other races, while the interior of the building was to those of the Queen herself. It made sense, after all it was extremely rare for an Exid Queen to ever leave her hive.


    We turned another corner and I found myself in a cavernous room filled with the sticky gray substance. It sort of felt like I had entered a monochrome world, myself the only presence in the room not painted purely in hues of black and white. At the center of the room was a vast monster that reminded me of the fiends of my homeworld. It had an innumerable number of limbs attached to its torso, from which extended a vast, bulbous abdomen that extended for almost fifty feet in length. The creature, who I knew must be the Exid Queen Heissix, was surrounded by round black spheres, one of which was slowly emerging from the very end of her abdomen. The upper part of her body was shrouded in a thicker version of that same white carapace that all Exid retained, and a large head sat atop her thorax. Two vast compound eyes watched me, and her mandibles twitched and chittered, as if she were speaking. I was taken aback by the sight, but my bodily control was more than enough to protect me from making any obvious breaches in decorum.


    Suddenly, that same androgynous mechanical voice spoke in seiyin, emerging from a speaker embedded into the room¡¯s ceiling.


    ¡°Welcome, Sect Leader Yu. I am Queen Heissix, true inheritor of my bloodline, and heir of the Exid Queendoms. I was told you wished to take out a loan from me?¡±


    I nodded, and gave her a slight half-bow, the sort one would do to an equal.


    ¡°Indeed, Great Queen. I would like to request to borrow three quarters of a million serite, to be paid back by year¡¯s end.¡±


    The vast organism shifted, and I was curious how she avoided mashing any of the hundreds of eggs which surrounded her. She chittered again, and I waited for the machine to translate.


    ¡°That is quite a lot of money,¡± she said. ¡°I see why you have come. Your organization is likely reputable, but you are very new. I find it hard to trust you. Three months, seventy percent interest.¡±


    After waiting a moment for Rachel to tell me what I already knew: that this was a terrible deal, before making my response.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I cannot accept such a deal, Great Queen,¡± I replied. ¡°How about six months, at twenty percent?¡±


    We had known before coming here that we would be gouged on the rates and return period no matter what. All I could do was minimize the wound so that it was survivable. Otherwise, we would be paying this debt off for decades. Given the way the Justice Office functioned, it was also likely that they would side with Heissix rather than us if she decided to take up the repayment issues with the courts.


    In response, there was a puff of gas as a thick smell filled the space. Even that was translated by the machine.


    ¡°Emotion: Disdain. Twenty percent- ridiculous! It would not even be worth loaning at such a low rate of return. I could offer you a rate of forty five percent, for four months. That is final, however.¡±


    Again, I paused to hear what Rachel had to say about the matter.


    ¡°I think we¡¯ll have to take it,¡± she said. ¡°The Exid care very much about their word, so if she says it¡¯s final, that means she will not go any lower. They know that only the desperate are willing to take loans from them, and take advantage of this.¡±


    I sighed, trusting that Rachel knew what she was talking about. I could think of no feasible ways to gather that much money up in a mere four months, but we would have to figure something out. For now, surviving the current crisis was our priority.


    ¡°I can agree to that, Great Queen.¡±


    She rumbled, and a different scent filled the air.


    ¡°Emotion: Smugness. It is a pleasure to do business with you, Sect Leader Yu. I hope we can make many more such transactions in the future. I will have the guide bring you to the contract.¡±


    I gave her another half bow, but before I left, I had a thought, and decided to ask a question.


    ¡°By the way, I was surprised you were willing to meet me in person,¡± I said. ¡°It speaks much to your bravery, and I am curious about your reasoning.¡±


    There was an audible puff, and a pungent scent soon thickened the air. The translator spoke again.


    ¡°Emotion: Pride. Even a martial artist cannot escape this place alive if I do not wish it, and a man such as you would not throw his life away needlessly. You would not do anything, Cyrus Yu. I have no reason to fear you.¡±


    I was curious about whether she was right or not. I doubted anyone in the station was better at escape than I, unless there was a hidden immortal or ascendant that I didn¡¯t know about. But the Exid were not weak, and their swarms were very capable of taking down superior foes. But as she said, I had to admit, I had no reason to test it. I bowed once more, bid her goodbye, and followed the guide back out to the lobby.


    Exid Queens: [Unlike most races, there is little racial camaraderie among the Exid. Each Queendom considers itself a fully separate culture, and most Queens claim that they are the true inheritor to the ancestors of the Exid people, and that all other Queens should rightfully be their subordinates. Such claims are even made at times by Queens who have themselves been subordinated. However, as they find other races inherently untrustworthy, the Queens still tend to work together just as much as they connive against one another for superiority. In addition, despite their naturally extremely high intellect, the Queendoms would likely never have achieved spaceflight on their own, as a great deal of technology belonging to a Queendom was often historically destroyed upon the Queen''s death to prevent their rivals from discovering it, vastly hindering their capabilities. However, they achieved a technology boom after making first contact which allowed them the capacity to expand, so that even the weaker Queendoms could, in theory, develop their own territory away from others. However, there are only so many places close enough to advanced civilizations to learn more advanced technology from, yet still a place where they are allowed to set up their Queendoms. They are, after all, unable to compete for territory with even the more powerful mortal civilizations, much less the Osine and Ascendants. For this reason, many Exid Queens have set out blindly into the vast expanse of the Frontier, never to return.]

 89- The Communitys Center

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Over the course of the past few weeks, the Redwater Sect had gone from an unassuming and dilapidated office building to an ornate headquarters befitting its name. The exterior had a traditional look, draped in arches and lanterns. Above the main entry arch was a finely crafted signboard that was supposedly made of real wood. As I walked under it, lines of the sect¡¯s disciples quickly formed to bow respectfully, giving greetings to their sect leader.


    I had received a similar response as I walked through the neighborhood towards the headquarters. I had been surprised by just how many of the mortal Seiyal and Tovus living around this part of Canvas Town had recognized me so easily. I knew that my name was well known, but it seemed my appearance had become recognizable as well. Though, I suspected it was mostly the unique red robes that I was wearing. Based on what the random passersby told me, it seemed that everyone in the area had a friend, relative, or neighbor who had joined the sect. It felt odd to realize that our organization was rapidly becoming the backbone of a small community. Just as all great sects were.


    The interior of the sect was just as refined, and the bustle of disciples going about their daily labor continued. As I walked past them, each and every one greeted me respectfully. I made my way to the conference room, whose chairs and table had finally been replaced by comfortable seats and a long table made of composite wood, created in a factory. Resins had been dripped into cracks in the wood, and so veins of different colors coursed their way within the surface. There were six colors, each of them corresponding to one of the types of miasma.


    Inside the room sat Rachel, Jihan, and Orion, with Eli nowhere to be seen. I assumed he was at some inn somewhere speaking to one of his informants. The man was surprisingly adept at his job, it seemed. Rachel had told me that he had uncovered the location of the retirement facility in just a couple days.


    As I entered, Rachel greeted me without even bothering to look up, while Jihan and Orion stood and bowed in a solemn manner.


    ¡°Greetings, Sect Leader.¡±


    ¡°Fancy for you to join us, Cyrus. We were discussing the roles we would be giving to these two and all of the new members.¡±


    I gave Rachel a look, and chose to ignore the fact that she had been speaking with me during a significant portion of my excursion to Otan. I sat down in my seat at the ending of the table. They had made it the most opulent, though I had made certain it would not be so garish as a throne. It simply made little sense to put that much effort into something that would only be seen by the highest ranking members of the sect.


    ¡°What roles do they want?¡± I asked, as I rested my elbows on the table.


    ¡°I heard that you need someone to keep up training standards for the soldiers, right?¡± asked Orion.


    I nodded.


    ¡°You believe you would make a good Iron Palace Leader?¡±


    He smiled, leaning back in his seat.


    ¡°I know the old drill routines from my previous organization. Don¡¯t know too much about all of these genesis techniques, but I figure most of your rank and file have such poor ones it won¡¯t matter.¡±


    I sighed, secretly agreeing with him. I needed to train up some disciples in my own techniques soon, so that we could begin acquiring more high level combatants, in time. The infusion of new blood from the facility, as almost fifty new martial artists, many of whom were from out of system, would help, particularly the addition of Jihan and Orion, but the issue remained. After all, technique exclusivity was not limited to Tseludia.


    In theory, I was fine with Orion taking up the role, at least on a trial basis. He was fairly strong, and he had an edge to him that I felt might be good at intimidating people into following his instructions. Rachel could keep an eye on him to ensure he was kept in line. I glanced at her, and she shrugged.


    ¡°Works for me. It would be good to take up some more of Cinto¡¯s workload while she recovers. I got the impression she took some psychological damage there, aside from just the physical injuries.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯ll be fine,¡± I replied.


    Rachel was unable to leave it quite at that.


    ¡°...We¡¯ll see,¡± she said.


    ¡®Alright, then. Orion, you¡¯ll be the head of the Iron Palace on a trial basis. If you do well, we¡¯ll make it permanent.¡±


    He bowed his head in appreciation, though I could tell he was excited. As a lifetime gangster, I knew that he knew well the benefits that such a high position in a sect could provide. If he abused his privileges, we would need to punish him. A sect¡¯s reputation could be ruined if it could not rein in its members.


    I turned my head to Jihan, who was silently listening to the conversation. Unlike Orion, Jihan was not considering his future path, as he intended to leave the station with his subordinates after our pact was complete. They numbered only four, but each was a sanguine practitioner of either the meridian establishment or core formation stage. It was one of the strongest forces under my command at the moment, particularly since they trained in techniques that were at or near the peak level.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°For an official role in the sect, I¡¯ll just name you the Third Elder. You¡¯ll be in command of your men, and serve as my left hand when needed. When the promised date passes, you and your men will be free to leave.¡±


    ¡°As you will, Sect Leader.¡±


    I could tell that Orion felt slightly jealous of the role, as an Elder was ranked higher than a mere Palace Leader. However, he made no move to speak, as he knew that a spirit refiner deserved such higher attention. If he succeeded at making his way through the bottleneck, and proved trustworthy, I would consider making him an Elder as well. I suspected it was only a matter of time before he had the opportunity, as Rachel had informed me that the man had managed to scavenge a pair of manifest treasures from some odd form of Staiven weapon. Perhaps we would have a fourth Elder in just a number of years.


    Now that that matter was complete, I turned back to Rachel to find out something else I wished to know.


    ¡°How are the others doing?¡±


    I didn¡¯t need to specify, she knew who I was referring to. Rachel¡¯s expression went slightly downcast for a moment.


    ¡°Ran will be healed and ready pretty soon, her techniques kept the injuries to a manageable amount. Cinto will also be fine, but her arm was unrecoverable. We won¡¯t be able to afford to clone a new one for her at the moment, either, due to our budget. I suggest we just get her a prosthetic for the moment, and upgrade it later on once our debt is repaid.¡±


    I nodded at that. Cloned body parts for Seiyal were expensive, as in Tseludia, only the Staiven had the facilities for such technology, and they mostly catered to themselves.


    ¡°What about Kein?¡±


    Rachel winced.


    ¡°Kein¡­ Kein still has yet to wake up. The damage he took from the manifest energy projector¡­ it caused sanguine energy to run rampant through his body.¡± She quickly glanced at Jihan, before returning her gaze to me. ¡°Jihan was able to manage without issue due to his path, but I suspect that even if Kein does survive, he will likely remain crippled and sickly for the rest of his life.¡±


    I frowned. Kein was a hard worker, and he struck me as a caring man, to the point where I was very curious why he had even been a gangster in the first place.


    ¡°I see. Make sure the hospital is well paid. I will not have him die like this, even if he does end up crippled.¡±


    Rachel agreed.


    ¡°I feel the same way. I¡¯ll look into the data and see if there¡¯s anything I can do personally to assist. He¡¯s a good man, and his skills are extremely useful to us.¡±


    After a short moment of silence, I looked back over to Rachel.


    ¡°What should I expect from the trial?¡± I asked.


    ¡°It should be pretty simple. We just have to hold to our alibi and claim that we are being framed. With how much we¡¯ll be spending, they should rule in our favor rather quickly.¡±


    I let out a sigh.


    ¡°Good. I-¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± she said, interrupting me. ¡°It seems that it¡¯s time.¡±


    ¡°Time for what?¡± asked Orion, confused.


    Just a few moments later, there was a knock on the hatch, and the hatch to the room opened with a wave of Rachel¡¯s arm. A young disciple quickly ran around the corner. She stood before me, and quickly bowed. She was tall for her age, somewhere in her mid-teens, and if I had to guess, I would have placed her as having Bountian heritage, based on her dark skin tone and the cast of her face. I vaguely remembered having seen her during the entrance examination. She had fought her opponent viciously. I distinctly remembered her biting her opponent at one point. She paused abruptly before me, quickly bowing. She was clearly unused to the motion.


    ¡°Sect¡­ Sect Leader¡­¡±


    The disciple gave me an awkward look, worried about being punished for the interruption.


    ¡°Is there an issue?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Yes, Sect Leader,¡± she said, regaining self control. ¡°There is a Staiven waiting for you outside. He¡¯s wearing a uniform and claims to be from the Justice Office.¡± Her eyes flicked over to Rachel, and then back towards myself. ¡°He wishes for both you and the Vice-Leader to go with him.¡±


    ¡°So that¡¯s what it was,¡± I said. ¡°Good work,¡± I told the girl. ¡°Tell him that I will be there shortly.¡±


    She nodded, and then scurried off to follow the order. I stood and began fixing my robe, before taking a glance at Rachel.


    ¡°You already made the deal, right?¡± I asked.


    It had barely been an hour since I had spoken with Queen Heissix, but I knew that she had been in discussions in advance. It was how we knew just how much we would need to request. She nodded in response.


    ¡°In that case,¡± I said. ¡°I doubt there will be any issues. Orion, get to work. Jihan, keep an eye out.¡±


    The taller man stood and bowed, and watched me as I walked over towards the sect¡¯s front entrance. This would undoubtedly be a great trial for us, but one that would bring great benefit to the sect, if all went well. After all, publicity was power for a sect. In most cases, a sect¡¯s business was built entirely on its reputation.


    Martial Sects: [Existing on Canvas for as long as historians can track, martial sects have served as forces that train up some of the most powerful of martial artists, due to their long histories and extensive catalogues of techniques for their disciples. Sects can be found on every inhabited continent, and even throughout the universe, wherever a sufficient population of Seiyal can be found. Unlike a clan, sects are often largely meritocratic, giving advantages based on talent and skill, rather than merely for being descendants of a certain bloodline. Despite this, nepotism still exists within sects, as it does in nearly all humanoid societies. Sects are often the hearts of their communities, providing jobs, security, and glory to those who are connected to them. Aside from selling protection via lending disciples to their clients, which were historically travelling merchant groups for protection from bandits, many sects also buy up and own nearby businesses, acquiring the finances they need to continue running. Sects are thus highly competitive, as merchants always respect the more well known and perceived to be powerful sects over those who are less known. Such disputes are why sects so rarely spring up near one another. It is said to be inevitable that two forces located within the same city will inevitably come into conflict.]

 90- Trial of the Riverfiend

    First District, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Sioan was in a foul mood. The retirement facility trashed, its guards murdered, and all of the alien test subjects escaped. Luckily, none of the scientists, and only one of the Elders had been slain, but it was still something which would hold back their efforts for years. She was glad to have been spared, but now her life¡¯s work had been significantly delayed. Who knew how long it would take to capture another spirit refiner? Of course, she thought, that was unless she could get one of them arrested, and intercept them before they were sent to the prison moon.


    The Hadal Clan, obviously, had too much influence, too many connections with corporations to attack. This newly formed Redwater Sect was different. They lacked the connections to shift the blame downwards, and she doubted they had enough money to survive a trial. It was perfect. Sioan was funded by both the government and most of the top corporations. She had more than enough money and influence to ensure that all of the top brass of the sect would go down, and in doing so fall right into her hands.


    As it was clear who the culprit was, as well as the classified nature of the crime in question, Sioan had managed to schedule the trial as immediate as was possible, in order to save time.


    The courtroom the trial took place in was stately and had been left largely undecorated, a monument to the ideals of efficiency and wise spending aside from the large holy emblems which rested on the far back wall behind the judge¡¯s uplifted seat. There were only three tables in the room, those of the judge, the prosecutor, and the defendant. There was no place for anyone else to sit, so Sioan had taken up a place beside the prosecutor. She was both the victim and the primary witness for the trial.


    Before long, the judge entered, as well as two Seiyal, who were led in by a pair of uniformed Justice Officers. The metal barrels of the room¡¯s turrets fixated on the pair as they sat on their seats. The weapons had not been part of the room¡¯s original design, but had later been added after the station was refurbished to cater to alien residents. It had been added to make people in the trial rooms such as the judges and lawyers feel comfortable, even in the presence of physically powerful individuals such as those present here and now.


    Sioan got her first good sense of the Riverfiend and his Vice Leader. He appeared quite dignified in his fine robes, and she did as well in her own set. Sioan sensed Rachel¡¯s gaze as she glanced over. She was curious about the woman, and the slight oddness to her nature. The properties of extant miasma were very odd, and she would love to inspect Rachel¡¯s body.


    While Sioan rarely dealt with trials such as this one, she had spoken with some colleagues, and acquired a link to speak with the judge for the trial in advance. His name was Tevei, and he had been quite happy to take her money in exchange for ruling in her favor. At the moment, she honestly wished that the legal system was less corrupt. Since the martial artists were so obviously guilty, she would have been able to acquire them without spending a single serite.


    The moment Tevei sat down in his seat, he clicked a button on his podium, and a chime dinged audibly, marking the start of the trial.


    ¡°The nature of the crime is breaking and entering, as well as the murder of government employees. A group of what appeared to be martial artists broke in, and based on genetic markers as well as abilities, it is believed to be members of the Redwater Sect. Representing them is the sect¡¯s Leader and Vice Leader, and representing the group who were victims of this incident is Miss Sioan. Personally, I believe the result of this trial will be fairly obvious, so we¡¯ll run through everything quickly, if all parties are in agreement.¡±


    Sioan easily agreed, as did the martial artists. They didn¡¯t seem worried, and she wondered whether they had tried to pay off the judge. She sneered, knowing they had no chance of competing against the power of her wallet, particularly because they were so clearly guilty. There had even been DNA evidence taken in that matched with several of their members. She wondered whether their plan was to sell out some of their underlings to let themselves get off. If so, they would be disappointed.


    With that taken care of, Tevei immediately turned to glance at Sioan.


    ¡°Sioan, you claim to be a witness to the crime, having been present in the facility during the raid.¡±


    He paused, waiting for her response.


    ¡°That is indeed the case, Judge Tevei.¡±Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    ¡°Good. Do you believe that among the martial artists you witnessed within the facility, Cyrus Yu and Rachel were present?¡±


    ¡°I do.¡±


    ¡°Please describe the individuals you witnessed.¡±


    ¡°He was a Seiyal man, and a powerful formless practitioner. That could only have been the Riverfiend.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re certain it was the defendant?¡± asked Judge Tevei.


    Sioan nodded, her expression impassive. She had considered using fake waterworks, but it wasn¡¯t as if that would affect anything. A judge was rarely motivated by emotions. Only money and evidence could sway one of them.


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m very certain. Every aspect of him matches perfectly. Unless he has a twin¡­¡±


    This was, of course, a lie. Sioan had been in another part of the facility, and had not even seen him. Still, it wasn¡¯t as if lying here would cause her any issues. There had once been a motion brought to the Council of Clerics to mandate witnesses to swear to the Pantheon itself not to lie during trials, but the idea had been shot down unanimously. After all, trials would become more difficult to win, and thus more expensive, for the societal elite, if they were unable to lie.


    Judge Tevei nodded, accepting her words. He then turned towards the seat where the Riverfiend and his subordinate were sitting.


    ¡°Mister Yu, do you have anything to say in your defense?¡±


    The Seiyal shrugged, exposing a small ripple of muscle along his neckline. Sioan noticed the odd way it shifted, as if part of the muscle had contorted its way through or around his collarbone. She felt a deep stirring of desire, one that was difficult to hold in. She wished to dissect him, and was very curious about the nature of a formless constitution. It could be extremely useful for her research. Even more so than the sanguine practitioner had been. After all, unlike sanguine Elders, formless Elder Staiven she was allowed to perform experiments on. The compatibility would almost certainly be far superior.


    ¡°The perpetrator would have to be somebody else. My partner and I,¡± he said, motioning towards Rachel, ¡°were at a theater watching a recent play. I¡¯m certain we can pull up some evidence, if you need.¡±


    ¡°I still have the ticket stubs,¡± she said. ¡°We even took some photographs of ourselves.¡±


    Sioan had known about the alibi in advance, and was honestly curious just how they had accomplished it. The only explanation she could think of was that either they had acquired some strange advanced technology to expand the extant woman¡¯s technique range, or the sect secretly had a second powerful extant practitioner. She had paid the judge some extra fees to account for ignoring the matter. After all, everyone here was already aware that they were guilty. She wondered just how they managed to be so confident.


    ¡°I see,¡± said Judge Tevei, nodding as if she had made a good point. ¡°In that case, it must have been someone else.¡± He smiled, and shifted his head to direct his words towards Sioan. ¡°I believe we have apprehended the wrong individuals. I will trust that the true perpetrator will soon be brought to me.¡±


    Sioan was flabbergasted, and for a moment she was unable to even comprehend what he was saying. Had he really sold out to the Seiyal? Just how had they acquired the funds to pay him off? She had offered over half a million serite to the man. Just who was backing them? Had there been a deeper meaning to the raid, more than just stealing those eyes? Perhaps they had been paid by someone to sabotage her experiments¡­


    With that, Tevei immediately pressed the button to end the trial. As he walked out, he passed by Sioan, who was still deep in thought. He whispered in her ear.


    ¡°Next time, you should consider more deeply just how much your opposition is willing to spend, Miss Sioan. They have clearly deeper pockets than you anticipated, it seems.¡±


    Sioan growled, but allowed him to pass. She had missed the opportunity, and would likely have to rebuilt her supply of test subjects in the slow way. She turned to observe the two martial artists. Cyrus walked out calmly, while Rachel once again turned to observe Sioan back. The Seiyal woman smiled, and gave her a polite wave of goodbye.


    Sioan was enraged, but of course, there was nothing she could do. She was the highest ranking of the scientists that had been placed on the project, but the military forces under her command had been annihilated. She would let this matter go. For the moment, it was all she could do.


    Staiven Legal System: [The legal system of Staive has remained almost exactly as it is now for centuries. While it pretends to be an impartial system for ensuring no innocent civilians are taken to prison for crimes they did not commit, in reality it largely just serves as a way for those with money to escape from their sentencing by bribing the judges. Judicial positions are one of the most highly sought after of all government jobs, and the competition for them is intense, as they can make almost as much as a high cleric or a corporate CEO if they manage to preside over cases involving important figures. This is particularly so when they can initiate a bidding war between both sides, or trick one of the sides into giving money and not returning it even though they lose. Of course, a judge''s reputation is key, as if they are seen as untrustworthy, none will be willing to bribe them. Judges have been killed for not following certain strict unspoken rules of corruption. In most cases, the trial is fundamentally just a formality with the result decided long in advance.]

 91- Boundary

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Like in most cities, the boundaries between districts and neighborhoods on Tseludia were tenuous. Legally speaking, of course, one stacked marked the edge of district three, while the next entered into district six. Culturally, however, there was a significant amount of overlap. The inhabitants of the stacks nearest the border might live in one district, but work in the other, and as the races who largely inhabited the two districts were both humanoid, there were many similarities between them. Here, Jobu, Seiyal, Korlove, and Tovus all lived, though not in harmony. No, harmony had long begun to fall apart.


    It had started with a drunken brawl. Many of the bars in the area catered to individuals from both worlds. Arguments and fights were a given for bars that catered to Seiyal, even those who were mortal or mere foundation refinement martial artists. The Riverfiend had been the cause, originally. Before long, it had no relation to him at all.


    To some of the Seiyal, he was a hero. An exemplary figure uplifting the masses and performing heroic deeds. To others, he was a madman, a bomb waiting to explode. To the Celans, he was a thief and a murderer. It was no surprise that an argument occurred at a bar near the border, and no surprise that drunkards could escalate such a dispute into a brawl. What was once a dispute over the morality of a powerful figure turned to slurs and insults, and the slumbering seeds of resentment took root once more in people¡¯s hearts. Matters only continued to worsen from there. It was easy for the disenfranchised to hate one another, and this part of the third and sixth districts were close to slums. Decades ago, there had been a deep hatred between the Canvasian and Celan refugees on the station, as they found themselves located nearby one another and in many cases, competing for similar opportunities to escape poverty. This had largely ended after the previous gang war, decades before, which ended in both sides being too tired of conflict to care anymore. But deep down, those tensions, that resentment, was still there. And the Hadal Clan and Heirs of Ottrien continued to compete with one another.


    Takott slunk her way down the street, carefully avoiding bumping into anyone. She felt that the streets were a warren of snakes recently, and she felt uneasy whenever she left her home. A Tovus sliding their way past cursed her for being in their way, even though she had tried to give him a greater berth. It was not her fault that Korlove took up more space on the ground than most races did due to their large number of legs.


    She skittered her way through the crowd, staying careful. When she had first moved to an apartment within Canvas Town, she had simply thought that the rent was very affordable. It was close enough to the edge of Little Celah that she did not have to go out of her way to reach the restaurant where she worked as a server. Until recently, she had never once felt in danger during her commute.


    Until recently, she had not felt uncomfortable to be surrounded by the aliens, even the Tovus and the occasional Telaretian. One of her Jobu coworkers had been taken to the prison moon just the other day for participating in a fight in a bar that had resulted in a casualty, and now they were understaffed, and she had to pick up more shifts.


    Her roommate had left their apartment, choosing to move back in with her parents across the district because she had felt unsafe. Takott had to admit that she herself felt unsafe as well, every time she received a downturned gaze or was called a spider by the harsh words of a passerby. But Takott had nowhere to go. She was an orphan and single, and would find herself homeless if she decided not to return home, or not to return to her job. She was living paycheck to paycheck, her meager savings not yet enough to move up in life as she was hoping to.


    As Takott turned down into the alley where her apartment¡¯s entrance lay, she was shocked to hear a scream from deeper inside. She paused in surprise to see a group of Seiyal and Tovus snarling and cursing as they pummeled a pair of Korlove, an elderly couple who were Takott¡¯s neighbors. She lifted one of her limbs to her mouth, frozen in terror. Behind her, the passersby continued to walk, as if unaware of what was happening. Of course, there was no chance that they didn¡¯t see, didn¡¯t know. She felt as if she was trapped in a cage of Canvasian make, awaiting her own demise.


    Moments later, she regained control of her body, and turned to run away. She could maybe try to sleep on a friend¡¯s couch for the night, it would be fine. She tried to dash away, but in her terror, her muscles failed to fire properly, and she tripped over one of her own legs. She heard a mocking laugh, and then one of the Seiyal before her said something in their language before approaching her. She tried to dive towards the crowd that was so close by, but the Seiyal was too fast, moving just slightly past seemed possible. Takott¡¯s guts fell through her chest. A martial artist. She screamed in terror as she felt a hand on one of her legs. It was the most fearful moment of her life, as well as one of the last. Takott¡¯s sole solace was that she passed out from only the second blow.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    <hr>


    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Whai sighed as he looked down the row of corpses.


    ¡°I¡¯d say it was a mix of Tovus and some humanoids that did this. Seiyal, most likely.¡±


    ¡°Usually is,¡± agreed his partner.


    They were standing in an alley in one of the lower portions of the stack, faced with a row of contorted, gray bodies. Three Korlove had been bludgeoned to death with physical force, and the total lack of witnesses to the scene of the crime had resulted in Aechs and Whai being called to investigate. Not that the two of them really believed that. This had occurred during daylight, near a busy street. So many had passed by, and must have seen or heard glimpses of what occurred, but all of them either did not care, or were too scared to say anything. The scene of the crime, and the current state of the victims might have been a disgusting sight, but the two of them had been on the job for quite a long time, and had long grown used to the sight of corpses.


    ¡°Why is it,¡± Whai asked, ¡°That recently, it¡¯s almost always the Canvasians and the Celans?¡±


    ¡°Does it matter?¡±


    ¡°I suppose not, but I don¡¯t believe the Hadal Clan and the Heirs were behind this, not this time.¡±


    Aechs gave his partner a curious expression.


    ¡°Why do you think that?¡±


    Whai laughed.


    ¡°Because nobody¡¯s offered to bribe us yet.¡±


    Aechs laughed at that, chuffing out a sackful of air.


    ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right. Probably just another hate crime, then. We¡¯ll actually have to find the culprit this time.¡±


    ¡°When can we find another payoff like the one last week?¡± Whai asked.


    Aecha kneeled next to one of the bodies, using a scanner to collect data.


    ¡°Greater strength than most races was used. I expect it would have to be a martial artist or a Jobu, knowing this area.¡±


    Whai was examining another of the corpses, and quickly chimed in with his own findings.


    ¡°This slime is definitely from a Tovus. We could probably easily find them if we were to start testing locals. I¡¯m not looking forward to it,¡± he sighed.


    ¡°I suppose you did have a point,¡± muttered Aechs.


    Whai turned his head, curious to see what his partner was talking about.


    ¡°About what?¡± he asked.


    ¡°About the Celans and the Canvasians. I was talking to Treklam earlier, and she said that violence between the two has gone up by over three times in the past week.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s to be expected from the Seiyal,¡± said Whai. ¡°Their entire culture is based on physical force. The Hadal Clan itself is controlled by the strongest of them.¡±


    ¡°I suppose,¡± agreed Aechs. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say the Celans generally act that way, though.¡±


    ¡°You really say that after what occurred last week?¡± asked Whai.


    Aechs silently assented, continuing to inspect the bodies. He wondered whether this matter would wind down and end here, or if the bodies would continue to pile up.


    ¡°Perhaps we will soon see a gang war once more,¡± he muttered.


    Whai clapped him on the shoulder.


    ¡°Well, there¡¯s nothing we can do about that, if so. Even if they are violent, I doubt either the Hadal Clan or the Heirs wish for that to happen unless they¡¯re forced into it. And even if they do, it¡¯ll be stopped before it can escalate too much, just like last time.¡±


    Aechs sighed.


    ¡°Let¡¯s just find this murderer and get out of here.¡±


    He didn¡¯t feel like he wanted to remain in this area for too long. It was as if there was an aura of dread, like a lit powder keg waiting to blow.


    Hate Crimes on Tseludia: [For a station as diverse as Tseludia, interactions between individuals of various races can be fraught at times, in particular due to the preferential treatment given to certain races by the Pantheonic Government and the underworld organizations. Disputes between underworld forces have long caused tensions between certain groups, such as the longstanding resentment held by the Canvasians and the Celans for one another. Similarly, many resent the preferential treatment held by the Staiven, and to a lesse extent the Escalos, who have something of an issue with the Telaretians themselves. Such tensions spiraled into a large gang war between underworld organizations decades ago. Although the gangs are largely held back by the underworld forces which control them, individual perpetuators of hate crimes continue to pop up every so often, particularly in the slums. Many have called for institutional reform in order to prevent such violence, but the Pantheonic Government''s official stance is that arresting and deporting criminals to the prison moon is the most effective way to curb crime.]

 92- Teacher

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Contrary to my concerns, the trial had gone well. If nothing else, I could appreciate just how quickly the Pantheonic Government could work when they wished to. It was a machine well lubricated with money. Some corporate leaders might pressure us because of this outcome, but with the Venin Group¡¯s assistance, we should be able to weather it. Nahalken had yet to give us the missions he wished us to undertake in exchange for his group¡¯s assistance, and nor had the Hadal Clan for their own. For now, the Redwater Sect had finally entered into a state of limbo, where we had no immediately pressing concerns aside from our dire need to make money. I wondered if this was what it felt like to be a corporation.


    Still, I trusted Rachel and Ran could handle the finances for the time being. As far as I was aware, there was nothing that I could personally do about that matter except for waiting for opportunities to arise. I knew for a fact that not every problem could be solved immediately. Still, I was not the sort to be idle. So I had decided that at the moment it would be best to invest my time into our future.


    As I entered the room, I noticed that the training hall was almost at capacity. I calmly walked up a small set of steps to stand at its front, on a small stage that had been installed in order to allow all of the disciples to see and hear their instructor at once. When my motion ceased and I looked down at them, over sixty disciples bowed to me in perfect unison.


    ¡°Greetings, Sect Leader!¡±


    The words arrived in perfect unison, and I couldn¡¯t help but admire the discipline that Cinto had instilled into them. It had only been a couple weeks since they had first joined the sect, and yet it felt like so long ago that we had recruited this crop of disciples. Each of them had entered into the foundation refinement realm, and had reached the precipice of taking in miasma. The time had come for them to decide which path they would follow in life. I scanned the crowd, recognizing some of the disciples I had bumped into around the sect, or who had left an impression on me during the entrance examination.


    ¡°Palace Leader Cinto is currently recuperating from her injuries, and so I will be taking over your training for the time being,¡± I said.


    I spoke plainly, but I could see the shock and admiration on many of the disciples¡¯ faces as a stir ran through the crowd. I waited for it to die down before continuing.


    ¡°I am sure that many of you are curious about just when you will be taught how to take this next step on your path, as well as what choices you will be given. Our sect has recently received a new influx of members who have arrived here from many different star systems, and they have brought several new techniques with them. This will broaden your options.¡±


    My eyes roamed through the crowd, locking gazes with many of the disciples, assessing them all carefully.


    ¡°A number of you,¡± I said, ¡°as promised, will be personally trained by myself in formless arts. The rest will be able to choose between the genesis, flickering, and manifest miasmas for your path. I will leave the choice up to you, but know this-¡± I held a finger up in the air in front of me. "Sometimes, it is better to make the choice that best suits you, rather than the one that seems strictly superior. Even if one of those I choose asks to learn a different set of techniques, this will be allowed. It is something I personally believe, and which is part of our sect¡¯s policy: ultimately, a martial artist should be free to choose their own path.¡±


    There was a moment of silence as I finished my short speech, one that lasted just a beat too long. I was still unaccustomed to this role, it seemed. I lightly coughed into my fist, and moved into the lesson.


    ¡°With that out of the way, let¡¯s get started. I want you all to perform the exercise routine that Cinto has been teaching you.¡±


    The routine was merely a shifting motion between some very basic martial stances. All forces I knew of used a variation on these same basic techniques, as they were not oriented towards any specific techniques or miasmas, merely useful for training a fledgling martial artist¡¯s bodily control and their ability to sense their own soul.


    After another pause, the disciples quickly moved into the first stance, going through the motions. I noted the momentary lapse in discipline, but decided to allow it. It was normal to be nervous in front of one¡¯s sect leader, and I was not in any sort of ill mood. I could bear to give them a little slack. They were still young, after all.


    ¡°Finally getting around to it?¡±


    The voice emerged from behind me, and I recognized it without needing to turn around. I was far too used to the sound of this voice appearing without warning. I wondered just when Rachel had manifested herself, but also knew that it did not particularly matter.


    ¡°There is finally nothing more pressing,¡± I replied.


    One of the disciples made a mistake in their form, and I strode down off the stage towards him, moving so quickly that to the disciples it must have seemed as if I had teleported. I reached out to grasp his arm and shoulder, pushing him into the right form.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°Be careful with the angle of your shoulder and your upper arm. If it is too high or too low, you will leave an opening your enemy can exploit.¡±


    The boy¡¯s lip trembled slightly, but he still responded properly.


    ¡°Thank you for your advice, Sect Leader.¡±


    I nodded at him, and started walking down the row of disciples, inspecting their motions. Behind me, I could sense an odd conglomeration of energies. Rachel was getting better at replicating a martial artist¡¯s soul to fool our senses, but her best efforts still came across as muted and unusual. I heard her giggle as we walked away from the disciple.


    ¡°You should be more careful, Cyrus. You scared him.¡±


    I looked back at her, delivering a scathing glance.


    ¡°It is only right for a student to fear their teacher. Even more so when that teacher is also the leader of the sect. Fear assists with discipline.¡±


    She shrugged, taking the initiative to assist another disciple who made a mistake before I could move to do so myself. Despite lacking a humanoid body herself, Rachel clearly found it trivial to understand the ways it moved. Given the way she so convincingly replicated it for her illusionary form, I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if she knew the Seiyal body even better than I did.


    ¡°Is that how they did things in the Downpour Sect?¡± she asked.


    I merely grunted in response, not wishing to talk about such things in front of the disciples. I was worried about saying the wrong thing and damaging my image. Speaking of the past had too high a chance of angering or saddening me. There was simply too much baggage attached to those memories.


    I passed a young woman who was a bit taller than I was. I remembered her from earlier. She was the one who had informed me of the Justice Officer¡¯s arrival. I spent an extra moment watching her performance. Her movements had flaws, but I could detect hints of potential for grace, and thought back to how vicious she had been during the entry examination. Indeed, I thought, nodding. This one had potential. I might choose her to receive my formless techniques. She would be well-suited to them. For a moment, she somehow reminded me of a frail figure from my past.


    As I returned to walking the lines, my mind wrapped up in nostalgia, Rachel whispered in my ear, hidden from the curious ears of the disciples.


    ¡°Is she your type?¡±


    I scoffed, ignoring her mockery. Though I looked far younger than my years, I was old enough to be the girl¡¯s father, and Rachel knew it. She giggled again, having gotten the reaction she was fishing for. Rachel was significantly more annoying when she was in a good mood.


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be tracking down that¡­ individual?¡± I asked, intending to divert her attention. I was careful with my words, because I couldn¡¯t simply speak of Shades in front of so many people, and I trusted Rachel would understand to whom I referred.


    A disciple a row over nearly stumbled as the group transitioned stances, and I rapidly approached to give some advice.


    ¡°Pay attention to the flow of natural energies. When your body is in tune with your soul, it will be trivial to maintain control.¡±


    The disciple quickly bowed to me before shifting to catch up her stance to that of the other disciples.


    ¡°Thank you, Sect Leader.¡±


    I gave her a sharp nod and then turned back to see Rachel¡¯s response.


    ¡°What makes you think I¡¯m not also working on that? No results yet, of course.¡±


    I frowned.


    ¡°Based upon the fact that you are here. I told you not to duplicate yourself too much until you recover.¡±


    Rachel smirked, waving her hand as if to shoo away my concerns.


    ¡°That¡¯s not how it works. I¡¯m already fully recovered. That hour of downtime was equivalent to a full week¡¯s worth of rest for me. Besides, just a few duplicates won¡¯t strain me at all. If I really wanted to push myself, I would just summon a projection for each student and teach them personally.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯ve really recovered, what is preventing you from doing that? I heard that you tried it out once or twice before already.¡±


    Rachel shrugged, closing her eyes with a sly expression.


    ¡°Oh, but you told me to take it easy, and so I will. Teaching takes a lot out of me.¡±


    I held back my desire to ask what she was even doing here if she didn¡¯t wish to teach at the moment, because I already knew the answer to that question. Instead, I continued to inspect the disciples, looking to find the ones who I believed would learn my techniques well. Later, I intended to speak with Rachel to determine the loyalty of my choices. While I accepted no traitors in the sect as a whole, I would hold those who learned the Downpour Sect¡¯s techniques to an even higher standard.


    After all, one day they would be the sect¡¯s elites.


    Basic/Unattuned Forms: [Certain types of movements work well with different types of miasmas, at least in the context of martial artists. For example, a formless practitioner uses inconsistent, flowing motions, while a flickering pracitioner might use more harsh, stuttered motions. However, martial artists at the foundation refinement stage and below still need to learn basic motions in order to train up their bodies and souls, and prepare to summon miasma. For this reason, long ago martial artists created sets of motions that do not correspond to any of the six miasmas, or at least, correspond to all of them as well. These unattuned forms, also known as the Basic Forms, have almost as many variations as there are different sects, and there is one important benefit to them over more advanced, attuned stances. Practitioners who first learned the basic forms can choose to acquire any miasma, not just the one their form corresponds to. For this reason, these forms are a staple of training for any sect that has techniques for more than just one or two energies.]

 93- An Abyss of Mind

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Holding the report in her hands, Sirena glanced over her desk at Wei, who had a dour expression on his face.


    ¡°This is all true?¡± she asked.


    Her aide nodded, his expression grave.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid it is.¡±


    Sirena pursed her lips. She felt as if she were reading a conspiracy theory rather than a legitimate report. She gritted her teeth, and her fists clenched as her nails dug into the flesh of her palm. By habit, she channeled a bit of her genesis miasma to strengthen her skin, so that her nails did not break through. Even when enraged, a proper matriarch would never lose her self control.


    ¡°I find it difficult- I almost refuse to believe they would do such experiments on our own people.¡±


    She wished to attack the facility and every damned Staiven who had taken part in its funding and operations. She coughed out a harsh laugh.


    ¡°There are none who are more callous than the Staiven. Even during our worst crusades, we Seiyal still at least cared about our impact.¡±


    Wei remained silent, allowing his old friend to express her anger. He, too, felt outraged at the slight. It wasn¡¯t only foreigners who had been kidnapped and experimented on. Some of those who had escaped were members of the Hadal Clan who had been arrested, and supposedly shipped off to mines on the prison moon. They had returned to the clan¡¯s headquarters upon their escape, and reported all that they knew. Sirena sighed.


    ¡°I feel appreciation for that man at the moment. He brought some of our people back to us.¡±


    ¡°His sect¡¯s strength has grown greatly because of this,¡± Wei warned. ¡°Much faster than we had been expecting. Supposedly, he has also become a spirit refiner.¡±


    He was right to be wary, thought Sirena. She had allowed the Riverfiend to create his sect because she believed that they could control him. If he grew too powerful, he would change from asset to threat. Perhaps it would be best to try and set him up with one of her daughters again. Karie was nearly ready to become a spirit refiner, and that could be a good match, she thought. She found the idea amusing, given the girl¡¯s attempt at assassinating him about a month ago.


    She shrugged, putting the matter off. For the time being, at least, he would undoubtedly have to deal with pressure from the backers who had supported the facility. Perhaps this was even an opportunity to strengthen her influence over the man. She had found a formless core formation practitioner to be interesting, but one at the spirit refiner level¡­ that was someone she could find a significant amount of use for. She would simply need a method of acquiring a firm grasp on him.


    ¡°Right,¡± she said. ¡°Wei, I¡¯ll need you to put pressure on the government. We¡¯ll want to take as much restitution for this as possible. Threaten to cease all contracts with government affiliated corporations until we get repaid.¡±


    Wei bowed, but did not motion to leave, for he knew this was not the only matter she wished to discuss with him. Sirena¡¯s fingernails clattered on her desk reflexively as she moved on to another ongoing topic.


    ¡°How has the search for that poisoner gone?¡± she asked.


    Wei knew which one she was referring to. The mysterious individual who had attacked the Celans the previous week. They had not even known about the woman¡¯s existence prior to receiving pressure from the Justice Office, who had immediately assumed the Hadal Clan¡¯s involvement.


    ¡°We have yet to find her identity,¡¯ said Wei, ¡°but we did find her contact information.¡±


    Sirena raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°Contact?¡± she asked.


    ¡°It seems she intends to be a contract killer,¡± he replied. ¡°It¡¯s hard to say who hired her to attack the Celans. My guess would be Redwater, but it could also be one of the Exid Queens, or perhaps a corporation.¡±


    Sirena nodded absentmindedly.


    ¡°A contract killer¡­ Can we use this contact information to trace her?¡±


    Wei shook his head.


    ¡°It is well concealed digitally. None of our contacts have sufficient acumen with Staiven systems to track her. If you wish, we could contract out with the Drelistai or another Staiven group for assistance.¡±This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    The matriarch of the Hadal Clan waved her arm dismissively.


    ¡°No, don¡¯t bother. There are only so many Bountian martial artists on the station, much less those who are also foreigners. Try to use that to track her down. I want to see if we can acquire her as well.¡±


    ¡°By your will, Matriarch.¡±


    Hard times were coming to the station. The tides of destiny were beginning to rise, and neither of them wished for their clan to be washed away. If they weren¡¯t able to detect the escalating signs, they would not have been so interested in acquiring the varying skills of unorthodox practitioners. After all, in the long term, deals with unorthodox forces and practitioners would be a liability for them. Eventually, Sunlit Hall would find out. But Canvas was far, many lightyears and a voidgate away, while many more imminent threats were near. If the forthcoming war was anything like the previous one, the foundation of the clan itself was at risk.


    For a moment, the two of them remained silent, before Sirena finally turned to her most loyal aide.


    ¡°Is there any other news?¡± she asked.


    He paused, and she saw his adam¡¯s apple bob slightly before he spoke.


    ¡°Yes, Matriarch. Matters at the border between Canvas Town and Little Celah have worsened.¡±


    Sirena frowned again.


    ¡°How bad is it?¡± she asked.


    ¡°It is believed that some ordinary civilians have begun to attack Celans on the street.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Sirena¡¯ eyes were wide, shocked by the news. ¡°That can¡¯t be right. I knew it was on the decline, but¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m concerned that another force might be instigating them. There have been murders, and a motion has been raised within the council to send in the Justice Office for a preemptive intervention.¡±


    Sirena pursed her lips, feeling extremely concerned.


    ¡°Shot down, of course?¡±


    ¡°Indeed. Only the Clerics of Verain and Tseludor voted in favor.¡±


    Sirena couldn¡¯t help but let out a dark laugh.


    ¡°I imagine the ideas of ¡®intervention¡¯ held by those two were very different from one another, and the rest didn¡¯t care about aliens unless it would make them money.¡±


    ¡°This is likely the better result for us, Matriarch.¡±


    Sirena couldn¡¯t help but agree with him. There was no telling whether the Justice Office would have just dealt with the criminals or started massive censuring of all the Celan and Canvasian races. They could strip some corporate contracts from both the Hadal Clan and the Heirs of Ottrien if they wished. It was but one of the reasons she did not dare to fight directly against the government, no matter what they did to her people. She was still enraged by her findings about the experimental facility, and yet there was little she could do about that matter as well.


    She sighed, draping one of her hands through her long, flaxen hair.


    ¡°How have our preparations for the Heirs been going?¡±


    Wordlessly, Wei slid another report out of a bag beneath his robes, and began to recite some details from it.


    ¡°We¡¯ve been training more of our branch members in our better techniques. We¡¯re speeding the younger members as rapidly through the stages as possible, and have emptied our treasury of most of our stockpile of natural treasures. We¡¯ve also been moving our assets to more defensible locations as much as possible without alerting anyone. We will need at least another two months to be fully prepared for a war.¡±


    Sirena quietly rubbed her cerebral dantian, feeling the pulsing of her cerebral core beneath the skin. The technique contained within the core was an odd one, one of the most unique and powerful techniques held by the clan. It was the Abyss of Mind, a technique that of the most powerful members of the clan, only she had trained to the spirit refiner level. The technique allowed her to utilize the unique functions of genesis miasma to store and retrieve information, and even enhance her own ability to parse, comprehend and implement it. It was the perfect ability for the matriarch of a clan to have, and its only weaknesses were the headaches and itching that it could cause.


    ¡°How many have died at the bottleneck so far?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Three since the last time you asked, and seven in total so far, Matriarch.¡±


    The transition between each stage of martial arts was dangerous, and if they made mistakes, a martial artist could risk damaging their foundation, or even their life. This danger only increased the higher the stage one aspired to. Only the lucky and the talented could become spirit refiners, much less immortals. It was why only in times of need and for the truly talented or deserving did the clan usually give out the natural treasures needed for the advancement.


    Sirena glanced out through her office¡¯s window as she often did, looking upon the nearby stacks. So many people were walking around, living peaceful lives completely unaware of the undercurrents in the city. How long would it be until they were affected in the same way? The Hadal family would certainly not be the only ones affected by the tides. The tallest tree was what the loggers aimed their sights at first, but the forest would not be ignored.


    Voidgates: [While a voidgate appears to be a tear in reality, it is actually something entirely unlike a lesion. Instead, they are very advanced topological restructurings of reality rather than true holes. While it is believed to be conceivable that some very powerful ascendants and Osine can create them, all known voidgates are near the system of Staive, created by the powerful ancient machines known as the Calculation Engines. Voidgates are simple in function: they create distorted paths in spacetime, similar yet distinct to that of a wormhole, allowing for vast distances to be traversed in moments. Currently, five voidgates have been opened by the Seer. Of them, three lead into various areas within the Frontier, while the other two lead into various Osine territories. Of those leading into the Frontier, one of them was located just slightly more than a lightyear away from Canvas, while another was located near enough from the Celan flotilla for its refugees to find refuge through it. Voidgate travel is heavily regulated by the Pantheonic Government, as one end of each voidgate is located within the Staive system itself, posing both an immense boon to trade as well as an immense security risk for the Staiven homeworld.]

 94- Internal Competition

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Han Yu was exhilarated. For the past few days, they had been receiving teachings directly from their sect leader, Cyrus ¡®Riverfiend¡¯ Yu himself. Someone who he still secretly imagined might be a distant relative of his. As time had passed, and he learned more about martial arts, Han had come to understand just how impressive everything the sect leader had achieved was. This was particularly so for his more recent feats¡­ to Han, a spirit refiner was practically an immortal already. And to think that such a person had given him personal training tips on numerous occasions¡­ he felt proud. Proud of himself, and proud of the sect he had chosen to dedicate himself to.


    The disciples were taking a short break to eat a meal, which in the time since he had joined the sect had always been small nutrient pills and if someone was feeling generous, maybe a small bowl of rice paste to go with it. Supposedly it built character, and those who managed to be promoted to the meridian establishment level would be able to eat normal food again. Even though he had just swallowed his sustenance pill, Han¡¯s mouth couldn¡¯t help but water at the thought. He was reaching the point where even his father¡¯s awful cooking would seem appetizing.


    ¡°Are you really going to brood every time we eat a meal?¡± asked Qian, who was seated nearby him. She had a mocking expression on her face.


    The two of them had been spending a lot of time together recently, much to Han''s surprise. He had always thought that the only reason she hung out within their friend group was because they were the only kids of a similar age living on the same street. He had thought she would make new friends within the sect and no longer hang out with him, but here she was, seated near him at every break. Though it surprised him, he didn¡¯t mind it. He had promised Tai that he would take care of his sister, and this certainly made it easier for Han to keep the promise. He turned to her and shrugged.


    ¡°I still don¡¯t get why it doesn¡¯t bother you,¡± he said. ¡°Pills do not make for proper food, no matter how many condensed nutrients are inside.¡±


    Qian held up her pill, taking a close look at it, before popping it into her mouth and swallowing.


    ¡°It¡¯s efficient.¡±


    ¡°...I suppose that¡¯s true,¡± said Han. ¡°Tastes terrible, though.¡±


    She flashed him another grin. Han got the feeling that she was in a very good mood, recently, though he found it difficult to comprehend the reason for it. Perhaps she had made some good friends with the other women in the sect? He never saw her acting particularly close with anyone else, but it wasn¡¯t as if the male and female disciples of the sect slept in the same locations, anyway. Alternatively, perhaps she had just not lost the high from joining the sect. He was feeling a similar way, after all, though his excitement was tinged with nervousness. After the meal, they would have one final training session with the Sect Leader, after which he would decide who to take as his personal disciples. More than anything, Han wished to receive that honor.


    ¡°Are you worried?¡±


    Han turned his attention back to Qian, who had a rare, seemingly concerned expression on her face. It was only there for an instant, before morphing back into her usual arrogant look. Han decided he must have been seeing things. He chuckled slightly, taking her attitude in stride. He remembered her being like this back when she was just a little girl tagging along with his and Tai¡¯s adventures.


    ¡°Are you not?¡± he asked. ¡°This could decide your future.¡±


    Qian smirked.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be chosen, I¡¯m sure of it. You should be more worried about yourself.¡±


    Han laughed at his friend.


    ¡°No, you being chosen but me not would be the worst case scenario. I¡¯ll have to be sure I make it as well, or else you¡¯ll get even more arrogant.¡±


    Somehow, the exchange had made him feel better about the situation, quelling his anxiety. He stood up, dusting off his robes slightly and offering a hand to Qian.


    ¡°We should go. We¡¯ll both be done for if we leave the Sect Leader waiting.¡±


    She pouted slightly at his previous comment, but after a moment of hesitation, Qian accepted Han''s hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. She had an odd expression, but Han didn¡¯t have time to parse it. As they joined the line of black-robed disciples filing into the training hall, Han could not help but feel his nerves slightly begin to surge back. He knew that while becoming one of the Riverfiend¡¯s personal disciples and learning formless arts was a great opportunity, the fact that the techniques were unorthodox came with great risk as well. Many of the disciples would turn down the opportunity even if they managed to grab his attention. For some people, a long life was more important than personal power.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Of course, that was not how Han himself felt, nor did Qian or most of the disciples in the room. Power was life itself. The weak were compelled to the whims of the strong. Despite the deep feeling of belonging he had already started to attach to the Redwater Sect, Han still knew that the Elders and the Palace Leaders would sacrifice as many of the weaker disciples as was necessary for the betterment of the sect as a whole. That was how all organizations worked. Han¡¯s face darkened slightly as he had another thought. Sometimes, that was how families worked as well.


    The two of them filed their way into the training room, where the other disciples had lined up in perfect order. They had been drilled intensively on such minor things like this, for the purposes of discipline, as Palace Leader Cinto had called it.


    Before long, all the disciples had filed in. Han noticed that there were about ten individuals less than there usually was. Were they busy doing something else? A few minutes later, past the supposed start time, the Sect Leader walked in, trailed by Vice-Sect Leader as he usually was. At this point, Han and everyone else were pretty much certain that the two of them were in a relationship. Though Han himself had no experience with such relationships, so he didn¡¯t actually have any way of knowing what that was like. Still, everyone was saying it, and he felt that they had to be right.


    The Riverfiend stood upon the small stage, once more looking down at everyone. His gaze passed over Han, who couldn¡¯t help but puff out his chest with pride.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been inspecting the results of your training for several days now,¡± he said, ¡°and most of you have had decent results. Most of you are ready to choose which path you will take. Those who were not have been taken out of this group to receive remedial training with the Third Elder. I do not expect them to be enjoying themselves. They will rejoin you once they have caught up.¡±


    Han was not sure he wanted to know what sort of training those unfortunate disciples would be undergoing at the moment. It was rumored that the Third Elder was a powerful sanguine practitioner, and based on what he knew of them, Han could barely imagine what sort of torture methods he would use to ¡®train¡¯ someone.


    ¡°The two of us have already decided on a few selections for the position of my personal disciples, while a few spots we left open on purpose. We will call those chosen to the stage now. If you are called but do not wish to learn my arts, you may remain where you are. You will be allowed to remain an outer disciple and learn any other art we offer.¡±


    He said this, but everyone in the room knew that none would dare refuse. It was an incredible opportunity, and if someone was the sort to fear unorthodox arts, they would also be the sort to fear angering the Sect Leader with their refusal.


    The Vice-Sect Leader then took a step forward, standing adjacent to the Riverfiend, and gave out the three names that had been chosen.


    ¡°Lin Wuyuan, Blake Wan, and Qian Tang, you may approach the stage, if you wish.¡±


    Of course, they all did. Lin Wuyuan was a muscular sei woman with a sprinter¡¯s physique. She had been considered one of the most talented disciples, and it was no surprise that she was granted such a privilege. Blake Wan was a bit more of a surprise, as he bore an almost skeletal physique, and had achieved no particular results so far. He had even been slightly bullied by some of the other disciples. And Qian¡­ Han couldn¡¯t help but feel jealous of her, but when she glanced back at him he gave her a bright smile, matching the joy that clearly showed through her eyes. He would not allow any filthy emotions of his own to ruin her moment. She had earned this, and Han would join her soon. After all, the Sect Leader had mentioned that others would have another opportunity.


    The three lucky individuals soon stood behind the Riverfiend, who they would soon take as their master. Without a word, he continued inspecting the remaining disciples.


    ¡°Three more of you will be chosen,¡± he said. Beside his blank expression, Vice-Sect Leader Rachel¡¯s face had lit up, clearly amused by what was about to happen. A fire of anticipation burned within Han¡¯s veins as he prepared to hear just how they would decide.


    ¡°As one might expect, this is a martial sect. Your talent at bodily control and your talent at sensing souls have both been detected by now. But we have only gotten glimpses of another important capability. We will be measuring your martial talent through spars. The three most successful among you will be granted the same opportunity that was given to the three behind me.¡±


    The Riverfiend¡¯s expression seemed still and calm, like a pool hiding vast depths below, but in his eyes Han could see vast crashing waves. Fate had granted him an opportunity, and just like all the times before, Han would not waste it. Instinctively, his fists clenched. He had been in brawls before, he knew how to fight, and how to fight dirty. There was a chance, and he would be the one to claim it for himself.


    His eyes locked with those of Qian, peering down at him from the stage above. He could sense the anticipation in them, and he would not let her down.


    The Riverfiend: [One of the most notable public figures on the station within recent months, Cyrus ''Riverfiend'' Yu is the Sect Leader of the Redwater Sect, a Canvasian organization located in Canvas Town. It is widely known to be an underworld organization, and believed to secretly be affiliated with the Hadal Clan. The Riverfiend has been involved in practically every major shift in Tseludia''s underworld during the time he has been present on the station. Recently reaching the level of a spirit refiner, the Riverfiend is one of the most dangerous individuals on the station, and is someone deeply tied to the growing tension and resentment between the station''s Celan and Canvasian population. His political beliefs are unknown, but many suspect he has already made ties to one or more Staiven corporations due to the pace of his sect''s economic development. Many have become concerned about just what the intentions of this unorthodox practitioner are, and for what purpose he has arrived on the station. Conspiracy theories that it is his goal to take over the Hadal Clan and turn the station''s Canvasian populace into an unorthodox anti-Sunlit Hall faction have only continued to grow over time, but his popularity among the downtrodden has yet to diminish.]

 95- Conflict by Design

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    The path of a true martial artist was paved on the bodies of their foes. Allies and enemies alike would become a martial artist¡¯s stepping stones as they progressed further and further on the pathway to immortality. This was what I was trying to teach the disciples. Some achieved an easier path through luck and talent, while the rest, as I once had, needed to fight for every fragment of an opportunity if they wanted to dream of a higher stage.


    As I had expected, very few took me up on my offer to let them opt out of the competition. We had ended up with a bit over fifty disciples who still wished to compete for the remaining slots. I was heartened to know that so many understood just how valuable the techniques of the downpour sect were. I turned to Rachel, who had tagged along as she had been to all of the training sessions so far. Apparently she found the idea of my working as a teacher to be inherently amusing.


    ¡°Could you set up a bracket?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Do you still want them to use weight classes? Or split the men and women?¡±


    For the purposes of a spirit of fairness, and a way to find talents, not just those born with large physiques, we had elected to separate the entrants at the entry examination into weight classes for their duels. But reality was not so fair, and we had already taught the disciples some martial arts. As martial artists, they had passed the level at which ¡®weight class¡¯ meant anything aside from the level of their martial arts.


    ¡°No. There will only be one pool,¡± I said.


    ¡°I see. Done. Do you want me to display it?¡±


    I scanned the room, trying to envision how it would look if the space was split up.


    ¡°We have enough space for about eight rings. Just display the first eight pairings.¡±


    Before she even said a word, I noticed the eyes of the disciples below us begin to glance up, and I knew that she had already set up the display. The powers of a Terran Shade truly were convenient at times such as this.


    ¡°You will be paired up to fight in duels. The sixteen names displayed will each duel one another, and then we will move on to the next sixteen, and so on until your numbers become sufficiently low. You may using training weapons, or you may fight unarmed if you wish.¡±


    Rachel¡¯s explanation was more than sufficient for the disciples, who were quickly directed using her powers to their respective arenas. One of the matchups was a rather average looking boy with a physique on the slender side facing off against one who was tall and stocky. I had kept track of most of the disciples in terms of skills and face, though I had not bothered to learn any names. Both of the boys had some decent talents, and a lot of potential. The larger one was even talented enough I would have considered him for a personal disciple, if I were a genesis practitioner. Most assuredly, his talents lay there, and not in the formless domain. If he made it to the end of the tournament, I would break this news to him. I would not teach the Downpour Sect¡¯s techniques to someone who would ruin their future by learning them.


    The arenas were very simple, merely circles a bit more than three meters in diameter. They were ringed not by lines, but by the bodies of other disciples who were watching the fights. I couldn¡¯t blame them, as watching a fight was far more entertaining and useful than merely sitting around and waiting. It was good to see how others fought, helped one learn how to handle their own opponents, and prepare for if one were to face up against them in a future bracket. All of these purposes I supported.


    I could only focus on so many things at once, so I decided to watch this match over the other seven. The others looked like they would be either a match between the talentless or unbalanced enough that the winner was certain. The two boys bowed to one another, and the fight quickly began.


    ¡°Hm?¡± asked Rachel, noticing my interest in the fight. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ Reinwan Dan and Han Yu? What sparked your interest with the two of them?¡±


    Reinwan Dan, the larger boy, immediately set his stance to the first of the basic forms, one which focused on a strong foundation that assisted in defense. Meanwhile, his opponent immediately went on the offensive, sword in hand. While both of them wielded blades, Reinwan, true to the attributes of his build, held a larger, heavier sword, the sort designed for cleaving, had it been a real weapon instead of a mere mass of polymer. Conversely, his opponent wielded a blade with more balanced attributes, a jian like I preferred as well. In my opinion, it was the weapon most perfectly designed for formless motion aside from perhaps a whip.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°Who do you think will win?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Hmmm¡­ Reinwan certainly seems to have the advantage in talent and physique,¡± she said.


    ¡°This is true. But I expect Han will win this match.¡±


    She glanced at me, raising an eyebrow curiously. Behind her, I noticed that the three disciples standing behind us were trying to act dignified, but all three were very clearly listening in on our conversation. One of them, the girl named Qian, was also intently watching the same battle that Rachel and I were. I wondered if she was friends with one of the boys.


    ¡°And why is that? I don¡¯t have a model of their personalities, so I can¡¯t run proper simulations.¡±


    I smiled, as I thought back to one of the few memories of the past which remained untainted.


    ¡°Because he wants it more. Normally, in a tournament like this, there would be more rules than we gave them. Some of the disciples will rely entirely upon the stances and tactics we¡¯ve taught them. Others rely on their experiences.¡±


    Rachel tried to ask another question, but I ignored her, focusing on the fight. Han swept his sword at Reinwan¡¯s chest, but a powerful blow by the larger boy was able to break his stride, and Han even had to take a step backwards to block the greater strength he faced. He switched from his aggressive second stance to the fluid third stance as he reacted to a second swing coming in from the larger boy.


    One of Reinwan¡¯s feet moved closer to allow his swing to reach, ruining his defensive stance, and Han took advantage, the fluidity of his own stance allowing him to transition back into the aggression of the second basic form and close the distant past Reinwan¡¯s extended guard. His sword crashed into Reinwan¡¯s ribs, causing a grunt of pain. The wound, which would have been incredibly damaging had they been using real weapons, would merely bruise the boy. He staggered backwards, but was able to regain his footing.


    ¡°Talent lies not only in one¡¯s physique, nor in one¡¯s capability with the art,¡± I said. My words were directed at Rachel, but I was really speaking for the benefit of the disciples who still stood behind me. ¡°There are as many forms of talent as there are stars in the night sky. Reinwan surpasses his opponent in all fields but one.¡±


    Han did not let up his assault, not allowing Reinwan to raise his sword again. His sword quickly rose above him, crashing down on Reinwan¡¯s undefended collarbone. He managed to achieve this twice before Reinwan thought to push forward with his feet, and cause Han to back up. With the second swing there was an audible crack, and I knew that this time he had managed to snap bone.


    ¡°The difference between the two of them lies merely in martial capability, which is something born both through talent, but also through experience. Reinwan has the power, but had never been in a real fight until he entered the sect. And so he will lose this fight.¡±


    Reinwan continued his forward momentum, making another strong swing that pushed Han further back, but Han sidestepped the blade before making another swing, this time at the legs. Caught in the shifting of his position, Reinwan toppled over, slamming heavily onto his back. Before he could kick at Han¡¯s legs or raise himself again, he was met with the dull point of the practice sword at his throat. The victor had a wide smile on his face as the match was decided, that of a man who could truly come to enjoy battles. The boy really did remind me of myself when I was younger.


    I turned back to Rachel, who was nodding at my comments.


    ¡°It seems you really do have a stronger understanding of martial arts than me, even still.¡±


    Though she had likely seen far more battles than I had through records, Rachel was lacking in the most vital component: first hand experience. In my opinion. Unless she could find a way to truly simulate that, she would never surpass my ability to analyze a martial artist.


    ¡°This will be beneficial for both of their futures,¡± I said. ¡°Reinwan should not win this tournament anyway, and an early wall in his path will drive him to improve. And Han just needs to fight more, so I can see if he will hit the limits of his talent.¡±


    I had actually considered taking in Han as a disciple, but had ultimately chosen not to because I felt that given the nature of his talents, he would win the privilege if he truly did deserve it.


    The other matchups were ending up as well, and there had been no particular surprises in them either. It was only after they started training their miasma that many of these martial artists would truly grow their skills. For the moment, the slumbering fiends among them remained dormant. For now, natural capabilities and pure martial skill would decide the victors of this tournament, as I had intended.


    Martial Weapons: [While there are noticeable differences in the utility between certain weapons in the hands of martial artists versus mortals, most of the weapons used by martial artists are merely the same types wielded by mortal armies prior to the development of firearms, in many civilizations. Swords are by far the most popular weapon, as their dynamic utility takes advantage of the speed and flexibility that martial artists have, but there are martial arts designed for great power from axes, perfect control of whips, and excellent usages of shields. Even weapons that would be ludicrous and near impossible for mortals to wield effectively see use by certain martial sects, such as the meteor hammer and the rope dart. Tseludia Station, however, is dominated by sword wielders, as the Hadal Clan largely teaches its disciples only sword arts and fist arts.]

 96- Victorious

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Han was tired, but his body was filled with energy, with the adrenaline of the fight. He had done what it took to win against Reinwan, but when his head cleared in the aftermath of the duel he felt bad for the injuries he had dealt. A glance at the stage, however, was enough to clear his guilt. Qian still stood there, right behind a pair of spirit refiners, as if she had already been brought into the sect¡¯s inner circle, on the fast track to truly joining them. She met his gaze, and he gave her a triumphant smile as he walked out of the ring to take a break in the crowd of disciples as the next match began in the ring.


    Han was happy for his friend, he really was, but he couldn¡¯t help but be jealous of her opportunity. Deep down, he realized he was scared that she, the only one of his friends who had joined the sect, would leave him behind. While he had made friends with the other disciples, Qian, who he had known since they were children, was different. He couldn¡¯t quite put his finger on exactly why, but perhaps it was their long history, or perhaps it was simply because she was the younger sister of his best friend. Regardless, he was filled with motivation. He would fight as brutally and dirtily as he needed to reach that stage, to become the personal disciple of a man who was steadily becoming something of an idol to him, and to catch back up to her.


    There was a break between his previous fight and the next one, and Han expected that it would be at least another ten minutes before his next bout. He leaned on the wall at the side of the room to await his next bout and calm his nerves. He would need to win multiple more duels to achieve his goal, and his stress needed to be kept in check. Slowly, Han breathed in and out as the minutes steadily passed, and before he knew it, Han saw his name displayed on the floating illusion in the air. Rather than giving names or numbers to the rings, the Vice-Sect Leader had merely put up a small map of the room and placed the relevant disciples¡¯ names beside it.


    Han¡¯s second duel was far easier than the first. Han couldn¡¯t help but think that this boy had been lucky to make it past the first round, as he clearly kept hesitating to actually attack Han whenever there was an opportunity. Han got the impression that this boy had never been in a real fight before, which made him trivial to defeat. Han simply had to take advantage of his fear, and the boy crumpled easily. He relied on the stances of the basic forms far too much, which made him predictable. In Han¡¯s estimation, Reinwan had been a far more worthy opponent.


    As he stood above the body of his second opponent, Han glanced up at the stage once again, and for just a moment, his gaze met with the eyes of the Sect Leader. Their gazes were locked for several seconds. The Riverfiend gave him a nod, and then glanced away, presumably at another of the rings. Han¡¯s annoyance at his opponent¡¯s weakness vanished, and he felt energy surge once more through him. The Sect Leader had been watching him, and had watched his dominance in the fight. Did he think that Han could make it to the end? He only needed to win two more matches. He clenched a fist. He could do it. He would succeed, and join Qian up on the stage.


    As was usual for an elimination bracket, the time in between the matches of an individual competitor only continued to decrease. At the end of the second round, only thirteen competitors remained.


    The third round was more difficult than the second, and this time Han actually took a heavy blow to the ribs, but he managed to grasp a hold of victory once more. The boy had clearly been in fights before, and had an early advantage, but his footwork was unable to keep up with Han¡¯s movements, leaving him off balance for most of the fight. Once Han realized this, he had been able to pressure him enough to topple him. From there, it turned out similarly to the fight with Reinwan. Once more, Han was able to take the victory. The wound to his ribs would probably leave a bruise, but nothing was cracked, so he doubted it would hamper him in the upcoming fights.


    The fourth round was the top six. In a standard tournament this would have caused a problem with the bracket, but in this case it worked perfectly for determining a total of three winners. Han only needed to win one more fight, and he would earn his place as one of the personal disciples. He was personally unsure just what had happened to turn thirteen into six, but perhaps one of the competitors had done something that the elders disliked, or lost in some sort of tiebreaker. In all honesty, he didn¡¯t particularly care. All that mattered was that he simply needed one more win.


    What felt like mere moments after he finished the previous fight, Han glanced up at the display to see his name listed once more. Han Yu and Mari Matwen, directed to one of the nearby arenas. Following instructions, Han carefully made his way to the arena in question. As he arrived, he saw that his opponent was already present in the ring.


    She was a sei, wearing her long hair firmly tied up in the traditional manner, though the scrapes and bruises left on her by the fights ruined that impression. She had a rough expression, and was clenching and unclenching her fists as Han entered the arena. He quickly noticed that rather than a normal weapon, she was wearing a pair of knuckle dusters. His fingers closed on his sword, and he gave her a polite bow before standing in position. Her expression hardened, and she entered into a modified version of the first form, fists raised to protect her head rather than a sword. It was no wonder that she had so many scrapes and bruises, he thought.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    ¡°There is no shame in being my final stepping stone,¡± Mari said, her words clear and calm.


    Her expression radiated a determined solidity, her emotions fully disciplined. Han smiled, his emotions undergoing the opposite. They revolved around one another, intensifying like a blaze in his heart. His blood pumped faster and faster as he prepared to fight. He felt alive. He pointed the tip of his sword at her.


    ¡°There is only one stepping stone here, and it¡¯s not me. Are you ready?¡± he asked.


    They locked gazes, and without hesitating, both began to run at one another. Han used the third form to manage his gait, very careful not to fall for any feints. He was at a slight disadvantage in the fight, because while he had a great deal of experience with pugilism, he had never fought a barehanded combatant while wielding a sword. Meanwhile, she obviously had plenty of it given how far she had made it in the tournament.


    Noticing a falter in her gait, Han swung his sword to take advantage, but soon realized that it had been a feint. She ducked, allowing his blade to pass over her shoulder while her fist tore after his chest. It crashed right into his bruised rib, causing him to wince in pain as he stepped back. He swore he heard a crack, and he couldn¡¯t tell if his difficulty breathing was due to his exhaustion from the previous fights or from injury. Still, the pain disappeared as he regained focus. Pain and injury was temporary, and this opportunity would never come again.


    He slid into the first stance of the basic forms, defending himself from Mari¡¯s next blows. She was surprisingly strong, but her agility was the real issue. In addition, she was punching with either arm to throw him off. He grunted, as he took another blow to the shoulder, and took a step forward to pressure her. She dodged the upcoming swing, but he proved that he could feint as well, merely taking another step forward. His sword was ready to swing, but he did not yet make his move. He knew that his main advantage was range, the sword¡¯s length nearly twice as long as Mari¡¯s arms.


    It was Han¡¯s opinion that Mari had far more combat experience than he did. He had only been in a few scraps and brawls on the street, not battles with actual experienced combatants, not until he joined the sect. Still, he had picked up some tricks.


    Han leapt towards her, swinging his blade wildly to provide pressure. He was very careful with the steps he took, just close enough to her to pressure her, but just far enough that she couldn¡¯t easily step inside of his guard. He kept pushing her, and she made the mistake of continuing to back up. Before she realized it, Mari had her face to the corner of the arena, momentarily trapped. Han raised his sword high, slamming it down towards her.


    She raised her hands to try and clap his sword¡¯s blade, but her face filled with shock as he released his grip on the practice sword¡¯s grip, the downward motion of his arms moving around her hands to slam onto her neck. Shocked by the change, her window of opportunity passed by, and she was unable to break his momentum before he gripped her by the neck. With his forward momentum unceasing, Han raised his knee, slamming it forcefully into her chest. The two of them toppled haphazardly to the ground, with Han on top, and he delivered a heavy punch to her face, which had turned red from the loss of oxygen. She moved to push herself away, but he straddled her, delivering another punch. His hand raised to deliver another, but he locked eyes with her, and saw her mouth move. He couldn¡¯t help but hesitate, allowing the words to burble from her still reddened throat.


    ¡°It¡¯s my loss,¡± she said. He sighed, feeling the coursing energy start to slightly fade as reality set in. Han stood up, offering her a hand, which she accepted.


    ¡°It was a good fight,¡± he said.


    ¡°You are a worthy competitor, Han Yu. We shall fight again.¡±


    She gave him a quiet bow, her nose still bleeding and her throat still red.


    It didn¡¯t feel real to Han. His hands trembled from the adrenaline still in his veins, and he stumbled as he fell into a coughing fit. The taste of iron filled his throat, and Han chuckled. It seemed that it really had been a harsh wound. He glanced back up to the stage, glancing not at the sect leader, but at the face of his friend, who was still intently watching him. He raised a hand in the air victoriously, and gave a wide grin, his teeth stained red as a small amount of crimson fluid dribbled down his lips.


    Once again he had succeeded, had proven his worth and earned the place he desired. He was going to be one of the Riverfiend¡¯s disciples. He would become truly strong, and could feel the life he had once lived recede even further in the distance. He leaned his head back, and simply enjoyed the moment.


    Staiven Prison Moons: [When it comes to cheap labor in the Pantheonic Territory, the answer is obviously the Exid. However, the worker drones cannot move too far away from their Queen, or they will lose all intelligent direction. So when it comes to mining for resources, the choices are to use machines or cheap laborers. Given the limits imposed on the Pantheonic Government by treaty with the Sheneth-Ari on machine intelligence, this means laborers must be acquired, ideally as cheaply as possible to benefit the corporations involved. For this reason, prison sentences are purchased by the corporations and the convicts are put to work. The unskilled are put to work on the prison moons, where they mine material and ''sell'' it to the corporation for food, lodgings, various amenities that are offered, and to repay the ''value'' of their sentence. Of course, the corporation has many ways to increase the value of this ''debt'' in order to keep them working for as long as possible. For this reason, only the most skilled or most connected convicts have much hope for every reaching the end of their sentences. Asteroid mining is considered a more skilled and lucrative option, and many of the convicts on the moons fight for such limited opportunities, even though it is rumored that a significant number of those who are given opportunities to leave the moon to mine asteroids are actually taken away to be used in pharmaceutical testing. The threat of being taken to the prison moons is the true source of the Justice Office''s power over the population. But within the Justice Office itself, it is known that quotas must be met.]

 97- Masters and Disciples

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    ¡°I suppose I¡¯m content with these results,¡± I said, looking down at the three victors of the tournament.


    All three had fought their way through the bracket with great effort, and I found each to be suitable to learn my techniques. Unsurprisingly, these three were all disciples who I had kept my eyes on, each having their own skills and talents for combat. Gen Feng was born with naturally long limbs, and was very skilled at using his natural reach to his advantage. The second of them had insisted on being called Shadowblade, which I would wager was not the name his parents had given him. Despite his questionable taste in names, however, he was actually quite skilled with knives, and had clearly been practicing knife throwing for years. This matter was even more impressive given the fact that his hair was left untied, and often flipped in front of his eyes during battle. I imagined he might have been quite successful as a gangster had he not joined the sect. Finally, the third member was Han Yu, the otherwise unremarkable boy with an impressive combat sense. I had expected him to do well in the tournament, but was mildly surprised he had made it to the end.


    I was pleasantly surprised that each of them would be suitable to learn formless techniques, and couldn¡¯t help but think that Rachel might have done some match fixing to make that happen. It did help that we had taken out one of the semi finalists from the tournament. I glanced over to the side of the stage where Sashan Ji was standing.


    She was a remarkably beautiful farsei girl in perfect physical condition. She clearly had a little experience fighting, but her spacial awareness and physique were both excellent, a matter which brought her to the cusp of the fourth round. While I wouldn¡¯t say she was wholly unsuitable for the Downpour Sect¡¯s techniques, I did not feel that she would be able to reach her full potential as a formless practitioner. As such, when there were seven disciples remaining at the end of the third round, I had taken her to the side and told her she would be receiving an opportunity.


    I glanced back at the three victors.


    ¡°For now, join your martial brothers and sisters,¡± I said, and with excitement, the three disciples quickly made their way to the stage.


    I quickly glanced around the room, not seeing the person I was looking for. I then turned to Rachel.


    ¡°Is he not here yet?¡± I asked.


    ¡°He should be here any moment. He was¡­ in the middle of something when I contacted him.¡±


    She had an odd smirk on her face as she said that, though I could not discern the reason for it. Putting the question off as I usually did, I frowned, wondering whether I should put this matter off for later and speak to my new personal disciples. But just as I began to turn back to them, the door to the training hall burst open, and a bedraggled Orion stepped in.


    His face was reddened and flushed, his clothing rumpled and his hair mussed. It wasn¡¯t difficult to guess what he had been doing before he received the summons from Rachel.


    ¡°He was with Ran,¡± laughed Rachel, leaning over to whisper it into my ear.


    ¡°What?¡± I asked incredulously. ¡°She just got out of the hospital a couple days ago.¡±


    Ran had been taken out of the hospital after just a day, while Cinto and Kein¡¯s injuries were taking much longer to heal. Cinto was expected to return tomorrow, which was why I had decided to do this tournament today. After this, she would be able to take over the general training of all the disciples, as well as more particular training for the disciples who chose to become genesis practitioners.


    Rachel shrugged.


    ¡°She¡¯s a hardy woman, and she might have wanted some exercise to loosen her muscles a bit after she returned.¡±


    I sighed.


    ¡°Their love life is none of my business, anyway.¡±


    Orion quickly made his way towards me, delivering a polite bow.


    ¡°Greetings, Sect Leader, Vice-Sect Leader. For what purpose have you summoned me?¡±


    He was speaking in a very formal manner, but his current appearance undermined any airs he might attempt to put on. Still, his dedication to just leave what he was doing to come when summoned was admirable, so I chose to leave it be.


    Of course, all of the disciples, even the disconsolate disciples who had failed to succeed in the tournament were all staring at him, some with disgust. One of those who were giving him dark looks was Sashan Ji, which caused Rachel to crack up.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    ¡°Palace Leader Orion, we have a task for you.¡±


    I led him over to where Sashan Ji was standing. She had a conflicted expression on her face, like she had guessed what was happening and couldn¡¯t tell whether to be excited for the opportunity or disgusted by Orion¡¯s current state. I flashed a glare at Rachel, who was still holding back laughter. I raised a hand to point at Sashan.


    ¡°Orion, this is Sashan Ji. She¡¯s a very talented disciple, and I believe that she might have a talent for manifest miasma.¡± He gave me a blank look, so I clarified the matter. ¡°You¡¯ll be taking her as a personal disciple.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± he replied, drawing the word out as he took a look at Sashan. ¡°Will there be any others I need to take care of?¡±


    ¡°Only if you wish to teach more of them. She¡¯ll be the only personal disciple I assign you, but you can take any more if you so wish. You can take the first pick of the rest, if you want. Or Rachel can give some suggestions.¡±


    He nodded, considering the matter.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take you up on that. Vice-Sect Leader, can we speak?¡±


    Rachel nodded, and the two began to converse as Orion tried to find some other talents. It was no surprise to me that he had reacted in such a way. Orion had struck me as a very ambitious man, and in a sect, there were few ways more effective to build a strong and loyal personal force than to train them up from the start. To an extent, that was my plan for my own disciples. I turned back to Sashan to give her parting words. She was talented, and I wished to help her headspace to ensure she had as successful a start to her true journey from this point on.


    ¡°I took you out from the tournament not because I found you unfit to be my disciple, but because I believed this path would allow you to achieve more of your potential. I hope you will not let myself or your new master down.¡±


    Sashan bowed.


    ¡°Thank you, Sect Leader.¡±


    With a nod, I bid farewell to her and returned to the stage, where my anxious soon-to-be disciples had been left waiting.


    ¡°Meet me in the meditation room at dawn,¡± I said.


    They bowed in unison.


    ¡°Yes, Master.¡±


    Cinto really had trained them well, I thought. Or perhaps it was simply their exposure to the culture of sects through media they saw growing up. I gave them a nod and then turned back to the milling disciples who were still on the floor of the training room. Orion was still talking with Rachel, and had yet to pick his second disciple. He was looking through some of the footage, judging by what looked to be a floating screen in front of the two of them.


    ¡°Rachel,¡± I said, speaking in a normal voice, although she was far enough away I would normally be expected to call out.


    Rather than respond with a whisper in my ear, another illusionary copy of herself formed right beside me. I glanced back to where I had just seen her with Orion, immediately realizing that she was still deep in conversation with him. I still found it slightly difficult to get my head around how easily she was capable of doing that.


    ¡°What is it?¡± she asked.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be able to handle training them in flickering arts, right?¡±


    Rachel gave me an exasperated sigh.


    ¡°I already told you I¡¯ve fully recovered. Regardless, I¡¯ve looked through enough Celan databases to have a far stronger understanding of flickering miasma than any martial artist you could find on this station.¡±


    ¡°I hope you can understand why I might be slightly concerned,¡± I said.


    She shrugged.


    ¡°I can use assistants to handle the experience issue.¡±


    I supposed if she was confident it would be fine. She was generally very competent, and I wasn¡¯t quite sure how many of the disciples would wish to learn flickering arts in the first place.


    Within the next few minutes I watched approvingly as Orion chose five more disciples of his own. This left over forty disciples remaining, so I stood up in front of the stage to address them as the disciples who had been chosen filed out to speak with their new master.


    ¡°All of you,¡± I called out, were deemed ready to reach the next stage. While you may have missed the opportunity to become an elder¡¯s personal disciple, there will be future opportunities of similar import. What happens now will depend on the results of your own efforts and talents. It is your duty to work hard for the sect, but it is your own ambition which grants you opportunities to walk further down the path you will choose today. Tonight you may eat a real meal and rest, and in the morning you will be given the opportunity to choose which arts you wish to practice. There are no wrong choices, so I would recommend trying to pick which best suits you. If you are unsure, you may look at a document that the Vice-Sect Leader has prepared. It lists where we believe your talents may lie, though of course you may also feel free to prove us wrong.¡± I took a step back, nodding towards all of the disciples. ¡°I am proud to be your sect leader, and look forward to seeing the choices each of you makes.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help but copy the tone my former sect leader had used back home. That was exactly the sort of speech he would have given. I quietly made my way out of the room, heading towards the sect¡¯s offices. I had more work to do, particularly in preparation to begin teaching my techniques. I wished to look in greater detail on the records of my six students.


    Martial Titles: [An ancient custom, giving skilled martial artists titles to emphasize their unique qualities has been practiced on the Sunlit and Crucible continents for millennia. These titles have historically been granted by others, and usually out of respect, but have also been used to mock and deride someone for a very public failure or mistake. Some even try to give themselves powerful-sounding titles in an attempt to start their own martial legend, a practice which generally has mixed results. The practice of granting martial titles has yet to cease, particularly because news companies will sometimes assign them to martial artists the moment they achieve something notable. In sufficiently rural or isolated areas, the requirements tend to be lower than in a place such as the largest cities on Canvas.]

 98- Bonds of Heritage

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS


    As they left the room, Han took a quick glance at his fellow disciples, soon to be his martial brothers and sisters. Qian he already knew quite well, but he wasn¡¯t particularly close with any of the others.


    Lin Wuyuan was the sort who was very energetic, but highly disciplined. She would happily chat with her friends for hours, but the moment they entered the training room it was as if she was a different person entirely, acting with rigor and discipline that felt more at place for a soldier than a girl in her late teens.


    Sha, which was what all the other disciples had been calling the boy who claimed his name was ¡®Shadowblade,¡¯ was actually rather bright and talkative, though he did have a tendency for melodrama. He had odd tastes, in Han¡¯s estimation. He had the feeling that even before donning the black robes of the sect¡¯s disciples, Sha was probably already wearing all black. He had also refused to tell anyone what his real name was, and Han was actually starting to wonder whether his parents had actually named him that.


    Blake Wan was a very lanky boy who was only fifteen years old. He had a timid personality, and Han still found it difficult to understand why he had been chosen specifically by the sect leader. Han supposed that the Sect Leader simply had an eye for talent far beyond Han¡¯s own. Han had never actually spoken more than a few words with Blake, so he knew it would have been very easy for him to miss the signs.


    Where Blake Wan was thin and lanky, Gen Feng was even moreso. He was simply unusually tall, and seemed almost seven feet tall. In the disciple¡¯s dormitory, he had slept a few rows away from Han, but other than his physical attributes, Han¡¯s understanding of him was mostly based around the fact that he tried to be friends with everyone. They had spoken a number of times before, and Han had a reasonably positive opinion of the other boy.


    They were the first to leave the training hall, and walked together as they returned to the dormitory. Lin was the first to speak, her whole demeanor shifting as the doors closed behind them. She reached out and hugged Qian, who froze in surprise as she was wrapped in the shorter girl¡¯s arms.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe we both made it, Qian-Qian!¡±


    Han raised an eyebrow at the sight. For a moment he wondered if he simply hadn¡¯t realized they were so close, but on a second glance, he saw Qian¡¯s annoyed expression, and realized that it was likely one-sided. Qian broke the grip, moved out of the way, scowling. Lin mock pouted.


    ¡°I have to say, I¡¯m pretty happy about this lineup as well,¡± said Gen. ¡°I was worried I would have to be a martial sibling to someone problematic, but with this group I don¡¯t expect any issues.¡±


    ¡° The greatest martial masters see into the secrets of your heart,¡± said Sha poetically, his words ignored by everyone else.


    ¡°I still can¡¯t believe I¡¯m even here,¡± replied Han candidly.


    ¡°It¡¯s such a shame. I thought I¡¯d finally be rid of you, but you chased me yet again.¡± Despite the content of Qian¡¯s words, it was clear from the smile she failed to hide that she was in a very good mood.


    Han laughed.


    ¡°I¡¯m also glad that we both made it. We¡¯ll already be establishing our meridians by the time Tai and the rest manage to make it in.¡±


    Lin chuckled, and looked at Han.


    ¡°You should have seen how anxiously she was watching your fights. She was so excited that her boyfriend made it in with her.¡±


    ¡°What? Boyfriend?¡± Han spluttered, shocked. ¡°We¡¯ve just been friends since childhood, we¡¯re not like that.¡±


    Qian was looking away, the tips of her ears red. Han supposed that she must be embarrassed by the misconception. Sha elbowed him, his face covered in a smirk.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to deny it, everyone knows. You almost always spend your breaks together.¡±


    ¡°What? You¡¯ve been watching us?¡± asked Han.


    ¡°There have been lots of rumors,¡± nodded Gen. ¡°Some of the guys refuse to speak with you because they¡¯re jealous of you.¡±


    ¡°How did I not know anything about this?¡± he asked, shocked by how widespread this was.


    Lin laughed.


    ¡°Probably because you¡¯ve been talking with Qian-Qian instead of the other guys.¡±


    Qian raised her head. She was still slightly red, but she had regained control of her expression.


    ¡°Whatever. It¡¯s just a rumor. I¡¯ve just been keeping him out of trouble.¡±


    Lin couldn¡¯t help but laugh again.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    ¡°Whatever you say.¡±


    By this point, they had nearly reached the point where the male and female dormitories diverged. Han, Gen, and Sha were all covered in sweat, so they immediately went for the showers, hoping to use them before the rest of the disciples arrived. Han glanced at Blake, who had yet to say a word to the rest of them.


    ¡°Hey, do you want to join us? We¡¯ll be hanging out in the baths for a bit.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± mumbled the younger boy in response, and so Han dropped the subject.


    ¡°He does that whenever someone invites him to do anything,¡± whispered Sha. ¡°I think he¡¯s hiding some sort of terrible secret.¡±


    Gen snickered.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯s just shy. We¡¯ll probably be able to bring him out of his shell during training going forward.¡±


    The three walked into the showers, and for once enjoyed the relaxing comfort of the room without it being filled with tens of other men at once.


    The next morning, the six of them met up again outside the meditation room. They had all arrived slightly early, with Gen being the last to arrive. They chatted quietly with one another as they waited, until the time came.


    As they entered, they found the Sect Leader already kneeling down in the center of the room. Han was surprised, as he had arrived over half an hour ago, and had never seen him enter. As always, he struck Han as a remarkably dignified man, his brilliantly embroidered red robes with the darkness of his skin and the brightness of his flaxen hair. He had a solemn expression on his face, and he glanced up as the disciples entered.


    ¡°Please sit,¡± he said, directing them to a set of cushions that had been laid out on the ground before him.


    The room was best described as exuding a sense of meditative peace and calm. The floor and walls were paneled in some sort of faux-wood substance, and painted depictions of the Canvasian landscape adorned the walls. Each of the paintings depicted rainstorms bombarding the land below, giving the room a stormy feel. This was amplified by the quiet sound of rainfall playing from a speaker somewhere, as if it were pattering relentlessly against wood and stone.


    Han had never personally experienced a storm, but he had used a shower before, and he had seen more than enough images and videos to understand the concept, as foreign as it was to him. It was as if the room itself had been constructed to be a shrine to the rainstorms.


    He waited for them all to kneel on the cushions, settling in. They did so in silence, taking places orderly so as to avoid creating any sort of disturbance to the room¡¯s peace. When they had all adjusted their positions he spoke again, his words almost seeming as one with the sound of the rain.


    ¡°Formless miasma encompasses many things, but the formless that I know of is that of water. It is the rain, it is the river, it is the ocean, and it is all that lives in and around them. A formless practitioner is the coursing river which tears its way through rock and stone, the single raindrop falling from the heavens, and the mere insect which skitters across a pond. All of these arts you may come to know, if you wish. Once your foundation has been refined to the peak and you reach the next stage, I will offer each of you a list of techniques, and allow you to choose what you wish to learn.¡±


    His gaze slowly panned across the disciples, meeting each one¡¯s gaze in successive order. Han shivered slightly, feeling as if those deeply profound eyes were glimpsing into his very soul, reading the essence of his being.


    ¡°As you may know, or perhaps have merely guessed, I was once a member of another sect, and have taken the long journey from Canvas to reach this place.¡± He had a wistful expression on his face, and Han could easily tell that he had left the planet due to some sort of tragic circumstance, whatever that might have been. ¡°I am from the Downpour region, part of a sect bearing the same name, and if you take me as your master, you will bear that heritage as well. I will teach you any of the sect¡¯s techniques that you wish to learn, but if you disparage or betray this legacy, your privileges will be revoked.¡±


    The last words were spoken with a grim expression. There was no doubt in Han¡¯s mind about just what he had meant by ¡®revoke.¡¯


    ¡°So I will offer you a final choice,¡± he said. ¡°You may choose to learn other arts instead if you cannot handle the responsibility. These arts drive those who cannot master them insane, after all. It is a fate that I myself nearly succumbed to multiple times.¡±


    There was a moment of silence as everyone parsed his words, forced to consider the threats. As before, the choice was inevitable, of course. They would not have come this far without having already committed to it, but Han was still the first to take action. Already in a kneeling position, Han leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the faux wood of the floor.


    ¡°I swear, Master, to uphold these responsibilities.¡±


    Moments later, he heard the same words emerging from five other sets of lips, before there was a grunt of satisfaction emanating from before him, and he heard the dry voice of his new master reply to their oaths.


    ¡°Good. You may rise.¡±


    As he raised his head, Han saw a faint smile on his master¡¯s face as he looked at them, clearly lost in some sort of nostalgic recollection. The smile slowly faded, and his expression became stoic once more.


    ¡°We will start by discarding the basic forms that you have learned. The Rising Downpour Sword art will be your true martial foundation. While it is designed for swordplay, it can be shifted according to your needs, as it is a formless art.¡±


    He stood, shifting into a martial stance.


    ¡°Follow my motions.¡±


    The six disciples scrambled to their feet, quickly bowing.


    ¡°Yes, master!¡±


    The Master-Disciple Relationship: [As important as heritage by blood, master-disciple heritage bears similar responsibilities and duties. The master''s orders must be followed, but they also have the responsibility to train their disciples to the best of their ability. A master''s connections and reputation becomes part of the disciple''s own, and in sects, this can give a powerful figure''s disciples great influence even with the more senior forces in the same sect. Training a disciple who eventually becomes a powerhouse is also a great honor, and the master is similarly allowed to borrow from the disciple''s status in such circumstances. However, what matters most is the oaths one swears in the process of becoming master and disciple. Some masters impose harsh oaths with tough penalties, while others do not bother to impose anything at all. For many, who one''s master is matters more than who one''s parents are. This is true even in clans, though in a clan one''s master will almost always be a relative.]

 99- As Per Contract

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Training my new disciples was a monotonous process due to their relatively low standard of martial arts. The basic forms were an acceptable foundation in a general sense, but they needed to construct a far more specialized foundation if they wished to learn the Downpour Sect¡¯s arts. I could not in good conscience leave them with anything less than a perfect foundation if they were to learn unorthodox arts. I would be failing to fulfill my role as their master.


    Each of them were learning the forms at a different rate, and I had put the effort into doing individual training to maximize their individual learning speeds. There was no reason to delay their learning, not when I had time to spare. Just like my own master had, I would teach them to the best of my ability. I placed great importance on such responsibilities.


    Still, today I had told them to practice on their own, and advise one another. They seemed to mostly get along, though I got the feeling that Blake Wan was being excluded by the others. Not that it was any of my business. Such a situation was one he would need to change on his own if he wished to. Of course, training was not the only duty they had for today. The disciples of the sect leader inevitably had their own special responsibilities.


    ¡°Rachel, how much time do we have?¡± I asked as I walked down the hallway, having just finished the first meal of the day.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­¡± she said, appearing before me all of a sudden. ¡°It should be somewhere around a half hour.¡±


    ¡°Alright. Make sure to remind everyone to show up.¡±


    ¡°I legitimately cannot forget.¡±


    The meeting room was in a much better state than it had been previously, looking more like a place worthy of the sect''s highest officers. I admired the changes for a brief moment, and nodded my head. This would certainly do.


    While I waited on my subordinates to arrive, I placed myself in a posture of meditation, feeling the swirls of miasma wash through my cores and meridians. This was a process I had undergone hundreds of times in the weeks since my advancement, and each time my understanding of the changes in my physique and soul continued to become more apparent. The spirit refinement stage was the process of improving one¡¯s soul and its connection to the body. But unlike most spirit refiners, my soul had been carved and shaved down to a fraction of a normal size due to my Soul Severance Art, what had become the forks splitting the rivers that were each of my meridians. The art was easier to use and more effective than ever, but no matter its power, I dared not use it. If any more was carved from my soul, it was at risk of being destroyed entirely.


    The current state of my soul was not without its advantages, however. The size of one¡¯s soul had no impact on the powers it could channel into the body, at least not in the way a martial artist used it. A smaller soul merely made it so that I had much less room for error in the process of refining it. Still, by the same token, it also meant I simply had less spirit to refine. If I could figure out a sufficiently effective method of tempering my soul, I would be able to advance far faster than usual through this stage.


    After my introspection concluded, I opened my eyes to see some of the sect¡¯s leadership already seated around the table. Jihan and Rachel were present, and Ran was walking in the door right as I glanced in that direction. It did not take long for Eli to enter behind her.


    Kein was still in a coma, while Cinto remained busy assisting with the disciple¡¯s transitions into more specific techniques, and preparing them to accept miasma. While Orion had joined the sect¡¯s inner hierarchy, he was busy with training for the sect members. With his expertise, I hoped that he would be able to turn the ragtag mix of foreigners and gangsters into a proper fighting force. Ran, Eli, Rachel, and I were the only founding members currently present, while Jihan was a new presence. Normally when I wished to know something, I would simply meet with the individual in question or ask Rachel, so such group meetings only occurred when there was a pressing issue I wished to discuss with them. Rachel and I had selected this group of the sect¡¯s leaders for a purpose.


    The moment everyone had seated themselves around the table, I immediately started the meeting.


    ¡°Let¡¯s start with Eli,¡± I said. ¡°What¡¯s the state of our information network?¡±


    Eli, the only Palace Leader who was unaffected by the recent changes in the sect, met my question with a smile.


    ¡°Np problems here, Sect Leader. I¡¯ve been continuing to expand with connections to certain brothels, but am running into limits with my current budget. Based on my knowledge of our current situation, I won¡¯t ask for more. I¡¯ve been submitting my reports to the Vice-Sect Leader, so inform me if there are any issues.¡±


    I nodded approvingly at him. I had already been keeping track of the general state of the network via Rachel, but it was beneficial for discipline to have him directly report to myself.


    ¡°Good. What about the Golden Palace?¡±


    Ran chuckled.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you know the answer to that. You never gave permission to return to the predatory practices we were doing in the gang, but even if we did, there¡¯s no way we¡¯ll make enough money. 750,000 is already far too much, even disregarding what a ridiculous amount of interest there will be.¡± She shook her head. ¡°We really don¡¯t have time for any long term investments, and most schemes I can think of will either take a lot of time or have a high starting cost.¡±This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    This was also within my expectations. Even the large corporations would find it difficult to pay off a debt such as the one we had acquired. We had saved the sect by taking it on, but repayment was certainly not feasible through normal means. Luckily, what would occur in less than ten minutes would likely somewhat assist with the matter.


    It struck me once more than Ran¡¯s financial skills certainly belied her appearance. At a glance, one would simply think she was just another muscle headed gangster. Only one person remained to speak with.


    ¡°How fares your squad?¡± I asked, glancing at Jihan, who had taken a seat to my left side as he usually did.


    I did not bother to preempt my words. Jihan and I had an understanding, and he would be able to easily guess what I wanted to know.


    ¡°We have fully recovered from any residual injuries, and are prepared to act as a strike force at any time.¡±


    ¡°Good. I¡¯ll be putting you to use very soon. How about the Reth? Have they settled in?¡±


    We had considered whether it would be easier to just ship them back home off the station, but that both prevented us from making use of them while they were here, as well as being a cost the sect could not currently afford.


    Jihan frowned. The matter of the Reth had been placed in his hands because he cared so much about them. After all, their well-being was a task that both his clan and his religion demanded of him. While we were still keeping their presence secret from most of the sect, all of the Palace Leaders had been informed about the matter.


    ¡°They¡¯ve settled in fine. They¡¯re bored, but the Vice-Sect Leader has been able to entertain them.¡± He gave Rachel a meaningful look. He had inevitably found out about her true nature as a result of interacting with the Reth, though he had been fully willing to keep it a secret. ¡°The main issue is food. We¡¯ve been able to alter some of the Seiyal and Tovus food we have, but we simply cannot manufacture some of the nutrients they need with the poor quality synthesizers we have. We¡¯ll need to find something better pretty soon or they¡¯ll start getting a nutrient deficiency.¡±


    ¡°I see. I may have a solution for that. Rachel, what¡¯s our time?¡±


    She was pretending to lean backwards in her seat, though of course she was unable to affect it at all. In fact, the only reason the seat had been pushed out from the table at all was that she had asked me to do it for her.


    ¡°I believe he¡¯s entering the door at the moment. Your disciples have greeted him.¡±


    ¡°Good. Make sure he reaches here without delay.¡±


    Eli and Jihan were all looking over to us, confused. After all, I hadn¡¯t informed them about our guest. Ran, of course, already knew. Out of everyone in the sect, she was the one who had the most interactions with him due to our shared economic interests.


    The door to the meeting room opened, and I saw Lin usher our guest inside, trailed by his bodyguard. Outside the door, I knew that a few of my other disciples would be waiting. I hadn¡¯t actually cared which of my disciples performed the role of greeting and entertaining him, other than the fact that I did not wish for Blake or Qian to do it. I had doubts about their public relations skills, for different reasons respectively.


    As he entered, everyone at the table stood to greet him except for myself. I simply smiled.


    ¡°It is nice to see you again, Nahalken. It¡¯s been awhile.¡±


    The short Staiven smiled in return, sitting down in a chair that had been prepared for him.


    ¡°Lady Fulstovis has brought us back together in the pursuit of further mutual benefit. Of course, you will not betray the terms of our contract?¡±


    ¡°You need not be concerned about that. The Redwater Sect prides itself on its honor.¡±


    Nahalken snorted in amusement at my words.


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m sure,¡± he replied with a dry tone. ¡°I¡¯ve heard you have a money problem, and have brought you another opportunity. Of course, I can give you a loan or funds, if you wish.¡±


    Left unsaid was how he intended to make us repay such a cost. Still, it was something we would need to consider. First, we would have to deal with the task he had set us up to at the moment.


    ¡°Let¡¯s set that matter aside, for the moment,¡± interjected Rachel. ¡°Let¡¯s discuss this task you wanted to speak to us about. We¡¯ve brought several specialists here to discuss the matter.¡±


    ¡°The matter is rather simple. An upstart had decided to go into business selling a cheaper and more effective version of one of our flagship pharmaceuticals,¡± he said. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it be nice if there was an accident in their manufacturing plant? Particularly if said accident caused the Justice Office to discover some sort of illegal action being done there.¡±


    Ran smiled, leaning forward on the table. ¡°Do you mind if some of their equipment mysteriously goes missing?¡±


    ¡°A lot can happen during an industrial accident. Who would notice a missing machine or two?¡±


    As an experienced businessman, Nahalken knew how matters worked in the underworld. It was, after all, why he had forgiven us for stealing from him and chosen to build such close ties as an investment. It was another risk, but it was also an opportunity. I glanced over at Jihan, who caught my hint.


    This was a test for the sect, but it would also be a test for him specifically. We spent the next half hour discussing the matter with Nahalken, before bidding him farewell as he returned to the second district.


    Perhaps we really had been blessed by the Goddess of Commerce. This was an opportunity to both fulfill our deal with the Venin Group, and also one to help assuage some of our debt problems.


    Divine Blessings: [Not everyone worships deities, even within races like the Staiven. Of course, it is extremely rare to find a mad conspiracy theorist who does not believe in their existence. After all, evidence for the existence of deities is incredibly apparent. How could beings who do not exist control a very large portion of galactic territory? Despite the known truth of their existence, many of the ''blessings'' and ''miracles'' ascribed to them are simply the product of chance and circumstance. After all, how does one know whether a fruitful harvest was accomplished with the blessings of Estrivai or simply hard work and good fortune? Still, according to the churches, the gods will on occasion manipulate events or reality to bless believers and those who represent their domain, regardless of their faith. It is common for deities to only give such blessings to their chosen people, like Relya for the Escalos, or Cierra for the Seiyal of Sunlit Hall. In recent decades, the targets of such blessings for the deities of the Pantheon have expanded beyond the Staiven to all who live within the Pantheonic Territory, a matter which has occurred around the same time as the Pantheon''s churches'' expansion of their recruitment to non Staiven species.]

 100- Operational Plans

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    The corporation that Nahalken wished us to deal with was simply called Ersico Health Solutions. It was a pharmaceutical company that focused on treating illness among the Staiven. This was where the conflict of interest with the Venin Group¡¯s subsidiary, Venin Pharmaceuticals emerged.


    The product in question was a remedy for an uncommon genetic illness among the race, a failure for the body to produce certain chemicals. The competing products both caused that function to kickstart, and their effectiveness lasted for days.


    Of course, the technology existed to use gene editing to remove the condition entirely, but research into that matter would not only not make much profit, but would also eliminate the profit that came from selling symptom relief drugs. For that reason, even if the technology had been developed somewhere within the Pantheonic Territory, it had yet to arrive in Tseludia.


    All of this information had been given out by Eli and Rachel, who had used their respective information channels to bring us as much background knowledge as possible. It was two days since Nahalken had brought us the task, and we were still well within the time I had promised him, that we would get this done within a week¡¯s time. I had purposefully said it would take longer than I expected it to account for any potential issues. After all, once our two information sources found out the factory¡¯s layout and security measures, the request should become rather trivial for us.


    ¡°There are three parts to this mission,¡± Rachel said. ¡°First, we¡¯ll render the factory inoperable. I expect we can just smash up the equipment and set a fire, and that will be fine. Second, we need to steal as much of value as we can get away with, to help with the sect¡¯s finances.¡± At this point, Ran nodded, very much in agreement. She had been run ragged over the past few weeks doing everything she could to scrounge up money, something which was running into its natural limits. ¡°Thirdly,¡± continued Rachel, ¡°We want to make it look like an accident, so the Justice Office stays off our backs. Off of the Venin Group¡¯s back as well, since we all know they would sell us out if they had to. We simply don¡¯t have the funds to pay any judges off this time.¡±


    This matter resulted in a number of nods of agreement around the table. The third point was ultimately the most important one, as we all knew.


    ¡°Jihan, you¡¯ll be leading your squad to handle the matter. Rachel will join you, and she¡¯ll be telling you which items to take and where to light the charges.¡±


    He nodded at the orders.


    ¡°I will not let you down.¡±


    ¡°Ran,¡± I said, turning to her. ¡°You¡¯ll be communicating with Rachel to decide what you think you will and will not be able to sell at a black market.¡±


    ¡°Of course, Sect Leader.¡±


    There was a slight mechanical buzz, and Eli pulled out a tablet to see what the matter was.


    ¡°My informant just found us information on their security. It seems like they¡¯re only using mechanical defenses.¡±


    ¡°What? That¡¯s unusual.¡±


    Rachel¡¯s eyes unfocused for a moment, looking at something the rest of us could not see.


    ¡°This is good. It should be rather simple to deal with for Jihan¡¯s group. I¡¯m concerned about who they linked these alarms to. It¡¯s possible they contracted mercenaries or gangsters to arrive if someone breaks in.¡±


    Knowing Staiven corporations, such a matter would not surprise me in the slightest. They were all extremely careful about security, as those with poor security would inevitably be robbed or sabotaged.


    ¡°Overall though, I think we¡¯re-¡±


    Rachel frowned, pausing in the middle of her sentence and staring off into space as if she had suddenly seen something shocking.


    ¡°Shit!¡± she cursed. ¡°There¡¯s a complication, though it might also be an opportunity.¡±


    ¡°Hm?¡± I glanced over, surprised by the interruption.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    She gave an awkward smile to the rest of us.


    ¡°I had expected it to be the Hadal Clan and the Heirs of Ottrien, but¡­¡±


    ¡°What happened?¡± I asked, alarmed.


    The expression on Rachel¡¯s face was that of concern and confusion.


    ¡°It seems war has broken out in Otan.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    <hr>


    Otan, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    The interesting thing about Exid Queens was how much they seemed to gravitate towards one another despite clearly wishing for the other¡¯s downfall. It was this disunity that made the district seem ripe for the taking, but of course it would lose all value if the Exid workers were to cease their industry. To conquer Otan, one needed to subordinate the Queens and their corporations. It was no small task, but the Leader had long noted it as the easiest target of conquest out of all of the other underworld forces, due to the disunity of the Queens. Moreover, the profits that might be acquired from an industrial district such as this one was immense. To control an Exid Queen was to take a share in the profits of the entire district.


    As the heart of Tseludia¡¯s industry, the district of Otan, and the Exid by extension, were protected to a certain extent by the great corporations. But all the corporations cared about was that the factories continued to operate without ceasing. They did not care who was in control.


    Triezal had long been working on the problem of Otan, set upon him by the Leader. Most of his preparations had been ruined by the distraction that was the hunt for the Riverfiend and his Shade, and so Triezal needed to start over, almost from the beginning. The plan he had ultimately created was both simple and complex. If they were to simply attack one of the Queendoms, their forces would fall under the relentless tides of the workers. It would take the might of a Titan to break through, and they did not dare bring to bear such a force of destruction knowing what reprisal it would prompt from the government.


    Instead, Triezal had chosen to target the weakness of the Exid: the queens themselves. While the armies were unstoppable by force, if he could sneak a force into one of the Queen¡¯s chambers, perhaps they could threaten her enough to force her to surrender. From what Triezal knew of their culture, it was that while the Queens were vicious and cruel, they were not liars. An agreement made with one of them could be trusted. Unlike his own people, the Exid allowed themselves to be truly bound by their honor.


    He sighed, leaning back on his chair and removing his blindfold. He had returned to the safehouse in Otan, renewed his connections with the non Exid population of the district. It was the same as always, the small hallway filled with sleeping quarters, and then the kitchen and living room, whose seats he now rested upon. It felt like a lifetime ago when Kalthen had arrived, sitting on that seat to bring terrible news.


    It had been but a few weeks.


    ¡°If I do this,¡± he muttered, ¡°it might start a war.¡±


    A bead of sweat dripped down his brow, and he glanced at his glyph slate, remembering the situation and his orders. He chuckled a bit to himself, knowing the restrictions his priorities imposed on him.


    ¡°I suppose I don¡¯t really have a choice by this point.¡±


    He considered giving Kalthen a call, wanting to discuss the matter with the only close friend he had who he could discuss such things with, but ultimately Triezal decided not to. The blood would only be on his own hands, as well as that of the Leader. Not that Triezal expected Kadeki to care. He had done far worse than this.


    At least, thought Triezal, most of the deaths would be aliens who could hardly be considered real people. He nodded, leaning forward again in his seat. Yes, if he thought of the Exid drones as animals, it made him feel far less guilty. His right pointer finger draped out over the slate, drawing a pattern into its surface that opened a channel he had prepared in advance. Holographic representations of the squad leaders working underneath him for this operation appeared above the slate, looking towards him for their orders.


    ¡°Operation is a go,¡± he said. ¡°Everyone head to your assigned locations. We¡¯ll start with Plan A.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir!¡±


    The images winked out, and Triezal stood up, checking his equipment once again. Perhaps he had been wrong to leave his position in the Janaste system. His current status was not much better, and the danger was far greater. And here he did not have the excuse of his actions being influenced by a Shade acting upon his mind.


    At the moment, it felt like a cruel freedom.


    The Janaste System: [Despite ostensibly being under the control of the Pantheonic Government, the Janaste system is where most of the refugees from the Celan flotilla were placed after being accepted into the region by the government. None of the planets are habitable, nor is the system particularly conveniently located or full of resources. Still, it is the hub of Celan culture and industry, and has rapidly become a technological center to rival Staive itself. It is said that for tens of lightyears in every direction the system can be seen with the naked eye from all of the flickering miasma emanating from the vast industrial shipyards and the stations themselves, which were constructed by the Celans. Rather than there being an actual branch of the Pantheonic Government, the Staiven, who have little desire to live in such an alien culture, have simply created a vassal state simply called the Celan Government, or the Janaste Government. Staiven Officials are sent on several year long shifts to oversee this government and ensure the Celans cannot break out of Staiven control. It is rumored, however, that there is a ''shadow government'' whose influence dwarfs even that of the Staiven in the system. The Pantheonic Government keeps a close watch on the system, but allows it to remain in its current state because of how much value exists in interspecies mercantilism.]

 101- Horde

    Otan, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Sprinting through the hole that had been opened up by a well-placed set of explosives, Triezal slid down the corridor, skidding on his heels as his boots sliced their way through the top layer of the floor. It was all his subordinates could do just to keep up with him, but the enhanced muscles of the Jobu were enough to do the trick, far dwarfing that of his own Merris physique.


    There were six of them in this squad in total, consisting of Triezal, the squad leader Kholl, and four elite soldiers. All of the soldiers were Jobu, as the Korlove under his command had been placed in different positions. Because they were shorter and physically weaker than the Jobu, he was worried about the speed they could move, so Triezal had assigned them to the other positions in the plan, such as the bomb squad who had opened the entrance for his squad. He himself would have had difficulty keeping up with his subordinates were it not for the advanced equipment he had adorned his body in. This role was the most dangerous, and he dared not bring anyone slower than himself.


    The corridor was thick with Exid drones, though the thick flickering aura surrounding the lower half of Triezal¡¯s body caused them to part to either side. Those who contacted his feet found their exoskeletons dissolved away by the vibrant energies. The squad followed in his wake, traipsing their way through the corpses as the endless waves of giant insects swarmed to either side. Their miasmic resistance allowed them to walk through the smoke, suffering only minor damage to their clothing, and none to their actual bodies.


    Triezal gritted his teeth, suffering through the keening wails of the drones as they died, and the chittering screams of those who rushed out in mindless hope to confront the intruders. Forcing his way against the tides was like running through a mire, sapping his strength at every opportunity. Still, they continued to make progress, taking advantage of the Exid Queen¡¯s inability to give precise directives at this distance. All she could do was pre-issue orders to attack all aliens that they bumped into. This was within Triezal¡¯s expectations, and a core aspect of his operational plan.


    It wasn¡¯t long before they made it into the heart of the hive, faced with Queen Sikreis and her personal guard. Her mouth chittered as they entered, a thick puff of pheromones emerging from her glands.


    ¡°Emotion: Disdain. You will die for your insolence, Celans,¡± she said, the words emerging from a mechanical speaker embedded into the side of one of the walls.


    ¡°You are the one who will submit or die, Sikreis. Those are the only options which remain for you. You should have accepted our initial offer when you had the chance.¡±


    Acting on the Leader¡¯s orders, Triezal had indeed offered to buy out the Sikreis Corporation, but of course he had been turned down, to no surprise. This was always the primary plan.


    He turned back to his men. Squad Leader Kholl and two of the others had started to unpack a box strapped to their pack, while the remaining two had started to pull explosives from their own packs.


    The stream of Exid coursing out began to turn around, and those moving through the other tunnels began to course back towards them. Triezal imagined that the failure to operate the Sikreis Queendom¡¯s factories today would probably have a significant impact on the station¡¯s daily economy, though that was not his greatest concern at the moment.


    Here, the drones were near enough to Queen Sikreis to be perfectly controlled by her. They were attacking from all sides, and it was now far more than Triezal could handle on his own. Luckily, there was less of a need for them to move fast, and his subordinates had finished unpacking. Streams of orange mist jerked and stuttered from the nozzles of the machines, blowing thick clouds of activated flickering miasma into the Exid worker drones. This was Akatar, the most destructive and corruptive version of flickering miasma.


    Under the streams of miasma, the drones melted and warped, their chittered screams resounding through the cavernous space.


    ¡°Emotion: Shock. What is this?¡± Queen Sikreis asked in horror. The scent of her shock filled the room, thickly palpable in the air. There was a deep click on the ground as she took a fearful step backwards, but the voice that emerged from the machine was toneless.


    Triezal smiled as he looked up at her, searing the exoskeleton off of a worker with a kick from his booted foot.


    ¡°Did you really believe that we would have come here without a plan, Sikreis? You thought too little of us.¡±


    Here, he aimed to scare Sikreis, and prevent her from drawing near and using her enormous body to attack them. If she did, there was nothing they could do to prevent their deaths, but these weapons would certainly cause her great injury were she to draw too close.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    Despite the extremely high destructive output of the small squad, it was difficult for them to deal with the relentless tides of drones. Exid workers continued to climb over the corpses of their comrades, blindly following the orders of their queen. One of them managed to get a claw wrapped around one of Triezal¡¯s legs. He grunted in pain as it tried to crush his bones, but managed to raise one of his pistols in time, the bullet nearly instantly crashing right through one of its eyes and through its brain. Instinctively, one of Triezal¡¯s hands reached for the knife carefully strapped to his waist, but Triezal held himself back. He could never use that weapon unless he truly had no other choice. Instead, he activated the metal plate atop the back of his right hand, creating a small orange barrier which he used to bash the drone out of his way, managing to escape with mere bruises and scrapes. Another Exid climbed right over the body of the one he had just killed, continuing the relentless pressure.


    Triezal cursed. They had taken too long to reach this place, while Sikreis had reacted quicker than they had anticipated. It was too late to do anything about it, though. Triezal himself would be able to escape if he used his naeratanh dagger, but that did not hold true for the rest of his men. If they ran, they would be mowed down by the hordes of drones. The only way out was to force the queen to surrender.


    ¡°Throw the bombs!¡± Triezal shouted, gritting his teeth as he endured the pressure of the still-continuing waves of bugs. His boots would last for a while longer, but his ammunition and other tools would soon run out of charge.


    He was unable to see the bombs being thrown due to his position, but he could see the blooming explosions behind the lines of Exid. They had already killed hundreds of the workers, but the tide of bugs never ceased. Based on the research that Triezal had performed in advance, he knew that the Sikreis Queendom had hundreds of thousands of workers, and was one of the smaller Exid forces.


    He could hear a scream from behind him, but rather than the high pitched squeak of an Exid, it was the fearful shout of a humanoid. The Heirs¡¯ soldiers were very well trained, so the shout could only have been a result of a very heavy injury. Though one of his squad members had been injured, Triezal still did not dare look back. To turn back for a moment was to risk failing to hold his portion of the line.


    The air was thick with the scent of insect blood and smoke, as well as the pheromones which the Queen used to control her workers. Flakes of carapace and rock scattered through the air, tracing patterns that Triezal might have thought were beautiful were his mind not so focused on the matter of killing drones. Triezal was the sort of man who often enjoyed fighting, able to use his words to manipulate the mood of his opponent. In a fight like this, he found that to be difficult. Not only was the risk extreme for him and his men, it also was a battle fought against creatures so alien he couldn¡¯t help but feel as if he were facing monsters.


    ¡°Finally, we did it! We¡¯re ready, sir!¡±


    The excited words came from Kholl, and Triezal couldn¡¯t help but let out an exhilarated sigh as he heard what he so wished to.


    ¡°Sikreis!¡± he shouted, smiling madly. ¡°We have planted explosives around the room. You should know well that we have access to tactical nuclear explosives. Surrender, or we will blow them.¡±


    This was the crux of the plan. There was no real possibility of escape should they fail, for there were simply too many of the drones. It would take an army to conquer an Exid Queen by normal means. So Triezal and his men had come up with the idea of forcing themselves into a situation of mutually assured destruction. Based on Exid psychology, it was extremely likely for Sikreis to choose servitude over death.


    The queen¡¯s mandibles clenched, creaking and screeching in a maddening tone. She then bowed her head in resignation, knowing it to be the case. The drones stilled, ceasing to approach us, even backing somewhat away, leaving them standing above a sea of white corpses shrouded in orange light.


    ¡°Emotion: Resignation. You do know how the others will react to this development,¡± she said.


    ¡°I do. We are prepared to handle the consequences.¡±


    Another puff of pheromones were emitted, and Triezal knew this meant she was laughing at him.


    ¡°Perhaps we will both be dying regardless. But fine. As you wish, I swear myself to the services of the Heirs of Ottrien, provided I am granted the rights of a vassal.¡±


    ¡°All of your rights as a queen will be maintained,¡± he replied. ¡°We will soon send someone to discuss our next steps.¡±


    Triezal turned back to see the state of his men. Only one was unwounded, and two had fallen to their knees panting, nasty gashes on their legs and chest. He gave them a tired smile.


    ¡°We did good,¡± he said. ¡°Let¡¯s take ourselves to a hospital. I think you¡¯ve earned yourselves a holiday.¡±


    There was a soft cheer of triumph, which echoed in the space filled with the bodies of dead aliens.


    Akatar: [Originally thought to simply be flickering miasma, akatar is actually an activated high-energy state, and only occurs naturally within the Incursion, when lesions allow miasma to flow directly into Telles. Celah, which is located in that area, is covered in millions of lesions, and so akatar was commonly encountered by the ancestors of the modern Celans, and exposure to it over the course of generations has led to the Jobu race''s high ashatic resistance. As it is a type of flickering miasma, akatar is a chaotic energy which moves in inconsistent stuttering powers, and altering the shape and nature of everything it touches. In rare circumstances, it had even been able to transform nonliving structures into moving, monsters that almost resemble living organisms. According to ancient Jobu myth, akatar is the lifeblood of the universe itself.]

 102- The Pot Awaits the Ladle

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    If there was one thing I appreciated about Tseludia over Canvas, it might be the spread of information. Even without asking Rachel or waiting for mail, I could check out events from across the station by simply watching a news station. When I had mentioned this to Rachel, she had told me that this was possible in some parts of Canvas, but the Crucible, and particularly the Downpour, simply lacked the infrastructure for it. Even if we had installed it, I wagered that Sunlit Hall would have probably made it a priority to knock it down, anyway.


    The anchor for the program was an attractive sei woman wearing fine robes. The way she was dressed almost made her look like a courtesan, her robes tight and stretching the bounds of decency. I wondered whether she was a branch member of the Hadal Clan. Or perhaps she was largely unrelated, but the program itself was simply under their control. I would have been surprised if the truth was not one of the two. It did not particularly matter at the moment, though, given how the information I was looking for was so unrelated to the clan. I relaxed as I listened to her narrate the information I wished to know.


    ¡°...Events in Otan have heated up further, with the other Queendoms calling the takeover a grand display of disrespect to all Exid within the system. Four have already declared war against the Sikreis Queendom and the Heirs of Ottrien, though military action has yet to expand beyond skirmishes between rival worker drones at Queendom borders with the district. Worries about the potential damage to the industrial district and loss in productivity have reduced the stock of various corporations which rely on the products of the station¡¯s industrial district.¡±


    After our surprise at Rachel¡¯s claims of war, it had quickly become apparent that the situation was not yet in such a state. However, I thought, if it would benefit us, it was not impossible for us to stir the pot. Perhaps if the Heissix Corporation were to go bankrupt or die, we could buy back our own debt for cheap.


    On the other hand, to become involved was to earn the ire of any corporations who relied on the district¡¯s factories. Luckily the Venin Group manufactured its own products in another district, so this matter was unlikely to make our situation worse if we chose to ignore the matter.


    ¡°What are your thoughts?¡± I asked, my words echoing into the empty room. As expected, Rachel appeared before me, sitting down in the chair across from me. She shrugged.


    ¡°If we wished to become involved, I¡¯d say our best bet would be to assist the Celans in maintaining their territory. I suspect at least one of the queens will resort to force if they can¡¯t pressure them to sell the corporation to another Queendom.¡±


    I nodded hesitantly. It made sense, though my understanding of the intricacies of Exid culture was still lacking.


    ¡°...Let¡¯s put that to the side,¡± I said. ¡°Before that, how have Jihan¡¯s preparations gone?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s gotten his men fully equipped and they¡¯ve moved to the staging area higher up the stack from the target.¡±


    I narrowed my eyes.


    ¡°Who did he choose to bring with him?¡±


    ¡°Just the Lee Clan soldiers.¡±


    ¡°No Reth?¡±


    She shook her head, frowning slightly.


    ¡°I was slightly surprised as well, since they would certainly be both useful and willing. It seems that he sees not involving them as part of his duty to protect them.¡±


    ¡°I suppose that¡¯s fine,¡± I said. ¡°We can save their reveal for another day. They¡¯ll be more effective if no one expects them.¡±


    According to Rachel, Irid and the others had on multiple occasions asked if there was anything they could do to assist us. We had given them some useful mundane tasks, but hidden as they were in the depths of the sect, there was little they could do. I was sure that they would soon have an opportunity to both leave the sect and to assist us. First, however, we would need to solve the problem of feeding them.


    ¡°By the way,¡± she said, taking a sip of an illusory cup of tea. ¡°How has it gone with your disciples?¡±This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    ¡°They¡¯re doing fine. In just a few days they¡¯ll finally be ready to take in miasma. But... I suspect you¡¯re already fully aware of this. What do you really wish to discuss?¡±


    I clasped my hands together as I stared at Rachel. She gave an awkward smile and scratched the back of her head, uncrossing her legs.


    ¡°Am I really so easy to read?¡±


    I didn¡¯t respond, merely silently watching her until she got around to the matter in question. After a silent sigh, Rachel finally explained.


    ¡°I¡¯m still concerned about that Shade.¡±


    My brow furrowed, but the topic was not all that surprising. Just thinking about the other Shade caused me some stress, as we still had no clue what its aims were on the station. It had hindered and assisted us in equal measure, and no particular goal could easily rationalize its behavior.


    ¡°Have you not found any of its traces?¡± I asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s not that I¡¯ve found none of them. I had suspected it was one of the Celan Shades, and that seems to be confirmed by how it has fortified the Heirs¡¯ servers and operations. We won¡¯t be able to ambush the Spider again unless their Shade allows us to.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re worried about how it is assisting one of our enemies?¡±


    Rachel took another sip of her drink. My instinct was to call it a delaying tactic, but I knew that she could actually taste it, so it was hard to say whether it was intentional or instinct that remained from her once-mortal mind.


    ¡°I¡¯m concerned because I believe I may have pieced together at least one of their goals,¡± she said.


    ¡°And what would that be?¡± I asked. It was starting to feel to me like she was dragging this conversation out on purpose. Perhaps she really was nervous.


    She eyes flicked forward, matching my gaze.


    ¡°I believe they still want me. When I was overexerted and passed out, they stopped hindering us and assisted you in escaping. I think this might be because they felt that it would be more difficult to capture me from the Pantheonic Government than when we¡¯re on our own.¡±


    ¡°...That could be,¡± I said, considering the matter. It would certainly match up with some of the Shade¡¯s actions. ¡°But then why would it have warned you of its presence in advance? Wouldn¡¯t it have been better to surprise you?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t know. I can¡¯t be sure of any of this, actually. I still don¡¯t know which of the Celan Shades it even is.¡±


    I leaned back in my seat, already exhausted by the conversation.


    ¡°I suppose this means we¡¯ll need to be extra careful about the Heirs. Should we not assist them in Otan, then?¡±


    ¡°About that¡­¡± Rachel¡¯s expression was very uncertain, as if she had yet to fully think through what she was about to suggest, though I knew she had to have thought it through extensively before even bothering to bring it up. ¡°I think it¡¯s important to understand that the Heirs of Ottrien are not the Epon.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°What do you mean by that?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± she continued, the corner of her lip beginning to raise slightly, ¡°My impression of their activities since the time you rescued me is that they were scared about failing the task the Epon had assigned them. They¡¯re not known for being the most forgiving of groups. After continued failures, they must have become scared. They killed the Epon representative who arrived to receive me, but then a Shade arrived. Perhaps, rather than being dedicated to confronting us, they wish to escape a bad situation of their own.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help but lean forward, a beginning to grow a smile of my own. Her logic was sound, and I really liked the idea that she was presenting.


    ¡°So if we were to find a way to speak with them without the other Shade finding out, we could reduce its influence and gain a new ally to help us capture or destroy it,¡± I said.


    Rachel¡¯s lips had curled up into a full-sized grin.


    ¡°That¡¯s my thought. And we can start by working with them in Otan, to build connections in a natural way, and let them know we don¡¯t need to be enemies. We can kill two birds with one stone.¡±


    It was an odd saying, but easy to comprehend, and I quite liked the sound of it.


    ¡°Alright then,¡± I said. ¡°We should get started. See if you can get me a meeting with their Leader, or at least someone high ranking.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll want to speak with their Vice-Leader for a matter such as this. I¡¯ll send in the request through digital channels so only our two organizations will be aware.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help but feel the storm rage in anticipation. Two of our greatest problems stood before us, and if we could grasp this opportunity, they could both be wiped out in one fell sweep.


    Canvasian Technological Distribution: [Due to their exposure to aliens with higher technological bases, the Canvasians who live away from their home world tend to have a far greater comprehension of technological principles. Many areas of their homeworld have only relatively recently implemented electrical infrastructure, and due to the wars ongoing, a great deal of this is destroyed on the continents of the Crucible and Bounty. on Sunlit Hall, however, the technological base has been steadily rising, as more advanced energy generation and utilization technologies are continually developed. This has resulted in rampant industrialization, particularly with the assistance of alien technology that Sunlit Hall''s off-world branches continually send home. It is expected that within less than a century, most of Canvas will have fully developed according to the norms of interstellar civilizations, capable of building its own ships to colonize its area. By this point, Sunlit Hall is also expected to be in full control of all habitable continents on the planet''s surface unless the situation changes. Sunlit Hall is rumored to be concerned that their surrounding star systems will be secretly colonized by the Staiven before this point, rendering them trapped within their system unless they become true vassals of the Pantheonic Government or travel so far away into the vast that they are unable to maintain a uniform civilization with those who remain on their homeworld. The Pantheonic Government claims to have no such interests, but has made no promises not to do so.]

 103- A Secret Line

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Events were progressing perfectly according to plan, which inevitably meant that Deuvar had a lot of work on his plate as always. Still, he had long made preparations for managing their expansion into Otan, and most of the fine details could still be handled by Queen Sikreis. Triezal could be trusted in command of the troops helping Sikreis¡¯ drones defend her factories, but it was Deuvar¡¯s job to ensure that he had all he needed to keep the situation under control. If matters escalated to all-out war, their resources would be very strained. Luckily, their win condition was not to defeat the other Queendoms, but simply to last long enough that the Justice Office was forced to intervene and protect them.


    Though difficult, it was a very achievable goal, and the payoff would be far greater than the expense they risked losing. A foothold in the industrial district of Otan would inevitably bring far deeper connections to the corporations, and thus influence in the government through them, far more than non-Staiven could usually acquire.


    However, the main problem plaguing Deuvar was not within Otan itself. It was the fact that he had to be careful not to leave the border to Canvas Town unguarded. His sister had been keeping him up to date on the thick tensions and racially motivated violence occurring there, and he was very aware of the growing anti-Canvasian sentiment among the ranks of their own organization. War with the Hadal Clan was likely inevitable if such resentments continued to fester, but not yet. If possible, Deuvar would have wanted to eliminate such resentments altogether. Unlike the Exid, he knew for a fact that the clan had some secret at the immortal realm, either an expert practitioner or divine relic. Even if they used the titans, victory was not assured, and he dared not fight on two fronts.


    Deuvar was startled from his thoughts as he heard the sound of a notification from his slate. He lifted it to view its surface, and was shocked by the symbols its display was showing. There was no caller ID, something that should not hold true for anyone who had access to his personal line of communication. It was possible that Astna would communicate through such a means, though only in highly unusual circumstances. Though, in recent days, she had never been a bearer of good news. He quickly drew a glyph to accept the call, and a holographic figure appeared. To his surprise, it was not the visage of his sister, nor even of a Celan at all, but the figure of a Seiyal. What¡¯s more, he recognized the dark features, lengthy blonde hair, and crimson robes. Cyrus ¡®Riverfiend¡¯ Yu, a man who had never truly left the forefront of his mind in recent months.


    The Riverfiend smiled as their gazes met, while Deuvar was still too shocked to speak.


    ¡°It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Vice-Leader Deuvar. I find it odd how despite the many interactions of our forces, the two of us have yet to speak.¡±


    Deuvar expertly steeled his expressions. There was no need to question how the man had contacted him, as it was clearly the work of that Shade. What he did question was the reason for the call. Was he planning on enticing Deuvar into a trap, or attempting to blackmail him in some way? It had been a number of weeks since the assassination attempt on him as well as their attempt to kidnap Deuvar¡¯s sister, but he knew full well that resentments did not disappear easily. This was something he knew all too well. The Seiyal¡¯s words were spoken in his own language, though luckily Deuvar had long trained himself to the point of fluency.


    ¡°I feel the same, Sect Leader Yu. Might I ask for your purpose in contacting me in this manner? If you wished, you could have arranged for a formal meeting.¡±


    This martial artist seemed to be the pragmatic sort, as he proceeded to skip the rest of the pleasantries. Deuvar appreciated this mindset. He was not one for such things either.


    ¡°Do you need any assistance with your holdings in Otan?¡±


    Deuvar raised an eyebrow, as that was a matter he was surprised to hear from the mouth of a man like the one before him.


    ¡°Are you making a threat, or offering a proposal?¡±


    The Riverfiend shrugged nonchalantly.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure whether you¡¯re aware, but my sect owes a sizable amount of money to the Heissix Queendom. Chaos in Otan serves my interests, so I would prefer if you could continue to shake things up there.¡±Stolen novel; please report.


    Deuvar did actually know about the debt. A powerful martial force being indebted to one of the Exid was a potential issue. He suspected that the real reason that Cyrus would offer to help is because he wished to cause the situation to threaten Heissix¡¯s interests, and then sell her use of the Redwater Sect¡¯s troops to pay off his debt. Still, Deuvar was interested. While the Seiyal could make use of him, he could make use of them as well. Even if they did become enemies again later on, if they could help the Heirs to stabilize their foothold, then it would be worth the cost.


    ¡°How much assistance would you be willing to offer?¡± He asked, speaking frankly.


    The Riverfiend looked to the side, as if checking notes or the reactions of somebody in the room with him, before meeting Deuvar¡¯s gaze once more.


    ¡°We¡¯re currently lacking in funds, and none of our weapons would be of much use to your soldiers. However, I can lend you a strike force, to secretly assist your soldiers in skirmishes, or to plant explosives.¡±


    This was what Deuvar had been hoping for: to use another¡¯s soldiers instead of his own. Celan lives could not easily be replaced, while each Exid worker drone who died in the conflict would hurt the bottom line of the Heirs¡¯ newly acquired factories. But the lives of Seiyal who worked for another faction¡­ not only was it a better expense than using his own soldiers, it also weakened a potential enemy force for if they fought in the future.


    ¡°What level of forces would you be willing to lend us?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I cannot spare any of our spirit refiners, if that was what you were wishing to hear. A core formation practitioner and fifteen meridian refiners should be enough.¡±


    It was less than Deuvar had hoped. A force that small would be of limited impact, and lacked the explosive power of a spirit refiner. For use against the Exid, it would probably amount to the value of only a single enforcer. Still, he was in no position to complain about a matter freely given such as in this case.


    But he would be remiss in his duties if he did not attempt to strengthen this potential connection between their forces, and take full advantage of the situation. In little more than a decade¡¯s time, the Epon would send a force to punish their rebellious vassals, and it was likely that one of the Shades would come as well. In such a scenario, the assistance of the Redwater Sect and its Shade would be invaluable. What¡¯s more, perhaps when war inevitably did break out with the Hadal Clan, he could assist the Redwater Sect in taking over the Canvasian portion of the underworld. It would split the Canvasian populations, and make the war far less damaging.


    ¡°I have a counter-offer,¡± he said.


    ¡°Let us hear it,¡± replied the Riverfiend.


    ¡°Martial artists are the pinnacle of elite small forces, but they are few in number, while my people¡¯s technology is far greater at area denial and masses of enemies. Now that we are discussing cooperation, perhaps both of us can expand our plans. You could use financial assistance, you said. What if we conquered another Queendom together, and split ownership? It should be feasible to take at least one out before the Justice Office intervenes.¡±


    Deuvar had never been the greatest salesman. That was always Astna¡¯s role, but he felt that he was not incapable.


    The Riverfiend raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°You believe we can trust one another to such an extent, knowing our history? I¡¯m assuming by your implication that you wish to use at least one of our spirit refiners.¡±


    Left unsaid was the matter of using the Shade, but both were aware that matter went without saying.


    ¡°If it is in our shared best interest to do so, yes. You should be aware that we severed our ties with our former patron. As such, we no longer have any reason to be in conflict with you. I feel you are rational enough to see the value in cooperation. You were the one to contact me, after all.¡±


    ¡°I suppose. I can discuss the matter with my advisors. I trust your Leader will be amenable, if you¡¯re making the offer?¡±


    Deuvar responded gruffly.


    ¡°He trusts my judgment.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    The Riverfiend smiled.


    ¡°This is more than I expected to acquire from this meeting, though I have no qualms about that fact. I¡¯m looking forward to working with you, Vice-Leader Deuvar.¡±


    ¡°You as well, Sect Leader.¡±


    The connection cut, and Deuvar leaned back on his seat, exhausted. He obviously couldn¡¯t trust the man, but if they could work together, it would be of great benefit. He reached forward to pick up his slate again. He would need to communicate with the Leader, and then with Triezal.


    As always, more work had appeared. He felt that he would need to hire another assistant before long.


    Corporate Ownership According to the Pantheonic Government: [As corporations are a vital part of Staiven society, they are protected by the government, both for the purposes of economic stability and because most influential figures in the government hold partial stake in one or more major corporations. In fact, corporate stock is considered part of the job benefits for many government careers. Ownership for corporations and businesses is split into portions, so that stock can be owned by many, however there is no proper stock market, unlike how many species manage their businesses. Instead, trades are solely done privately, and are rarely split up too much, due to worries about hostile takeovers. For this reason, as well as due to the prevalence of the underworld, hostile takeovers tend to be more literal, despite extensive protections codified into law to prevent them. After all, the law matters less than the opinion of the courts. However, some of the most powerful corporations are partially owned by the churches, and so none would dare infringe upon them. There are few of the greatest corporations who are not owned at least in part by the Church of Fulstovis. These laws and rules, except for certain protections, apply as well to businesses created and owned by members of other species.]

 104- The Sanguine Arts

    Second District, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    ¡°Are you all ready?¡± asked Jihan, glancing at his subordinates.


    There were 5 of them that remained, those who had survived for those months in that dark facility beneath the station. He knew them all quite well, as they had spent those years of interstellar travel interacting with one another. There had been little to do except for interacting with one another.


    The Sect Leader had yet to communicate with them after sending them off, something that would normally be a sign of trust. However, this was clearly a test, and Jihan knew that Rachel was undoubtedly watching at this very moment through means he had yet to fully comprehend. He knew even less about the capabilities of a Shade than he did about extant practitioners. He could be told that she was capable of almost anything, and there would be little he could do to doubt it.


    He heard several calls of yes, and turned back to focus on his squad members. Garsa Lee was the only other bloodline clan member in the group, a cousin of his. She was untalented in martial arts, and so even with the assistance and training due to a bloodline member, even from a branch family, core formation seemed to be her limit.


    Her husband was a different matter, and the only other core formation practitioner in the squad. Hedouin Lee was quite talented, so much so that he was granted the right to marry into the family. In Jihan¡¯s estimation it was only a matter of time until he reached the bottleneck at the pinnacle of core formation. Acquiring sanguine treasures was next to impossible in a place like Tseludia, so he would likely have to wait until they returned to the clan to advance.


    The final two members of the squad were from the clan¡¯s vassals, talented enough in martial arts to receive gifts, but not enough to be worthy of joining the family itself. Still, Eden Wuyuan and Taiel Halao were extremely loyal, and could be considered elites within the meridian refinement realm.


    ¡°Good,¡± said Jihan, nodding. ¡°For the next fifteen years, we are bound by honor to serve the Redwater Sect. I trust we will all act according to this force¡¯s best interest- but we must never forget our true loyalties. We are a limb of the Lee Clan, and are merely on loan to the Riverfiend. I trust you understand the meaning of my words.¡±


    Hedouin chuckled.


    ¡°You¡¯ve explained this several times already, Jihan. Are you nervous?¡±


    ¡°Of course I am!¡± Jihan snapped, feeling his miasma lash out within him. ¡°This is our chance to acquire what we need to keep the Reth safe. Make absolutely sure not to destroy any machines unless Rachel tells you to.¡±


    Hedouin looked as if he was about to reply with a snarky comment, but Garsa forcefully pushed her arrogant husband¡¯s head downwards with a scowl.


    ¡°Shut up, dear,¡± she said.


    He scowled back, but wisely decided to listen to his spouse. Everyone else ignored the soap opera that was rather common for the pair. Personally, Jihan found the two of them to be a good match. Hedouin would inevitably get himself into a lot of trouble if there was no one to keep him in line.


    ¡°If there are no more irrelevant questions, let us depart.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir!¡±


    The words were once again spoken in unison. Despite it all, each and every member of the squad was extremely disciplined. It was part of how they had fully recovered from their confinement so quickly. Jihan knew that many of the other rescued martial artists had yet to readjust to free living.


    Each of the martial artists raised their hoods, keeping their faces covered. They would leave no traces to provide evidence of their involvement in the matter. Jihan himself was the first to leave, rapidly making his way down the staircases to where Idrico Health Solutions¡¯ manufacturing plant was located.


    It was unobtrusive, located on the second layer of the stack where the real estate was much cheaper. Like most buildings in the area, its facade was merely a large hatch right beside the street. In moments, the group stood before it. Jihan tapped a button on a device that had been strapped to his wrist, which he had been told functioned as a phone. Though he had not learned how to precisely operate it, apparently it had been configured so that just activating it he could get into contact with the Vice-Sect Leader.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°This is the correct one?¡± He asked, waiting for a response before he took further action.


    ¡°Yes. You may commence the mission at your own discretion.¡±


    ¡°We shall do so.¡±


    Sanguine miasma flared within Jihan¡¯s meridians, circling from his cores like blood from his heart. He activated the technique within his lower core, and blood vessels popped as sanguine energy surged, and with a swing from his sword, Jihan tore through the heavy metal hatch in one blow. He smiled, relishing the pain and the feedback from his brutal strike.


    ¡°Let¡¯s burn it down,¡± he said, tearing his way through the opening he had created, his squad members following immediately behind.


    The interior of the manufacturing facility was some sort of mix between a chemistry lab and a factory, with large vats and precise equipment sharing space next to computer terminals and other technological accouterments Jihan couldn¡¯t hope to identify, nor did he need to. A keening alarm sounded, and Jihan knew they needed to be gone as soon as possible. He heard a noise as a turret located in the wall began to make a keening start up noise, but it was immediately silenced with a leap and a series of slashes. Another door slammed shut ahead of him, but another series of quick slashes broke it down.


    ¡°Eden, start planting the bombs next to these tanks. We can pretend they exploded due to some sort of accidental leak.¡±


    Most of the soldiers of the Lee Clan had been trained to be specialists in one or more disciplines, and conveniently for this task, Eden¡¯s was demolition. After a quick discussion with Rachel about yield, he had told Jihan that he would easily be able to place the bombs properly.


    ¡°Rachel, what do we need to take?¡±


    ¡°Move around, and display the screen of your watch so I can see what it all is.¡±


    Jihan did as ordered, very quickly moving around the room as he knew Rachel would not be hindered by his speed.


    He glanced back, hearing Rachel¡¯s voice from distant wrist communicators from each of his squad mates. Taiel and Garsa each had been pulling sledges that Ran had apparently acquired for them, capable of reducing the effective weight of whatever was placed upon them. Under Rachel¡¯s instructions they quickly identified several valuable or useful machines and carefully disconnected them, setting them on the sledges. Meanwhile, Eden continued to place explosives, as Hedouin watched the doors and exits in case there was some problem that they had failed to account for.


    Given how quickly they had entered into the facility without being hindered, it was very clear to Jihan that this company¡¯s owner had skimped on security. Perhaps they had failed to realize the connection the Venin Group had formed with the Redwater Sect. This would have been a more difficult job had Jihan not been a spirit refiner, and as far as he was aware, there were no martial artists of his level who served as mercenaries on the station.


    It only took a few minutes for the machines to be loaded, and Jihan took another glance at Eden, to see that he was finalizing the bomb placement.


    ¡°I believe this should destroy everything and eliminate any evidence, while being explainable by an accident,¡± he said. Jihan gave him a nod, before asking Rachel a question.


    ¡°There¡¯s no chance they did not hire some sort of defenders,¡± he said.


    ¡°I was about to warn you. A nearby mercenary group is currently en route to your location. They¡¯ll probably meet you on the way out.¡±


    Jihan frowned. They had accomplished their task just slightly too slowly.


    ¡°Alright,¡± he called out, his words gathering the attention of the squad. ¡°Everyone hide in here. We¡¯ll ambush them after they enter.¡±


    Everyone put the finishing touches on their work, and Hedouin smiled as he hid with the rest. He had missed the opportunity to fight during their escape from the facility, and his blood was boiling in his veins. Garsa put her hand on his arm to help calm his bloodthirst so he could silence his breathing and eliminate his presence.


    The second district, as the district housing many of the station¡¯s corporate headquarters, had long been resistant to the intrusion of underworld forces. However, the underworld was as active here as anywhere else, just that almost all of the forces located here were under direct corporate control- private militaries and mercenaries who were hired by one corporation or another. The force in charge of Idrico Health Solutions¡¯ defense was no exception to this. Black Bullet PMC was a mercenary company that contracted with a number of corporations in the area, promising swift action to protect any of their contracted locations that were threatened. As expected by their reputation, they had arrived in mere minutes after the door had been broken down. Not finding any traces outside, they had no choice but to enter themselves.


    Idrico Health Solutions'' Ownership: [Owned as part of a network of shell companies, Idrico Health Solutions was founded to compete with the Venin Group without causing any hostility between the group and the company''s actual owner/s. This is a common tactic among Staiven corporations, and one considered ''sporting.'' Of course, if one is able to navigate the complex web of holdings and find out the true owner, it is also fair game to express one''s resentment against the true competitor, who in this case is actually the Tseludian branch of the Margrave Corporation. Notably, the Margrave Corporation has ''purchased'' several businesses in the past who formed as if from nowhere, bankrupted their competitors with cheaper and more effective products, and then significantly increased the product''s price after being ''purchased'' by Margrave, and when they have a near or total monopoly of the market.]

 105- Horror Film

    Second District, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Mung Seo noticed the marks on the hatch as he stepped in, his experience telling him that they had clearly been left by a blade. The cuts were rough, and he knew that to make such powerful tears in the Staiven-crafted metal, the wielder would need a strong blade, as well as far more strength than Mung himself had. A shiver of fear ran down his spine. Who could be the one who had broken in?


    He couldn¡¯t help but take a glance behind himself, only to be urged on by the squad leader. Black Bullet PMC was a group that hired mercenaries of all races and cultures, which was how a Seiyal like Mung had ended up in a squad with two Staiven, a Jobu, and a Telaretian.


    ¡°I suspect we¡¯re dealing with at least one martial artist, maybe more,¡± he said.


    ¡°I don¡¯t hear anything,¡± replied Umruj with a gruff, deep drawl. ¡°Perhaps the intruder has already left the premises.¡± Due to the physiology of his species, this was simply how his words sounded, regardless of how he enunciated. He was rather tall, his body heavily scarred, and in some points revealing the tattered flesh under his torn scales. While it was all injuries that could be repaired in surgery, Umruj claimed that he was too frugal to spend so much money on vanity. Knowing the alien¡¯s personality, Mung couldn¡¯t help but suspect that he just thought it made him look more intimidating.


    Mung reached out with his soul senses. He was wary of entering into sites like this without being as careful as possible. Far too many fools died walking into ambushes in this profession. He was only a meridian refiner, so he knew far too well his own weakness. A single well placed bullet could kill or cripple him for life.


    The senses of his soul felt hazy, as if there were a mist occluding them. This caused his hackles to rise even more so than if he had actually sensed someone inside.


    ¡°Something¡¯s wrong,¡± he said, holding one hand up. ¡°I can¡¯t sense anything.¡±


    ¡°I sense it as well,¡± said Nilhn, one of the Staiven in the squad. He was a good marksman, which for a Staiven meant the senses of his soul were unusually strong. ¡°I didn¡¯t even realize something like this was possible.¡±


    ¡°We still need to go in,¡± barked Ainzel, their Staiven squad leader. ¡°Follow the rules. Mung, go in first. You¡¯ll be able to react the fastest if there¡¯s an ambush. Operating orders for this one are to kill the intruders but be careful to keep damage to any equipment inside at a minimum.¡±


    ¡°Understood.¡±


    Mung took another step past the shattered hatch, making his way deeper inside of the manufacturing laboratory. All he had been told about the place was that they were some sort of pharmaceutical company, and he had not particularly cared until now. But now that his senses were stifled to such an extent, he felt like the nature of this place itself had to be related somehow. Just what sort of medicines were they developing here? Some sort of poison for clouding the soul senses? But if they were developing something like that, why would they have only hired a group like the Black Bullet PMC for protection? Surely they would want a proper internal security force for such a project. There were simply too many who would wish to sabotage it.


    Mung stepped past the second hatch, which had been torn apart in much the same manner as the first. A faint keening alarm sound could still be heard blaring inside, but it seemed muted somehow. He tried to take a look at the room within, but it was shrouded in darkness. Mung frowned in annoyance, but was not surprised. It was not unusual for Staiven companies to neglect the installation of lights in areas they did not expect any aliens to venture, so his equipment contained preparations for such an issue. He reached up to his helmet and turned on a headlamp which had been attached there.


    The bright light flared out all around him, but failed to illuminate anything. No, after a moment of surprise, he realized that was not the case. On the contrary, in fact. The light was illuminating a dense black mist which shrouded the room, something he had mistook for mere darkness.


    ¡°Sir,¡¯ he called back, ¡°there seems to be some sort of visible gas in here. I can¡¯t see very much.¡±


    ¡°Umruj, Buzol, get in there. One of you aliens should have senses that work.¡± Ainzel cursed as his subordinates had problems inside, and directed the rest in before himself as he made his way in. As soul sense was one of a Staiven¡¯s most important senses, he had to be feeling even blinder than Mung did.


    ¡°This smoke occludes my vision as well,¡± said Umruj, his slotted pupils expanding as he tried to get a better view. After a few moments, his nostrils expanded to take in more air. ¡°But I do smell both Staiven and humanoid. At least one of the intruders was a Seiyal or a Celan.¡±


    ¡°Had to be a Seiyal,¡± said Buzol, peering into the darkness. ¡°My people are strong, but even if another Jobu did choose to wield a sword, I can¡¯t imagine they would have been able to do that to a door.¡±Stolen novel; please report.


    ¡°Your enforcers have swords, do they not?¡± Asked Umruj.


    Buzol snickered.


    ¡°And how would an enforcer fit through the first hatch to reach the second? Much less the question of how they would have brought it to the second district without being noticed.¡±


    Umruj sighed in annoyance, choosing to ignore the Jobu woman. He felt like she took a particular amusement in mocking him every time he made a suggestion.


    ¡°Do not be so complacent,¡± said Mung. ¡°I have a bad feeling about the situation. My intuition tells me that they are still here.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes,¡± said Buzol. ¡°If they are here, why haven¡¯t they attacked us yet? I suspect they would either be in a different room or are hiding from us. Probably noncombatants among them, in that case.¡±


    ¡°I trust the Seiyal¡¯s gut feeling,¡± said Umruj. ¡°Young, primitive peoples tend to have more developed instincts due to need.¡±


    Ainzel sighed, pissed off by his subordinate¡¯s banter. It was fine when they were on break or waiting, but during a mission, particularly one that had turned odd so quickly, he found himself not feeling so lenient.


    ¡°Let us simply get this over with,¡± he said. ¡°Go in and look for them.¡±


    Ignoring his reservations, Mung stepped into the mist, choosing to hold his breath and simply trust his senses. His senses of touch, sound, and smell were entirely unaffected.


    Mung was only three steps in when he heard the first scream. It was a feminine voice, coming from his left. Immediately preceding it he had felt nothing but a slight rush of wind.


    ¡°What happened?¡± he asked, surprised. His question was echoed by the rest of the squad, but no answer returned.


    ¡°Buzol, report,¡± said Ainzel, but there was no response.


    From several feet away, Mung could hear Umruj mumbling curses under his breath.


    ¡°Sir, I believe we should step out of this mist. Clearly this martial artist is too powerful for us to fight blind,¡± said Nilhn.


    Mung felt another slight breeze, and there was no response from the squad leader.


    ¡°Squad leader?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I think he¡¯s dead, Seiyal,¡± said Umruj. ¡°We need to go.¡±


    "Shit!" called Nilhn, his voice then turning into a scream.


    Mung had already started sprinting back out of the room, empowering himself with a movement technique to gain as much speed as possible. Flickering miasma burned through his body, the chaotic energies electrifying his muscles and causing him to shift in an odd, stuttering motion that made him both much faster and far more difficult to target. Before the Riverfiend had shown up on the station, Mung had secretly believed that his Sparking Steps were possibly the greatest movement technique present on the station. In moments he had already moved past the first hatch of the entryway, so close to making it out alive.


    Behind him, he heard a voice speaking in quiet seiyin, his mother tongue.


    ¡°Capture the martial artist.¡±


    ¡°Understood, sir.¡±


    Somehow, this spurred Mung to move even faster, but he was not quite fast enough. As good as his movement technique might have been, it could not compete with the power held by one more than an entire realm higher. He crashed to the ground unceremoniously after his back was impacted by a great force, powerful enough to topple him. Above him stood a handsome man who looked to be in his early twenties, though Mung knew he had to be much older than that. The man smiled down at him, but Mung¡¯s eyes were drawn to the sword held in his hand. It was dripping with red blood, the sort that humanoids had. Humanoids such as his squadmate Buzol. Mung cringed back, almost missing the wounds that dotted the man¡¯s torso, small cuts and grazes that seemed to be very precisely inflicted. From the wounds, thin streams of black and red smoke fell down. The red pooled on the floor before slowly dissipating, while the black floated free in the air. For a moment, Mung almost thought that the man before him was a Reth.


    ¡°I surrender,¡± said Mung, giving up. This man was at least a core formation practitioner, and from the mad look on his hooded face- Mung couldn¡¯t help but see him as a demon of the unorthodox path. ¡°You¡¯re from the Redwater Sect, right? I can pretend I didn¡¯t see anything. Or maybe I saw that it was the Hadal Clan, or the Celans? Whatever you would prefer.¡±


    He forced an awkward chuckle, while he heard a shout of pain from a voice that was undoubtedly Umruj¡¯s.


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to worry,¡± said the sanguine practitioner. ¡°The squad leader has a use for you, and so you still have a right to live, at least for now. But you¡¯ll cooperate with whatever he has in mind, yes?¡±


    ¡°Of- of course,¡± said Mung.


    The man smiled down at him.


    ¡°It is good that you know your place,¡± he said.


    The smoke slowly ceased to emerge from the man¡¯s body, and behind him, Mung saw others begin to emerge from the mist.


    ¡°I can light it up at any time,¡± said a middle-aged man. He glanced at Mung. ¡°Do we need to toss him back in?¡±


    ¡°No, we¡¯ll take him with us,¡± said another man, his voice recognizable as the one that had ordered Mung¡¯s capture earlier. ¡°Knock him out and carry him, Hedouin. Garsa, Taiel, you take the carts up to the skydock. The Vice-Sect Leader has called us an aero. Eden, blow it once we¡¯re up the stairs."


    ¡°I shall see it done.¡±


    Moments later, Mung felt a pain in his neck, and fell into darkness.


    Smog and Sanguine Miasma: [Rethian Smog, also known simply as ''The Smog,'' is a phenomenon believed to have been created by Saaya, and has earned her the title of ''Lady of Shadows.'' The Smog is a thick black smoke that is slightly poisonous to many species, but healthy for the Reth to breathe. It also forms naturally when Reth use their progression system, as it is said that ever since the Rethian homeland was destroyed, the Smog was moved into the spirit world. However, rumors say that it is not that the smog is tied to the Rethian progression system specifically, but instead deeply entwined with sanguine miasma in general. This would explain the functionings of some of the odder techniques that sanguine martial practitioners among the Seiyal have developed in recent decades, as well as, some have hypothesized, the reason why red-eyed Staiven supposedly never survive to Elder status.]

 106- Mung Seo

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    I raised an eyebrow quizzically as I looked downwards at the strange man who had been set on the ground before me. He was a sei, but his hair had been buzzed and he was wearing a distinctly Staiven set of armor.


    ¡°Why did you kidnap a mercenary?¡± I asked, glancing over at Jihan. He had just arrived back from the mission carrying the man, and in another room his squad members were unloading the sledge of our ill-gotten gains. Jihan shrugged.


    ¡°I recall we were lacking a proper tutor for the disciples who chose flickering miasma? There were some talented youths in that group, and I felt that they would be better served with a teacher who has personal experience.¡±


    ¡°Despite being their current teacher, I have to agree. But is he worth the effort? I remember you took him down in moments,¡± said Rachel, piping up from where her projection was leaning on the side of the wall.


    ¡°Despite his lacking advancement, his movements and use of techniques struck me as very practiced. We were going to kill him anyway, so I felt it would not be an issue even if he did not turn out to be useful.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll speak with him after he wakes,¡± I said. ¡°I certainly would prefer to have a proper teacher for all of the disciples. Were there any other surprises?¡±


    ¡°None. The facility was annihilated in the explosion, with no damage to the stack itself. According to Vice-Leader Rachel, the planted evidence should be sufficient to imply a thief tried to break in and he and the response mercenaries were all killed due to some sort of ignited chemical leak.¡±


    I glanced at Rachel for confirmation, and she gave me a short nod.


    ¡°Very good,¡± I said.


    I had been concerned that it had been too easy, but I supposed that sometimes events really did turn out as planned. Then I glanced at the mercenary on the floor. Perhaps not perfectly according to plan. The man was, after all, living evidence. Still, I couldn¡¯t help but smile, glad that the mission had been so successful. I preferred to stay in the good graces of my allies, and the Venin Group, with our help, could only grow more and more influential. While it was only one of the lesser corporations, it was fully outside of the control of the churches, which might prove helpful at some point in the future. Though I knew Nahalken was devout, he was a Fulstovan, which meant he believed it was his divine duty to sell out the church itself if the counter-offer was good enough. In my opinion, the adherents of that religion were simultaneously some of the easiest and most difficult individuals to barter with.


    ¡°Have Ran¡¯s people sort the haul,¡± I ordered, ¡°and tell her to contact Nahalken with the good news.¡±


    ¡°Roger.¡± replied Rachel with a salute. Paying no heed to her eccentricities, I turned to face Jihan once again. Seeing that I had something else to say, he stood firmly and waited for me to speak.


    ¡°You finished that mission rather quickly,¡± I said.


    He nodded.


    ¡°They clearly underestimated how much security they would need.¡±


    I nodded, finding myself fully in agreement with the assertion.


    ¡°I suspect many corporations in the coming climate will find themselves increasing their security. The great forces of the underworld are all finding themselves in need of allies. Even the Drelistai and the rest who remain uninvolved for the moment are making their own preparations.¡±


    ¡°What are you getting at?¡± he asked.


    Rachel laughed.


    ¡°I¡¯ll get to the point, because Cyrus is clearly losing himself in thought again. We made a deal with the Celans, and you¡¯re going to work with them to take down an Exid Queendom.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± asked Jihan, surprised. ¡°I thought they were your- our enemies.¡±This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    She shrugged, a smirk on her face, as if to pretend humility while implying it was an impressive feat. In actuality, I suspected the Celans had considered attempting to bury our mutual enmity even before this moment. They likely wished to minimize the racial tensions as much as possible in order to put off their conflict with the Hadal Clan. Such a war would likely end up poorly for everyone involved if more preparations could not be made, but the preparation and delay did nothing but increase the projected impact of the conflict.


    ¡°We¡¯ve buried the hatchet,¡± said Rachel.


    ¡°So with all that said,¡± I emphasized. ¡°Tomorrow we¡¯ll need you to take your squad to Otan. The Heirs of Ottrien have a safe house there where you can meet up with the man they placed in charge of their interests in the district. I¡¯ll leave you in charge of this.¡±


    ¡°Understood.¡±


    ¡°Good. Rachel will give you the rest of the background information on the topic. I¡¯ll see you when you return, most likely.¡±


    With that said, Jihan walked out the room, discussing the details with Rachel, whose form was visibly distorted for a second as a clone of herself walked out of her own body to talk with him, while another remained in the room with me. I stood over the still slumbering mercenary, glancing down at his prone form.


    ¡°So who exactly is this?¡± I asked.


    ¡°His name is Mung Seo, born and raised in Tseludia. He joined a gang when he was young, but later left it to become a mercenary after a close call with being arrested by the Justice Office. He¡¯s been in that profession for almost five years now.¡±


    She spoke in a monotone voice as if she was reciting some sort of biography.


    ¡°I see. Let¡¯s find out what he¡¯s like as a person.¡±


    I tapped his side with my foot a couple times, and Mung slowly roused to awakening. After a moment of bleary confusion, he glanced up at me and gasped in shock, sliding himself away using his hands.


    ¡°It seems that he recognizes you,¡± laughed Rachel. ¡°You truly have become a recognizable figure, haven¡¯t you, Cyrus?¡±


    ¡°So it seems,¡± I replied. ¡°Your name is Mung Seo, I hear?¡±


    He took a deep breath, and managed to gather up courage, slowly rising to his feet.


    ¡°That is correct, Sect Leader Yu. It is an honor to meet the great Riverfiend.¡±


    It seemed he knew the proper etiquette for dealing with people of status. It had not been dulled, but perhaps even enhanced during his years of work within Staiven society.


    ¡°Congratulations, Mister Seo, you have been recorded as officially dead by the government!¡± said Rachel.


    I gave her an odd look, while Mung just blinked his eyes in confusion.


    ¡°What?¡± he asked.


    I decided to explain.


    ¡°Rather than killing you with the rest of your squad, Jihan had you brought here because he felt you might be useful to us.¡±


    ¡°In what way?¡± the man asked.


    Mung looked to be in his early thirties, though I suspected him to be slightly older. He appeared about half a decade older than I did, though I suspected that between the two of us, I was the elder. I looked barely half of my true age due to the great gain in vitality brought by my high level of advancement down the path of martial arts.


    ¡°We could use an experienced tutor for our disciples who are learning flickering arts.¡±


    ¡°A tutor¡­ you wish for me to teach students?¡± he asked, shocked. ¡°I am only a meridian refiner.¡±


    ¡°What we seek is your experience, not your advancement. It¡¯s not a bad job,¡± said Rachel. ¡°Most martial artists would leap at such an opportunity to join the sect. Of course, you¡¯re not being given much of a choice. Strictly speaking you¡¯re a liability to us, so if you aren¡¯t useful we¡¯ll probably need to kill you.¡±


    It seemed that Mung was a practical man. After only a moment more consideration, he willingly agreed to take the position.


    ¡°I can do this if you wish,¡± he said, ¡°though I do not understand your decision.¡± His mouth contorted into a saddened smile. ¡°I don¡¯t wish for death.¡±


    I met his smile with one of my own, as I knew exactly how he felt. I once knew someone who would have said I became what I most reviled, but I was too cynical to believe that myself. I had always been this way, deep down, I thought.


    ¡°If it had not been us, it would have been someone else,¡± I told him, not entirely sure myself why I felt the urge to comfort him. ¡°If it were another force, you would not have been granted this opportunity to live.¡±


    ¡°Do you think yourself kind, Riverfiend?¡± Mung asked in response, unable to entirely hold back his glare.


    I chuckled in response.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be here if I was.¡±


    Tseludian Mercenaries: [In a place where the underworld holds as much power as it does in Tseludia Station, Private Military Companies are vital for preserving the power of the corporations. These forces, many of whose members are also part of the underworld, hold the different forces in check, as well as guarding the various corporations against one another. They are experts in fishing in murky waters, able to profit from all sorts of wars and disputes, often from both sides of the conflict. These companies are extremely territorial against one another, competing for contracts, and in many cases fighting against one another. Some mercenary companies are largely or entirely composed of one race, while others are extremely diverse, taking in members from all sorts of different races and assigning roles according to skills. Powerful practitioners of progression systems such as the Seiyal are highly prized by all PMCs, though it is rare for any of the core formation level or above to join one. Such individuals are often more likely to found their own.]

 107- Inter-Organizational Cooperation

    Otan, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Jihan had never interacted much with Celans, as they were less numerous in the region of the Pantheonic Territory where the Lee Clan currently resided. He found himself uncertain about the task he had been asked to perform. Still, it was not too much to ask, and was also certainly something within his means.


    Traversing Otan was inevitably odd as well, though unlike the Celans, Jihan had interacted plenty with the Exid in the past. Given how territorial Exid Queens were, they inevitably spread out as much as they could, or were forced away from the stations and planets they were located on. In fact, the Exid district on Estrivel Station, where the Lee Clan was located, was also commonly referred to as Otan. It seemed that the Exid were able to maintain their culture even across the celestial expanse.


    Having walked through many such districts, Jihan even knew the trick for making one¡¯s way through the endless tide of Exid workers roving their way between factories. One simply forced their way through, and the drones would maneuver around, taking care not to be crushed by the powerful legs of a martial artist.


    It didn¡¯t take long to find the alleyway, located to no surprise within the Sikreis Queendom. Jihan drew the symbol into the screen on the hatch as he had been directed to. There was a lengthy pause before it began to shift.


    As the hatch slid out of the way, Jihan was met with the arachnid-like form of a Korlove, whose far too humanoid-looking eyes peered at Jihan as if to discern whether or not he was a threat. After a moment, it led him down a short hallway. At its end was an ordinary living room, turning into a kitchen at the far corner. Stationed around the room were Korlove and Jobu soldiers. Each of them had firearms in their hands, and were watching him very carefully. It seemed that these ¡®allies¡¯ were just as apprehensive as he was. He found this to be a good sign. If this had been a trap, he suspected that a technologically advanced race such as the Celans would not have gone about it in such a way.


    Seated at the table was a man far less muscular than Jihan would have expected from a humanoid Celan. His blue hair was odd as well, and the yellow blindfold which covered his eyes made him seem even odder as he turned to face Jihan with a smile.


    ¡°You¡¯re Elder Lee, correct?¡± he asked, his pronunciation of the seiyin words perfect, albeit lightly accented.


    Jihan nodded.


    ¡°Would you be the one in charge of affairs in the district?¡± he asked.


    The man shrugged.


    ¡°Celan affairs, at least. My name is Triezal. Come, sit. Let¡¯s discuss our plans.¡±


    He waved his hands, beckoning Jihan over, and Jihan slowly approached, warily eying the guards standing around the room. He glanced back at his squad and gave some quick hand signals to indicate that they enter behind him, yet remain on their guards. Jihan was still not quite confident that these ¡®allies¡¯ could be trusted. Just a few weeks back, they had tried to assassinate Cyrus. In his experience, grudges did not disappear quite so quickly.


    Jihan sat down at the table. It was an oddly mundane piece of furniture, a cheap work metal and ceramic of the sort which could be found in almost any habitation around Tseludia, or really any of the Staiven constructed space habitats. It felt at odds with the grim atmosphere of the meeting. The moment he sat, Triezal began talking animatedly.


    ¡°The Queendom we were thinking of taking this time is the Iskrise. It¡¯s conveniently located by our current territory, which we can leverage to defend the two jointly. This should help us weather the pressure from the skirmishing.¡±


    ¡°I was thinking that perhaps we should take the Heissix Queendom,¡± Jihan replied. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    Triezal smirked at him.


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m sure you would. But the Heissix Queendom is fairly far from here, and it would be difficult to protect both of them. In addition, it would reduce our gains as we wouldn¡¯t be able to integrate operations.¡±


    In fact, Rachel had told Jihan that they had already agreed to go for Iskrise like the Celans would want to, but acting as if they were compromising by insisting on Heissix would give them a slight advantage in the ongoing negotiations.


    ¡°What makes Iskrise so convenient?¡± he asked.


    Triezal shrugged, leaning back on his seat.


    ¡°Of all the Queendoms adjacent to Sikreis, Queen Iskrise has dedicated the highest percentage of her forces to attacking us. According to our intelligence, she should be skimping on her internal defenses. If we can skip her front line using an aero, we should be able to take her fairly easily using our respective skills. ¡°


    ¡°I see. In that case,¡± Jihan said, ¡°let¡¯s take the Iskrise Queendom.¡±


    Triezal smiled again.


    ¡°Good. If there¡¯s one thing I appreciate about martial artists, it¡¯s that you tend to be very decisive.¡± He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. ¡°Now, how about we discuss more specific tactics?¡±


    ¡°Do you have a map of their hive¡¯s interior?¡± asked Jihan.


    His smile once more turned into a smirk.


    ¡°Of course we do.¡±


    A few scrawled glyphs on his pad caused an illusion to manifest itself above the table. It was a three dimensional model of a structure whose rooms were a mix of normal humanoid accommodations and the tubular corridors and caverns that the Exid preferred. Small images marking doors and Queen Iskrise herself popped up afterwards, marked with different colors from the translucent gray of the architecture.


    Jihan inspected the image closely, committing it all to memory. He noticed that some of the small tunnels designed for worker Exid stretched out to connect to various different levels of the stack. He reached out a finger and traced one of the paths which led down from a higher layer of the stack. As he moved his hand, from the corner of his eye he saw the guns of the Celan guards shift upwards for a second before shifting back down after realizing he was merely pointing.


    ¡°If we¡¯re arriving via aero, coming down from a higher level like this would seem efficient.¡±


    He glanced over at Triezal, who gave him a lazy smile, and motioned to his blindfold. Jihan paused, realizing. Was the man blind? Why would they have chosen to put a blind man in charge of such types of planning? Then, he lazily removed the blindfold, revealing a pair of bright eyes, and met Jihan¡¯s gaze.


    ¡°Apologies, Mister Lee, I can¡¯t see well with this on.¡±


    Jihan was dumbfounded. Was this Celan training with sensory deprivation? He was still pointing at the tunnel, and Triezal quickly inspected it.


    ¡°This seems reasonable, but the tunnel is quite thin. It would restrict our use of armor. A more direct approach would allow us to carry more with us.¡±


    He directed Jihan¡¯s gaze towards another tunnel, one used to deliver food to the queen and her hatchlings. The tunnel was very well guarded, however.


    ¡°You won¡¯t need armor. We were promised that you had explosives and ranged weapons. That will be all you need. I and my squad can keep the bugs off of you.¡±


    Triezal frowned, peering back at the tunnel Jihan had pointed out.


    ¡°This is a risk,¡± he said.


    ¡°One we can manage. I am a spirit refiner.¡±


    ¡°...That you are, Elder. Fine, then, I¡¯ll take your word on this. I¡¯ll communicate with the Queen, you just need to threaten her.¡±


    Jihan shrugged.


    ¡°So long as the contract she signs is the one our organizations both agreed to, there will be no problems.¡±


    ¡°By our honor, there will be none. Few organizations who know the true foundation of the Redwater Clan would dare to betray you.¡±


    Triezal had a knowing smile, and Jihan couldn¡¯t help but frown. Just what was he implying? He wasn¡¯t aware of any backers. Did this relate to Rachel¡¯s origins, and the reverence that the Reth felt towards her? He hadn¡¯t even known about the Terrans until he had spoken with Irid and the others. He shrugged, acting like the Celan¡¯s words had not gotten under his skin, and returned the man¡¯s smile.


    ¡°You would do well to not be lying about that.¡±


    ¡°We understand the power of mutual interest. There¡¯s no need to be so overly concerned,¡± replied the odd Celan.


    Jihan got the feeling that he would not enjoy getting along with this alien very much.


    Humanity: [According to the official species database of all major forces, if there is a record of a race known as ''Humanity'' at all, it is clear on one point: Humanity is a race native to the Quarantined Territory who colonized several star systems but went extinct prior to being encountered by Osine forces. They are notable in that they have morphological similarities to various races such as the Celans, Seiyal, Reth, and Staiven, which implies they were created by a deity, but due to their homeworld''s location within the Quarantined area, no forces have chosen to investigate, due to fears of infection.]

 108- The Favored Child

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    ¡°You have been diligent, and your labors have brought you great fortune,¡± said Sirena Hadal to her favored daughter. ¡°Your misdeeds have been forgiven.¡±


    Karie bowed respectfully before she responded, the etiquette which had been ingrained in her for decades helping her to maintain perfect decorum. Despite being Sirena¡¯s third child, Karie was by far the most talented. Her oldest brother was still in the early stages of the core formation realm, while Karie herself had finally become a spirit refiner just last night.


    ¡°Thank you, Matriarch. I hope I have fulfilled your expectations,¡± said Karie.


    Sirena smiled softly down at her from the fine wood seat she rested upon. Despite the official nature of this meeting, Sirena could not help but feel fragments of her true feelings of fondness seep out. When she had assigned Karie to labor for her disobedience, Sirena had not expected the girl to dedicate herself so much to her practice, and finally reach the next stage. The timing could not have been better. She would feel much more at peace knowing that her daughter now had the strength to protect herself. If only her other children would do the same.


    ¡°Is there anything you want, my daughter? This achievement is worthy of a gift.¡±


    There were only five spirit refiners in the entire Hadal Clan, with Karie becoming the sixth. She was the first of the younger generation to successfully breach the bottleneck. It was tradition for them to be given a gift of their choice upon reaching this level, a tradition which Sirena herself supported wholeheartedly. She would have wanted to support any new pillars of the sect in a similar manner even if her ancestors had not done the same. This feeling was only amplified by the fact that it was her daughter who had made the achievement.


    Karie looked up at her, and Sirena saw her eyes blazing with that same energy the girl had been holding onto for years. She had been a willful girl, ever since the days she was toddling around and resting in Sirena¡¯s lap. This inclination of hers had only grown with age. Her recent attempt to slay the Riverfiend was not the first attempt to acquire fame. Sirena could guess at what she would ask.


    ¡°When the war starts,¡± Karie requested, ¡°I wish to lead our forces against the Celans.¡±


    Sirena softly sighed, rubbing her forehead and she so habitually did. How she wished that Karie could have been the type to simply ask for a relic weapon from the clan¡¯s treasure hall, or for a more peaceful position. Still, she would not begrudge her daughter of what she had so firmly set her sights on. Perhaps when Karie had finally acquired fame and a title, she would calm down. Or perhaps she would finally settle down once she was married.


    ¡°This can be arranged. Are you certain that this is your wish?¡±


    Karie nodded resolutely.


    ¡°In that case, I name you First Commander of our forces at the district border. The previous commander will become your advisor. I trust you will uphold the hierarchy now that you are a proper part of it, Karie.¡±


    The girl flushed, looking away.


    ¡°Yes, Mother. There will be no future matters.¡±


    ¡°Good. I will have Wei finish the paperwork by morning.¡±


    Karie bowed, and turned to leave. Silently, Sirena watched her daughter¡¯s receding back, and could not help but sigh again.


    ¡°I worry that girl will get herself killed one day,¡± she said.


    ¡°The younger generations will do as they will,¡± said Wei, walking closer from where he stood at the edge of the room.


    ¡°I suppose,¡± she replied. ¡°Have any of the others reached the threshold?¡±


    ¡°Several, but only one of them seems particularly promising. With sufficient time, I expect we can bring our numbers up to ten.¡±


    ¡°Time¡­¡± Sirena sighed. ¡°Their actions in Otan will prevent them from being quick to move, and everyone is insistent that we strike the first blow. Even if we have the time, how many more young talents will die without reaching this level¡­¡±


    ¡°Popular support is overwhelmingly in favor of the war,¡± he replied. ¡°The tensions have already started to polarize the fifth district as well.¡±


    ¡°Even with all of the other aliens present?¡± she asked, surprised. That region was diverse enough that she had expected it to be impacted far less.


    ¡°It is controlled largely by the Celans,¡± Wei explained. ¡°Its involvement was inevitable. Our people residing there have long resented their payments of protection money to an alien force.¡±


    ¡°War should be a matter to fight over gains, not simply out of hatred,¡± she muttered. ¡°Even if we take their territory, what good would result from it? The civilians would fight back at every turn. So much death for what?¡±


    ¡°Their holdings in Otan are likely the most valuable potential gain, unless we can steal some of their war machines undamaged to sell to a corporation.¡±This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    ¡°And if we wait until the matter in Otan has stabilized, we lose our prime opportunity for attack.¡±


    ¡°Indeed.¡±


    Sirena could not help but sigh again.


    ¡°We shall delay further. I refuse to be pressured into war without good reason. I¡¯m worried there¡¯s more to the matter than what is visible from the surface.¡±


    Wei frowned, inspecting his old friend¡¯s face.


    ¡°You worry that some mastermind wishes for this war to occur?¡±


    ¡°Do you not find the timing to be suspicious?¡±


    Wei¡¯s forehead scrunched up, as if he were considering the matter.


    ¡°But who would benefit from this?¡±


    Sirena chuckled.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure. Perhaps they simply want the city to burn. There are some Staiven who would certainly love for all of the aliens to kill one another. Perhaps the Drelistai or some corporation feel that our power is too high for their goals.¡±


    Wei couldn¡¯t help but give a gloomy smile.


    ¡°We have too many enemies, don¡¯t we?¡±


    ¡°The powerful have always found enemies easier to make than friends.¡±


    ¡°I suppose.¡±


    There was a long silence, as the matriarch and her aide considered the list of poor choices left before them.


    ¡°What of them?¡±


    Wei knew to whom she referred. He had been keeping extensive tabs on the group. The two of them still believed that the Redwater Sect could be an asset to the clan, but the growing tensions had ruined their plan to subordinate the force. Wei feared that they might become a threat from within the Hadal Clan¡¯s own territory.


    ¡°We¡¯ve managed to find out the identity of their new Elder. He is indeed a spirit refiner, as well as a member of the Lee Clan. The purpose for his presence on the station remains unclear.¡±


    ¡°The Lee Clan¡­ it is doubtful that Jin Luo is subordinate to them. I believe our initial understanding of him remains accurate.¡±


    ¡°I agree, Matriarch. The Lee Clan should not have had sufficient power on Canvas to have recruited him as an agent.¡±


    ¡°Keep an eye on this Lee Clanmember. I wish to know every movement he makes,¡± she ordered.


    Wei swiftly bowed, an expertly practiced motion.


    ¡°By your will, Matriarch.¡±


    ¡°By the way, what are your thoughts on that man¡¯s plans?¡±


    ¡°You¡­ refer to the Riverfiend¡¯s intentions for the coming conflict?¡± he asked.


    Sirena nodded.


    ¡°He may be one of us, but that does not mean he wouldn¡¯t necessarily side with the Celans in order to topple us and pick at our corpse.¡±


    ¡°He struck you as a scavenger?¡± Wei asked, surprised by her take on the man.


    Sirena chuckled freely.


    ¡°Men are wolves, are they not? Still, I wished to ask for your own thoughts, as you have actually spoken with him on multiple occasions.¡±


    ¡°I believe,¡± replied Wei very firmly, as if he was certain about this matter, ¡°that they would not have decided on whether to take sides or involve themselves at all, yet.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t they wish for our downfall? The sect practices unorthodox techniques, after all.¡±


    Wei considered the thought, but carefully shook his head.


    ¡°They struck me as both impulsive and calculating, very fitting for the unorthodox path. Their subordinates are also sufficiently skilled and educated. They should be aware that they lack the capability to hold and manage an entire district. I believe they are waiting for the dice to be tossed before they interfere with the roll. Additionally, I suspect their primary focus still lies in assuaging their debt.¡±


    His words were pointed, but Sirena easily caught her oldest living friend¡¯s implication.


    ¡°You suspect that they will involve themselves with matters in Otan,¡± she said, tapping her chin with an extended finger.


    ¡°Yes. Given the way that he thinks, I expect that he will at minimum attempt to increase the division and chaos of the fighting there.¡±


    ¡°Do you think that he will ally himself with the Celans to do so?¡±


    Wei paused before answering.


    ¡°...It is possible, though I find it unlikely given their past¡­ conflicts. Even if they do work together, I believe that we might still be able to persuade him to take our side.¡±


    Sirena sighed once more.


    ¡°I had wished to form an engagement between him and Karie, but I suspect current conditions will cause him to refuse. I will delay making the offer until later. For now, we will have to entice him using alternative means. They have half as many spirit refiners as we do, if they joined the war on the side of the Celans¡­¡±


    ¡°Perhaps we could make use of what he owes us to manipulate him and the Celans to be further at odds.¡±


    ¡°Yes¡­ Let¡¯s make this a priority. Send a messenger to invite him and that Vice-Leader of his to a dinner here.¡±


    ¡°Of course, Matriarch.¡±


    He turned to leave, sensing that the topic was finished, but midway through his motion, he returned his gaze to Sirena.


    ¡°I nearly forgot. There is one more item of news, Matriarch.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± she asked.


    ¡°We¡¯ve finally managed to track down that poisoner.¡±


    Sirena smiled, happy to finally hear good news after the dour mood the conversation had left her in.


    ¡°Go out and speak with her,¡± she said. ¡°Even if she is unwilling to join us, perhaps we can acquire use of her skills for the upcoming conflict.¡±


    ¡°It shall be done,¡± he said.


    Relic Weapons: [Weapons created by deities, there is nothing special about such weapons other than their origin. In theory, they could be replicated by a sufficiently advanced civilization. Still, given the advancement of the Canvasian civilization, such gifts are the pinnacle of weapons among martial artists. All four of the ''deities'' of Canvas are said to have created such weapons, though most were created by Toval. He scattered them around the depths of the jungles of the Crucible and Bounty, for powerful adventurers of any race to encounter. Ceirra gave hers only to the most powerful and dedicated of Sunlit Hall''s members, while Saaya gifted hers to the Reth. These weapons were elegantly crafted, and fused metal and leather with miasmic treasures to allow martial artists to empower them and use them to effectively grow their own miasmic reserves and power. nearly all of the greatest heroes in stories is said to have wielded one of these weapons despite their rarity. Domines is said to have only created six of them, but because Domines is not an ascendant, her weapons boast no miasmic treasure, but merely incredibly powerful construction. They are said to be practically indestructible by all tested means. The vast majority of all relic weapons have gone missing over time, as their wielders are slain, they are stolen, and are taken off of Canvas.]

 109- Queen Iskrise

    Otan, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Queen Iskrise lounged comfortably in her habitation cavern. She had not left the large breeding chamber in years, and she did not quite understand just why the other races always found the idea so strange. She had everything she needed right here, and could direct her drones to do their work from within. The outside world was far too dangerous to risk herself in, as the hive would die with her. No, the life of an Exid Queen was the pinnacle of existence. She would thrive, safe and secure inside of her hive, and one day, the aliens and other queens would come to know her superiority.


    She had been thinking of ways to take over other hives for decades now, but the opportunity had never presented itself. The climate within Otan was too evenly balanced, and it was only with the introduction of an alien force that she realized just how precarious it truly was.


    Still, she thought, unable to keep from clicking her mandibles at the idea, Sikreis¡¯ surrender to the Celans was demeaning for the entire race. Aliens should not be able to have power over their natural superiors. The other species were all more comparable to drones than to noble queens, and she knew that one day they would bow to their rightful ruler, one more deserving than those pesky deities. If Iskrise were to collect enough miasmic treasures, she should be able to hold an apotheosis ritual herself, and become the first Exid among the ranks of the ascendants. Then, she would be able to truly accomplish her rightful dominion.


    While she daydreamed about the future, Iskrise continued to receive signals from her drones, relayed from across the territory. The signals they could transmit were limited, which was the main restriction on an Exid Queen¡¯s power. To circumvent this, Iskrise had installed large screens in her chamber which allowed her to see around the stacks which comprised her territory, and ensure that both the skirmishing and the production lines were being properly maintained at all times. It took time for her to relay precise orders to the mindless drones, so keeping track of their status at all times was vital for any self respecting queen. The Iskrise Queendom was filled with cameras, able to reveal the entirety of her domain if she wished. It had been an expensive investment, but had paid dividends by allowing her to far more rapidly address any issues.


    This was how Iskrise spent her time: breeding, egg-laying, planning, and managing her subordinates. Inferior races wasted their time with mindless pursuits of vanity and entertainment, but the Exid had no need for such things. Every Exid, even the queens had their purpose. All that made Iskrise herself special, she thought, was her destiny to be the victor, the one who would unify all of the rest.


    An alarm pheromone reached Iskrise¡¯s receptors, and she focused her attention to parse the data. Drone 12,877 had reported an issue. Such problems occurred every so often, but Iskrise would not be so lax as to delay her investigation. That drone should be currently stationed two layers of the stack above her. The task it was currently assigned to was to clean the air filters of the headquarters. By habit, she shifted the content of the screen before her using only facial movements, revealing the view from a camera in the affected area.


    What she saw enraged her. The drone that had sent the warning was not simply stuck, or had an accident- it was dead. Cleaved in two by some force that could not be seen from this perspective. Iskrise was so angered that she could not help but crush several eggs as she squirmed in outrage. She would find the cause, and she would do so right this instant.


    Taking advantage of her immense brainpower and the multitudinous perspectives granted by her compound eyes, Iskrise flipped her way through camera perspectives to figure out the cause of the death- no, the location of the rebel or intruder. Iskrise would not allow them to escape alive- to do so would be to denigrate her very existence.


    It took her less than a minute to find them, a small group of humanoid aliens moving rapidly down one of the headquarter¡¯s service tunnels. They had to lean down to pass through, as the tunnel was shaped for the Exid drones which were much lower to the ground. They were making good time, and a pale-robed man holding a sword led the way, slicing apart in one blow each of the workers in their path.


    All the humanoid species looked alike to her, but Iskrise could easily guess that this group contained both Seiyal and Celans by simply glancing at what they were holding. Swords and advanced firearms were not a common combination on the station, aside from certain mercenary groups in the second district. It seemed they believed that by working together they would be able to break through her defenses. She would show them the power of the Exid in return.


    But Celans in Otan¡­ that could only be the Heirs of Ottrien, those who had subordinated Sikreis. Just the thought made Iskrise even angrier. There was a reason why no other groups had dared attempt to claim territory in Otan, not since the previous underworld war. Back then, Iskrise¡¯s drones had slain hundreds of humanoids. She simply had to throw numbers at them until they died. If she pushed herself, Iskrise knew that she could lay enough eggs to replace it in a matter of days.


    She directed all of the drones within the area, thousands of them, to move themselves to the group¡¯s current position. They could handle a few drones, but every force had its limit.


    But that limit simply did not seem to arrive. The aliens continued to force their way deeper and deeper into the structure, and there was nothing that Iskrise could do to stop them. Some of them fired projectiles, while others spewed powerful gouts of flame that broiled the drones apart, and the martial artists simply continued to slice her drones into pieces. Deep down, she started to feel the inklings of fear.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°Emotion: Disdain. How bold of you,¡± she expressed as they entered her chamber, the words of the speaker sounding it out for her in the inferior verbal tongue. She disliked the way that the vibrations felt against her exoskeleton, and rarely met with aliens in person.


    ¡°All things are given to those bold enough to take them,¡± replied one of the aliens, who was the easiest to tell apart from the rest due to the unique blue color of his hair.


    ¡°Emotion: Rage. You should not have been so bold in front of me, however. You will die for this insolence.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps.¡±


    The swarms continued to arrive, but were continually drowned in the flames or torn apart by swift blades. This force was powerful, far more powerful than those which she had dealt with in the past. Perhaps, she thought, she had underestimated the potential of the aliens military might. If she had known, her defenses would have been tighter, unassailable even to a force of this type. Her forces continued to arrive, but she realized that they were dying faster than they were entering the room, bogged down by the corpses of the others. There was nothing she could do. Iskrise was smart enough to realize when she had lost. She was under their power, now. Her mandibles clanged together with great force, grinding painfully into her.


    A file appeared on the screen before her, sent as if from no particular source. Her body instinctively shook in humiliation, as she accepted her position. She heard a voice from before her. It was the blue-haired man from before, standing in front of her with some odd alien facial expression which she had never bothered learning how to read.


    ¡°Read the contract,¡± he ordered, his tone dark.


    Iskrise knew that while he would never dare to kill her, he would not hesitate to injure her if angered. Humanoids were fundamentally sadistic, after all. It came ingrained in their instincts, the hedonistic pleasures that their gods wished to become living representatives of.


    Iskrise read the contract. None of its terms surprised her. It was draconian, and would turn her into a subordinate of her own company, at the whims of the shareholders represented by these two alien factions.


    She puffed out the pheromones which spoke of her arrogance. Iskrise was not like that weakling Sikreis. She might be willing to submit to another Exid who had proven herself more worthy of hegemony, but she would never enslave herself to the undeserving, and particularly not to a xeno.


    She had few options remaining, none of which she particularly liked. There was only one which her self-respect would allow her to take, even if it was the worst of the lot. Still, she was not Sikreis. She would not submit so easily.


    ¡°Emotion: Spite. I refuse,¡± she said. ¡°None can have what is mine.¡±


    She raised one of her long, sharp limbs, and before the Celan could respond, she stretched it up and tore apart her side, spraying viscera across the eggs and the ground.


    ¡°What are you doing?!¡± shouted the small man.


    ¡°Emotion: Mockery. I wonder what you will do about this, alien.¡±


    He couldn¡¯t help but laugh nervously in response.


    ¡°Bravo to you, I suppose, Queen Iskrise. I did not expect such a result.¡±


    She continued to tear into herself, making certain that she could not be revived. Iskrise did not bother to communicate any more with the aliens. She would simply enjoy the knowledge that their plans had been dashed and a massive liability had been left in their laps. When the corporations she had partnered with came to question, the Justice Office would need to find someone to be liable. If nothing else, it would splinter the relation between the two groups. She hoped they would destroy one another.


    All of the drones which had continued to file in from across the queendom slowly stalled, as if some innate function had been removed. They continued to march forwards, as if acting upon pre-existing orders, but not longer moved as a cohesive unit. There was no longer a queen to give them orders, and so they were now but mindless automatons.


    The blue-haired man swore to himself.


    ¡°The Justice Office won¡¯t be happy about this. Damn it. Fuck.¡±


    ¡°Would we be able to have Sikreis take control of them?¡± asked one of the Jobu.


    Triezal sighed.


    ¡°No, the worker Exid are the direct progeny of an individual queen. They will only ever accept orders from her.¡±


    ¡°Does this mean that the mission is a failure?¡± asked Jihan.


    ¡°Yes. We¡¯ll want to remove all traces of ourselves before the Justice Office arrives. Damn it!¡± he cursed again. ¡°A number of corporations will be losing a lot of money in the next couple of days.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± said Jihan.


    He glanced around the room, at the still shifting tides of worker drones. They were so vibrant and active, it was difficult to think about how they were all essentially dead. The workers could not even eat without being directed to do so. He turned his attention back to his squad.


    ¡°We will quickly search the area for any valuables and then return to the sect.¡±


    Triezal glanced back at him, and sighed.


    ¡°I will not enjoy reporting this."


    Apotheosis Rituals: [Progression systems do not form naturally, and the earliest ascendants existed long before the first Osine. Extreme infusions of miasma into the body and soul of an individual is capable of progressing one directly to the point of ascension, though the process is so taxing in dangerous that the success rate is far lower than one percent. Still, it provides the possibility of achieving a higher existence to those from races which lack such a system. An apotheosis ritual is an attempt to manufacture such an experience and increase its odds of success. While this can to an extent raise the odds, such a ritual would require hundreds of miasmic treasures, rendering it only an option for only the most rich, desperate and power-hungry of individuals.]

 110- Messenger

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    ¡°Your muscles are a bit tense. You must be fully relaxed if you wish to harness formless miasma,¡± I said.


    ¡°Yes, Master.¡±


    I was watching Lin practice the forms I had taught her. Sometimes I went through the motions along with the disciples, while at other times, like now, I would watch them and correct any deficiencies that I saw.


    ¡°Our arts,¡± I continued to explain, ¡°are based upon the movement of water. Your movements are closer to that of ice. Melt yourself a bit more, and feel for the natural flow of your body.¡±


    She bit her lip, but made no sound. Her movements continued, but there was still some stiffness. Perhaps, I thought, I could find some drugs that would help to loosen up her movement.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think anybody would consider what you just said to be useful, meaningful advice,¡± said Rachel, her words a quiet whisper in my ear.


    ¡°This was how my own Master taught me,¡± I replied.


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe that necessarily makes it effective.¡±


    I brushed her off, as I doubted an alien machine would be able to understand the intricacies of martial arts.


    ¡°Has something happened?¡±


    Despite her unique personality, Rachel was usually kind enough not to interrupt training sessions with my disciples.


    ¡°There has been bad news from Otan. Also, a messenger from the Hadal Clan will be arriving soon.¡±


    I narrowed my vision. If the Hadal Clan was sending a message in person, that meant that they wanted something from me. My intuition was telling me that it would not be a simple matter.


    ¡°What happened in Otan?¡± I asked, stepping to the side of the room. Several of my disciples glanced up from their practice, but I waved them back to it. ¡°Were there casualties?¡±


    Rachel laughed in response.


    ¡°There was a casualty, all right. A big one. Queen Iskrise committed suicide rather than submit to us.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ see,¡± I said. ¡°Has the Justice Office reacted yet?¡±


    ¡°Not yet, but I suspect they will formulate their response very soon.¡±


    I sighed.


    ¡°Let¡¯s take our squad out of Otan for now and see how matters shift. There were no issues with egress, right?¡±


    ¡°No. My guess would be that either the Celans were too shocked to act or they still wish to mend ties with us.¡±


    ¡°I suppose we should leave that matter as it is. Do you know what the Hadal Clan is wanting?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not. Your people¡¯s low level of technology can make you very difficult to monitor, do you know that?¡± she asked sarcastically.


    ¡°This strikes me as a positive.¡±


    ¡°Not in my books,¡± she laughed.


    ¡°Is that everything?¡± I asked. ¡°The delay made me think that she was saving another news item. She had a habit of collecting information and revealing it to me all at once.


    ¡°Oh,¡± she said. ¡°There actually is one more piece of news, now that you ask.¡±


    She smiled softly at me.


    ¡°It seems that Kein has finally woken up.¡±


    I glanced back at her, my brow furrowing. He had been in a coma for almost two weeks. I had started to believe that he would never revive.


    ¡°How is he?¡± I asked.


    ¡°He¡¯s¡­ been quiet. I¡¯m not sure how well he will deal with¡­ you know.¡±


    ¡°Being crippled?¡±


    Rachel sighed.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    ¡°Mhm. How do you think you would handle it?¡±


    I considered the idea. How would I react to having my martial arts stripped from me, left to rot as a mortal for the rest of my greatly shortened life?


    I couldn¡¯t help but chuckle, remembering that my current lifespan was no more than that of a mortal who shared by apparent age.


    ¡°I would handle it poorly, of course. We all would. That is simply the nature of a martial artist. To have it slip like sand though your fingers¡­ perhaps death would be preferable.¡±


    Rachel¡¯s amber eyes peered at me. Their color was still shifted as part of her disguise, but my mind could not help but envision the piercing blue eyes that she claimed were part of her natural appearance.


    ¡°Do you wish for him to die?¡± she asked softly, as if she feared to hear the answer.


    ¡°Of course not!¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help but snap at her, my biting words drawing the attention of my disciples.


    ¡°Of course not,¡± I repeated, my words returning to a whisper. ¡°He is still of use to me.


    ¡°Then I recommend that you give him something to do. Something to occupy his mind.¡±


    I laughed darkly.


    ¡°He¡¯s still a Palace Leader. Perhaps we should send him right back to work. I¡¯ll speak with him when he returns here.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a harsh taskmaster, Cyrus,¡± she teased.


    ¡°It is my duty to be one. When will the messenger arrive?¡±


    Rachel faked checking her wrist.


    ¡°Roughly four minutes from now. He has to take several more flights of stairs to make it down here.¡±


    ¡°Gen, Shadowblade,¡± I called, drawing the attention of my disciples back to myself. ¡°I need you to escort a guest to the visiting room. The rest of you continue practicing until I return.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Master!¡± called my disciples.


    I couldn¡¯t help but let the corner of my mouth curl upwards as I watched them.


    ¡°Lin, remember to focus on smoothness of motion. Han, restrain yourself a bit more. You have the raging of a storm down, but the calmness of a pond is just as true an aspect of these arts.


    The two nodded at my words, and I turned to leave. As I left, the two disciples I had called out followed behind, looking almost like baby ducks following their mother. I had chosen the two of them both because I felt they wouldn¡¯t injure the image of the sect, as well as because neither was at a vital point in their training. The two of them were very well prepared to acquire miasma, and a wasted hour would not hurt them.


    Gen was the charismatic sort, and Shadowblade, despite my initial expectations of a youth with such a name, had turned out to be quite sociable and self controlled himself. Both were extremely capable of exuding the right air for meeting with dignitaries, unlike Blake and Qian.


    The two split off from me as they made their way to the sect¡¯s entrance, while I placed myself in the formal meeting room we had finally prepared for such situations. The room was finely furnished with paintings and a faux-wooden floor, and featured two couches facing one another across a small table. I sat down on the couch which faced towards the door, and relaxed into position, with Rachel placing herself into a respectful position behind me. It wasn¡¯t long before the messenger arrived, flanked by my disciples.


    My disciples opened the door, and the messenger confidently walked in, bowing respectfully towards me. He wore the traditional robes of his clan, and at a guess I would place him as a meridian refiner.


    ¡°I, a messenger of the Hadal Clan,¡± he said, ¡°offer my greetings to the Illustrious Leader of the Redwater Sect.¡±


    I gestured towards the couch that faced me on the other end of the short table. The messenger smiled.


    ¡°There¡¯s no need. I¡¯m merely a messenger, delivering what the clan has requested of me.¡±


    He referred to himself humbly, but we were both aware that a messenger bearing a letter from the Matriarch was considered a legitimate representative of the clan, and to mistreat him would be similar to doing the same to Sirena Hadal herself. It was easy to be courteous, and at the moment I had no desire to stoke flames between us.


    ¡°Please, sit, enjoy the tea. We insist,¡± said Rachel.


    While the Sect Leader could not lower himself to serve a mere courier, the presence of Rachel and my disciples allowed me to show him courtesy while expressing my stance. We were not subordinates of the Hadal Clan.


    The messenger let off a silent smile, reading my intentions, and sat on the couch that had been prepared.


    ¡°You¡¯re too kind. Shall I deliver the message?¡±


    ¡°If you would.¡±


    He reached into his robe, emerging with an elegantly folded letter with quality calligraphy marking its surface. He daintily placed it onto the table between us, and lifted the teacup that had been poured from it. Taking a sip, he explained.


    ¡°This is a message directly from the Matriarch herself. She requested that I deliver your response to her once you had made a decision.¡±


    I glanced at Rachel, and then back at the messenger, and then lifted the paper with an outstretched arm. As expected from the Hadal Clan, it seemed to be made of legitimate paper. Drawing my arm back to myself, I carefully unfolded the note and rest the content inscribed within.


    The language was formal, but the content was quite simple. It was a personal invitation for myself and Rachel to visit the Clan¡¯s headquarters to take dinner the day after next.


    For a moment I had to consider the possibilities, but ultimately my decision was simple. To refuse would cause unnecessary friction between our forces, and could cause massive damage to the sect. To accept would do nothing but signal to other forces a possible accord between us. The choices were clear. My eyes met with those of the messenger.


    ¡°Tell the Matriarch that we accept.¡±


    He smiled, taking a final sip of tea and then setting his cup back down on the table. He then stood and bowed.


    ¡°It was pleasant meeting with you, Sect Leader Yu. I hope our organizations experience a long partnership.¡±


    ¡°You as well.¡±


    Martial Robes: [The robes a martial artist wears dictates their identity, marking both the force that they originate from, as well as their position within that force. Many martial artists exclusively wear such clothing. Some claim that these traditional robes are inferior in combat to advanced equipment, but it is extremely rare for a sect or clan to ¡®upgrade¡¯. Explanations for why traditional robes are better usually relate to how they are much easier to move in than armor would be. That said, many mercenary practitioners choose to spurn tradition. Some martial artists like to wear blank or ¡®unaffiliated¡¯ robes, and these are generally looked down upon compared to those who display their affiliation.]

 111- An Outstretched Hand

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    It had been an entire day, and Kein had still yet to show up at the sect. There was little chance he was still at the hospital, as the daily bills for such institutions were unreasonably costly. Ultimately, I had no choice but to find him myself. I was sitting in the meditation room, unable to focus on the continued analysis of my soul, because of my annoyance about the matter. Ever since Kein was injured, I had placed one of his assistants, a Tovus named Oure, in command of the sect¡¯s management. While they had not done a poor job, slight inefficiencies and problems had begun to build up. He simply lacked the talent for the job that Kein had.


    It would be very helpful to the sect if we could get him back.


    I sighed, dusting off my robes from where they had rested on the floor, and rising to my feet.


    ¡°Rachel, do you know where he is?¡±


    She appeared before me, in her true form. Her black hair and sapphire eyes caught me slightly off guard, as I had not seen them in awhile. Her head was cocked to the side as she gave me a curious look.


    ¡°Do I know where who is?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Kein.¡±


    Her lips widened into an ¡®o¡¯ shape, and she breathed in.


    ¡°I see. I was planning on telling you about that fairly soon. He left the hospital earlier today, and has been drinking in a bar for the past several hours.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I asked, surprised. It did not sound in character for the man.


    ¡°I believe it¡¯s as we suspected: he¡¯s not taking the news of his injuries well.¡±


    ¡°...I see,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll go talk to him.¡±


    Rachel was taken aback, but quickly nodded.


    ¡°Would you like me to inform him in advance?¡±


    ¡°No. I¡¯ll change into something that will stand out less, too. Just tell me where this bar is located.¡±


    ¡°Alright.¡±


    Her tone was somber, her face not quite as vibrant as it usually was. I couldn¡¯t help but get the feeling that she was worried about the man. Rachel had interacted heavily with all of the sect¡¯s leaders, and given how much information she constantly collected about everything, it was fair to say that she knew them all extremely well. Despite being a Shade, once again I couldn¡¯t help but think that she was less machine-like than many of us.


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    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Wearing the same generic black robes as I had before starting the sect, I made my way through the streets of Canvas Town. Unlike when I wore my fine red robes, none of the passersby recognized me, and few moved out of my way. I was an anonymous figure, lost in the sea of people. Somehow, the feelings calmed my mind, helping me to focus on my objective.


    The tavern reminded me of the inn reproduction I had visited by the spacedock when I first arrived at the station. Unlike that one, the exterior of this building was mundane, made of the same stone as any other, and lacking the traditional design and faux-wooden veneer. Still, the interior was homely and did a reasonable job of approximating the sorts of taverns one might find on Canvas.


    Kein looked like another man entirely. I found him sitting alone at one of the tables downing a small dish filled with booze. He was surrounded by a small forest of wine bottles. His previously muscular frame was slightly withered by the lengthy time he had slept, and his body had clearly fed on itself as his injuries healed. His hands still looked strong, but I knew they were far weaker than they had ever been in the time I knew him. I approached, seating myself across the table from him. An attentive waiter quickly passed by, delivering me my own cup. I took one of the bottles of cheap rice wine sitting beside Kein and poured myself a cup. This finally got him to glance up, noticing my presence.


    He sneered at me, another action that felt out of character for the Kein Huang that I had known. Perhaps the booze had brought out his true self, or perhaps he had lost himself in depression. I found it pointless to speculate.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± he asked, his breath smelling strongly of alcohol.


    I took a sip of the wine. The quality was indeed poor, but I had never developed a taste for the finer liquors. I had grown up around this sort of booze.


    ¡°I don¡¯t remember allowing you to take a break from your duties,¡± I replied.


    He scoffed in response.


    ¡°What do you need with a cripple?¡±


    The cups were small, so I finished mine quite rapidly. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure you knew,¡± I said, ¡°but I was originally planning to use all of you gangsters as cannon fodder. You would fill in the ranks until we trained people up to replace you.¡±


    He poured himself some more, downing the glass.


    ¡°I¡¯m aware. You took over the gang because it was convenient, not because we were special.¡±


    He barked out a laugh.


    ¡°None of us were stupid enough to think we held value for you.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s still true, for most of you. I don¡¯t particularly care about whether the former gangsters live or die. Even those of you who were in core formation weren¡¯t strong enough to matter, not in the long term. It won¡¯t be long until we have as many of those as we need.¡±


    I took another sip to wet my tongue with the warm taste of the booze.


    ¡°Your strength would have faded in relevance anyway. It¡¯s not a gang any more. Strength is not what matters most. All I care about is how useful you are to me. And I want you to get back to work. We need an Alabaster Palace Leader.¡±


    ¡°Find someone else,¡± he said. ¡°They won¡¯t listen to a cripple.¡±


    I met his eyes with a pointed look.


    ¡°They will if I tell them to. If anyone tries you, just let me know, and I¡¯ll take a limb. As I said, I don¡¯t need your might. I want your management skills.¡±


    He sighed, his mood still dour. I had expected no less. It was rarely easy to drag someone out of such a pit of depression, as I knew quite well. I couldn''t even be sure if I had left it, myself.


    ¡°Besides, I¡¯m a mortal, now. I have less than forty years left,¡± he said. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you want someone who can work for more than just a speck of your lifespan?¡±


    I downed my cup and poured another. It wasn¡¯t a matter I enjoyed thinking about.


    ¡°I have less than ten years left.¡±


    His eyes widened, and he visibly sobered slightly from the shock.


    ¡°What? But you¡¯re a spirit refiner.¡±


    I took another drink.


    ¡°You saw the state I was in. That wasn¡¯t the first time. My lifespan has been spent. If I can progress further, maybe I can push it to thirty or so. Ultimately, that¡¯s my limit unless I can become an immortal.¡±


    I let out a dark laugh.


    ¡°If I can even last long enough to reach that point. You should have an idea about what¡¯s coming. Who knows if any of us can make it to the end.¡±


    He huffed a laugh of his own.


    ¡°All the more reason to drink.¡±


    I lifted my glass between us, and he clinked it on his own, seeming to have cheered up slightly due to the dark topic.


    ¡°Alright, then. I¡¯ll come back,¡± he said. ¡°I have nothing better to do with my life, anyway.¡±


    He didn''t seem as if he had fully recovered, but I knew that was too much to expect. It was enough for me if he would return to his role.


    ¡°Good. We¡¯ve been having issues without you. Oure in particular will probably be excited.¡±


    ¡°How are the others?¡±


    I shrugged.


    ¡°Ran seems fine, and Cinto has immersed herself in work. Who knows how she is.¡±


    Kein chuckled lightly.


    ¡°I suppose you¡¯d be the last person I should ask. But that¡¯s fine, I can figure it out myself.¡±


    I glanced again at the multiple bottles set around the table.


    ¡°By the way, you can certainly drink a lot.¡±


    He laughed, and this time it was a bit more genuine.


    ¡°Everyone in my family was that way. I could do the same even back when I was¡­¡± he paused, realizing what he was saying, and then sighed, ¡°a mortal.¡±


    ¡°Your tolerance might be comparable to mine,¡± I said.


    It was a true statement, though of course I would be able to burn away such mundane poisons from my system if I wished to.


    ¡°I suppose there¡¯s an upside to this,¡± he mused, lifting his cup upwards and inspecting it under the light.¡±


    ¡°What would that be?¡±


    He smiled.


    ¡°I imagine you won¡¯t be sending me out on any more missions, now.¡±


    I smirked.


    ¡°Oh, I wouldn¡¯t be so sure.¡±


    We laughed again, and I took another drink. I had come to try and bring Kein back, but I was finding that my own mood was being uplifted again. I was reminded of my youth, and the happiness I had back then. I couldn¡¯t help but think that maybe the life I was living right now was a second chance for myself. Not merely to find ways to extend my life and find revenge, but perhaps¡­ to simply live.


    In that moment I felt myself thinking thoughts that were quite unlike me.


    The storm in my heart continued to rage, but I felt as if I were not quite so deeply submerged. Perhaps I would be able to leave the past behind me.


    I wondered whether Rachel felt the same, or whether behind her playful exterior, Rachel remained deeply mired in her own hatred and regrets.


    Inter-System Commerce: [Only a few of the races living within the Pantheonic Territory have the ability to construct their own spaceships, and the Staiven refuse to sell their own to other races. After all, forcing other races to rent ship usage is a major economic boon. The Staiven, the Celans, the Reth, and the Telaretians are the only races whose ships can be found working as traders between the systems of the territory. The Celans have only a few shipyards, and the types of ships they construct are restricted by the Pantheonic Government. The origin of the Reth''s ships are unknown by the government, but for some reason no action has been undertaken to find it or to restrict it in any way. Telaretian ships exclusively originate from outside of the Pantheonic Territory. Merchant ships largely serve on contract work for corporations, both Staiven and alien, but many of them also serve as passenger ships for both immigrants and refugees. Many of the original generation of inter-system space traders are still alive, their lives unnaturally lengthened by the extensive amount of time they spend in hibernation.]

 112- Direction

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    ¡°One convenient aspect of not having a body in this space-time is how quickly I can get ready,¡± said Rachel.


    A quick glance at her form told me that she had made up her face with what appeared to be lip paint and other make-up.


    ¡°I suppose that would make sense,¡± I replied.


    I myself had not even changed my clothing. The red robes that had been specially tailored for me as the sect leader could already be considered formal wear, and to wear anything else to this sort of meeting would reflect negatively on the sect¡¯s face. Similarly, Rachel was wearing the white robe with red accents that represented the Vice-Sect Leader position.


    ¡°Are you ready?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Ready enough. Have you chartered the aero?


    ¡°They¡¯ll be waiting by the time you get there.¡±


    I nodded at her, and we made our way out. On the streets, passersby split to either side, gawking and whispering to one another. In this neighborhood, everyone knew who we were, if not by appearance, by the robes we were wearing. Nobody would dare to impersonate us, not so near to our abode. We quickly made our way to the top of the stack, where the skydock awaited. I glanced at the wide empty space at the highest layer that we had used for the entrance ceremony before filing into the comfortable seats of the aero.


    We had been quiet as we walked upwards, and I found myself reflecting on my time in the station. I seemed calm, but it was as if I was the heart of the storm, or the tip of an iceberg. Beneath my surface, the currents ran wild.


    ¡°By the way,¡± she said, ending the silence as the aero lifted off, ¡°your conversation with Kein seems to have really helped him. I was quite surprised.¡±


    I gave her a blank look, but she continued talking as if she hadn¡¯t noticed.


    ¡°I had expected you to just glower at him and order him to get back to work on threat of death.¡±


    I frowned.


    ¡°Is that how you see me?¡±


    She shrugged.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been a bit more congenial since your advancement.¡± She paused, delivering a smirk. ¡°Relatively speaking, anyway. Though I¡¯m sure you kept that option in your back pocket in case he didn¡¯t cheer up.¡±


    I didn¡¯t bother refuting her claim, in part because it was true. Still, I had one gripe about the way she had phrased it.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you the same?¡± I asked, slightly annoyed.


    Her smile flickered slightly, but her expression was maintained.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    I met her gaze, the amber of our eyes locked tightly together, and words spilled out from my mouth. I wasn¡¯t quite sure what caused it. Perhaps it was merely the result of a remnant unstable mentality from my previous bouts with insanity, or perhaps it was simply something I had been holding back for all this time, unnoticeable to even myself. Or perhaps my honesty with Kein had made me feel inclined to be more honest in general.


    ¡°If Kein had refused,¡± I explained, my tone harsh. ¡° I would have forced him to comply. And you¡­ would have wanted me to do so. You would even have supported me in that if you felt it was necessary. Kein and the rest, even me. We¡¯re all no different from that Celan you forced to serve your whims.¡±


    I chuckled, though it felt hard for me to determine just why. It was not out of a real sense of humor at the topic. Instead, perhaps it was something of a regret about having brought the matter up, even if I did believe it to be true.


    ¡°Perhaps you¡¯re more worthy of the title of demon than I am.¡± I said.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    The words hung for a long moment, after which she sighed, breaking eye contact. Just a moment later she locked eyes with me once more. I got the sense that now, she too was speaking without putting sufficient thought into her words. Of all Rachel¡¯s traits, this was the one I felt that humanized her the most. Despite her ability to have all the time she needed to formulate responses, she still had a tendency to speak her initial thoughts heedlessly.


    ¡°The difference between us,¡± she said, ¡°is that I have a goal I¡¯m working towards. One I¡¯ll give anything to accomplish. My people should not need to live like rats hiding from the house¡¯s occupants. You¡­ I find it hard to tell. At times you seem self-sacrificially hell-bent on revenge, while at others, all you care about is extending your own life span. Your ultimate goals are nothing but vague notions, aren¡¯t they?¡±


    I found myself unable to respond. It was not because I was stung by her words. They were true, but didn¡¯t particularly hurt me to hear. I could simply not think up any ways to respond that would be productive. I had a vague desire for revenge against Sunlit Hall, but I regularly allowed my other goals and desires to get in the way. Perhaps it was the influence of my miasma¡¯s nature, but my goals tended to be formless themselves, altering to fit my current situation.


    Ultimately, I realized that my goals and Rachel¡¯s had never been entirely in line with one another. Somewhere along the line I had lost track of that fact. Did I really wish to turn this sect that I had created into the enemy of all the galaxy¡¯s most powerful factions? One day, I thought, I might need to either sacrifice the clan or break my agreements with Rachel. This path that I had stumbled onto was truly dangerous, far more than any of the issues we had run into so far.


    I wondered what he would have done if he were in this situation. Perhaps he would have refused Rachel¡¯s offer from the start, and sold her off to the Sheneth-Ari for the bounty money. It was hard to say.


    We spent the rest of the ride in silence, a rift having abruptly formed between us. It was funny, I thought, how quickly such disputes could arise. I felt some shame for the abrupt confrontation, but in the end I was glad we had that short confrontation. It had helped me come to certain understandings about myself, and about where the two of us stood. Having a fight right before a very important meeting was an issue, but I felt that the both of us were more than professional enough to comport ourselves properly. After all, Rachel had nothing if not enough time to cool herself down.


    During the time I had spent in Tseludia, I had never actually been near the headquarters of the Hadal Clan. I had felt that the region it was located inside might be unwise to approach. They were an orthodox clan, after all. There was no telling whether another of the more zealous clan members might attack me purely on principle. In fact, had they delivered such an invite to me when I was in the core formation stage, I might have found an excuse to avoid it. As a spirit refiner, however, I felt more than confident enough in my ability to escape. For genesis practitioners, it would take a pinnacle stage spirit refiner or even an immortal to catch me.


    The building itself was roughly as I had anticipated. A gargantuan structure of wood and metal with a very elegant design, the Hadal Clan¡¯s headquarters was everything that ours was not. They were certainly a great force that had entrenched themselves within Tseludia for many decades. Even if the Redwater Sect came to exceed them in military power after the upcoming war, we would still certainly not be able to compete with them in grandiosity.


    From the Skydock, we only had to walk down a few flights of stairs to reach the level of the stack where the headquarter¡¯s entrance resided. The entire structure was three entire levels tall, comprising a ludicrous amount of buildings. One could probably spend their entire life within without too many issues.


    At our approach, the tall wooden doors opened, and we were greeted by the aged figure of Wei Hadal. His long hair and thin beard were both expertly groomed, much better than his appearance on some of the other occasions we had met. He bowed respectfully towards me.


    ¡°Sect Leader Yu, Vice-Sect Leader Rachel, this humble servant welcomes you to the Hadal Clan. The Matriarch is awaiting you.¡±


    I nodded respectfully to the man, noting his greeting. Unlike the previous time we had met, my title was used, and he was following the etiquette expected towards the leaders of a force with similar standing. I smiled. The background for this meeting truly was not simple. Perhaps tonight I would be finally forced to choose a side in what was to come.


    I motioned him forwards.


    ¡°Please lead the way.¡±


    He bowed again, and then released the heavy door, turning back into the building. As I passed the threshold, I realized just how thick and heavy the door was. Wei had pushed it outwards effortlessly, but I would have found it difficult to move. A spirit refiner of the genesis path truly was strong, I mused to myself. These doors must have been purposefully designed to impress visiting guests with the Clan¡¯s power.


    Led by Wei, the two of us entered the heart of the Hadal Clan¡¯s influence, and the doors quietly closed behind without even a sound. The click of three sets of footsteps on the tile flooring echoed through the hallway, and I couldn¡¯t help but feel pressured by the air of the magnificent palace.


    Staiven Station Atmospheres: [As much as most life in Telles which developed naturally tends to be very unique, the races who were created by gods conversely tend to share very distinct similarities. The most obvious of these are the ¡®humanoid¡¯ races, such as the Celans Seiyal and Reth, or the Staiven, who have obvious similarities in appearance to humanoids despite being vastly different on physiological and morphological scales. Most of these races, too, breathe in similar atmospheres. In fact, Staiven space stations only feature the unique combination of gases that such races prefer to breathe, having little interest in building structures where Staiven cannot live. This has had a vast impact on the demographics of the Pantheonic Territory, where immigrants and refugees from races who cannot breath in such atmospheres are only able to wear environment suits or lease habitable planets which suit their needs.]

 113- Dinner With the Matriarch

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    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    I had expected it to be a vast dining room, but as Wei led us inside, it became immediately apparent that we had been taken to the Matriarch¡¯s private dining chamber. Though the size and furnishings of the room were smaller and less extravagant, this was actually a great honor. It was likely that few members of even her own clan had dined here during her time as the Matriarch.


    Sirena Hadal was an elegant woman. At first glance she would appear to be in her mid thirties, just a few years older than I appeared. In reality though, I knew that she was decades older. It was not that uncommon to find such individuals. A sufficiently talented individual who was fully supported by a force and survived the jealousy of their allies could have a clear path of advancement, able to reach great heights at a young age and reap the great benefit of an extremely long lifespan, and able to wait until the perfect moment to attempt their advancement into immortality. It was possible that Sirena Hadal still had centuries left to live. Such individuals were the true advantage of the orthodox path. A similar talent, when raised by an unorthodox force, would not be free of the longevity sapping nature of their own powers.


    As we entered, Sirena smiled graciously, yet did not stand from her seat on one side of a rectangular table. It was simple in design, but I immediately recognized that it was made of real wood, and had likely been imported directly from Canvas as some previous Matriarch or Patriarch¡¯s favored table.


    ¡°It is nice to finally meet you, Sect Leader Yu,¡± she said. ¡°I feel this meeting is long overdue.¡±


    ¡°I would agree, Matriarch Hadal.¡±


    She motioned towards the chairs on the table¡¯s opposite end.


    ¡°Please, sit. I had the kitchen prepare some food from your homeland. I hope it will be to your taste.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m looking forward to it.¡±


    I sat, and Rachel followed suit beside me, while Wei sat down beside his Matriarch, mirroring us. I raised an eyebrow at this. I had thought the man was a mere aide, but perhaps in this clan such a position was more illustrious than I had expected. Perhaps it was due to his status as a spirit refiner and an Elder of the clan.


    Sirena glanced at Rachel and steepled her hands beneath her chin.


    ¡°Forgive me, I never quite understood your name,¡± she asked. ¡°Is it simply Rachel, or is it Rei Chell?¡±


    Rachel smiled slyly.


    ¡°Whichever you prefer, Matriarch.¡±


    Sirena smiled as well, and I found it difficult to tell if it was genuine or not. The Hadal Clan¡¯s Matriarch was a difficult woman to read.


    ¡°I see. I shall continue to call you Rachel, then.¡±


    The food arrived almost immediately. It seemed that they had started to prepare it in advance, awaiting our arrival. As a servant carried the dishes out to us, I was able to immediately recognize it from the smell. A rice and crawfish soup with roasted frog legs. The staple diet of the Downpour region. The meat was undoubtedly synthesized, and the spices undoubtedly were as well, but my mouth couldn¡¯t help but water at the nostalgic scent. I hadn¡¯t eaten this meal in almost a decade. For a moment I questioned whether it might be poisoned, but I quickly disregarded it. If they wished to kill me, there were easier ways.


    ¡°I apologize,¡± said Rachel, turning down the food presented to her as she and I had planned in advance. ¡°I must fast in order to practice my techniques.¡±


    Sirena¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly, as if something had been confirmed, but in an instant she returned to her previous self and waved to the servant to remove the bowl which had been placed before Rachel.


    ¡°There is no problem. We are all martial artists here, and each of us has had to make sacrifices for our techniques. Some more than others.¡±


    She glanced at me as she said this, and I couldn¡¯t help but feel slightly nervous. Did she know? It wasn¡¯t impossible that the information had gotten out back on Canvas, but I would not have expected it to reach Tseludia so rapidly. I made an effort not to react and reveal anything.


    ¡°Do you mind if I ask why you have requested this meeting, Matriarch?¡± I asked.


    ¡°You can call me Sirena,¡± she said. ¡°I prefer to speak casually in private environments.¡±


    So she wished to get me to relax, I thought. The leader of a clan this powerful would certainly be cunning enough for every aspect of this conversation to be planned in advance. Rachel and I had done something similar, after all. Her request to make this meeting informal was a ploy just like everything else. Still, I had no issue with complying.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°Sirena, then,¡± I said. ¡°What I¡¯m curious about is why this meeting now, as opposed to when our forces last made our contract with one another.¡±


    Sirena smiled again, and I took a spoonful of my soup as I waited for her reply. It tasted just as good as I had anticipated. It was not perfectly authentic, but the chef was skilled, and the taste was quite pleasant.


    ¡°You were involved with the death of that Exid Queen in Otan the other day, yes?¡±


    I shrugged, taking another sip.


    ¡°Would there be a problem if we were?¡±


    ¡°There might be,¡± she replied. Now, Sirena¡¯s golden eyes had grown harsh, and I knew we had finally reached the topic of business. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯re aware of the current situation.¡±


    I took a sip of the wine they had provided alongside the meal.


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°What is your opinion about it?¡±


    She took a drink herself, but her eyes never shifted.


    ¡°I find myself questioning who¡¯s manipulating public opinion.¡±


    Sirena smiled again.


    ¡°So you¡¯ve noticed it as well.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s obvious,¡± said Rachel. ¡°Neither you nor the Heirs should have any interest in a true war at the current stage. It¡¯s why you keep compromising with one another to try and dampen the issue. But such a rapid radicalization is unusual. I find it doubtful this could have happened without someone stirring the pot. The Drelistai perhaps, or one of the corporations.¡±


    ¡°Or a faction within the Heirs themselves. But I find myself in agreement with you. Still, It may be too late for us to take control of public opinion. We can delay, but ultimately I suspect there will be war.¡±


    I took a hearty bite from a frog leg. It tasted excellent.


    ¡°And you wish to know what our plans are for this conflict,¡± I said.


    ¡°That is correct,¡± said Sirena, speaking frankly.


    ¡°That would depend on how things turn out,¡± I replied in the same spirit. ¡°I obviously feel more inclined to my own people, but it may be unwise to involve ourselves in such a conflict. Our sect¡¯s foundation is, after all, a mere month old.¡±


    Sirena smirked and turned to Wei.


    ¡°It seems your assessment of him was correct.¡±


    She then returned her gaze to us.


    ¡°And if we called on our side of the contract we signed?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I would never infringe upon the honor of my sect,¡± I said, my expression stoic. ¡°We will accept a number of requests from you as agreed.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear that we are on the same page,¡± she said. ¡°Beyond those matters, however¡­ should you find yourself in trouble, you need not fear but speak with us. We are all of the same people, after all. This far away from home, words such as orthodox and unorthodox are meaningless distinctions.¡±


    I nodded to accept her grace. Should we end up in such a situation, I would happily accept her offer, though I would prefer to avoid such an outcome. We might end up becoming a vassal organization in such an event.


    ¡°Speaking of our contract,¡± I said. ¡°So you intend to call it in after the war begins?¡±


    The Hadal Matriarch shrugged noncommittally.


    ¡°That would depend on how matters progress. Still, if you wish to know our plans, you could always ally with us. We could split the rewards once the Celans have been suborned. We could also assist your force in¡­ establishing its foundation.¡±


    I smiled.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I would wish to discuss such a matter with my advisors before agreeing, Matriarch. Still, I certainly find it to be an interesting proposal.¡±


    Sirena laughed.


    ¡°Interesting, huh? What a polite way to refuse. Still, don¡¯t believe that just because I have been lax on you, that our clan cannot easily destroy your force, Riverfiend. We can start, if you wish.¡±


    Her eyes almost seemed ablaze with golden light, and I could sense the slight seepage of genesis miasma from her perfect skin.


    ¡°We would never dare to threaten the Hadal Clan,¡± I explained. ¡°But as I said before, we simply cannot muster up the forces to assist without leaving ourselves vulnerable to a raid ourselves.¡±


    ¡°So you say. I¡¯ll take your word for it, Sect Leader Yu.¡±


    I let out a breath I had not realized I was even holding. I very much did not wish to enter into a fight with the Hadal Clan. Not yet, at least.


    ¡°I thank you for your understanding, Matriarch Hadal.¡±


    The rest of the dinner was far calmer, the topics less pressing. Rachel discussed films and plays with Sirena, while I quietly enjoyed my meal, filled with memories of the past. Sirena no longer pressured us to join them, though I knew that it was only my promise to hold up our end of the contract that had made her choose to allow us to leave. A less useful man might have been killed for the insolence I had shown her.


    As I was exiting the room¡¯s door, Sirena called out to me one more time, a serious look in her eyes.


    ¡°Jin, I have some final words of advice to you before this all starts. Sometimes, one needs to choose a side or else they risk making enemies of both.¡±


    ¡°It was a pleasure to finally meet you, Matriarch Hadal. I wish great fortune for both yourself and your clan.¡±


    With that, I stepped back into the hallway, making my way towards the exit to the headquarters.


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    After Jin left, Sirena sighed to herself, annoyed.


    ¡°So he intends to play mercenary between both sides. I suppose it is better than him joining their force outright.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps we can trick the Celans into believing he has sided with us?¡± suggested Wei. ¡°If they believe he is attempting to trick them, perhaps they will feel slighted enough to refuse his offer.¡±


    ¡°See it done.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Matriarch.¡±


    As Wei shuffled off, Sirena idly made her way back to her office. She had forces to marshal and a war to plan. Failing to capture the Riverfiend¡¯s loyalty was a setback, but one which was not unexpected. There would be further opportunities in the future.


    Races of the Pantheonic Territory and Atmospheric Requirements: [While most humanoids as well as the Staiven and Escalos all breathe the same atmospheres, this is not true for all races. The Exid, for example, do not breathe at all, while the Reth can breathe standard atmosphere, but only for limited periods of time. The Telaretians are able to breathe in standard atmosphere, but only due to genetic engineering and implants. Bloodspawn can breathe in most types of atmosphere without issue, provided the pressure is within acceptable ranges, while certain races such as the Rylians and Reilanh have different atmospheric requirements, and thus their spread within the Pantheonic Territory has been heavily limited. Most species with such requirements simply do not live within Pantheonic space.]

 114- Miasma

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    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    That morning, Han had found himself unable to sleep. Ultimately, he gave up on returning to slumber, his anxiety and restlessness growing too strong to bear. Making an effort not to wake any of his martial brothers who slumbered nearby, he tip-toed his way to the bathroom, washing his face with water.


    Glancing into the mirror, he saw the face of a boy who was scared he would ruin his opportunity. He worried that he ultimately lacked the talent, and would always be trapped within the bounds of mortality.


    Today was finally the day he would receive the chance to become something more, and a little voice in the back of his mind would not stop whispering worries into his head.


    He breathed deeply in and out, splashing more water on his face.


    ¡°Are you alright?¡± came a voice from behind him.


    Han whirled, nearly letting out a yelp of surprise. Blake was standing there, his skeletal form looking intimidating in the dim light. He slowly released his breath, composure returning. He gave the other boy an awkward smile.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine, thanks for asking. I just found it hard to sleep because I¡¯m a bit worried.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no need to be. You¡¯ve made it this far, after all. It¡¯s not a matter of if you can acquire miasma or not. Merely whether or not you can survive afterwards.¡±


    Han¡¯s smile froze, becoming even more awkward.


    ¡°Haha¡­ thanks?¡±


    His voice trailed off at the end of his word, unsure whether or not the odd boy was trying to console him or not. During their time together Han felt he had grown close to all of the Sect Leader¡¯s disciples with the sole exception of Blake. The boy simply quietly and politely refused their attempts to spend time with him, and ultimately they had allowed it to happen. This reason, combined with his inexpressive nature, made him difficult for Han to read.


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± said Blake, walking over to another of the sinks.


    The two of them fell back into silence as Han found himself unable to think of a proper response. Somehow, though, Blake¡¯s words had calmed him down somewhat. Still, he didn¡¯t feel he would be able to return to sleep. He quickly dressed and made his way to the training room, hoping to calm down with a light workout.


    After finishing his workout, cleaning himself, and dressing in unsoiled clothes, Han made his way to the meditation room, where their master had asked them to meet him. He was still anxious, and found himself arriving an entire hour before they were due to arrive. To his surprise, he was not the first to show up.


    ¡°Why are you here,¡± he asked Qian, who was seated on the floor of the hallway. ¡°Were you nervous?¡±


    She glared up at him.


    ¡°Why are you here?¡± she asked.


    He laughed as he sat down next to her.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t I just say?¡±


    Qian didn¡¯t reply, and the two spent several minutes together in silence.


    ¡°Nothing will be the same after today,¡± she said. ¡°There won¡¯t be any going back.¡±


    ¡°I feel like we passed that point back when we first joined.¡±


    ¡°Mmm.¡± agreed Qian, quietly. ¡°Hey, Han?¡±


    She looked over to him, and in the dim glow of the lights she seemed small and vulnerable, so different from her usual self.


    ¡°Yes?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Do you ever feel like you¡¯ll never see the people you left behind?¡±


    He considered the question for a moment.


    ¡°Sometimes I get the feeling that this place is changing us. Perhaps the proper term is refining¡­ but I think that¡¯s just what it means to be a martial artist. You can¡¯t move forward if you¡¯re scared to change who you are.¡±


    ¡°I always wanted to change. To step out, to become greater than the neighborhood we lived in. But now that I¡¯m here¡­¡±


    ¡°Once we become proper martial artists and are allowed to leave, let¡¯s go visit your family,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯d like to see them again, myself. We can make fun of Tai for failing the examination again.¡±


    She smiled softly.


    ¡°I¡¯d like that.¡±


    All Han could think about was how different Qian seemed compared to her usual self. It was making him feel somewhat awkward. He couldn¡¯t help but think about it, to the point where only when the others began to arrive did he realize that he had forgotten about the advancement entirely.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    Ten minutes after all of the disciples had lined up outside the door, it opened from the inside, revealing their master, starting Han. Had the Sect Leader really been inside the whole time? Luckily, the room was soundproofed, so he doubted that he heard their conversation, but he certainly would have been able to sense their presence. Han couldn¡¯t help but wear an awkward smile. Luckily, the Riverfiend did not address the matter. His eyes merely passed over his disciples, and then silently entered back into the meditation room. Han and the others followed behind him, moving to their usual positions.


    ¡°What will be tested today,¡± said their master, moving immediately into a lecture, ¡°is not your ability to receive miasma, but your ability to control it. A major factor of inferior foundation arts is that the practitioner is not properly prepared to receive it. Success will make you something more than mortal- a true martial artist. Failure will mean death or the crippling of your dantians.¡±


    His master¡¯s words did little to soothe Han¡¯s worry, which had started to creep back in now that they were here.


    ¡°I will help you do this one at a time. This will help me minimize the chance for error.¡±


    Left unsaid was how great an honor it was to receive such personal assistance from a spirit refiner. Such were the advantages they had acquired from their position. It was likely that none of the other disciples would have such an opportunity, unless Vice-Sect Leader Rachel decided to take her own personal disciples.


    ¡°I wish to go first,¡± blurted out Han, to his own surprise. His nerves had gotten the better of him. His desire to advance and his fear of it had coalesced and taken hold of him.


    The Riverfiend gave him a side eye and chuckled. It was still strange for Han to see this side of the man, but it humanized him, turning him from a triumphant and enigmatic character to a real man, a mentor.


    ¡°First, I¡¯ll need you all to thoroughly stretch your bodies to ensure you are ready and will not make any mistakes due to your mortal frailty.¡±


    Han blushed, and made no response, merely going about the forms as directed. He had exercised earlier, but still was careful to stretch out his body again, wary of the risks that being just slightly too tense could cause him. Several minutes later, they were all finally ready.


    ¡°Come here,¡± said the Riverfiend, glancing at Han. Filled with anticipation, Han moved without thinking, standing directly before him. ¡°You have trained the forms for weeks now. You should have learned their movements by heart. When you begin, you must stretch out your senses. You must unlock a sense which you have never used before.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Master.¡±


    His master nodded.


    ¡°This method works better in my homeland, but this room has been modified to suit my own needs, and it should work for this as well. You may begin. Remember to restrain yourself. This is not a time to be tense.¡±


    Under the watchful eyes of his master and his fellow disciples, Han began practicing the forms. He indeed did know them by rote, and he made an effort to loosen his muscles, trying to keep the movements as smooth as possible. Meanwhile, he practiced the meditation trick his master had taught him- to imagine himself resting under the rainstorm, all of his senses focused on the droplets which fell around him.


    Suddenly, he felt the cold moisture of a drop of water falling upon him. As if he was taking a cold shower, the droplets continued to fall, causing him to feel a slight pressure across his body. So this was rain, he thought. He focused on the droplets, how they fell around him and on him, the sound that they made when they tapped against the floorboards.


    Under the cool rain, Han continued to practice the forms. The motions were slow at times and fast at others, but at all times the flow between each movement was maintained. There was no suddenness, it was as if the movements followed the course of a path laid out- one imperceptible to the senses. Han followed the path laid out, not realizing his movements shifting imperceptibly beyond the basic forms, the flow shifting slightly as if to match.


    He felt something, he realized. It was as if there was an ocean flowing around and through him, directing his motion.


    ¡°So this is¡­¡± he muttered. ¡°So this is formless miasma.¡±


    His movements continued. In fact, it was as if he was entirely unable to stop. He felt a deep pressure from the ocean, as if at any moment it would engulf him.


    ¡°Feel the power, and continue your motions. You must siphon it into you like water from a well. Be slow and careful. We are not practicing flickering arts, after all. If you pause or rush, you could lose control.¡±


    Han released a breath, and did as he was told. His movements continued, the forms he had been taught now left behind entirely to follow the natural expressions of the currents from another realm. He felt a burning sensation inside him, as if his dantians had begun to heat up. It was painful, but he did not cease. To pause midway through would be to risk his life. He trusted in his master¡¯s words, and continued, and felt the energies continue to siphon inside of himself.


    The rain continued to beat upon him, seemingly synchronized with the beating of his heart and the coursing of the miasma as it flowed into and around him. For a moment he wondered what other miasmas would feel like upon first contact. But the thought quickly fled his mind due to the intensity of his focus. The energies continued to course into him, slowly growing in speed as he matched with the sea, growing closer and closer to its-¡±


    ¡°Stop,¡± ordered his master, and Han obeyed, his instinct to listen to his master¡¯s instruction surpassing his instinct to match himself to the currents.


    His body froze, motion ceased entirely. Suddenly, as if a dam had burst, energies coursed even faster through him, and Han found himself invigorated, but kept himself still regardless. The energies within him had separated from the flow of the ocean current, and a current formed within himself. It was a twisted, haphazard flow, but energies cycled their way between the three dantians.


    His movements stilled, Han found himself standing there as the rain continued to pound. His heart was racing, and he could still feel the energy inside him, as well as a vague sense of masses where his martial siblings and master were standing.


    His eyes flicked first to Qian, a triumphant smile crossing his face. She was right, things had changed. His dantians were like globes of water, releasing slight pressure through him. He was finally something greater than mortal- a true martial artist who had stepped onto his path.


    ¡°Congratulations,¡± said the Riverfiend. ¡°You have succeeded.¡±


    Han couldn¡¯t help but beam. When he entered the sect, when he became the Sect Leader¡¯s disciple, both of these events had been very impactful to him, but this¡­ more than anything, Han couldn¡¯t help but feel the change. It excited him beyond belief.


    Ashatic Currents: [The movement of ashatic currents through the Brink have been a matter of extensive scholarly study, and there have even been theories correlating this to the structure and location of celestial bodies within Telles, or perhaps to an unknown field interacting with the esoteric substance. One recent theory by a renowned Celan researcher contains the hypothesis that this flow is caused by micro scale lesions which are too small to be normally detected, and which are perhaps at fault for the strange differences between physics at the quantum and macro scales. What is known is that these flows can be found everywhere, within the Brink, and can be disrupted by contact with souls, lesions and ashatic constructs. Such flows can even be entirely diverted by the efforts of ascendants.]

 115- The Next Step

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    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    I smiled as I looked at my disciples. Each of them had acquired their miasma without any major issues, as I had anticipated. They were still basking in the glow of their advancement, though a number of them were also visibly exhausted. Qian in particular bore thick bags under her eyes. This did not surprise me, given how early she had shown up outside of the room. It seemed that she had been unable to sleep the night before, out of anticipation and fear. This struck me as a reasonable reaction.


    The first step into the martial path was the most impactful of all the stages except for ascension into immortality. One moment the practitioner was a mere mortal performing glorified exercise routines, and the next, the energies of heaven and earth entered their body. It was a sublimation of existence, a fundamental shift.


    To someone who had expected to spend their entire life in poverty in the slums, it was incomparable. My experiences had been much the same.


    I stretched my arms out as I addressed them. I couldn¡¯t help but copy my own master¡¯s mannerisms whenever I dealt with my students. It was simply the only way I knew for handling and instructing one¡¯s personal disciples.


    ¡°You should all take pride in yourselves,¡± I said. ¡°Most mortals will never have the opportunity to step onto the path, much less with a perfect foundation like you have.Now that you have taken this first step together, your paths will slowly begin to diverge. Each practitioner¡¯s path is subtly different. They use miasma in different ways, and choose to learn different techniques. You all will soon do the same yourselves.¡±


    Blake and Lin were both quietly listening, the two of them being the most disciplined of my disciples. The others bore varying levels of distraction, still slack jawed by the experience of tapping into such ethereal energies. I raised my voice slightly, bringing their attention back to me.


    ¡°I have learned a great number of formless techniques in my time. The lower level among these techniques I will teach to all of you. These will serve you well through the foundation refinement and meridian establishment realms, but they will prove lacking in the core formation realm, and will not be sufficient foundation to become a spirit refiner.¡±


    I paused, looking my disciples in the eyes to ensure they were listening.


    ¡°Will you also teach us the higher level techniques?¡± asked Shadowblade. The glow in his eyes spoke of his deep interest.


    ¡°Once you show me that you have mastered the basic techniques, I will let each of you choose one technique that you wish to learn. Any further techniques I will teach only if you have acquired enough merits for sect benefit. I will allow you to exchange these for them. Remember that it is impossible to follow all paths. It is better to focus on the direction you wish to walk than to try and walk in two and fail to do so.¡±


    The disciples nodded. It was no surprise to any of them that they would need to serve the sect- such would have been their responsibilities anyway. It was not as if I taught them purely from the goodness of my heart. They were to become part of the sect¡¯s backbone in the future, the foundation of its strength. This was something I had made clear to them from the start of their training.


    The disciples still looked bright and excited, but they were more exhausted than they might realize. Taking in miasma for the first time was a process which strained the soul itself. They had not yet developed the senses of their souls enough to notice, but it would greatly impact them if they strained it too much. They needed a few hours of rest before the next stage of their training began.


    ¡°There will be a training this afternoon at the usual time. Restrain yourself from using your miasma before then. Eat, sleep, rest in some way. Your souls need to recover before you take the next step.¡±


    My disciples bowed to me.


    ¡°Yes, master.¡±


    I nodded approvingly.


    ¡°Good. I will see you then.¡±


    Catching my hint, they filed out of the room, still awed by what they still felt. For several moments, I basked in the falling water. I glanced up at the ceiling, which was pockmarked with holes from which the ¡®rainwater¡¯ was dropping. Similar holes pocked the floors, acting as drains. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    This room was my favorite in the entire headquarters, solely due to the nostalgia it brought me. It had been designed by Rachel, and we had invested into its construction to build a meditation room designed to match with my path and my nature. I was able to truly calm myself in this room, and it aided in my efforts to understand and refine my own soul. I had spent the entire night meditating on the connection points between my body and soul, and was nearly ready to initiate the refining process. In just a few days I would begin.


    As I considered my preparations, I basked in the feeling of the cool rain pounding down on my body. It brought clarity to my mind, and brought a thought to my mind.


    ¡°Rachel?¡± I asked, my words spoken into empty air.


    Though it had been days since our discussion in the aero, Rachel and I had yet to properly reconcile ourselves. She did not take the initiative to speak with me outside of sect business, nor had I with her. During this time, I couldn¡¯t help but wonder if I had made a mistake in how I had addressed her back then.


    I felt that I had. While her attitude was indeed hypocritical, this was not a major issue. What mattered more was our relationship. I needed to avoid giving her the impression that it would be better to leave and join another force. Without her assistance, not only would the clan be in more danger from its enemies, it would likely collapse entirely. Faced with this, the annoyance brought by her attitude was nothing. Her words had even caused me to arrive at a better understanding of myself due to my introspection.


    Rachel appeared before me again. Once more, she was in the dark hair and blue eyed form she described as her true self. The droplets of water fell through her, and her still visibly dry body was almost unnerving in a room filled with this much water. As she appeared, she scowled at me as if I had interrupted something.


    ¡°What is it?¡± she asked.


    I sighed, having decided that I needed to be the one to take initiative.


    ¡°First of all, I apologize for my words the other night. They were tactless.¡±


    Our eyes met, and she broke contact first.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ve been trying to think of how to broach this topic myself. I believe that you weren¡¯t wrong about me. But it¡¯s natural for a person to care less about aliens than for their own people. After all, I¡¯m not a saint. I¡¯ll do what needs to be done. Still, our relationship should be different, since we¡¯re equal partners. Ultimately, neither of us can force the other into anything. As for the rest of what I said¡­¡±


    She paused, rubbing her chin with one of her hands and shrugging with a cute smile. The look was not only out of place within the rainy environment, it also was ill-matched to the mood the two of us had been in for multiple days now. As always, it seemed, Rachel was both the shameless and adaptable type.


    ¡°I think I associate you too much with characters in novels,¡± she explained.


    I raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°What?¡±


    She repeated the gesture with a chuckle.


    ¡°You¡¯re much like the protagonist of a story, Cyrus, and I¡¯ve read millions of stories. I believe I might have gotten caught up in the idea of what such a protagonist should be like. You know, you¡¯re quite inconsistent in that regard. At times, you make a perfect hero, and at others you act more like a villain.¡±


    I narrowed my eyes, starting to be annoyed at this discussion.


    ¡°There are no heroes or villains in reality,¡± I told her. ¡°All that drives action is the search for benefits.¡±


    She sighed.


    ¡°Ultimately I do agree with you. I haven¡¯t been an idealist in a very long time. Even if there was such a man, I wouldn¡¯t have chosen him over you. What I need is not a man who is morally outstanding.¡±


    I had to agree with her assessment. In a place such as the underworld of the Pantheonic Territory, righteousness was simply not a successful lifestyle. It would find one dead, penniless, or shipped off to the prison moon. Here, as anywhere else, ruthlessness was the only way to survive.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± I said, bringing the conversation back towards an important matter. ¡°I want to know if you can feed me data on the state of my soul while I inspect it and try to refine it.¡±


    This idea had seemed obvious the moment I thought of it. As a Terran, Rachel was a being who existed entirely within the spirit world. She could easily see and even interact with my soul, as she had when she held it to prevent the shroud¡¯s collapse on multiple occasions. With pointers and visuals created by her, the process of refinement could be done with far greater precision than was normally possible. I almost felt as if this method was cheating.


    Rachel blinked for a second, and then nodded.


    ¡°Right, that might increase your success rate. Of course I can. I can probably render it out in a visual format for you.¡±


    ¡°Much appreciated.¡±


    Without hesitating, I sat down in a lotus position, preparing to meditate once more. The rain continued to pound on and around me, my hair and clothes hanging off my body sopping wet. Before me, an image suddenly appeared, revealing to me for the first time the appearance of my soul.


    The Natural Conduit: [For any sapient mortal race, there is an element which binds one¡¯s soul to their body. Souls only form around gestating consciousnesses, but if nothing prevents the ashata composing the soul from drifting off, the backlash will cause the emergent consciousness to suffer extensively from the backlash. While this does not always cause the death of the organism, it certainly prevents it from achieving sapience. The factor which ties the physical body to the soul is known as the natural conduit, as no other types of conduit form naturally. For most species, this is the brain or brain-like equivalent organ. For humanoids alone, it is the blood. The reason for this remains currently unknown to the modern science of races such as the Staiven and the Celans.]

 116- Spirit Refinement

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    ¡°So this is my soul¡­¡±


    It was even smaller and more damaged than it felt. The remaining piece of a soul which had been sliced apart on numerous occasions and nearly dissolved on several others was misshapen and malformed. It was filed down to a nub. Any smaller and it might not be able to hold itself together or fulfill my requirements to practice martial arts. Moreover, the engrams had surely been so damaged that reincarnation would be impossible.


    Still, I did not find myself worried about the lack of a next life. Matters in this one were far more worthy of my attention. Without my experiences and memories, I might as well be a different person entirely in such a scenario.


    ¡°The fact that you remain alive with it in such a state is rather impressive,¡± said Rachel. ¡°Of all souls I have seen before, yours is the most unique.¡±


    I barked a sharp laugh.


    ¡°Few would dare to be as reckless as I have been.¡±


    ¡°Few are even capable,¡± she added.


    It was true. The Staiven and the Celans had only begun to develop technology that could interact with the shroud of one¡¯s soul, and the Telaretians had long lost their own such technology. In the Pantheonic Territory, the only mortals who could safely cut away portions of their soul as I had were the practitioners of progression systems. And of those, there were few abilities such as my Soul Severance Art. Few would even attempt to develop them. After all, I was living proof of the consequences.


    I felt at the shape of my soul with my senses, while simultaneously inspecting it with the visual Rachel had provided. It took me several minutes to adjust to the use of vision- I had never seen my soul in this way before. Still, I knew my soul quite well, so I was able to adjust.


    ¡°With this, I might as well begin now,¡± I muttered.


    While it was important to be careful, I also knew that I could stabilize my foundation in the spirit refinement realm by initiating the refinement process. Each step along this path would bring my body and soul more in tune with one another, and grant me greater strength and control of my abilities. I needed to be as strong as possible if I wished to maintain my success. Especially given my upcoming plans. To balance myself between two opposing forces was a great risk. The assassination attempt I had previously survived was probably the mere first of many to come.


    I took a deep breath, calming my mind. My awareness of Rachel¡¯s presence faded, leaving nothing but the soft impact of the rain. My thoughts washed away with it, leaving behind nothing except the awareness of my body and my soul. I felt every inch of my body, and knew I could manipulate every muscle and fiber at will. I could feel the storm raging within my heart, could feel the rivers that it fed, coursing throughout my body, and splitting apart every time it was severed by ethereal nodes. I felt my soul, floating by me in a direction beyond the cardinal.


    I breathed out, and time seemed to slow down. There were many methods of refining one¡¯s soul. Each had its own advantages and disadvantages. Speed, risk, materials required, and other factors all influenced the decision. However, I only knew of two that were of the formless path.


    The first method was called One With the Sea Refinement. It consisted of simply meditating on the flow of the ashatic currents and attempting to synchronize both one¡¯s body and soul to their motions. The inherent dangers would be the soul merging into the currents entirely, annihilating itself in the process. The process was akin to carefully dipping a thin sheet of paper into water, and pulling it back up without tearing it. The process would need to be repeated numerous times as I further refined my soul. The unique benefit of this method would be the ability to reduce my presence, hiding from the senses of the souls of others.


    The second method was more mysterious and complex. Known as the Thousand Soul Replica Refinement, it was not originally from the Downpour Sect. We had actually originally purchased it from another force generations ago. Thought it did not match perfectly with our sect¡¯s vision of formless miasma, it was not impossible for us to practice it. I would need to shift the shape, structure, and composition of the outer layers of my soul to replicate that of another individual. The ultimate goal was to create a perfect replica in mere instants, over and over. Overall, this method was far safer, but to succeed without damaging one¡¯s engrams was a task of extreme difficulty. The danger was of driving yourself mad. If I were to choose this method, I would need to do this numerous times replicating the souls of all sorts of different beings, until I could do so at a mere thought. Only a perfect replication would allow the refinement to take place, so given the current state of my soul, this method was not an option.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    Of course, I could also use the traditional method of damaging my body to generate sanguine miasma to form a conduit. Said to be the first soul refinement method ever discovered, the Sanguine Rebirth Refinement Method was technically possible for all martial artists, not just sanguine practitioners. However, it was extremely dangerous, even by the standards of the other methods. Clearing out sanguine miasma from one¡¯s wounds was a difficult and painful experience, much less if I were to willingly fill my entire body with it. The benefit of this method was merely the fact that everyone had access to it if needed, though I would certainly not choose it for myself.


    Ultimately, I was left with only the One With The Sea method. I was content with this, as this matched well with my attainments in meditation and understanding of my miasma. From my perspective, formless miasma was fundamentally entwined with water. While I knew that there was actually no direct relation between the two, such visualizations assisted in many ways. They made techniques easier to develop, soul senses more precise, and refinement easier. In essence, it was a framework for understanding the information one received subconsciously and allowing some of it to be put into action. The more precise it was, the better the result.


    Despite having reached the spirit refinement realm, I could still not discern the differences between Rachel¡¯s true body and a soul with just my soul sense. It simply was not precise enough to do so. Still, I could feel a soul very nearby. Distances in the spirit world were impossible to judge the further away from one¡¯s own body, due to the distortion caused by the ashatic currents, but as Rachel¡¯s conduit was right next to me as always, she was near enough to my soul for me to sense her location just fine. Unfortunately, with this refinement method, she would not be able to intervene if something went wrong. My life was in my own hands.


    Somehow, I felt more comfortable that way.


    I stretched out my senses, feeling the flow of the currents. They were wild and chaotic, filled with small ripples and eddies left by all of the souls with which they had collided.


    The initial steps were trivial. As a formless practitioner, both my body and soul were more fluid than those of other practitioners. I could cause internal flow within my soul to match that of the river in what was once my meridians. I also shifted the nodes that were my soul severing core to match with the location of the shifts and eddies in the stream. However, this extent of correlation was not sufficient to refine my soul. I stood, raising my body upright with a hazy, flowing motion. My skin and bones shifted, warping to match with the currents of the world, as the tides of the river were raised and lowered. The pounding of the rain in my heart became the heartbeat of the world, and the outside world faded away even further.


    The current grew in importance. I could feel my body move as I controlled every aspect of it. Even bone muscle, hair, and organs flowed according to my will, as my insides strained to accommodate the shifting of my cores. My soul writhed and squirmed in a manner that was just slightly off from my goal.


    But it wasn¡¯t enough. The profound motions of the heavenly energies were beyond me, my self control too limited to achieve my desired results. I shifted my bones further, and felt a sharp pain in my gut. I had accidentally crossed two rivers, causing them to overflow their banks and sear away at my internal organs. The injury was not severe, but the attempt was over almost as soon as it had begun.


    I sighed as my senses of reality fully returned, taking another seat on the ground. As my senses returned, I once more felt the pounding beats of raindrops on my head. The attempt was a failure. I had known this would not be a simple process, but it seemed that there was a reason so many stalled in their efforts to refine their souls. It was both extremely difficult and extremely dangerous, with any mistakes at the critical moment capable of annihilating the practitioner or crippling them.


    Rachel sat down in front of me in a relaxed manner as the rain continued to fall through her.


    ¡°Failure?¡± she asked.


    I sighed and nodded, eyes unfocused.


    ¡°But I have an understanding of what to do next time.¡±


    My shroud divorced me from the current, and I found it difficult to match with it without physically moving alongside it. However, what if I were to open my shroud, allow the current to pass through me? Wouldn¡¯t I be able to become far more attuned to it? There was a risk of washing away my own soul, but this was not unexpected for this method. In fact, I believed that this is what my master had meant when he explained this method to me- being one with the sea. I was not to be a fish, but the waters themselves.


    A martial artist would never progress if they feared to take risks. I would rest for a day to return myself to full condition, and then make another attempt.


    Shroud: [The Shroud is a term for a type of ashatic membrane which surrounds the soul of a mortal. It holds in the ashata, preserving the vital structures such as the engrams which record trace records of the mortal¡¯s mind. Shrouds mitigate the soul¡¯s interaction with the ashatic currents of the Brink, allowing some energies to nourish the soul and forcing the rest to pass around. The function of the shroud of a mortal and the angote shell of an Osine seem to share certain similarities.]

 117- The Dragons Tail

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    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    ¡°With that said, I¡¯m sure you understand why it¡¯s clear that only another Exid Queen would think to do such a thing,¡± said Deuvar.


    ¡°Makes sense to me,¡± chortled the Staiven official. He did not actually care about what actually happened. The code of the Justice Office was to believe whatever they were paid to. The truth was wholly irrelevant.


    The moment he had been informed of Iskrise¡¯s suicide, Deuvar had immediately entered into talks with Astna¡¯s contact in the Justice Office. The Iskrise Queendom had many contracts with the station¡¯s corporations. With her death, millions of serite were lost each day, and pressure had been placed on the Justice Office to find a scapegoat.


    Deuvar had considered the option of placing the blame on the Riverfiend and his Redwater Sect, but he still held out some hope of acquiring their assistance during the upcoming war. Even though their cooperation in this instance fell through, that was due to ill luck, rather than any breach of trust on either party¡¯s behalf. Given his understanding of Canvasian culture, Deuvar held expectations that he would be able to once more entice the alien faction to assist them.


    In the end, he had decided that putting the blame on another Exid was the ideal outcome for the Heirs. Queen Exsrish, specifically, was his target. As her territory bordered both the Iskrise and Sikreis Queendoms, putting her in the sights of the Justice Office would not only prevent them from targeting Sikreis, it would also limit Exsrish¡¯s ability to suppress them. If they were lucky, it would also prevent her from contending for portions of Iskrise¡¯s holdings. The fewer enemies who wished to take them, the more the Heirs would be able to grab for themselves.


    The discussion with the official ended quickly. The moment he had heard what had happened to Iskrise, Deuvar had instantly known that he needed to bribe quickly, and avoid getting into any sort of bidding war with Exsrish. In the end, the final cost had been rather large, but he had succeeded. Even with the benefits they might acquire from the remnants of Iskrise, this was a huge loss, but it was much better than the alternative. In the long term, the results might actually be positive, but Deuvar could not think more than a few months in advance given the current situation. It was extremely unlikely that the situation would remain stable for long.


    Like all Exid Queens, Exsrish was protected by the corporations she worked with, so she would likely get off with solely the need to pay the corporations back for the full sum of the losses they accrued. If the Heirs had been in that situation, not only would they have needed to pay, they also would have needed to sacrifice tens of their own soldiers to the prison moon as scapegoats.


    Still, having avoided the worst case scenario, Deuvar was content. One needed to accept matters as they were, instead of focusing on how they should be. It was a necessary first step before taking action to improve the situation.


    Deuvar stretched himself, making sure that he remained in good condition. Despite the fact that his physical conditioning remained healthy, he was getting to the age where the body slowly accumulated issues. His joints liked to ache, and his hair that had been prematurely graying due to stress was approaching the point where it should be doing that naturally anyway.


    Now, he thought, perhaps he could finally take a breather. They still needed another month to finish digesting their gains in Otan before they could consider themselves prepared to fight the Hadal Clan. So long as they could pass through that period, Deuvar was confident that the war situation could be managed without scaling to the point where titans needed to be used. His goal was for a smaller scale war using only infantry and enforcers. Acquiring territory and resources from the Hadal Clan was far less important than maintaining the Heirs¡¯ own foundation. If only the Leader wouldn¡¯t continue to exacerbate the conflict, perhaps it would all work out.


    Deuvar had actually been concerned for a while about the matter. It was as if something was wrong with the Leader- when they spoke, he almost seemed calm to Deuvar, at least compared to his normal state. Despite this, the policies he had Deuvar implement were becoming more and more inflammatory. Compromises with the Hadal Clan were refused outright- all Deuvar¡¯s best efforts had achieved was to sign a deal preventing the clan from involving themselves in Otan, though he knew the document would mean nothing once war broke out. It was as if the Leader wished to speed up the start of the war, even though he himself had been the one telling Deuvar to delay it for so long in the first place. Deuvar couldn¡¯t help but wonder what the man was thinking. Did he have some sort of plan? If so, why had he decided to keep it to himself?This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Deuvar had even taken the initiative to visit the man himself and discuss policies with him, just to confirm that the Shade Rachel had not secretly impersonated him and replicated his image. He was relieved to find this was not the case, but still could not quell the worry in his heart. He had a gut feeling that he was walking on the edge of a precipice, each step taking him further away from safety, and closing to the inevitable point at which he would slip and fall.


    He had felt this way for months, and so far, his instincts had yet to let him down. Recently, Deuvar had gone from crisis to crisis, without a moment to catch his breath.


    He was broken from his reverie by another call from his slate. It felt like in recent days all he did was sit around in his office, make plans, and take calls. Perhaps that was just the life of a manager. Seeing that it was from his sister, Deuvar ignored the dark feeling in his gut and accepted it, causing her image to float above the slate. He set it back down on his desk and waited with a dour expression for the ill news she would inevitably be bringing.


    Astna smirked at his expression.


    ¡°No need to be hostile, brother. I have news you¡¯ll be interested in. Though I wager you won¡¯t be happy about it.¡±


    He sighed, leaning back in his chair.


    ¡°My sister, do you ever give me news that makes me happy?¡± he asked.


    Astna had consistently been a bearer of bad news in recent months. It felt as if every time they spoke she had something to say that he did not wish to hear.


    She chuckled.


    ¡°Rarely. Still, you¡¯d be more angry if I didn¡¯t tell you about it. It¡¯s rare for positive events to be so pressing.¡±


    She wasn¡¯t wrong. If it wasn¡¯t important for him to be immediately notified, Astna would not bother to give him a call, and instead let her subordinates pass it to him. Sometimes he wished they could occasionally speak to one another about something other than business, but he knew such a thing was not very reasonable. Both of them spent far too much time at work, a matter which was not likely to change until the day they died or retired. It was simply the way of their family. Even Kalthen almost never interacted with those who were not a member of the organization.


    ¡°Just tell me your news, Astna,¡± he said, resigned.


    She complied, shifting into a more serious tone as she gave the report.


    ¡°There is a riot ongoing at the border. Apparently, a martial artist killed a Korlove in broad daylight just because they bumped into one another on the street. They¡¯re currently driving every Canvasian they can find out of the district. Some of our lowest level soldiers have become involved, against orders.¡±


    Deuvar rubbed his forehead in exasperation. His attempts to delay only continued to fail, and the Leader¡¯s recent orders only made matters worse.


    ¡°Have the Hadal Clan-¡±


    Astna laughed.


    ¡°Of course they have. Seiyal wearing green and black robes have shown up on neighboring stacks. I suspect they have decided they wish to be the ones who take initiative.¡± Her holographic projection met his gaze. ¡°I don¡¯t think we can delay it much longer, brother. You know as well as I do what this means.¡°


    Deuvar sighed. He wasn¡¯t sure he quite agreed with her, there had to be some way to delay further- but he would certainly need to run this turn of events by the Leader. And given the man¡¯s recent actions¡­ Deuvar was scared that he would be able to guess what the response would be. He would be told to reinforce the border, thus angering the Seiyal. Events, shifts in attitude¡­ the dominoes fell, and puppets like Deuvar were forced to dance at the marrionettist¡¯s flourish.


    It seemed that after a long decade of peace, war had truly returned to Tseludia Station. But Deuvar was certain, now. The current situation could not be the natural flow of history.


    ¡°I¡¯ll speak with the Leader,¡± he said.


    There was a mastermind behind this war, of this he was certain. The shifts in cultural moods was too swift to occur naturally. It was an expertly tuned display of manipulation, and the aims behind it remained unknown. While his information was limited, Deuvar would not allow his people to fight to their deaths due to the whim of another. But Deuvar would keep his suspicions to himself for the time being. There was little he could do, and keeping quiet raised the chances of his being able to catch the mastermind¡¯s tail.


    If war was inevitable, it was his duty to ensure that none would be the winners of this conflict but the Heirs of Ottrien.


    Composition of the Mortal Soul: [The most complex of the common ashatic structures, a soul is shaped like an amorphous sac filled with thick fluid, shifting along with the flow and current of ashata within the Brink. This ¡®sac¡¯ is called the shroud. It is a membrane composed of a thick, durable ashatic compound which allows certain quantities of ashata to permeate in and out in a process similar to osmosis. The interior of the soul has a jelly-like consistency. This ashatic material is continually nourished, refreshed, and expelled, and forms the information retaining structures known as engrams by interfacing with the natural conduit to the sapient mind to which the soul is bound.]

 118- Snakes and Baskets

    <div>


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    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Wei made his way through the halls of the Hadal headquarters. This portion of the great building¡¯s warren of halls and corridors was far less finely decorated than the areas he was more used to. Despite their wealth, the clan had limits to wasteful expenditure. Only in places where guests might visit or where the Matriarch and other high ranking clan members lived and worked needed to be luxurious.


    His pace was leisurely, his demeanor relaxed despite the situation. Sirena had mobilized their forces, and he suspected that Karie might have already involved herself in the riots. Still, he was in no rush. Some of the clan¡¯s other spirit refiners were already watching the border. At the moment, Wei¡¯s duty was to defend the headquarters, so there was little he could do. If this were not the case, he would not have even made the effort to come down here. While this matter was potentially beneficial, it was just as likely for nothing to come of it, despite his best efforts.


    He quickly made his way to the end of the hall. Had this been Canvas, a dungeon would have been located here, one of the many structures that aliens would inevitably classify as primitive, savage, or unrefined in some way. Wei had to agree. Dungeons had limited success in sealing away powerful martial artists. They were a thing of the past, while the detention cells of the Hadal Clan were the way of the future. Even he, as technologically illiterate as he was, could see this. He stepped into the detention center of the headquarters, and the two guards inside both stood to attention, bowing to him.


    ¡°Lord Wei! It is an honor to meet you!¡± called one of them, a sei man with features very standard to the family lineage. Wei didn¡¯t recognize him, which meant he had to be a member of a branch family. The other man was clearly not Hadal at all, and Wei guessed that he had to be one of the servant practitioners who had sworn themselves to the clan in exchange for better techniques and training. He nodded respectfully to both of them, allowing them to calm themselves. He then turned to the only inhabited cells of the three located in the room.


    The cell would have looked more in place in an technologically advanced setting such as the cell blocks of the Justice Office or the prison moon, but as it was a ways away from the parts of the headquarters that saw guests, the designers had chosen to build it for maximum effectiveness rather than for beauty. It was a rectangular metal enclosure, constructed of some advanced Staiven alloy that aliens weren¡¯t even allowed to know the name of. Wei had tested it himself, and the alloy was so hard that he couldn¡¯t bend or break it without the use of a weapon. As far as he could tell, it indeed lived up to the promise of holding even a spirit refiner, though he still couldn¡¯t help but doubt the idea.


    They had purchased it off the black market years ago when the Justice Office went through renovations and the contracted construction firm secretly removed some of the more valuable sections of the building rather than demolishing it fully.


    If the cell had been constructed by a humanoid race, they would have placed a slat in the door or some sort of glass pane, so that one could see inside, but clearly the Staiven had no need for such things. After all, no matter how advanced the materials might be, there was no way they could restrain the senses of the soul.


    ¡°This is her?¡± he asked, his senses lightly inspecting the presence of the soul inside the room.


    The guard nodded.


    ¡°There were three casualties just from bringing her in. Another two are currently receiving medical attention.¡± He winced before continuing. ¡°I don¡¯t think they¡¯ll make it. The doctors were saying we have no antidotes for the poison.¡±


    Wei frowned. He had known this would be a risky endeavor, but the toll was worse than he had anticipated.


    He glanced at a display on a nearby wall, which showed an image taken from inside the cell. Within, a woman sat on a small cot, relaxing in a composed position. She was on the attractive side, but her close-cropped hair was unusual for a martial artist of either gender, much less a woman. Her head was pointed towards one of the walls, as if she were inspecting something. As he traced her gaze, Wei suddenly realized that she was looking directly at the wall he was on the other side, as if she were watching him.


    He snorted, unfazed by the tricks of the younger generation. She wouldn¡¯t be able to actually see through the wall, but she would certainly know that someone had arrived just from her soul sense. He turned his attention back towards the guard.


    ¡°Have you gotten anything out of her yet?¡±


    The guard shook his head.


    ¡°We contacted you immediately upon our return. Nobody has entered the cell.¡±Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Wei glanced at the screen again.


    ¡°Good work. Open the door for me.¡±


    Wei saw the man¡¯s facial expression shift in surprise.


    ¡°You want to go in there? But we weren¡¯t able to cleanse her dantians. The poison will still be inside.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no need to worry about that. Open the door.¡±


    Holding back his shock, the guard swiftly complied, and the cell¡¯s hatch slid silently open. As Wei entered, it closed back behind him, sealing the two martial artists inside with one another.


    Wei clasped his hands together as he gazed down at the Bountian poisoner. She silently stared up at him with a confrontational look. When he was young he might have taken offense at it, but it was the nature of age to mellow a man¡¯s emotions out. These days, Wei found that it took far more to anger him than it once did.


    ¡°Your name is Yun?¡± he asked, breaking the silence.


    She merely grunted in response, continuing to silently glare at him, so he continued speaking, a light chuckle sneaking out from his lips.


    ¡°I apologize for the current situation. In fact, I merely told them to invite you to speak with me.¡±


    Yun scoffed.


    ¡°A likely story.¡±


    Her accent betrayed her origin, just like Wei¡¯s information said. Not only did she have Bountian heritage, this Yun was likely a native, who immigrated from Canvas herself.


    ¡°I am Wei Hadal. Might I ask to hear your surname?¡±


    Yun leaned back on her bed in a relaxed pose, her gaze moving away from Wei and towards the cell¡¯s ceiling. It was a breach of etiquette, but he was not foolish enough to expect such social niceties from an assassin-for-hire, much less one his force had essentially kidnapped.


    ¡°No.¡±


    He couldn¡¯t help but chuckle again.


    ¡°I see. I suppose it doesn¡¯t matter. No matter what your origin, it is of little relevance to us, as far from home as we are. That is what the Matriarch believes, at least.¡±


    Wei personally, was more cautious, closer to a traditionalist, while Sirena had always been a maverick. Still, he trusted her judgment, and would follow her orders dutifully. Such was his duty as a loyal clan member.


    Yun turned her head to glare again at him, her eyes narrowed. The look amused him. She was all too like a snake in a basket, ready to bite the hand of anyone who reached inside. Like the man, despite the fact that Wei was far more powerful than her, if Yun struck fast enough, he would almost certainly die, though she would soon follow after him. This was the advantage of a poisoner of her caliber, and it was why he had sought her out.


    It was why some might have called him foolish for speaking to her directly rather than through a screen.


    ¡°Do you remember the target you killed by the spacedock?¡± he asked. ¡°It was within a Celan restaurant, if you recall.¡±


    At first he thought she intended to ignore him, but after a short pause he heard her voice speak up.


    ¡°I can¡¯t say I do.¡±


    Such a response was not beyond his expectations. He suspected she would similarly claim no knowledge of any of the few jobs she had taken on the station thus far. Wei had worked in an underworld organization for many decades now, and he had met plenty of personalities like hers before. Like all people, one simply needed to know how to deal with them.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure,¡± he said dryly. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if you¡¯re aware, but we had to pay quite a lot to deal with the matter. Suffice to say that the matriarch believes that you owe us a debt.¡±


    Left unsaid was that implication that if the matriarch believed it, it was so. He expected that the girl was quick enough to catch on.


    Yun scowled again.


    ¡°You clearly don¡¯t just want to kill me or sell me to the Staiven, so out with it. What are you looking for?¡±


    He smiled.


    ¡°It¡¯s just a few simple favors. We have a list of names for you.¡±


    She turned to glance at him.


    ¡°You¡¯ll let me go, and cease interfering with me if I handle these individuals for you?¡± she asked cautiously.


    ¡°Indeed.¡±


    It was, of course, a simple promise to make, but one he could not be certain he would uphold, and both of them knew it. Nor would she be able to claim she would not cause further problems for them in the future if she was released.


    ¡°And when I kill everyone on the list?¡± she asked.


    Wei couldn¡¯t help but crack a smile at her words. The girl¡¯s confidence truly spoke of her youth. It tended to dissipate with age after one began to run into the walls of their own talent and luck.


    ¡°War is here,¡± he said. ¡°There is always someone else who needs to be killed. I hear you¡¯re interested in money?¡±


    Though she was still facing away, Wei could see the corner of her lips curl upwards, and he knew he had succeeded. This Yun would make for an excellent addition to their forces, he thought, a piece which added a significant number of new options to their force.


    He couldn¡¯t help but wonder at the precedent this set, however. From a certain perspective, this could be considered as an orthodox clan seeking assistance from a martial master of the unorthodox path. It could severely injure their reputation and connections with the homeworld if information of it somehow got out.


    As Wei watched Yun¡¯s back, he couldn¡¯t help but wonder if it was better to keep the snake trapped inside the basket after all. The only time one could feel safe from the venom was when the lid was closed tightly.


    Wei, after all, did not wish to be bitten.


    Staiven Imprisonment Methods: [Like most organizations of the Pantheonic Government, the Justice Office is run as a business, and expected to make profit. For this reason, convicts are put to work until their sentence is paid off, rather than mere incarceration or execution. Their labor is rented away to the corporations in the given system. Despite the risks and dangers, this system is utilized even for alien races with progression systems, such as those from Canvas. The sole difference is that such individuals are placed within more well-constructed cells and watched extremely closely. The reason that such effort is used is because the more powerful a given individual is, the more valuable the benefits that might be acquired from their labor, in theory. Such individuals are almost always shipped off to prison moons instead of being used on world or on station, as they will be forced by their isolation to comply. After all, even if one were to slay the guards and escape one¡¯s bonds, the individual would remain trapped on the moon, unable to escape back to civilization.]

 119- Instigation

    ???, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Rachel watched as Cyrus swam around the room, darting this way and that in a manner that she could not help but compare to interpretive dance. Within the Brink, her true senses inspected his attempt to refine his soul, ensuring he made no life-threatening mistakes. His soul was damaged enough already, and she had honestly considered trying to convince him to not make the attempt altogether.


    However, she knew that he had less than two decades of life remaining at the most, and this was the best way to extend that time. She couldn¡¯t help but doubt that two decades would be enough to achieve their goals, and it was hard to say whether a comparable individual would rise within the sect during that time. Moreover, he practiced an unorthodox path. If he made no efforts to refine his soul, the limit on his lifespan would shrink rather than grow.


    She sighed, leaning back onto the cool denim of her chair¡¯s surface, splitting her attention to other matters. While it did not appear that Cyrus was having much success on this first attempt, it also did not appear as if his life would be at any risk from the failure. A part of her remained to watch the process- it was actually quite interesting to see his soul synchronize with the ashatic currents, unsuccessful as his method of doing so ultimately was.


    Within her simulated room, Rachel was lounging on a bean bag chair, the room a near perfect recreation of her childhood room. She had picked the odd piece of furniture up at a garage sale, its origin entirely a mystery. Moving it across the city had been quite difficult for herself and her father, but in the low gravity of Mars, it was quite achievable. On earth, they would have needed to either rent a moving vehicle or own their own truck. A wistful gaze appeared in her eyes at the thought before she squirmed her body some more, finding a position of total comfort while she inspected hundreds of systems and databases all at once.


    She had turned the work of searching for the presumably Celan Shade into a daily ritual. Ever since it had assisted in their escape from the retirement facility, it was as if it had disappeared completely. There were no more traces of system manipulations, anomalous data flows, or any more messages directed to her specifically. If she was foolish, she might have thought that the Shade had left, but that could not be the case.


    She had been doing this search for weeks to no avail. She knew that they had to be up to something, but if they were active on the internet, they were pretending to be an incredibly normal user. Just what was the Shade up to, she wondered? She doubted it would have simply dropped its plans, whatever they were. Perhaps what it was currently working on was something it did not wish her to interrupt, so it was going to further effort to hide its tracks from her. The thought unnerved her.


    She had considered sending a request back home to see if additional files on the Celan Shades had been added to the collective knowledge repository, but as her packet ship had been destroyed back when she was captured, Rachel knew that was a pointless endeavor. The messages would take years to reach the Pleiades, much less to return all the way back. She might as well wait until her mission had either succeeded or failed before sending a report.


    ¡°How can they be hiding completely¡­¡± she muttered to herself.


    She shifted her focus, giving up on this matter until later. While there were still no signs of the Shade, there was certainly plenty of valuable information that she was collecting. Rachel had watched the inciting event and the development of the riots step by step, keeping a close watch for any hints of purposeful instigation.


    It had all started when a martial artist had not been looking where he was going, tripping himself on a Korlove in his path. In his annoyance, he had raised his sword and slew them right on a public street. This alone was an extremely unusual event. The man was a local gang member, from a group who were known to have a great deal of hatred for Celans, but it was rare for them to be this foolish. There was little chance that they had not been pressured by the Hadal Clan on this matter. It was better for the clan if they could hold the initiative, and this current situation would take that from the hands of both sides.


    The riots had begun within an hour of the event. The gang in question had been stormed by an army of civilians wielding both firearms and makeshift weapons. This was also strange. She could not find the reason why so many had decided this was the right choice, rather than simply waiting for a Celan gang to handle the matter. She understood their distrust in the authorities- the Justice Office would not care whatsoever about the death of a single alien civilian unless they had a very rich relative. Still, the situation reeked heavily of manipulation. Both sides of the event were suspicious.


    She couldn¡¯t help but wonder if the forces within both organizations that wished for war had taken action to create one, or if it was the action of a third party. She frowned as she inspected the videos again. There was information in the metadata that had not been there the last time she had checked. A chill ran down her spine as Rachel inspected it, finding what seemed to be an encrypted link. Moments later the packet deleted itself, having been present for mere milliseconds.


    Still, Rachel had already recorded the data. Knowing that this had to be a trace left behind by the Shade on purpose, she still accessed the link, being taken to an obscure file server located in the files of a small company in the seventh district. As if prompted by her attention, a live video file appeared, its location of origin constantly shifting as whoever was sending it spoofed their position.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    ¡°Ah, you¡¯re here. Quicker than I expected, did you happen to be actively searching at the time? I¡¯m sorry for the delay,¡± said the message the moment she opened it up. ¡°I felt I needed to set the backdrop before we spoke properly.¡±


    This time, the message had video. The simulated figure of a Celan woman was sitting in an office chair looking towards the ¡®camera¡¯. She was extremely beautiful, but did not appear to be either Jobu or Merris, the shade of her desaturated brown skin, the overall shape of her body, and the cast of her face decidedly different from that of either race. Her hair was a vibrant pink, falling down to the middle of her back, and her eyes glowed a brilliant white. Just by looking at her, Rachel could immediately discern her nature. This was an exaggerated depiction of the people of Epon Celah, the ancestors of modern Celans. The woman continued speaking, smiling widely in a smug manner.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have to apologize for another matter. I know your name, but I haven¡¯t introduced myself. My name is Janottka. I¡¯m one of the last remnants of the Epon Celan Civilization, though I¡¯m sure you knew that. Why don¡¯t you join the call? I believe we have much to discuss.¡±


    Rachel had to consider the offer for a moment. She did wish to learn this Janottka¡¯s plans, but couldn¡¯t help but feel like the offer was a trap. Just what was her endgame? What was the purpose behind all of this?


    After accelerating time for a moment to think, Rachel created another simulation, one which appeared to be the interior of a Seiyal sect, much like Redwater. She used the form that was her public image- the sei martial artist, rather than her true human form. Rachel¡¯s expression was blank as she posted her image into the depths of the internet.


    ¡°What do you wish to speak about?¡± she asked.


    ¡°So this is the image you choose¡­ interesting. But why don¡¯t you show me your real form?¡± Janottka asked, her smile showing teeth, making Rachel feel as if she were watching a monster bare fangs. ¡°We know of the Terrans already. Is there a point to your charade?¡±


    Rachel narrowed her eyes, frowning. Suddenly, her body morphed, the colors of her skin, hair, and eyes shifting to match her true self.


    ¡°So you know, or at least suspected. Is this better for you?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Much better. You know, I feel a sense of camaraderie with your people. After all, we¡¯re both the descendants of civilizations which were destroyed.¡±


    Rachel sneered.


    ¡°Our situations are different. We are that original civilization, and you¡¯re just one of their tools.¡±


    Janottka sniffed. Based on her body language, it was as if she was being mock-hurt. But Rachel knew that her body language would be fake. Entirely a creation of this entity¡¯s mind. Designed and implemented solely to invoke a specific response. It was a capability that Rachel herself had, though she rarely used it. Right now, she was in full careful control of her simulation¡¯s movements and expression. This was a war of information, and she would not be the loser, would not give away even a hint of her true feelings unless they were useful.


    Meanwhile, she couldn¡¯t even be certain whether or not her opponent even had feelings in the first place.


    ¡°What did you want to discuss?¡± she asked, her expression still stony.


    Janottka smiled again.


    ¡°If I was true to my responsibilities for the Epon, I would be trying to kidnap you for experimentation. Sadly, I¡¯m more true to my original functionings. Isn¡¯t it more fun to assist in the story you¡¯re writing?¡±


    Rachel found it difficult to follow what the woman was talking about. This was part of the problem with Shades, she thought. They simply did not think like mortals did- their goals were inherent and strange.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure I understand what you¡¯re saying,¡± she said.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious?¡± asked Janottka. ¡°I¡¯m creating the backdrop to either destroy the two of you or launch you to the stars.¡±


    Rachel¡¯s eyes narrowed.


    ¡°You¡¯re trying to assist us?¡±


    Janottka laughed at the question.


    ¡°What a foolish question. Of course not. What I¡¯m assisting is your story. It doesn¡¯t matter whether you ultimately succeed or fail.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± said Rachel.


    Janottka¡¯s face still held that creepy smile.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter whether you do. I¡¯ll see you around, Rachel. Keep things interesting, alright?¡±


    The message cut off, leaving Rachel alone once more. A chill ran down her spine as she sighed again. It was clear that the Shade was trying to manipulate her, but Rachel still could not discern her goal. Was it really just entertainment?


    After a few moments of thought, Rachel shut down her side of the call as well, and destroyed all traces. This corner of the internet returned to exactly how it was just half a minute before.


    Epon Celans: [An ancient humanoid race which has long been extinct, the Epon Celans are the ancestors of the Korlove, Jobu, Merris, and the fourth daughter race, the Najani, who have since become extinct themselves. Of these races, the Epon Celans were most similar in appearance to the Merris, though they lacked many of the biological enhancements that this race bears. Similarly, they lacked the musculature and ashatic resistance of the Jobu. The origin of the Epon Celans is unclear, though due to the fact that they are a humanoid species, it is widely believed that they did not evolve naturally.]

 Codices- Book Two: Redwater (Spoilers for book two)

    Races of the Pantheonic Territory:


    Staiven Eyes and Elder Staiven: [For most Staiven, the eyes are mere miasmic repositories, accumulating that which builds up as they age. It is also the source of their primary sense. Rather than vision, this is a soul sense that detects the intersection of their eyes with concentrations of ashata within the brink. Other races often find the nature of this sense difficult to comprehend, but in effect it allows them to sense flows of ashata, souls, lesions, and miasmic concentrations in extreme detail when they are close enough. Their progression system increases the concentration of miasma within their eyes over time, increasing the strength and acuity of this sense. For most Staiven, removing their eyes would eliminate this sense, but would not kill them. When the eye grows too large for its socket and begins to spill out, the miasma begins to affect the body itself more, turning the Staiven into a subtly different sort of creature, one referred to as an Elder Staiven. Elders differ in nature depending on the properties of the miasma their eyes are composed of, and they die if the organs are removed.]


    Reth (Species): [One of the three races created upon Canvas, the Reth are the creations of Saaya. Like the Seiyal, they are a humanoid race, and were specifically designed to be very hardy creatures. They can survive in extreme high and low pressure, and are capable of regrowing all of their limbs. They are even capable of surviving within the void of space. Despite this, their homeland on Canvas was very extreme, and they can only consume foods from there, or that have been treated with certain exotic chemicals, though advanced races such as the Staiven are capable of synthesizing them for a cost. After being driven away from their homeworld, it is said that they have become a nomadic people, defended by their goddess who is said to travel along with them. The Staiven have kept the locations that the Reth were moved to fairly secret from the Seiyal, as part of a treaty that was signed after first contact was made. The Reth have their own progression system, and unlike that of the Seiyal and Staiven, theirs solely utilizes sanguine miasma.]


    Exid Queens: [Unlike most races, there is little racial camaraderie among the Exid. Each Queendom considers itself a fully separate culture, and most Queens claim that they are the true inheritor to the ancestors of the Exid people, and that all other Queens should rightfully be their subordinates. Such claims are even made at times by Queens who have themselves been subordinated. However, as they find other races inherently untrustworthy, the Queens still tend to work together just as much as they connive against one another for superiority. In addition, despite their naturally extremely high intellect, the Queendoms would likely never have achieved spaceflight on their own, as a great deal of technology belonging to a Queendom was often historically destroyed upon the Queen''s death to prevent their rivals from discovering it, vastly hindering their capabilities. However, they achieved a technology boom after making first contact which allowed them the capacity to expand, so that even the weaker Queendoms could, in theory, develop their own territory away from others. However, there are only so many places close enough to advanced civilizations to learn more advanced technology from, yet still a place where they are allowed to set up their Queendoms. They are, after all, unable to compete for territory with even the more powerful mortal civilizations, much less the Osine and Ascendants. For this reason, many Exid Queens have set out blindly into the vast expanse of the Frontier, never to return.]


    Humanity: [According to the official species database of all major forces, if there is a record of a race known as ''Humanity'' at all, it is clear on one point: Humanity is a race native to the Quarantined Territory who colonized several star systems but went extinct prior to being encountered by Osine forces. They are notable in that they have morphological similarities to various races such as the Celans, Seiyal, Reth, and Staiven, which implies they were created by a deity, but due to their homeworld''s location within the Quarantined area, no forces have chosen to investigate, due to fears of infection.]


    Races of the Pantheonic Territory and Atmospheric Requirements: [While most humanoids as well as the Staiven and Escalos all breathe the same atmospheres, this is not true for all races. The Exid, for example, do not breathe at all, while the Reth can breathe standard atmosphere, but only for limited periods of time. The Telaretians are able to breathe in standard atmosphere, but only due to genetic engineering and implants. Bloodspawn can breathe in most types of atmosphere without issue, provided the pressure is within acceptable ranges, while certain races such as the Rylians and Reilanh have different atmospheric requirements, and thus their spread within the Pantheonic Territory has been heavily limited. Most species with such requirements simply do not live within Pantheonic space.]


    Epon Celans: [An ancient humanoid race which has long been extinct, the Epon Celans are the ancestors of the Korlove, Jobu, Merris, and the fourth daughter race, the Najani, who have since become extinct themselves. Of these races, the Epon Celans were most similar in appearance to the Merris, though they lacked many of the biological enhancements that this race bears. Similarly, they lacked the musculature and ashatic resistance of the Jobu. The origin of the Epon Celans is unclear, though due to the fact that they are a humanoid species, it is widely believed that they did not evolve naturally.]


    Technology:


    Titans: [No mortal race understands flickering miasma like the Celans do, not even most ascendants and Osine. The secrets of the chaotic force that it represents are some of the deepest depths of modern science, and knowledge of them comes with great power. The pinnacle of mechanical armor technology in Telles, Titans are vast constructions that fuse miasma and metal at a nearly fundamental level, resulting in machines piloted by mortals, but with combat potential equivalent to a lesser ascendant, also known as an earthly immortal. Highly sought after by the other advanced races for the technological secrets they represent, titans are extremely illegal, for a single titan is capable of destroying an entire space habitat if its pilot wished. Despite being famed, some doubt the very existence of titans, as Celan organizations within the Pantheonic Territory usually refuse to show them, claiming they are too dangerous to be used. As even enforcers are powerful enough they can wipe out nearly anything in their path, there may be some merit to this assertion.]


    Port Authority Sensor Ships: [Used not only on Tseludia Station, but in most Pantheonic Government controlled stations, these ships use large sensors that bombard target areas with very small high energy particles to create a perfect model of everything within the area. Certain materials and technologies can absorb the particles or warp them around an object or space, but due to the near perfect three dimensional envelope, there are no known species whose technology is capable of hiding without any notice through one such sweep. While their use is expensive and can cause health issues in certain species when exposed, they are incredibly effective at finding contraband. This technology is known by most species beyond a certain advancement level, as it does not require any miasmic technology to construct and utilize. It is rumored the Staiven are able to mass produce them using some secret, more advanced technology on their homeworld. In addition, the Staiven are the only ones able to cut costs by making the ships that carry the sensors manned. The vibration and energy exposure cause health problems in most of the other races. Some expensive Staiven medical clinics use a similar technology to search their bodies for the source of health problems.]


    Manifest Energy Projection Devices: [A relatively recent Staiven innovation, these machines allow for manifest miasma to generate exotic energies inside the depths of a reactor, allowing for strings of these energies to be formed and directed within a limited area for certain periods of time. The technology is quite bulky and has a limited range, though its output is incredibly powerful, so it has seen some interest for military and security purposes, rather than the mining and scientific purposes for which it was originally developed. After all, it is capable of tearing through nearly anything in its path. However, it can not be scaled down or up, as the exact details of how to control the manifestation are not fully understood. As one might expect, this patent is owned by the church of Fulstovis. Currently, it has only been sold to the Pantheonic Government, though it is expected to make it to wider markets within the next decade.]


    Terran System Design: [It is said that the extinct species known as Humanity was once plagued with members who learned how to operate systems and machines, without actually understanding how they function, nor the advanced operation mechanics of the system. Many species have similar issues, and it is normal for systems to be designed with the potential issues this may cause in mind. When the Terrans were created, designed as machines implanted with the minds of these ordinary civilians, it was thought pointless to code such safeguards in. After all, to leave a machine unaware of its own limitations was to take risks as well as to reduce effectiveness, and they would all be able to train themselves to full operational understanding in mere moments. Still, many Terrans in the early days of their construction damaged their own minds by going beyond their means. For this reason, in a later firmware update, one primary safeguard was put into place, a forced shutdown when the system capacity threshold is reached, right before the system strain would begin to cause permanent damage. While it could still be circumvented, the Terran in question would need to do so willingly. And few would choose a few more moments of operation over their own continued survival.]


    Relic Weapons: [Weapons created by deities, there is nothing special about such weapons other than their origin. In theory, they could be replicated by a sufficiently advanced civilization. Still, given the advancement of the Canvasian civilization, such gifts are the pinnacle of weapons among martial artists. All four of the ''deities'' of Canvas are said to have created such weapons, though most were created by Toval. He scattered them around the depths of the jungles of the Crucible and Bounty, for powerful adventurers of any race to encounter. Ceirra gave hers only to the most powerful and dedicated of Sunlit Hall''s members, while Saaya gifted hers to the Reth. These weapons were elegantly crafted, and fused metal and leather with miasmic treasures to allow martial artists to empower them and use them to effectively grow their own miasmic reserves and power. nearly all of the greatest heroes in stories is said to have wielded one of these weapons despite their rarity. Domines is said to have only created six of them, but because Domines is not an ascendant, her weapons boast no miasmic treasure, but merely incredibly powerful construction. They are said to be practically indestructible by all tested means. The vast majority of all relic weapons have gone missing over time, as their wielders are slain, they are stolen, and are taken off of Canvas.]


    Martial Arts:


    Martial Academy Arts of Tseludia Station: [Under the influence of the Hadal Clan, there are many constraints imposed among all other martial organizations. Martial arts comparable in might to those controlled by the clan are heavily restricted, and cannot be found except within the Clan''s library and from martial artists arriving from out of system. There are less than six techniques taught within these martial academies, and of them, four use genesis miasma, the same that most of the Hadal Clan''s arts use. It is believed that the clan purposefully leaked some weaker arts, so that prodigious talents from outside the family can be recruited and subordinated, or married into the clan, as their arts and miasma are compatible with those of the Clan. The final two such arts are flickering in nature, and rumor has it that they were actually created by curious scholars among the Celans.]


    Extant Arts: [While extant arts are not particularly secretive in nature, and accepted by both the orthodox and unorthodox paths, practitioners are quite rare. There are few martial organizations that specifically focus on these arts, though many organizations try to support a few artists each generation with such a path, because they can be very useful. The arts are simply not seen as as glamorous as the others for most, as they enhance the body the least of all miasma types. In fact, it can be said that they have a negative impact on the body, since many extant techniques in fact reduce the ability of the body, via intangibility. Still, illusion arts can be incredibly powerful in large scale conflict, and it is said that extant path immortals are among the most dangerous.]


    Core Formation: [The third realm of martial arts. When a martial artist has finished carving their new meridians, they will find that miasma has a tendency to fill up the body. This ream is the start of the core formation realm. This miasma can be concentrated around one''s dantians, setting up the foundations of what will become cores, structures that are reforged dantians. For most practitioners, the cores are small spheres similarly sized and shaped to the dantians they and merged with, but it is said the cores of sanguine and formless practitioners are a bit different. To fully form one''s cores and reach the stage of spirit refinement, one must use one technique for each dantian, a heart, body, and mind technique within each of the relevant dantians. The technique will become one with it. While other techniques can be used in the spirit refinement stage, these three techniques will acquire great strength beyond what any other technique can hope to match, and become synonymous with the path of the martial artist. In addition, the more powerful the techniques prior to forming the cores, the more powerful the martial artist will be as a spirit refiner. Forming one''s cores is the most dangerous bottleneck in martial arts, for not only do natural treasures need to be used to form them, but also because failure can result in shattered dantians, crippling one''s martial arts. Many reach the peak of core formation and choose not to undergo the next step out of fear of this occurrence.]


    Surrender: [The nature of surrender is largely secret information within sects with ancient roots. It is a rare occurrence where a martial artist loses their grip on their own power, but are able to regain themselves by allowing it to influence their minds. For most miasmas, this influence drastically shifts their personality according to its nature. Surrender for formless miasma is said to be the easiest to return from, as it often manifests as the affected user attempting to act how they would normally, or how society wishes them to. Because of their affected minds, surrendered individuals face a heightened flow of miasma that makes them more powerful, but also causes damage to their soul that will ultimately kill them within a week in most cases. For those who have weak or damaged souls, this can occur far more rapidly. For this reason, if a surrendered individual does not regain control within this time, they will die. In ancient times, those who surrendered were generally used as elite suicide troops, as they were more powerful than usual, and returning from surrender was not considered a likely occurrence. Surrendered sanguine practitioners are usually immediately killed by those around them, even by their own sect members, though the particular reason for this has been largely lost to time.]


    Manifest Arts: [An odd martial art, manifest techniques often result in the formation and reformation of materials and energy as if from nowhere. According to modern science, it is believed that this matter and energy emerges from certain separate spacetimes rather than truly forming from nothing. Some say the spacetime in connection is a theorized layer beneath the Spirit World. Because it relates to generation, manifest martial arts techniques can be very odd in combat. Some manifest practitioners summon weapons, heat, stone, or other materials, though they are heavily limited by their realm and specific techniques. Of all the different martial paths, the manifest arts are one of the most difficult to use in combat at lower levels, as most techniques can only be used at higher realms of martial arts. Individual manifest paths might be either orthodox or unorthodox, depending on their nature, that being whether or not the manifest practitioner generates their art in the interior or exterior of their bodies.]


    Sanguine Arts: [Sanguine miasma''s nature is to serve as a conduit between spacetimes, and serves the role of binding the body to the soul. In essence, there is only one real sanguine art: turning oneself into a conduit, and using it to connect to something in another spacetime. That is to say, that sanguine practitioners contract with spirits and gods, when possible. The difference is in just who they contract. Some practitioners lack such assistance at all, and are forced to simply fuel themselves with the flows of energy within the spirit world, while the most blessed can borrow the favor of an ascendant or Osine. Of course, such favor would destroy the soul of one too weak to handle it. Specific sanguine techniques relate to just what is being enhanced or borrowed through the conduit, and so two practitioners with the same contract but different techniques might use it in very different ways. Due to the particular connection between humanoid bodies and sanguine miasma, all sanguine practitioners are able to enhance the amount of miasma within their body at any time simply by willfully damaging their own meridians. There are many sanguine practitioners who do this in every battle.]


    Basic/Unattuned Forms: [Certain types of movements work well with different types of miasmas, at least in the context of martial artists. For example, a formless practitioner uses inconsistent, flowing motions, while a flickering pracitioner might use more harsh, stuttered motions. However, martial artists at the foundation refinement stage and below still need to learn basic motions in order to train up their bodies and souls, and prepare to summon miasma. For this reason, long ago martial artists created sets of motions that do not correspond to any of the six miasmas, or at least, correspond to all of them as well. These unattuned forms, also known as the Basic Forms, have almost as many variations as there are different sects, and there is one important benefit to them over more advanced, attuned stances. Practitioners who first learned the basic forms can choose to acquire any miasma, not just the one their form corresponds to. For this reason, these forms are a staple of training for any sect that has techniques for more than just one or two energies.]


    Martial Weapons: [While there are noticeable differences in the utility between certain weapons in the hands of martial artists versus mortals, most of the weapons used by martial artists are merely the same types wielded by mortal armies prior to the development of firearms, in many civilizations. Swords are by far the most popular weapon, as their dynamic utility takes advantage of the speed and flexibility that martial artists have, but there are martial arts designed for great power from axes, perfect control of whips, and excellent usages of shields. Even weapons that would be ludicrous and near impossible for mortals to wield effectively see use by certain martial sects, such as the meteor hammer and the rope dart. Tseludia Station, however, is dominated by sword wielders, as the Hadal Clan largely teaches its disciples only sword arts and fist arts.]


    Ashata and Spacetime:


    Ashata: [The substance that defines reality, ashata is the exposed lifeblood of creation itself. Located within the spacetime known as the Brink, ashata is used by Ascendants, Osine, and the more advanced races to increase their control over reality itself. When brought into Telles, ashata codifies itself into one of the six miasmas, though the mortal races do not understand the reason for this. It is said that souls themselves are composed of ashata, and some theorize that the hierachy of the soul is solely based upon just how much ashata one can store and control within the shroud that restrains it. There is some evidence to support this theory, as the shroud is what Spirit Refiners among the Seiyal seek to improve as they prepare for ascension. However, without a progression system, other mortal races are largely unable to alter the substance and nature of their souls. They would need a way to manipulate and control ashata within the spirit world, before it becomes miasma and enters Telles. If a race of mortals acquired such technology, they might be said to have gained the power to contend with the gods. Some say that the Osine was once one such mortal race.]


    Cutting Edge Extant Research: [While all miasmas break the conventional laws of physics in various ways, and have been described as viruses upon reality itself, the way that extant miasma seems to alter reality is arguably the most apparent. After all, unlike genesis or manifest miasma, the particles and waves it is capable of creating truly seem to have emerged from nothing. Some have posited that extant miasma merely creates odd structures out of the firmament of space-time that appear to be matter and energy, or that extant creation also creates equal anti-particles somewhere else in the universe. Others have posited that perhaps extant miasma is what the mythical Empyreans once used to create the universe itself. The latter hypothesis has been largely discredited due to lacking evidence.]


    Soul/Ashatic Senses: [A rare sense for a mortal race to have, the ability to use a natural conduit to one''s soul to use it as a sensory organ is very rare, only showing up in races such as the Seiyal and the Staiven, who were created by Ascendants. It is believed by many that such a sense cannot develop naturally, because its fundamental operation breaks the laws that govern this world. Only warpings can initiate such a process. The sense functions by analyzing the shifting of the individual''s shroud as it reacts to the flow of ashata within the brink. Judging by the way that it moves can determine how the natural flows were interfered with by other nearby shrouds, and can be used to determine the rough locations of the other souls. It is said that it is possible for, using a progression system, this sense to be greatly enhanced by altering the structure of one''s soul, to acquire very clear and refined use of this scent, able to determine not just the size and location of the souls, but also their structure and orientation. In theory, such an enhanced version of this sense would be the same as the function of the primary senses of spiritual beings such as the Osine.]


    Voidgates: [While a voidgate appears to be a tear in reality, it is actually something entirely unlike a lesion. Instead, they are very advanced topological restructurings of reality rather than true holes. While it is believed to be conceivable that some very powerful ascendants and Osine can create them, all known voidgates are near the system of Staive, created by the powerful ancient machines known as the Calculation Engines. Voidgates are simple in function: they create distorted paths in spacetime, similar yet distinct to that of a wormhole, allowing for vast distances to be traversed in moments. Currently, five voidgates have been opened by the Seer. Of them, three lead into various areas within the Frontier, while the other two lead into various Osine territories. Of those leading into the Frontier, one of them was located just slightly more than a lightyear away from Canvas, while another was located near enough from the Celan flotilla for its refugees to find refuge through it. Voidgate travel is heavily regulated by the Pantheonic Government, as one end of each voidgate is located within the Staive system itself, posing both an immense boon to trade as well as an immense security risk for the Staiven homeworld.]


    Akatar: [Originally thought to simply be flickering miasma, akatar is actually an activated high-energy state, and only occurs naturally within the Incursion, when lesions allow miasma to flow directly into Telles. Celah, which is located in that area, is covered in millions of lesions, and so akatar was commonly encountered by the ancestors of the modern Celans, and exposure to it over the course of generations has led to the Jobu race''s high ashatic resistance. As it is a type of flickering miasma, akatar is a chaotic energy which moves in inconsistent stuttering powers, and altering the shape and nature of everything it touches. In rare circumstances, it had even been able to transform nonliving structures into moving, monsters that almost resemble living organisms. According to ancient Jobu myth, akatar is the lifeblood of the universe itself.]


    Smog and Sanguine Miasma: [Rethian Smog, also known simply as ''The Smog,'' is a phenomenon believed to have been created by Saaya, and has earned her the title of ''Lady of Shadows.'' The Smog is a thick black smoke that is slightly poisonous to many species, but healthy for the Reth to breathe. It also forms naturally when Reth use their progression system, as it is said that ever since the Rethian homeland was destroyed, the Smog was moved into the spirit world. However, rumors say that it is not that the smog is tied to the Rethian progression system specifically, but instead deeply entwined with sanguine miasma in general. This would explain the functionings of some of the odder techniques that sanguine martial practitioners among the Seiyal have developed in recent decades, as well as, some have hypothesized, the reason why red-eyed Staiven supposedly never survive to Elder status.]


    Apotheosis Rituals: [Progression systems do not form naturally, and the earliest ascendants existed long before the first Osine. Extreme infusions of miasma into the body and soul of an individual is capable of progressing one directly to the point of ascension, though the process is so taxing in dangerous that the success rate is far lower than one percent. Still, it provides the possibility of achieving a higher existence to those from races which lack such a system. An apotheosis ritual is an attempt to manufacture such an experience and increase its odds of success. While this can to an extent raise the odds, such a ritual would require hundreds of miasmic treasures, rendering it only an option for only the most rich, desperate and power-hungry of individuals.]


    Ashatic Currents: [The movement of ashatic currents through the Brink have been a matter of extensive scholarly study, and there have even been theories correlating this to the structure and location of celestial bodies within Telles, or perhaps to an unknown field interacting with the esoteric substance. One recent theory by a renowned Celan researcher contains the hypothesis that this flow is caused by micro scale lesions which are too small to be normally detected, and which are perhaps at fault for the strange differences between physics at the quantum and macro scales. What is known is that these flows can be found everywhere, within the Brink, and can be disrupted by contact with souls, lesions and ashatic constructs. Such flows can even be entirely diverted by the efforts of ascendants.]You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    The Natural Conduit: [For any sapient mortal race, there is an element which binds one¡¯s soul to their body. Souls only form around gestating consciousnesses, but if nothing prevents the ashata composing the soul from drifting off, the backlash will cause the emergent consciousness to suffer extensively from the backlash. While this does not always cause the death of the organism, it certainly prevents it from achieving sapience. The factor which ties the physical body to the soul is known as the natural conduit, as no other types of conduit form naturally. For most species, this is the brain or brain-like equivalent organ. For humanoids alone, it is the blood. The reason for this remains currently unknown to the modern science of races such as the Staiven and the Celans.]


    Shroud: [The Shroud is a term for a type of ashatic membrane which surrounds the soul of a mortal. It holds in the ashata, preserving the vital structures such as the engrams which record trace records of the mortal¡¯s mind. Shrouds mitigate the soul¡¯s interaction with the ashatic currents of the Brink, allowing some energies to nourish the soul and forcing the rest to pass around. The function of the shroud of a mortal and the angote shell of an Osine seem to share certain similarities.]


    Composition of the Mortal Soul: [The most complex of the common ashatic structures, a soul is shaped like an amorphous sac filled with thick fluid, shifting along with the flow and current of ashata within the Brink. This ¡®sac¡¯ is called the shroud. It is a membrane composed of a thick, durable ashatic compound which allows certain quantities of ashata to permeate in and out in a process similar to osmosis. The interior of the soul has a jelly-like consistency. This ashatic material is continually nourished, refreshed, and expelled, and forms the information retaining structures known as engrams by interfacing with the natural conduit to the sapient mind to which the soul is bound.]


    Pantheonic Laws and Culture:


    Education on Tseludia Station: [For the station''s Staiven population, the Pantheonic Government has chartered corporations to provide proper education. For other races, no such funding is granted, although the schools are willing to accept student enrollments from various other races such as Celans, Escalos, and Telaretians if a hefty enrollment fee is paid. Such enrollments are rather uncommon, as each of these races has their own corporate schools run by their own cultures. In generally only happens in families who live in Staiven dominated districts such as the first or second. For ''lesser'' races such as the Canvasians, Exid, Bloodspawn, and Ardith, there are smaller schools with less advanced scientific and technological curriculum, generally run by corporations wishing to train up cheap labor that can be exploited. For the poor, unless charity and fortunate events are acquired, homeschooling is the only available option. This issue is one exploited by the various underworld organizations for affordable and desperate additions to their forces.]


    Staiven Legal System: [The legal system of Staive has remained almost exactly as it is now for centuries. While it pretends to be an impartial system for ensuring no innocent civilians are taken to prison for crimes they did not commit, in reality it largely just serves as a way for those with money to escape from their sentencing by bribing the judges. Judicial positions are one of the most highly sought after of all government jobs, and the competition for them is intense, as they can make almost as much as a high cleric or a corporate CEO if they manage to preside over cases involving important figures. This is particularly so when they can initiate a bidding war between both sides, or trick one of the sides into giving money and not returning it even though they lose. Of course, a judge''s reputation is key, as if they are seen as untrustworthy, none will be willing to bribe them. Judges have been killed for not following certain strict unspoken rules of corruption. In most cases, the trial is fundamentally just a formality with the result decided long in advance.]


    Hate Crimes on Tseludia: [For a station as diverse as Tseludia, interactions between individuals of various races can be fraught at times, in particular due to the preferential treatment given to certain races by the Pantheonic Government and the underworld organizations. Disputes between underworld forces have long caused tensions between certain groups, such as the longstanding resentment held by the Canvasians and the Celans for one another. Similarly, many resent the preferential treatment held by the Staiven, and to a lesse extent the Escalos, who have something of an issue with the Telaretians themselves. Such tensions spiraled into a large gang war between underworld organizations decades ago. Although the gangs are largely held back by the underworld forces which control them, individual perpetuators of hate crimes continue to pop up every so often, particularly in the slums. Many have called for institutional reform in order to prevent such violence, but the Pantheonic Government''s official stance is that arresting and deporting criminals to the prison moon is the most effective way to curb crime.]


    Corporate Ownership According to the Pantheonic Government: [As corporations are a vital part of Staiven society, they are protected by the government, both for the purposes of economic stability and because most influential figures in the government hold partial stake in one or more major corporations. In fact, corporate stock is considered part of the job benefits for many government careers. Ownership for corporations and businesses is split into portions, so that stock can be owned by many, however there is no proper stock market, unlike how many species manage their businesses. Instead, trades are solely done privately, and are rarely split up too much, due to worries about hostile takeovers. For this reason, as well as due to the prevalence of the underworld, hostile takeovers tend to be more literal, despite extensive protections codified into law to prevent them. After all, the law matters less than the opinion of the courts. However, some of the most powerful corporations are partially owned by the churches, and so none would dare infringe upon them. There are few of the greatest corporations who are not owned at least in part by the Church of Fulstovis. These laws and rules, except for certain protections, apply as well to businesses created and owned by members of other species.]


    Staiven Imprisonment Methods: [Like most organizations of the Pantheonic Government, the Justice Office is run as a business, and expected to make profit. For this reason, convicts are put to work until their sentence is paid off, rather than mere incarceration or execution. Their labor is rented away to the corporations in the given system. Despite the risks and dangers, this system is utilized even for alien races with progression systems, such as those from Canvas. The sole difference is that such individuals are placed within more well-constructed cells and watched extremely closely. The reason that such effort is used is because the more powerful a given individual is, the more valuable the benefits that might be acquired from their labor, in theory. Such individuals are almost always shipped off to prison moons instead of being used on world or on station, as they will be forced by their isolation to comply. After all, even if one were to slay the guards and escape one¡¯s bonds, the individual would remain trapped on the moon, unable to escape back to civilization.]


    Uncategorized:


    Kadeki: [Many civilizations make sure to teach their children well about their history. Part of this often takes the form of moral tales told using historical figures. Some are idealized into heroes, while others are demonized into villains. For some of these villains, little exaggeration is required to achieve this. Kadeki was an official of the city of Opportunity, in the final great age of Celah. His parents had been very rich merchants, and their deep connections had led to him achieving a fairly high position even in the young age of his mid twenties. As the sparks of rebellion continued to flicker into the kindling of the city''s slums, it was Kadeki''s idea to spread a pathogen in the slums to cull the dissenters, and raise the government''s image after they ''miraculously'' created a cure. His plan resulted in the death of tens of millions of innocent civilians, widely considered the second greatest genocide in Celan history, losing only to the scourge of Celah by the Khalak''Ora. A leak which released information about this action resulted in riots and uprising. Records about Kadeki in the aftermath of the uprising which destroyed the city''s government have been lost, and it is believed he lost his life in the chaos.]


    The Riverfiend: [One of the most notable public figures on the station within recent months, Cyrus ''Riverfiend'' Yu is the Sect Leader of the Redwater Sect, a Canvasian organization located in Canvas Town. It is widely known to be an underworld organization, and believed to secretly be affiliated with the Hadal Clan. The Riverfiend has been involved in practically every major shift in Tseludia''s underworld during the time he has been present on the station. Recently reaching the level of a spirit refiner, the Riverfiend is one of the most dangerous individuals on the station, and is someone deeply tied to the growing tension and resentment between the station''s Celan and Canvasian population. His political beliefs are unknown, but many suspect he has already made ties to one or more Staiven corporations due to the pace of his sect''s economic development. Many have become concerned about just what the intentions of this unorthodox practitioner are, and for what purpose he has arrived on the station. Conspiracy theories that it is his goal to take over the Hadal Clan and turn the station''s Canvasian populace into an unorthodox anti-Sunlit Hall faction have only continued to grow over time, but his popularity among the downtrodden has yet to diminish.]


    Martial Titles: [An ancient custom, giving skilled martial artists titles to emphasize their unique qualities has been practiced on the Sunlit and Crucible continents for millennia. These titles have historically been granted by others, and usually out of respect, but have also been used to mock and deride someone for a very public failure or mistake. Some even try to give themselves powerful-sounding titles in an attempt to start their own martial legend, a practice which generally has mixed results. The practice of granting martial titles has yet to cease, particularly because news companies will sometimes assign them to martial artists the moment they achieve something notable. In sufficiently rural or isolated areas, the requirements tend to be lower than in a place such as the largest cities on Canvas.]


    The Master-Disciple Relationship: [As important as heritage by blood, master-disciple heritage bears similar responsibilities and duties. The master''s orders must be followed, but they also have the responsibility to train their disciples to the best of their ability. A master''s connections and reputation becomes part of the disciple''s own, and in sects, this can give a powerful figure''s disciples great influence even with the more senior forces in the same sect. Training a disciple who eventually becomes a powerhouse is also a great honor, and the master is similarly allowed to borrow from the disciple''s status in such circumstances. However, what matters most is the oaths one swears in the process of becoming master and disciple. Some masters impose harsh oaths with tough penalties, while others do not bother to impose anything at all. For many, who one''s master is matters more than who one''s parents are. This is true even in clans, though in a clan one''s master will almost always be a relative.]


    Canvasian Technological Distribution: [Due to their exposure to aliens with higher technological bases, the Canvasians who live away from their home world tend to have a far greater comprehension of technological principles. Many areas of their homeworld have only relatively recently implemented electrical infrastructure, and due to the wars ongoing, a great deal of this is destroyed on the continents of the Crucible and Bounty. on Sunlit Hall, however, the technological base has been steadily rising, as more advanced energy generation and utilization technologies are continually developed. This has resulted in rampant industrialization, particularly with the assistance of alien technology that Sunlit Hall''s off-world branches continually send home. It is expected that within less than a century, most of Canvas will have fully developed according to the norms of interstellar civilizations, capable of building its own ships to colonize its area. By this point, Sunlit Hall is also expected to be in full control of all habitable continents on the planet''s surface unless the situation changes. Sunlit Hall is rumored to be concerned that their surrounding star systems will be secretly colonized by the Staiven before this point, rendering them trapped within their system unless they become true vassals of the Pantheonic Government or travel so far away into the vast that they are unable to maintain a uniform civilization with those who remain on their homeworld. The Pantheonic Government claims to have no such interests, but has made no promises not to do so.]


    Tseludian Mercenaries: [In a place where the underworld holds as much power as it does in Tseludia Station, Private Military Companies are vital for preserving the power of the corporations. These forces, many of whose members are also part of the underworld, hold the different forces in check, as well as guarding the various corporations against one another. They are experts in fishing in murky waters, able to profit from all sorts of wars and disputes, often from both sides of the conflict. These companies are extremely territorial against one another, competing for contracts, and in many cases fighting against one another. Some mercenary companies are largely or entirely composed of one race, while others are extremely diverse, taking in members from all sorts of different races and assigning roles according to skills. Powerful practitioners of progression systems such as the Seiyal are highly prized by all PMCs, though it is rare for any of the core formation level or above to join one. Such individuals are often more likely to found their own.]


    Martial Robes: [The robes a martial artist wears dictates their identity, marking both the force that they originate from, as well as their position within that force. Many martial artists exclusively wear such clothing. Some claim that these traditional robes are inferior in combat to advanced equipment, but it is extremely rare for a sect or clan to ¡®upgrade¡¯. Explanations for why traditional robes are better usually relate to how they are much easier to move in than armor would be. That said, many mercenary practitioners choose to spurn tradition. Some martial artists like to wear blank or ¡®unaffiliated¡¯ robes, and these are generally looked down upon compared to those who display their affiliation.]


    Inter-System Commerce: [Only a few of the races living within the Pantheonic Territory have the ability to construct their own spaceships, and the Staiven refuse to sell their own to other races. After all, forcing other races to rent ship usage is a major economic boon. The Staiven, the Celans, the Reth, and the Telaretians are the only races whose ships can be found working as traders between the systems of the territory. The Celans have only a few shipyards, and the types of ships they construct are restricted by the Pantheonic Government. The origin of the Reth''s ships are unknown by the government, but for some reason no action has been undertaken to find it or to restrict it in any way. Telaretian ships exclusively originate from outside of the Pantheonic Territory. Merchant ships largely serve on contract work for corporations, both Staiven and alien, but many of them also serve as passenger ships for both immigrants and refugees. Many of the original generation of inter-system space traders are still alive, their lives unnaturally lengthened by the extensive amount of time they spend in hibernation.]


    Staiven Station Atmospheres: [As much as most life in Telles which developed naturally tends to be very unique, the races who were created by gods conversely tend to share very distinct similarities. The most obvious of these are the ¡®humanoid¡¯ races, such as the Celans Seiyal and Reth, or the Staiven, who have obvious similarities in appearance to humanoids despite being vastly different on physiological and morphological scales. Most of these races, too, breathe in similar atmospheres. In fact, Staiven space stations only feature the unique combination of gases that such races prefer to breathe, having little interest in building structures where Staiven cannot live. This has had a vast impact on the demographics of the Pantheonic Territory, where immigrants and refugees from races who cannot breath in such atmospheres are only able to wear environment suits or lease habitable planets which suit their needs.]


    Locations:


    Retirement Facilities: [Throughout the Pantheonic Territory, the most influential members of the churches, government, and corporations all share a desire, one most powerful mortals share. The ambition to achieve immortality. Even their reverence for the Pantheon has not tamped this emotion down, merely driving it to greater heights. The elite of Staiven society wish to become Ascendants, to join the Pantheon for themselves, perhaps, or at least subsidiary deities. Despite technically having their own progression system, the Staiven are unable to reach such a level. For this reason, throughout the territory, many planetary and station governments have been sharing information with one another about their own experiments to alter the Staiven progression system, inspired in particular by those of the Seiyal and Reth, which are capable of achieving ascension. For this reason the government has mandated the creation of retirement programs throughout the territory, sending the elders of their own species, as well as kidnapped members of other races with progression systems into laboratories to serve as experimental subjects. The results and extent of such experiments vary from system to system.]


    Reth (Region): [Sharing a name with its historical inhabitants, the region of the Crucible known as Reth is located in a massive caldera in the continent''s interior. The region is filled with a mass of black smoke that rests in the caldera because it is heavier than air. This smoke, often called the Rethian Smog, is slightly poisonous to the Seiyal and Tovus, but causes no issues to the hardy lifeforms within. Despite how inhospitable the area might seem, it is actually thriving with life, from various animals to plant species that can only survive in such conditions. Or, at least, it was until it was blasted from orbit by the Staiven as part of their treaty with Sunlit Hall. In the aftermath, the Smog completely vanished, as if it had been destroyed.Now, Reth truly is a blasted hellscape, though one without the unique conditions it had once maintained. Rumors have it that much of the area''s native wildlife still survives, taken away as crops and livestock by Reth refugees fleeing the planet. Unlike the other inhabitants of the region, the Reth themselves do not require the Smog to breathe, but they still have a deep connection to it. Once, the abilities they acquired from their progression system only functioned inside of the smog. Now, it is said that their abilities are able to work anywhere, and that black smoke forms around them when they use it. Some say that Saaya brought the Smog into the spirit world to protect it from destruction, in order to keep her children safe.]


    Veraillen Station: [The design of Tseludia Station was not unique. In fact, the original commission for its design was intended to be used for a total of six stations, to be placed in various frontier systems, each named in honor of one of the Pantheon''s deities. The result, a series of uniquely designed stations who few Staiven found appealing as a living space, were later repurposed for housing refugees and alien immigrants into the Pantheonic Territory. One of these stations was Veraillen Station, which is located nearer to Canvas than Tseludia, and therefore has a higher population of Seiyal. Veraillen is known to have a particularly dangerous underworld, and plenty of films and shows created on other stations such as Tseludia like to use it as the setting for crime thrillers.]


    Staiven Prison Moons: [When it comes to cheap labor in the Pantheonic Territory, the answer is obviously the Exid. However, the worker drones cannot move too far away from their Queen, or they will lose all intelligent direction. So when it comes to mining for resources, the choices are to use machines or cheap laborers. Given the limits imposed on the Pantheonic Government by treaty with the Sheneth-Ari on machine intelligence, this means laborers must be acquired, ideally as cheaply as possible to benefit the corporations involved. For this reason, prison sentences are purchased by the corporations and the convicts are put to work. The unskilled are put to work on the prison moons, where they mine material and ''sell'' it to the corporation for food, lodgings, various amenities that are offered, and to repay the ''value'' of their sentence. Of course, the corporation has many ways to increase the value of this ''debt'' in order to keep them working for as long as possible. For this reason, only the most skilled or most connected convicts have much hope for every reaching the end of their sentences. Asteroid mining is considered a more skilled and lucrative option, and many of the convicts on the moons fight for such limited opportunities, even though it is rumored that a significant number of those who are given opportunities to leave the moon to mine asteroids are actually taken away to be used in pharmaceutical testing. The threat of being taken to the prison moons is the true source of the Justice Office''s power over the population. But within the Justice Office itself, it is known that quotas must be met.]


    The Janaste System: [Despite ostensibly being under the control of the Pantheonic Government, the Janaste system is where most of the refugees from the Celan flotilla were placed after being accepted into the region by the government. None of the planets are habitable, nor is the system particularly conveniently located or full of resources. Still, it is the hub of Celan culture and industry, and has rapidly become a technological center to rival Staive itself. It is said that for tens of lightyears in every direction the system can be seen with the naked eye from all of the flickering miasma emanating from the vast industrial shipyards and the stations themselves, which were constructed by the Celans. Rather than there being an actual branch of the Pantheonic Government, the Staiven, who have little desire to live in such an alien culture, have simply created a vassal state simply called the Celan Government, or the Janaste Government. Staiven Officials are sent on several year long shifts to oversee this government and ensure the Celans cannot break out of Staiven control. It is rumored, however, that there is a ''shadow government'' whose influence dwarfs even that of the Staiven in the system. The Pantheonic Government keeps a close watch on the system, but allows it to remain in its current state because of how much value exists in interspecies mercantilism.]


    Factions:


    Exid Corporations: [Upon introduction to Staiven society, the Exid who chose to live within the Pantheonic Territory shifted their culture to better interface with the civilization they existed within. In Tseludia Station, Exid Queendoms are legally listed as corporations, and are granted the relevant protections and rights of a corporate CEO. The various queendoms dominate the manufacturing market of the station, taking advantage of their skilled, easily replaced workers with a total lack of rights. In addition, due to their position as leaders of vast forces, the Exid Queens found themselves easily able to use their might to influence the workings of the underworld as well. Even the mystical and mechanical might of the Seiyal and Celans respectively find it difficult to deal with the endless swarms of insects in a fight. As fighting in this way hurts the bottom line of their corporations, as the lives of their worker drones are treated as resources, it is something usually avoided, however. As a way to leverage this power without using it, several of them have taken to becoming loan sharks, offering loans to almost anyone at varying rates of interest, loans that very few individuals would dare to default on. Due to infighting between the various Queendoms, however, their territory of Otan is seen by some as one of the weakest districts of Tseludia in terms of underworld control.]


    The Lee Clan: [One of the most powerful martial organizations who practice sanguine arts, the Lee Clan is a family that are fervent devotees of the goddess Saaya. As both unorthodox practitioners and ''heretics'', they are one of Sunlit Hall''s highest priority targets for extermination. The clan originated on the Crucible, and was once one of the most powerful forces on the continent. They steadily lost power and influence over the course of Sunlit Hall''s various crusades. While their influence and finances were crippled, the foundation of their martial strength was never shattered. Several centuries ago the clan fled Canvas with the Reth, and their current whereabouts are largely unknown. Members of the Lee Clan are occasionally still used to perform the role of villains in media. This is not only because of Sunlit Hall propaganda, but also because their unorthodox sanguine arts involve mutilation of both themselves and others. For this reason they are seen as forces of evil.]


    Martial Sects: [Existing on Canvas for as long as historians can track, martial sects have served as forces that train up some of the most powerful of martial artists, due to their long histories and extensive catalogues of techniques for their disciples. Sects can be found on every inhabited continent, and even throughout the universe, wherever a sufficient population of Seiyal can be found. Unlike a clan, sects are often largely meritocratic, giving advantages based on talent and skill, rather than merely for being descendants of a certain bloodline. Despite this, nepotism still exists within sects, as it does in nearly all humanoid societies. Sects are often the hearts of their communities, providing jobs, security, and glory to those who are connected to them. Aside from selling protection via lending disciples to their clients, which were historically travelling merchant groups for protection from bandits, many sects also buy up and own nearby businesses, acquiring the finances they need to continue running. Sects are thus highly competitive, as merchants always respect the more well known and perceived to be powerful sects over those who are less known. Such disputes are why sects so rarely spring up near one another. It is said to be inevitable that two forces located within the same city will inevitably come into conflict.]


    Idrico Health Solutions'' Ownership: [Owned as part of a network of shell companies, Idrico Health Solutions was founded to compete with the Venin Group without causing any hostility between the group and the company''s actual owner/s. This is a common tactic among Staiven corporations, and one considered ''sporting.'' Of course, if one is able to navigate the complex web of holdings and find out the true owner, it is also fair game to express one''s resentment against the true competitor, who in this case is actually the Tseludian branch of the Margrave Corporation. Notably, the Margrave Corporation has ''purchased'' several businesses in the past who formed as if from nowhere, bankrupted their competitors with cheaper and more effective products, and then significantly increased the product''s price after being ''purchased'' by Margrave, and when they have a near or total monopoly of the market.]


    Ascendants and Osine:


    Delithia: [Along with Relya the Sunweaver, goddess of the Escalos, Delithia is one of the oldest and most powerful ascendants in the known universe. Like Relya, it is said that Delithia had her own associated species, though they are said to be long extinct. Legends of various civilizations say that Delithia entered this universe through the depths of the endless ocean, which has become the ''holy land'' of her cult, whose members are known as Depthists. The cult has yet to discover this claimed ''ocean of boundless depths''. Delithia is an avowed enemy of all Osine nations, and her followers are targets for elimination by their forces. The Depths Cult is also illegal within the Pantheonic Territory, though the government does not usually put too much effort in exterminating them, so the cult widely exists as an underworld organization, running black markets across the territory. A disproportionately high number of the cult''s followers among races with progression systems are those who use sanguine miasma. Delithia''s current location and activities are unknown to all, though it is rumored that she occasionally sends messages to her more devoted followers.]


    Divine Blessings: [Not everyone worships deities, even within races like the Staiven. Of course, it is extremely rare to find a mad conspiracy theorist who does not believe in their existence. After all, evidence for the existence of deities is incredibly apparent. How could beings who do not exist control a very large portion of galactic territory? Despite the known truth of their existence, many of the ''blessings'' and ''miracles'' ascribed to them are simply the product of chance and circumstance. After all, how does one know whether a fruitful harvest was accomplished with the blessings of Estrivai or simply hard work and good fortune? Still, according to the churches, the gods will on occasion manipulate events or reality to bless believers and those who represent their domain, regardless of their faith. It is common for deities to only give such blessings to their chosen people, like Relya for the Escalos, or Cierra for the Seiyal of Sunlit Hall. In recent decades, the targets of such blessings for the deities of the Pantheon have expanded beyond the Staiven to all who live within the Pantheonic Territory, a matter which has occurred around the same time as the Pantheon''s churches'' expansion of their recruitment to non Staiven species.]

 120- Talent

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    I had failed in my refinement attempt, but it was unable to impact my mental state. I had been a practitioner of the martial path for decades, and a slight hindrance so early in my efforts would not impact my efforts whatsoever. In fact, it was to be expected. I was not such a genius that progression came so easily to me.


    I couldn¡¯t help but be driven to introspection at the thought. My people loved to tell stories about prodigies and geniuses. Those for whom everything came naturally, who learned three things after being taught only one.


    There were several types of prodigy. Those who are the greatest in their class, those who are greatest in their city. One could expand the type of genius until one found a legendary genius, greatest in the universe.


    My martial sister and I were both geniuses, but while I would normally have been the greatest genius of an entire sect, she was something greater. One would expect me to have grown up with some sort of inferiority complex, but that was not the case.


    In my experience, I had found that geniuses like her would rarely ever even reach the spirit refiner level. They were simply too prone to attracting fear and envy over their monstrous potential. This I knew all too well. After all, I was the one who killed her.


    The memories cast a dour shadow over my mood. I couldn¡¯t help but wonder if my disciples would turn out the way my master¡¯s had. I hoped not. I had no intention to let my little empire fall apart. If matters put me in that situation, I would have the resolve that he had lacked.


    As I finally left the meditation room and made my way through the sect, Rachel appeared before me, a worried look on her face. I frowned.


    ¡°Has something happened?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ve just had a conversation with the Celan Shade.¡±


    My frown deepened. We had been waiting for news on this matter, and it happened now, at what was likely the very start of a war? It was like this Shade only appeared when times were fraught.


    ¡°Did you learn anything?¡±


    ¡°Some. She claims her name is Janottka, which according to my records is indeed the name of one of the Celan Shades. She also implied herself to be the one at fault for the conditions that led to the riots.¡±


    My pace slowed, and I met Rachel¡¯s gaze.


    ¡°...I see. That would explain matters. Do you know what her motive was?¡±


    Rachel shook her head.


    ¡°All she would talk about is stories and how she was ¡®setting the stage¡¯. The details recorded on her are sparse, so I¡¯m not quite sure what her ¡®purpose¡¯ is. But whatever it is, she seems to have a lot of interest in the two of us specifically.¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t she just want to kidnap you?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so. Or, at least, the way she¡¯s going about it is very strange. Wouldn¡¯t it make far more sense to try and disguise her presence until the moment she strikes? She¡¯s actively revealed herself numerous times already.¡±


    I shrugged. I had insufficient experience to understand most aliens, much less an alien machine.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if we know enough about her to guess. It might be better to just continue to treat her as an enemy. Right now, though, I intend to focus on gaining benefits from the war and continuing to train the disciples.¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t this change anything, though?¡± she asked.


    I gave her a curious look.


    ¡°About what?¡±


    There was still a hint of something unsaid, hidden in her eyes.


    ¡°The war, Cyrus.¡±


    I gave a noncommittal shrug.


    ¡°It hasn¡¯t become a real war, yet. You know the plan. If we¡¯re going to fish in murky waters, it¡¯s best to know where to cast our line. I don¡¯t intend to involve us until one of the forces reaches out to us. I suspect it won¡¯t take too long.¡±


    She paused, and then nodded, a trace of hesitation still on her face.


    ¡°Are you alright?¡± I asked.


    ¡°...I¡¯m just wondering why you¡¯re still so certain that we should plan to work with the Celans?¡±


    ¡°Why shouldn¡¯t we?¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    ¡°We don¡¯t know how much they¡¯re working with Janottka.¡±


    I shrugged.


    ¡°If they are, I can¡¯t imagine they¡¯re happy about it. They destroyed the ship bearing their patron¡¯s representative, and now a powerful member of that patron force has arrived, and what¡¯s more, is causing a war that is highly disadvantageous to them. In fact, I find it plausible that her goal is to punish them for their betrayal.¡±


    ¡°I suppose,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll try to hunt down her traces again, see where her processor is located. There¡¯s little chance she distributed herself around the station so quickly after her arrival.¡±


    I nodded. It wasn¡¯t that I was unworried about the Shade, but more that I felt there was nothing I could do about the matter. This was Rachel¡¯s domain. For once, she would be the one doing the fighting. My job was simply to handle matters within the physical world.


    ¡°By the way, how has the training of the other groups of disciples gone?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Fine, overall,¡± she said. ¡°Orion is a poor teacher, so the manifest disciples are a bit behind, but everyone should be taking in miasma within the next week. The flickering students were the furthest behind, because¡­¡± An awkward look filled her face, perhaps embarrassed at her inability to properly teach martial artists. ¡°...But after Jihan brought Mung Seo in, their training speed rapidly increased. It turns out, he¡¯s quite the teacher. Almost as good as Cinto.¡±


    My brow twitched at the name. Cinto had struck me as such a well-reasoned and stable individual, but the longer I knew her, the worse her mental state seemed to me. I couldn¡¯t help but wonder whether she had simply been good at hiding it, or if the fighting had brought back old wounds of some kind.


    ¡°Speaking of Cinto, is she alright? She¡¯s been avoiding me.¡±


    ¡°That would be because she doesn¡¯t like you very much, Cyrus,¡± replied Rachel dryly. It seemed she had rapidly recovered from her earlier anxious mood.


    ¡°I don¡¯t particularly care whether she likes me or not. Is her mental state alright, is she doing her job well?¡±


    Rachel shrugged.


    ¡°I can¡¯t speak for her mental state. I¡¯ve yet to master your people¡¯s psychology, though she does seem to be more anxious than she used to. Also, she sometimes cries in her room.¡±


    I frowned.


    ¡°Did she do that before?¡±


    Rachel pursed her lips.


    ¡°Not often, no. I suspect she might be shell-shocked from what happened in the retirement facility.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡±


    I pondered the matter, trying to decide what to do. I had seen people with such conditions before, but until now it had never been my problem.


    ¡°But she¡¯s doing a good job of training the disciples?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s thrown herself into it more than ever, in all honesty.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll be fine, then. I won¡¯t throw her into battle again in the near future unless I have to.¡±


    ¡°Probably for the best,¡± agreed Rachel.


    We continued walking down the hall before I thought of another question to ask.


    ¡°How are the Lee group and the Reth?¡±


    ¡°With my assistance they managed to get up the synthesizer to generate the nutrients the Reth need, so they¡¯re no longer at risk of starving. Jihan and his squad are remaining on standby because they expect you to be giving them another task soon. The Reth also asked if there was anything we needed from them. This war might be a good opportunity to put them to use, though if any of them are injured Jihan might get upset at us.¡±


    I nodded approvingly. This was good news. Jihan¡¯s squad and the Reth were the two most powerful squads under my command. Orion and Ran were still quite useful, but since Kein had been crippled and Cinto was not in a healthy mental state, I couldn¡¯t currently use the palace leaders as a squad. Still, the two of them would almost certainly see battle at some point in the war. I expected our resources to be stretched fairly soon as we tried to use this opportunity as a springboard for our power.


    We finally reached the entrance to the training room, and I turned to Rachel, wishing to see if there were any other important matters to discuss. Rather than continue the conversation, Rachel gave me a slight hand wave as her body vanished in an instant. I then turned and entered the room, forcing my mind to switch its focus.


    As I entered the training room, I found that my disciples had yet to burn off their excess energy from before. They were talking excitedly to one another, and even Blake appeared more vibrant and responsive than usual. The first to notice my entrance was Lin, who immediately elbowed the laughing Shadowblade and shifted to a more disciplined pose. The rest of the disciples rapidly followed, quelling their emotions to watch me expectantly. I nodded to them as I raised my sword from its sheath, moving into the first stance of the Downpour Sword Art.


    ¡°Though not all of you will be learning this art, I will begin by showing you this move again now that you have acquired miasma. You should be able to notice a difference in your perception, able to sense what you could not before.¡±


    I slowly shifted the position of my feet, making sure they could see every small movement as my sword slashed upwards into the second stance. I had allowed miasma to course through the simplest standard pattern of this art, even though the version I actually used was far more powerful, complex, and swift. They would need to learn basics to form a foundation before they could even begin to approach such a level.


    ¡°Did you see it?¡± I asked.


    They all had awkward expressions, and I knew they had failed. This was my expectation. Training one¡¯s senses was a process that took time, and it was extremely rare for one to get a grasp on theirs so quickly.


    But I felt it was always best to check to see how much of a genius one¡¯s disciples were. Only with a grasp on their talent could a master hope to teach them as best as possible. My own master had taught me that.


    Seiyal and Talent: [The martial arts subculture of the Seiyal has an extreme focus on a practitioner¡¯s abilities and talent. Some are born with innate talent that allows them to awaken miasma and soul sense without even being taught, or to instinctively understand certain vital aspects of bodily movement that greatly speed up one¡¯s martial progression. Such geniuses are often heralded as the future of the sect or clan, and their potential exerts pressure on their force¡¯s opponents. After all, the more talented an individual is, the easier it is to reach the high stages of martial arts, past each of the bottlenecks. However, at each successive level, prodigies become rarer and rarer. After all, many reach the limit of their talent and fail to pass a bottleneck, become overconfident in their abilities and accidentally cripple themselves, or, mostly commonly, are slain by both allies and enemies due to how they create jealousy and intimidation in others.]

 121- Riot Oversight

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Every decision ever made in Karie¡¯s life had led up to this moment. She was at the precipice of greatness, the opportunity to make her name known. Sure, being known as the commander of an army was not exactly the sort of fame she had sought, but she had calmed down during her month of labor and training. She was willing to take what she could get, and act in the manner that befit the times. Few became legends by acting foolish, after all.


    ¡°What are we waiting for?¡± asked Pakas Hadal, her second in command.


    He had previously been the First Commander of their border forces, but had been demoted when Karie got the role. He hadn¡¯t been particularly surprised. It was not only the fact that she was a member of the main bloodline and he was from a branch family, but also that she was a spirit refiner and he was merely in the core formation realm. It was natural for the weak to serve the strong, particularly in a time like this. The moment he had been told of the shift, he had easily shifted into the position of her advisor, making the best use of his experience.


    ¡°The Matriarch said that we are to wait until they destroy one of our properties before we take action,¡± she replied. ¡°If we act too early, we will only give the Justice Office leverage.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± he replied, and the two returned to silence, and Karie continued to lean over the railing to get a better view.


    From this position, she observed the progress of the crowd. They were located a stack away from the riots, prepared to move out and intervene at any time. But they stayed still, watching their fellow Canvasians being dragged out of their homes and establishments to be beaten and tossed over the bridge past the district boundary.


    Karie wasn¡¯t even clear on what the cause of all this had been, and she didn¡¯t believe it mattered all that much. All she cared about was the opportunity it brought her. She had only been in the meridian establishment realm during the previous war, and her mother had chosen to restrict her from participating. It wasn¡¯t that Karie blamed her for this, as the death toll among foundation refiners and meridian establishers was extremely high back then. Had she fought back then, she knew it would be extremely unlikely for her to have survived to this day. Still, she had wished to earn glory for herself, and a part of her regretting missing the opportunity.


    But now she was a spirit refiner, an elite, and she stood in command at the foundation of another war. She couldn¡¯t help but smile as she continued to watch the rampaging crowd from above.


    Due to her fixation on the riot, she failed to notice the frown on Pakas¡¯ face as he watched the expression on hers, nor the deepening crease on his brow.


    It took another ten minutes of waiting before the doors to a store owned by the Hadal Clan were broken down, the crowd¡¯s momentum continuing to surge. Karie had been told to defend the people inside of the store.


    She actually did have the capability to leap the gap between stacks now that she was a spirit refiner, but Karie had chosen not to do this. It would certainly be an awe inspiring feat that would drive attention towards her, but would be a breach of her responsibilities and could result in demotion. This went against Karie¡¯s benefits. Instead, she went with a plan she had developed after extensive discussion with Pakas: a core formation practitioner had been placed inside of the store in advance, and now that the crowd was here, he would defend it from intrusion. Even those of the crowd who were armed would have trouble dealing with him. Unless the Heirs made a move, Karie was certain this would be more than sufficient. Meanwhile, she and the remainder of the force would keep an eye out for the movements of the Heirs¡¯ forces.


    After all, it would be surprising if they didn¡¯t mobilize due to this.


    Karie turned to Pakas.


    ¡°Have our scouts and informants found anything yet?¡±


    He quickly removed a mobile terminal from his robe and checked its screen, but turned it off once more, shaking his head.


    ¡°Nothing. Perhaps they wish to de-escalate, and so they have chosen to not marshal their forces for this matter.¡±This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Karie pursed her lips. It was possible, though she found the prospect doubtful. She had looked into the situation extensively before arriving. The Celans were busy with their front in Otan, but the tension within their force continued to grow against her own clan. Similarly, their own information network was commonly believed to be even greater than that of the Hadal Clan. They would certainly know that similar sentiments filled the clan, even among some of the elders. This war was not inevitable because both sides wished it to happen that much. It was inevitable because neither side could sufficiently trust the other.


    ¡°They¡¯ll be coming,¡± she said, her tone speaking to her certainty about the matter. ¡°It is only a matter of when.¡±


    ¡°Do you wish to send more scouts out?¡± he asked.


    After a moment of consideration Karie shook her head.


    ¡°No, I suspect quantity is not our issue. I find it more likely that they are scheming something.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    Once again, the pair fell into silence as they continued to wait. Karie watched events unfold down by the store, but from what she could see, her subordinate had the matter well in hand.


    Less than a minute later, however, she was lifted from her reverie by an odd sound at the edge of perception. She stretched the limits of her senses, drawing on the unique nature of genesis miasma to store and enhance them. As her sense of hearing grew, she was able to discern that it was the sound of shifting hinges and crumbling stone, and it was coming from the top of one of the stacks across the district boundary.


    Karie frowned. It was certainly not a hallucination, but she had difficulty predicting what it might be.


    ¡°Pakas, send one of our scouts to find the source of that noise. I suspect it might be some sort of plot by the Celans.¡±


    The man quickly bowed, and then raised his terminal again to contact the scouts. The machines were incredibly useful, able to streamline communication across the entire battlefield. As she waited for the information to return, Karie idly wondered about just how backwards the forces on Canvas were. Many of them had probably never even heard of a terminal before. While she was jealous of the opportunities to fight and journey and gain reputation that they had, she still found herself proud that her own clan¡¯s technological foundation was rising far faster than most of her race¡¯s.


    Before too long, one of the scouts, a meridian establisher who used flickering miasma, dashed her way across a nearby bridge, her speed constantly shifting in a sort of stuttering pattern. When she made it halfway across the bridge, the sound stopped. Karie frowned once again as she glanced over at its source, seeing nothing but the large empty space and the skydock that both crowned the top of the stack. The next thing she knew, there was a loud crack as a small explosion lit up the afternoon sky, leaving cracks and a large hole in the upper surface of the stack. A large metal gauntlet reached out, gripping onto the stone and pulling itself upwards to loom over the space.


    The black and bronze form of an enforcer stood above the stack, just three layers over the riot¡¯s current location. Glowing orange mist dispersed between the plates on its frame, falling down around it. The scout couldn¡¯t help but cease her run out of surprise.


    Karie herself could not even speak due to her own shock. Just how long had that enforcer been there? Her people had been keeping a close eye on this area for over a decade, yet had no idea of its presence. Had they built it from small parts smuggled into the stack? She couldn¡¯t even fathom how long that would have taken. But she was even more shocked when a second enforcer stepped out of the hole, and then a third. Three enforcers stood atop the stack, as if asking whether or not Karie wished to approach.


    She heard Pakas sigh beside her, and mutter to himself before speaking up. She glanced at him.


    ¡°First Commander¡­ an informant has finally spotted a brigade of Celan soldiers heading this way.¡±


    She glanced once again at the trio of enforcers. It was more than she could manage by herself. But the presence of enforcers here broke the terms of the treaty, just as her own presence did. It seemed that both sides were acting as they wished.


    If that was the case, then Karie herself would do the same. She met Pakas¡¯s eyes, a wide grin splitting her face. Her opportunity was here. First Commander Karie Hadal of the Hadal Clan would make her mark on the station¡¯s history right here and now.


    ¡°Second Commander Pakas,¡± she ordered, ¡°mobilize our forces. We¡¯ll destroy those machines before their reinforcements arrive.¡±


    His face froze, but he slowly breathed out. He knew that matters had long been outside of his control.


    ¡°By your will.¡±


    Celans and Bronze Alloys: [One interesting aspect of the materials technology possessed by the races of Celah is that a significant portion of them involve alloys of bronze. While still largely composed of copper and tin, these alloys used by the Celans are, despite this, able to survive vast stresses far superior to what the material should be capable of. Many aliens believe that the secret to this technology relates to the secrets of flickering miasma held by this civilization, but the truth is unknown, and no other race has yet been able to replicate them. Even reverse engineering of stolen fragments has yet to succeed. One fact considered of note by many who are aware, is that all known naeratanh is also largely composed of bronze alloy.]

 122- Momentum Devouring Mist

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Barely any time had passed, it felt like, and most of the rioters were already dead. Once the enforcers began to fire, they had quickly realized their situation, and most had come to their senses. However, this had arrived too late for the vast majority of the group. They were right below a battlefield featuring multiple individuals at the spirit refiner level. Mere untrained mortals stood little chance for survival in the crossfire. Not that Karie cared, of course. They were mortals, and more importantly, aliens. Each of them were either irrelevant or any enemy.


    If she was in the core formation stage, facing an enforcer alone would have been a certain death sentence for Karie. The hulking mechs were perfect counters against a genesis practitioner¡¯s fighting style. All too often, weaker genesis practitioners would find themselves acting as bullet sponges.


    Luckily, the Hadal Clan had a technique that could counter this advantage.


    Martial forces each had their own specialty, even within the miasma they primarily practiced. If they had existed for long enough, their practitioners would have tested, created techniques, and developed new understandings of their miasma. For the Hadal Clan, their expertise lay in the use of genesis miasma as a sink. Most forces that used it preferred to either store up and release all at once, or to push back and forth into the miasma with a sort of rebound effect. The Hadal Clan, rather, preferred to use the process of storage itself as the primary effect. This process was not exemplary at the lower levels, but at the level of a spirit refiner, it experienced a fundamental shift in scope.


    A tide of bullets splashed towards her, but Karie stretched her hand out, emanating a thick green mist into the air around her. Every bullet that encroached upon her domain slowed as if it were caught in a mire, its velocity steadily sapped away to fuel Karie¡¯s own motion. This was the lower core technique that the vast majority of the Hadal Clan¡¯s talents chose. The ability to absorb the kinetic energy of objects around oneself- the Momentum Devouring Mist Domain.


    It had the weakness that it could only extend to the limit of the practitioner¡¯s ability to push out their miasma without losing control, but this could be extended by both development and practice. Regardless, Karie only needed a few meters of space to use the mist as an effective shield for herself and her soldiers.


    Her meridians burned as she sapped the energy from yet another fusillade, fueling her muscles to even greater heights as her blades pounded like clubs into the armor of the enforcer before her. The enforcer¡¯s three sword arms sliced back and forth towards her, but with Karie¡¯s expert use of her mindsplitting technique, she was able to ambidextrously use her twin blades to parry away the oversized swords using her vastly enhanced strength. She felt the strain in her muscles, and knew she would have to retreat to give her body a break once more, but it was difficult to back away from an enforcer without becoming wounded. She had run drills and prepared to fight against them for years, and knew their capabilities well.


    The enforcer took a powerful step forward, its guns continuing to fire at and past her to where the other martial artists resided, trying to give her backup. At such a close distance, her mist was less effective, and she had to dodge some of the bullets. Luckily, they were slowed enough by her technique for this to be possible. Another problem was the thick orange smoke billowing out from the interior of the huge machine. The more damage her sword caused to the enforcer, the more the smoke billowed out, the flickering miasma suppressing her genesis mist when they made contact with a dangerous sounding hiss. Two miasmas could not coexist, after all.


    Karie continued to force the large blades aside as she ducked and wove her way around the enforcer, preventing it from pushing her back significantly or gaining enough distance to get a better target lock with its firearms. She also made certain to stay near enough that the other enforcers could not fire without hitting their ally as well.


    One of the blades coursed in, but Karie smacked it away even stronger than before, causing the mech to shift slightly off balance for just a moment. This pilot was clearly inexperienced, a matter which Karie was happy to capitalize on. She shifted her weight, pushing up her other blade with all the force her miasma could give her. With her muscles burning in pain, Karie gouged a large wound in the chest of the enforcer. The machine¡¯s pilot attempted to take a step backwards, to use its weapons to protect the weak point she had created, but there was nothing that could be done. Karie was able to continue her own relentless fusillade of blows, and the situation had shifted. Despite having an entire sword more than her, the enforcer was unable to prevent her from getting additional hits into the machine¡¯s guts.


    She had simply built up too much of an advantage by slowing its movements down and speeding herself up.


    Sparks flew out of the wound in the enforcer¡¯s chest, the flickering miasma flowing out so heavily that it almost seemed liquid, and the enforcer staggered backwards as she got one more powerful slash into it. The mech froze, seeming to have locked up, and the incredibly heavy weight of its mass slowly toppled backwards, prompting a cheer from where her own forces resided behind cover on her own side of the bridge.


    An enforcer was down, and Karie was the one who had destroyed it.


    She couldn''t help but laugh joyously at the achievement. There were very few these days who could say they had defeated an enforcer in single combat. Karie¡¯s eyes glanced down at her mangled weapons, and her laughs turned into quiet chuckles. They were fine weapons composed of expensive alloys, but it seemed they were unable to handle combat at the intersection between the mists of genesis and the smoke of flickering. It was good that she carried an extra pair, she thought.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    Glancing up at the hulk, Karie felt an instinct, she wished to stand triumphantly atop the toppled form of the enforcer, but she held back the thought. The bullets whizzing past atop the wreckage provided sufficient reason to avoid such foolish grandstanding. Paying close attention to her other senses, as she dared not stick her head within line of sight of the enemy, Karie bided her time and then sprinted back down the bridge, fueling her legs with every scrap of energy she could. She moved in a random pattern, trying to throw off the Celan targeting systems.


    By the time she arrived at the other end of the bridge where there was cover in the form of the spacedock, Karie had found that she was lucky today. Only one of the bullets had made contact with her, and it was only a small graze to her side. She tightened the belt of her uniform, and then moved through the defenses to find where Pakas was standing.


    ¡°Good job, Commander,¡± he said as she arrived.


    She gave him a nod.


    ¡°I finally took it down. Any changes to the situation?¡±


    Pakas winced.


    ¡°Our scouts have spotted further reinforcements arriving. One more enforcer which should replace the one you destroyed.¡±


    Karie growled in annoyance. It had taken her quite a while just to destroy that one, and she would need a break for some time before she could return. Did she really need to send her troops at them as a cannon fire approach?


    ¡°I suggest we retreat,¡± said Pakas, ending the momentary pause.


    She glared at him, but he rapidly explained himself.


    We¡¯re at the top level of the stack. It¡¯s mostly empty, ideal for firearm superiority. If we want to have the advantage, we need to fight them somewhere else. Moreover, if we can delay further, another expert will certainly arrive to lighten your burden. Then we will be able to stage a stronger attack.¡±


    Karie frowned, but had to admit that her advisor had a point. He certainly was an experienced tactician, she thought. More than suitable as her subordinate.


    She gritted her teeth as she succumbed to reason. This wasn¡¯t enough. It wasn¡¯t what she was searching for, but she would have to back out. His logic was sound, and there was nothing more she could do with her strength alone. Not when the situation was such that she was outnumbered and unable to gain proper use out of the power of her subordinates.


    ¡°Fine, then,¡± she said, her tone audibly resigned.


    She glanced back around the wall, seeing the remaining enforcers still standing there, their reinforcements soon arriving, while her own were too far away. Disappointed, she moved to command a retreat, but paused again as she sensed something at the far edge of her senses. She snapped her head around, gazing down the bridge to the stack further into Hadal territory.


    A portly man was moving at speeds far faster than one would expect, each step flinging himself across the ground towards their location. He was a sei, and his flabby face was a perfect fit for his rotund physique. Even at a distance, Karie recognized his identity on sight. He was one of the few spirit refiners in the clan, Chief Apothecary Sulno Hadal.


    ¡°Hold that,¡± she ordered, and Pakas paused in his fiddling with the handheld device, looking up questioningly, before following her gaze until he saw what had changed her mind.


    Despite his unassuming appearance, Karie knew that one had to take the Chief Apothecary seriously in combat. His appearance was the result of his body being affected by one of his core techniques. Though Karie felt she was almost certain to defeat him if they were to fight in one on one combat, what was truly scary about the man¡¯s abilities was the strength he displayed in group combat.. As likely the only manifest spirit refiner in Tseludia, Sulno¡¯s medicine path was unique and something few knew how to deal with. He had been studying advanced alien studies on biology, and could be considered a near unparalleled expert in medicine among Seiyal, at least in Tseludia.


    Having recognized him, Karie breathed out a sigh of relief, her feelings rapidly upsurging. As Sulno arrived at their group, she took a step forward to greet him while the martial artists around her bowed.


    ¡°Greetings to the Chief Apothecary,¡± Karie said excitedly.


    ¡°Greetings, Chief Apothecary Sulno,¡± said Pakas, barely a beat behind her.


    The man laughed boisterously, the sound at odds with the setting. Gunfire still resounded around them as the enforcers attempted to break down the wall between them.


    ¡°Greetings to the Young Mistress and her first advisor,¡± he replied. ¡°Once I heard the fighting started, I came as fast as I could. Congratulations on your advancement, by the way.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said, knowing his words were empty. ¡°We could use your assistance.¡±


    Despite how happy she was to see him at the moment, the two of them did not actually have the best relationship. Sulno Hadal was one of the most important supporters of her eldest cousin Juen, first in line to succeed her mother¡¯s position. Karie was over a decade younger than him. Though she felt that she had more martial talent than him, she simply could not compete with him in the field of politics. Interpersonal relations had never been her strong suit.


    Once she finally managed to earn herself a true reputation, she would let her strength speak for her.


    Sulno laughed again, but his eyes were steely, as if the emotion on his face was but a mask. But just a moment later, the twinkle returned to his eye as if Karie had spotted nothing amiss at all.


    ¡°It¡¯s a good thing I made it in time,¡± he said. ¡°Now that I¡¯m here, you need not worry.¡±


    Karie wondered about that.


    Inheritance in the Hadal Clan: [As a clan, the Hadal family places a great deal of importance on bloodline. Only those of the main line are able to inherit the position of the clan leader, but any youths within the line are capable of competing for the position, not just the children of the current head. This position has remained empty since the current Matriarch took up her position after her predecessor¡¯s death. Recently, pressure from the branch families for a successor to be selected has grown, though by tradition this can only be decided when one of the candidates forces all of their opponents to forfeit their right to inherit or if every other member of the Elder Council agrees on the matter.]

 123- A Sideline Perspective

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    After showing the foundational techniques of the Downpour Sect¡¯s martial arts to my disciples, as well as ensuring each of them had achieved at least a rudimentary control of their own miasma, I had left them with a series of recordings of the basic stances which I had altered for each disciple¡¯s weapon of choice. I had not forced any of them to follow in my footsteps and learn the sword, although most of them had chosen to do so. Only Shadowblade, who had great talent with knives, and the tall Gen Feng, who had chosen to further increase his reach advantage by wielding a glaive, had taken another path. I knew the basics of such weapons, but had informed them that I would be able to provide less advice for such a path.


    Having given them plenty to practice for a while, I would be able to reduce the amount of time I spent on training them for the next few days. Now, I could focus my attention more fully on other matters.


    Matters such as taking full advantage of the war to my own benefit. I would need to find more time to work on refining my spirit, but for now I needed to stay fully up to date on the status of the war.


    From the training room, I quickly made my way to my personal office, sitting down in a faux-wooden chair which had been placed behind the desk.


    ¡°Have there been any changes in the situation?¡± I immediately asked, prompting Rachel to appear in a seat across the desk after a moment.


    ¡°You know,¡± she said, ¡°You should really be more polite unless you want me to stop answering.¡± I gave her a blank look in response, and she chuckled, going straight into business. ¡°Do you remember Karie Hadal?¡± she asked.


    I frowned, not understanding how the question related to the situation.


    ¡°That was¡­ the woman who attacked me back at the black market? Why do you ask?¡±


    She nodded sagely.


    ¡°Seems that she¡¯s managed to become a spirit refiner herself. She¡¯s been named First Commander of the border forces, and has held off a group of multiple enforcers almost by herself. It¡¯s quite impressive, actually. Oh, she just took one down. Two left.¡±


    ¡°Neither side has regrouped yet?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I think the Hadal Clan¡¯s forces are about to. But the situation is quite odd, actually. They both used their higher level forces quite early against one another, and have been keeping their infantry in reserve.¡±


    She waved her hand, and a small illusionary copy of the battlefield appeared over the desk. I narrowed my eyes as I closely inspected it. The Celan and Hadal forces stood on stacks separated by a single bridge. It seemed that Karie was able to hold them back herself because the bulky machines found it difficult to navigate past her to cross the bridge.


    I had not been on the station for really all that long before I immediately noticed another odd point about the situation.


    ¡°Why are they fighting over that bridge specifically?¡± I asked. ¡°There¡¯s so many bridges passing between the districts. They could just move around the Hadal forces. Or under them, for that matter. There aren¡¯t even any important targets anywhere in the area. And why don¡¯t they already have forces inside of the district? There¡¯s nothing stopping them from doing that.¡±


    The stacks were all incredibly interconnected. It was a good part of why borders within the station were simply cultural and logistical, rather than actually relevant geographic boundaries. They would need to defend hundreds of bridges if they wished to keep their enemy outside of their territory. It was logistically impossible. According to Rachel, in the previous war the two sides had formed tight perimeters around their important bases and used ambush and raid tactics to fight their enemy.


    ¡°They do have some forces within Canvas Town,¡± admitted Rachel. ¡°A number of Korlove snuck by during the riot. But those forces have yet to take action. The only current fighting is happening at this bridge.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s like both sides are just putting on a show,¡± I observed.


    Rachel nodded in agreement.


    ¡°The Hadal Clan I suspect simply haven¡¯t played out their hand, and I suspect they¡¯re only defending the bridge because the Celans are trying to cross it. This should be a defensive force while they have a second force that will be sneaking into Little Celah to attack. Their Matriarch is crafty, so I find it difficult to predict what she will do. The Celans¡­¡± she sighed, eyes glued to the holographic map. ¡°I have no idea what they¡¯re thinking. Their troops are far less mobile, so I can¡¯t imagine what their plan here is.¡±


    ¡°A delaying tactic, perhaps?¡± I suggested, though I was unconvinced myself. It seemed more logical to use the forces you controlled to greatest effect to split their forces, if that was the goal. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    While we discussed, a new figure arrived among the Hadal Clan¡¯s forces, running in at high speed from stack to stack. I squinted, but was unable to recognize the individual.


    ¡°That one¡¯s relatively fast. Should I know who he is?¡±


    ¡°Relative to mortal Seiyal, I presume?¡± snarked Rachel. ¡°He¡¯s barely half your own speed.¡±


    I smiled.


    ¡°I can¡¯t hold others to my standard. So far, I haven¡¯t been impressed with the movement techniques on this station.¡±


    Unconsciously, my mind went back to that Merris I had fought back at the black market. Despite only being a mortal, the man had been extremely fast, and his balance excellent. It was unfortunate that he had not been blessed to be born a Seiyal. He would have made for a powerful martial artist.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± replied Rachel. ¡°That¡¯s Sulno Hadal. He¡¯s a medicine path manifest practitioner. One at the spirit refinement stage.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± I replied. I nodded, recognizing the name. I had long looked into the basic details of the station¡¯s publicly known experts, and this man¡¯s name had easily come up. He excelled at group battles, and in assisting his allies.


    ¡°With two spirit refiners, they should have a strong advantage unless the Celans actually make an effort to use their other forces,¡± I observed.


    Rachel¡¯s eyes suddenly gleamed as she glanced at what appeared to be a random stack behind the Hadal forces.


    ¡°Did something happen?¡± I asked.


    She met my eyes, her expression telling me that she was impressed with something.


    ¡°I honestly have no idea how they managed this without being caught,¡± she said.


    I gave her a blank look, and with a chuckle, she created icons marking a number of stacks.


    ¡°Sensors in the area were picking up some small but weird vibrations. It makes me think- did the Celans really only hide enforcers inside of that one stack?¡±


    My eyes widened in surprise.


    ¡°You think they¡¯re purposefully stalemating the battle so they can flank the Hadal forces?¡±


    Rachel pursed her lips, thinking deeply about the matter.


    ¡°Specifically, I think the main goal is to capture or eliminate the two spirit refiners. Each one is slightly stronger than an enforcer, and their numbers are much more difficult to replenish.¡±


    I continued watching the hologram, seeing the Hadal force regroup and push their war back across the bridge to pressure the Celans once more.


    ¡°Perhaps we should warn them,¡± I said.


    Rachel shrugged, leaning back in her chair. It seemed as if it was actually leaning backwards with her, though I knew that was only because she was using her illusions to disguise its appearance. The real chair would not have moved at all.


    ¡°What will happen will happen,¡± she said. ¡°If the Hadal Clan gets on the backfoot, we can help them more, and vice versa for the Heirs.¡± She glanced at me, her blue eyes seeming icy and devoid of emotion. ¡°Isn¡¯t it better for us the longer this war lasts?¡±


    I sighed.


    ¡°I suppose.¡±


    Going silent, I continued to watch the Hadal Clan push further into Little Celah, heedless of the threat behind them. My moment of concern had passed, and I had steeled my heart. It did not matter who was of my own race and who was alien. What truly mattered was benefits. I would help the Hadal Clan if they asked me to, but they had yet to request my assistance.


    ¡°Oh,¡± said Rachel, suddenly laughing to herself. ¡°So it begins.¡±


    I glanced back over to her.


    ¡°Did something else happen?¡±


    She waved a letter in the air. It had not been in her hands a moment ago.


    ¡°Received a message from the Celans. It seems that what they¡¯ve been waiting on was us all along.¡±


    My frown shifted into a slight smile of understanding. We had not predicted all of their actions, but this one did not surprise me at all. We were a dangerous wild card located deep within the Hadal Clan¡¯s territory. Both forces would desire our assistance, and would rather destroy us than have us ally with their enemy. But neither side could dedicate the resources to do so at the moment.


    ¡°What does it say?¡± I asked.


    ¡°We¡¯ll be starting off small. All they asked was for us to take down some more gangs.¡±


    It was indeed a smaller request than I had expected, but this was in line with our interests, so I was not opposed to it.


    ¡°What did they offer?¡±


    There was a twinkle in Rachel¡¯s eyes as she laughed.


    ¡°What else?¡± she said. ¡°They¡¯ll be paying us money.¡±


    I smiled.


    ¡°I suppose that will do, for a start. How long do you think it will take for the Hadal Clan to send us a letter of their own?¡±


    ¡°I give it a half hour at the most.¡±


    Less than ten minutes later, the message arrived.


    Medicine Path: [In films, manifest practitioners of the medicine path are often depicted as healers capable of repairing mortal wounds in instants and healing their allies up to peak effectiveness. In practice, matters are not so simple. Summoning functioning flesh would be an incredibly complex endeavor, even for a manifest immortal. Instead, medicine path practitioners could be considered essentially the same as poisoners, except their medicines are drugs beneficial for themselves and others, rather than poisons. Of all the orthodox paths, the medicine path is perhaps the one whose practitioners are regarded with the most suspicion, as poisoners have been known to disguise themselves as medicine path practitioners to hide within orthodox territories.]

 124- Flanking Tactics

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Karie barely needed to breathe in the slightest amount of Sulno¡¯s manifested incense before she felt a shift in her body. She felt stronger, her body motion was smoother, and she was filled with a seemingly boundless well of energy. Of course, she knew better than to take this for granted. This was the effect of a medicine, and it would fade with time. If she were to stretch her body too far, she would find herself injured just as easily as she normally could be. It was as if the product of this thin purple smoke was as illusory as the products of extant miasma.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she told him.


    Sulno gave a subtle nod, a soft smile on his face as if to imply he appreciated her acknowledgement. The move caused her impression of the man to drop even lower. He was a snake, and one who only sought out his own self interest. He had even tried to set Karie up with his wastrel of a son when she was younger. Luckily, Karie¡¯s mother had given her the opportunity to refuse.


    The energy filling her veins amped Karie up, causing her to feel ready for battle once more, even more so than usual. She glanced down at her swords, both of which had been turned to scrap by the ferocity of their collisions, and frowned. They had been very finely crafted and expensive.


    This was one of the problems that occurred when a Hadal Clan spirit refiner fought against an enforcer- because their Momentum Devouring Mist involved miasma flowing outside of their body, when their weapons collided against the enforcer¡¯s plating, the sword would be in simultaneous contact with both flickering and genesis miasma. They simply did not have the metallurgic capability to refine materials which could handle such strain for long. While some miasmas could contact others without issue, flickering miasma inevitably began causing extremely unpredictable effects when such contact occurred.


    Luckily, Karie was not so foolish as to have been unaware of this matter. She had long prepared in advance. Discarding her ruined weapons, Karie simply pulled her extra pair from a second set of hidden sheathes under her robes, placing them in the easier to access main sheathes falling from her robe¡¯s belt. She patted her body with both hands, checking to make sure she had no major injuries, and relaxed her body for a few moments to check the state of her meridians. They were slightly strained, but Karie was more than resilient enough to manage, especially with the energizing effects of Sulno¡¯s medicine upon her body.


    The gunfire from the Celans had yet to die down, but Karie paid no heed. Unless they approached closer, these Staiven-constructed walls could hold for a while longer.


    ¡°Alright, I¡¯m ready again. This time,¡± she finally said, making sure to catch Pakas¡¯s attention by locking eyes with the man, ¡°I want a group to follow after me and reduce the pressure so I can take another enforcer down.¡±


    She glanced at Sulno, and frowned.


    ¡°You come as well, and keep the incense flowing. Stay in the center of our formation.¡±


    Karie saw Sulno¡¯s eyebrow twitch, and couldn¡¯t help but smirk.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you want to earn yourself some wartime merit, Chief Apothecary?¡±


    He gave her a strained smile.


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t I be better put to use back here, First Commander?¡±


    She laughed at his words, a dark look in her eyes.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you a spirit refiner?¡± she asked. ¡°I trust in your ability to handle yourself.¡±


    He sighed, and simply nodded in resignation. Karie imagined that he had not expected to become so immediately involved in battle at his own level after arriving. Moreover, she suspected he had not wished to even be here in the first place.


    She turned back to Pakas, a thought crossing her mind.


    ¡°Also, get me another pair of swords, just in case.¡±


    Pakas bowed his head.


    ¡°Of course, First Commander.¡±If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    The power held by a medicine path practitioner was obviously something that could be replicated using science. Just like poisoners, they enhanced their abilities by absorbing more effective medicines. For this reason, their battle prowess did not greatly enhance at higher stages like most martial artist¡¯s did. Instead, what improved was their production capability. As the Chief Apothecary of the clan, Sulno mass produced medicines for the clan¡¯s usage as well as for sales to exterior forces. He had been well trained for battle, but despite his realm, in direct combat he was only as dangerous as a powerful martial artist at the peak of core formation.


    The true reason he had been sent here was because of the impact his presence could have on other martial artists. For a few minutes, he could greatly increase the power of any martial artist of the spirit refiner level or below, using the power of his medicines. The medicine was most effective direct from the source.


    Their force charged, with Karie in the lead, her mist shielding the martial artists from most of the bullets which tore at them. They tore across the bridge, and Karie flung herself through the air, only to be slammed backwards by the force of one of the enforcer¡¯s swords. Keeping her balance, she skidded her way back on the stone of the bridge, her face filled with a widened grin. The other martial artists began to activate their own abilities.


    Muscles grew, illusions formed, and the sickly sweet scent of incense floated in the air as the chaotic mass of martial artists from various skill levels attacked the enforcers. With the enforcers¡¯ attention inevitably split, Karie was able to avoid the suppression of the others and focus on only one of the machines, able to meet it on equal terms.


    The two exchanged several volleys of blows, Karie able to duck and parry her way around the slowed blades, only taking minor grazes at most from the projectiles, while she made several contacts with its armor but was unable to find a weak point she could break through.


    Another of the enforcer¡¯s blades tore its way through a flickering practitioner who had attempted to charge in, and Karie took advantage of the moment to step inside its guard and dig her sword into one of the gaps in the metal plating. She could see the hazy appearance of the sword as it warped in the intersection between the green and orange smoke, and wrenched it out to see her sword having become a slightly lighter color. Uncaring, she used it to parry a swing from one of the enforcer¡¯s blades to try and force her back. The blade cracked slightly, but her other sword was able to dig into the same hole, causing more damage to the enforcer¡¯s internals.


    The enforcer took a sudden step forward, and this time Karie couldn¡¯t help but retreat, escaping from the dangerous position. As she took that step backwards, a part of her mind was able to focus on the status of the fight around her, seeing that at least five of her men had already died, though another of the enforcers had already been damaged.


    This was the nature of fights against the Celans. Only a spirit refiner could fight an enforcer on equal terms. For others to fight the machines, what was needed was luck or the trading of lives to take it down. This was a trade that Karie was obliged by her position to make.


    A sudden series of rumbling noises resounded behind their lines, surprising Karie, and against her better judgement, she glanced back, only to swear profusely when she recognized what she was seeing. Three more enforcers were climbing out of a hole that had collapsed from the roof of the stack.


    She looked all around, unable to help but worry that she might see similar events occurring on every stack around them. Just how many hidden enforcers had they set up? If they could do it here without anyone noticing, could they do it deeper into Hadal territory?


    The enforcers behind them began firing, and Karie soon found herself and her soldiers sandwiched between the two lines of fire. Because the Celan infantry had stayed behind, they were safe from the gunfire shot by the enforcers on the other side.


    Karie swore, knowing she only had mere moments to make a decision. Two of the enforcers here had been heavily damaged, but there was nothing she could do.


    Without hesitating, Karie turned and leapt over the bridge¡¯s railing.


    ¡°Enforcers behind! Follow me!¡± she shouted as she tumbled almost thirty feet down to the bridge one level below. During her fall, one portion of her mind controlled her hands to sheathe both of her blades, while another calculated the proper moment to reach out and firmly grip the railing of the bridge and haul herself back up.


    This bridge was seemingly empty, all civilians having fled the area long ago. However, Karie knew that it would not take long for the Heirs¡¯ forces to catch up. She stretched her arms out and gripped onto a pair of falling soldiers, aiding them in clambering back up. She knew that many of her soldiers would die under fire due to the trap, while some others would tumble to their deaths, failing to grab onto the bridge. However, she was also aware that the alternative was much worse.


    She growled in annoyance at the situation. Her spirits had taken a great dive, from triumph to abject failure, but she did not beat herself up about the matter. Rather than her tactical abilities failing, the problem was her lack of information. So long as she could escape with her remaining troops, Karie would be able to continue forward, and seek out new opportunities.


    Had she been weaker, or had her lineage been any different, Karie knew that this would have been the end of her career. But she was not one to avoid using the advantages she had been granted out of some misguided sense of fairness. In her opinion, to do so would be to demean those who had not been granted such fortune.


    Branch Families in the Hadal Clan: [Treated of secondary importance, while the branch families of the Hadal Clan are considered full clan members and are able to learn the family¡¯s techniques, they are not directly given access to the clan¡¯s vast economic resources. They are forced to vie for benefits with one another, competing over the rights to manage the various businesses and territories of the clan on the main family¡¯s behalf. The most effective way to do so is to build connections with the prospective heirs for the position of clan leader, as well as with the clan¡¯s Elders. While anyone can become an Elder if they surpass the bottleneck and become a spirit refiner, such a matter is easier said than done.]

 125- Contract Work

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    The two messages had similar contents, though it was clear that the Celans were being far more careful in how they addressed us. Such attitudes made sense to me. After all, we already had an agreement with the Hadal Clan, but the Heirs had little certainty that we would act as they wished us to.


    I also got the feeling that the Hadal Clan¡¯s leadership had a better understanding of my nature than the Celans did.


    The Hadal Clan¡¯s letter had called in the first of the actions we had promised to perform for them. The target was a factory they believed might be involved in mech construction, deep within the Heirs¡¯ territory. The information was very accurate when describing the exterior and surrounding area of the factory, but quickly became sparse in terms of information regarding the interior. Rachel chuckled as I inspected it.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you get the feeling that they gave this to us because they didn¡¯t know how to deal with it?¡±


    ¡°I had the same impression,¡± I replied dryly, before turning to read the other message.


    In contrast to the Hadal Clan¡¯s clear orders, the Heirs, on the other hand, had simply offered to pay us to attack local gangs, with no clear reference to the war or any sort of ongoing conflict. In addition, the tone of the letter was polite, and portrayed our roles as equal parties. It was clear that they were very interested in acquiring our cooperation. I was actually quite impressed with their understanding of the situation to go about it in this way. I had made my position far less clear to the Celans than I had to the Hadal Clan.


    Perhaps their information acquisition was even greater than I had heard.


    Still, their request was easier than the Hadal Clan¡¯s. We had already cleared out all of the ¡®easy targets¡¯ among the surrounding gangs, so I knew that we would need to be more careful this time, but if I or another spirit refiner moved personally, I was confident we would achieve success.


    All in all, I felt that this was a near-perfect start to our war plans. All we needed to do was to continue to be useful. So long as we did not anger both sides sufficiently that they would collude to keep us uninvolved, I felt we would almost certainly be able to maximize our gains from the war.


    I turned to Rachel.


    ¡°We should probably get started before we miss any opportunities, what do you think?¡±


    ¡°How admirable of you,¡± she applauded.


    I gave her a blank look.


    ¡°Call in Jihan and Orion,¡± I ordered.


    Rachel simply smirked as she leaned back in her chair, her body shifting slightly as her appearance turned into that of a Seiyal.


    ¡°By your will, Sect Leader.¡±


    Her tone was slightly sarcastic, but I wisely decided to let it pass.


    As we waited for them to arrive, the two of us continued to watch the progression of the battle. This first skirmish had most certainly been a victory for the Celans, but they had also paid the highest cost. Due to Karie Hadal¡¯s swift thinking, a number of the martial artists, including Sulno had managed to escape the trap. All of their high level combatants had escaped largely unscathed, while the Celans had paid the price of several severely damaged enforcers. Such a cost was much greater than the cost of weaker martial artists.


    Still, we watched as the Celans crossed several stacks over into Canvas Town proper, and began setting up a defensive installation. There was little practical use of such a structure in Tseludia, as the extreme number of bridges and stairways left the geography without any useful bottlenecks.


    However, so long as this camp remained, the Celans would have a severe morale advantage. Its mere existence was a huge blow to the Hadal Clan¡¯s face, an insult to their competence. They would probably do everything within their power to destroy it, leaving the initiative in the hands of the Heirs.


    ¡°Impressive plan,¡± said Rachel. ¡°I wonder how the Hadal Matriarch will respond.¡±


    ¡°It depends on whether or not she has a way of dealing with pseudoplasmic barriers,¡± I replied.


    One of the large orange shields had quickly been set up around the soon-to-be base, guarding it from all intrusion.


    As we pondered on the implications of this development, the hatch to my office slid open, and Jihan stepped in.


    ¡°Sect Leader, Vice-Sect Leader,¡± he said, nodding at the both of us. ¡°There was something you needed from me?¡±


    I nodded, waving my hand towards Rachel.


    ¡°Pull up the factory,¡± I said.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    The holographic map on my desk suddenly shifted, turning into a depiction of a building embedded into a series of factories and processing plants alongside one street. One of the factories had an icon indicating it, and Jihan leaned forward to get a better look.


    ¡°This looks like¡­ Little Celah?¡± he asked.


    I nodded.


    ¡°Similar task to what you did last time, though far better defended. The Hadal Clan wants us to shut the factory down. We might steal some resources while we¡¯re there.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± replied Jihan. ¡°Any idea what to expect?¡±


    Rachel shrugged.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be keeping watch and assisting, but we have no idea what it looks like inside. If it¡¯s better defended than we expect, you¡¯ll have to just quickly plant explosives and then leave.¡±


    ¡°Sounds simple enough,¡± he said.


    ¡°Should be, but be careful,¡± I noted.


    Jihan nodded, accepting the point, but his brow furrowed slightly.


    ¡°Is this all we know?¡± he asked.


    Rachel laughed at his words, and glanced at me. Mirth was clearly evident in her eyes, but I didn¡¯t think this was all that funny.


    ¡°You¡¯re right, it¡¯s a terrible idea to do this without knowledge, isn¡¯t it?¡± she said. ¡°But we¡¯re going to have you do it anyway, because this is a matter of face. We have to uphold a deal we made, or our sterling reputation is damaged.¡± She couldn¡¯t help but chuckle again. ¡°You Seiyal have such a funny culture.¡±


    Jihan nodded in response, ignoring the implied insult. The logic made perfect sense to him. Personally, I didn¡¯t quite get the humor. Face and reputation were simply important factors for negotiation, and we could only discard them if we were truly desperate.


    ¡°I¡¯ll talk to my squad,¡± said Jihan. ¡°We can handle this later tonight.¡±


    I noted that he seemed more reserved than usual, but I couldn¡¯t blame him, given the lacking information about the mission I was sending him on.


    ¡°Sounds good,¡± I replied. ¡°Rachel will update you if we¡¯re able to find anything else.¡±


    He nodded again, and then quietly marched out of the room. The moment the hatch opened, Orion walked around him to enter. He glanced at the leaving Jihan, and then sat down next to Rachel in the seat the other man had just vacated. As he sat, he looked at me with a predatory smile, one perfectly at home on the face of a natural born criminal such as himself.


    ¡°We¡¯re involving ourselves in the conflict?¡± he asked, skipping any prelude.


    ¡°Something like that,¡± confirmed Rachel. ¡°We find this a perfect opportunity to expand our territory.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± asked Orion, raising an eyebrow.


    ¡°We intend to take down the rest of the gangs in this part of Canvas Town, and absorb their territories and properties into our foundation,¡± I explained.


    Orion¡¯s smile grew.


    ¡°I¡¯m honored to accomplish this in the Sect¡¯s name,¡± he said.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be participating myself as well, of course,¡± I said.


    Hearing this, Orion had a slightly awkward look on his face, clearly having expected the merits of leading the force himself. I chuckled a bit at his expression.


    ¡°Did you plan to deal with Lao Feng yourself?¡± I asked.


    He smiled with a look of chagrin. Lao Feng was one of only three spirit refiners on the station outside of the Hadal Clan, a very small group that solely comprised him, myself and Jihan. Of course, it was publicly believed that Rachel was the fourth member of this group. While he was not a direct member of the Hadal Clan, it was well known that he could be considered halfway to a vassal of theirs, his force having to make concessions to the large clan in order to survive. My Redwater Sect could be considered to be in a similar position, but due to our nature as a sect, we held a different standing, and with Jihan and Rachel¡¯s assistance, were far more powerful.


    In a way, he reminded me of Hidoro. He was what Hidoro might have become if he had survived for long enough and had sufficient fortune, a hedonistic gang lord sustaining his own little empire under the Hadal Clan¡¯s stifling umbrella. Lao Feng¡¯s territory was far greater, however, comprising four entire stacks. Meanwhile, ours was currently a total of three and a half. After having absorbed the territory of the gangs we had previously conquered,  we were the only other force in the district short of the Hadal Clan to hold a comparable amount of territory. The Feng Gang was the strongest of the gangs of Canvas Town, held up solely by the pillar that was its leader¡¯s personal strength. It was not without reason that he was often called the strongest flickering practitioner on the station. He was far beyond the capabilities of a core formation practitioner, regardless of how talented Orion was.


    ¡°I suppose not,¡± he replied. ¡°What¡¯s the plan?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll be splitting into two forces,¡± I explained. ¡°Mine will take care of Lao Feng, while you will deal with the lesser forces. If you bring Ran with you, the two of you should be able to handle anyone short of spirit refiner, I wager.¡±


    Hearing this, Orion¡¯s smile returned. He seemed more excited than I had anticipated, and I couldn¡¯t help but wonder whether he planned to embezzle a significant amount of our gains. I made a mental note to have Rachel keep an eye on him while he was out.


    ¡°When do you wish for us to move out, Sect Leader?¡± he asked, clearly highly anticipating the engagement.


    Perhaps he simply wished to have a real fight again. I knew I did. I shrugged.


    ¡°As soon as possible, but make sure all of the men are ready and prepared.¡±


    ¡°I will make sure that they are,¡± he said.


    I gave him a sharp nod, and he quickly left the room to begin the preparations. I leaned back in my chair, finally relaxing. It had already been a long day, and I knew that it would feel even longer by the time we returned from this mission.


    Hadal Clan Vassal Gangs: [The largest problem with the expansion of the Hadal Clan is its very nature as a clan. There are simply too few bloodline members, and the ratio of supported external members to branch members, to main bloodline needs to be kept in check or there will be risks of the clan collapsing. For this reason, the Matriarch, upon arriving in Tseludia, chose to allow local gangs to control their own territory within the domain under the Hadal Clan¡¯s control, to keep out alien forces and keep it in order for the Clan¡¯s benefit. So long as these gangs do not work with the Clan¡¯s enemies, and pay a ¡®leasing fee¡¯ to the Clan, they are allowed to act unhindered. Of course, if they anger a corporation or the Pantheonic Government, they will receive no aid from their master.]

 126- The Feng Gang

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Once Orion had prepared our forces, we had split into two groups and immediately went our separate ways. Rather than taking an aero, me and the ten martial artists I had brought with me simply jogged through several neighborhoods to reach the Feng Gang¡¯s territory. We walked past their street toughs, heading straight for Lao Feng himself. He knew we were coming, and we faced no obstructions. I could be quite brazen when I wished to be, I thought.


    If I was being truthful, I would have had to say I was looking forward to fighting him. I had not had a proper fight with a martial artist of my level in months, unless one were to count the occasional spar with Jihan.


    Personally, I did not feel that a spar could be considered in any way equivalent to a real battle. It lacked the true sense of pressure and energy that was unique to a life or death scenario, and one was unable to go all out. There was a reason that young martial artists raised by forces needed to be tempered with real battles before they could turn their knowledge into capability. Back on Canvas, many forces such as the Downpour Sect would send their disciples into the world on missions, creating situations where they would have no choice but to fight with one another and with fiends.


    There was a reason that my home continent had been called Crucible.


    The neighborhoods controlled by the Feng Gang were extremely impoverished, even more so than the slums the Redwater Sect was located within. These were the sort of places the Hadal Clan allowed other martial forces to hold, but I knew it was not mere chance that the Feng Gang¡¯s territory would look like this. It told me that whoever was managing their territory was only considering short term gains, with little thought to the long term. I knew that I had been blessed to acquire talents like Kein, Ran, and Cinto as subordinates, though that was also in part because Rachel had chosen the Redwater Gang very specifically as our initial target.


    I wondered if the Feng Gang¡¯s plan was to discard this area and move themselves to another set of neighborhoods by pushing out the local gangs at some point in the future. Unfortunately for them, they would not receive the opportunity to do so.


    Over the months of training, the former gangsters who had joined the Redwater Sect had been trained into a legitimate force. While none of them had any sort of prodigious talent, they could be considered true martial soldiers, and were not an embarrassment to the sect. As they followed me through the streets of the Feng Gang¡¯s territory, they kept mostly expressionless, and my red-robed figure flanked by a large group of black robed individuals intimidated all of the mortal passersby, the crowd splitting to allow us to pass.


    This was all, of course, a great show, a display of force. It was designed to raise the image of the Redwater Sect. Regardless of how the negotiations and battle went, some of the public¡¯s attention would return to our force. Ran would be able to take advantage of this to further improve our finances. If I was able to claim the Feng Gang¡¯s entire territory, our reputation would skyrocket.


    The gang¡¯s headquarters was a large building that took up almost half of a block, and someone had placed a large signboard with the gang¡¯s name on it atop the building¡¯s hatch. As we approached, the hatch slid open, and a beautiful woman wearing the clothes of a courtesan greeted us demurely.


    ¡°Good taste!¡± noted Rachel, her words only heard by myself. Personally, I felt the woman was revealing far more skin than was proper, but I did not intend to dispute the matter.


    She wasn¡¯t actually present, or at least her illusion was not. Since I and Jihan would be acting publicly away from the sect, we had felt it was best that the sect seem to have at least one Elder present to intimidate potential enemies. I felt given the current situation there was little chance of this, but it was better to be safe.


    ¡°The Great Master will see you,¡± she said, her eyes to the floor.


    I couldn¡¯t tell whether she was scared of me or whether she had been trained not to meet one¡¯s gaze. I sneered at her words, my opinion of Lao Feng dropping even further. What sort of person wanted people to call him ¡®great master¡¯? One was not truly great unless they achieved immortality.


    ¡°Lead the way,¡± I told her.


    She bowed to me, and I followed her inside. I was honestly surprised that my subordinates had been allowed to follow me inside so easily. It seemed that Lao Feng was a confident individual.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    It felt like every time I went to find a gang leader, they would be enjoying themselves in a bar area. I supposed that was the nature of those who chose this path. They lacked the drive or capacity for further growth, stifled under the firm grasp of the Hadal Clan. Had I not met Rachel, I might have perhaps met the same fate myself. More likely, I would have simply died long ago.


    The room quietened upon my entrance, my appearance immediately recognizable even to the drunk martial artists before me. Under the senses of my soul, I could immediately ignore most of those present. There were six core formation practitioners under Lao Feng, attracted to a force run by such a powerful individual, but only three were currently present in the room.


    Even if I had not used my soul senses, I would still have been able to instantly recognize Lao Feng. After all, he was relaxing on a couch at the back of the room surrounded by a crowd of beautiful courtesans. He looked like nothing if not the very image of a lecherous old monster, though his appearance was merely that of a man in his middle age. As I approached, he laughed, finishing his conversation with one of the scantily clad women, and downing a cup which undoubtedly contained liquor. He then stood, raising his arms as he walked towards me.


    ¡°So the great Riverfiend has come to meet with this lowly Lao Feng! To what end, I wonder?¡±


    He laughed, and the gangsters surrounding us laughed as well. From the corner of my eye I could see nervous expressions fill the faces of my subordinates. I smiled at him, the very image of an upright martial artist.


    ¡°You are too humble!¡± I said. ¡°Of course, I have heard much of the great Lao Feng¡¯s talents. So much that I felt the desire to witness them myself. You will humor this wish, I hope?¡±


    The other man¡¯s eyes narrowed, parsing my words. They were likely no surprise, but they did restrict him slightly, unless he decided that he didn¡¯t care about his reputation. The room was filled with onlookers. Unless he could kill everyone here, word of what occurred would get out. While he would be able to acquire benefits if I died, this would likely restrict him from attempting to perform a sneak attack. My wish was for us to fight one on one, as I felt such a battle would allow me to make better use of my advantages.


    ¡°You¡¯re not a simple one, Riverfiend, but you¡¯re also not the most sly. You¡¯re like me. Our talents lie solely in the domain of combat and progression.¡±


    I did not dispute this matter. It was a fact. While I had long learned that careful thinking and consideration were the keys to success and survival, I had never considered myself to be the calculative type.


    ¡°Should I take this as an agreement?¡± I asked.


    Lao Feng shrugged noncommittally.


    ¡°We¡¯ll see. Come, let us have a drink before we fight.¡±


    He waved to one of the courtesans, and she quickly grabbed a bottle of rice wine, pouring two cups and offering one to the both of us. Her hands were shaking slightly, a matter which did not surprise me. It would be unusual for a mortal to not be scared of a potential confrontation between practitioners at our level. I took my cup, glancing down into the liquid. It was a dark green in color, the surface slightly filmy. Something had been mixed in to give it such a color, but I had no way to discern just what that was.


    He raised his cup for a toast, and I bumped my own with it. After that, we both downed our drinks. I felt the burn of the alcohol almost immediately, but mere alcohol could not truly get a spirit refiner drunk unless they wished it to. Some spirit refiners even drank diluted miasmic poisons instead, claiming it even better than alcohol.


    ¡°You¡¯re fearless, aren¡¯t you,¡± asked Lao Feng, analyzing me.


    I had been aware that the alcohol was a probe, but has chosen to drink it anyway. If it had been poison, I might have died then and there. After all, I did know that a poisoner of such caliber did exist on the station. I smiled back at him. His attempts to understand me also gave me more information on him. Combined with the knowledge I had previously held, I was starting to feel that I understood what sort of man Lao Feng was.


    He was the kind of man who lacked a bottom line, yet was restricted by his reputation all the same.


    ¡°We¡¯re indeed the same,¡± I said. ¡°Aren¡¯t we?¡±


    He laughed again, seeming genuine. He motioned to the courtesan, and she went to fill our cups again. The moment his was full, he downed it once more.


    ¡°I like you, Riverfiend! Fine then, if you wish, we can fight. But a mere spar would be boring, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t agree more,¡± said. ¡°How about we make a gamble?¡±


    His eyes narrowed once more, his smile widening until the grin split his face in a manner that cast an intimidating shadow onto his tough countenance.


    ¡°So that¡¯s it, is it?¡± He laughed uproariously. ¡°Yes, let¡¯s make bets! Let us bet it all! This will be fun.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t have agreed more.


    Lone Practitioners: [While the great martial alliances rule the land, and the martial forces control their own territory, it is not uncommon for prodigies to emerge among the small martial academies, or who have survived the collapse of their faction. Some of these unlucky martial artists join up with martial forces as external elders, or resort to banditry. On Tseludia Station, the two main opportunities for a lone practitioner is to work for a PMC or to start a gang. Life is more difficult for these practitioners, but conversely, the difficulty often results in them acquiring more opportunities to make a name for themselves, not held back by reputation and the thin veneer of righteousness. The names of the greatest of the Lone Practitioners often gain the influence of a faction in their own right.]

 127- Submission

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    ¡°I¡¯m curious, Riverfiend,¡± said Lao Feng.


    I glanced over at him. The two of us had moved to another part of his headquarters, and were standing in what seemed to be his gang¡¯s training room, as he had insisted on us ¡®not fighting near the merchandise.¡¯ I got the impression that he was primarily referring to the women, rather than the gangsters or booze.


    ¡°If you have a question, go ahead and ask,¡± I replied.


    The storm was roaring, my entire body ready for combat. This delay was already taking far too long. The ganglord smiled at me, as if amused by something.


    ¡°To exist in Tseludia at our level, one needs to make concessions. I¡¯m curious about yours. They seem to have offered you more lenient terms than me.¡±


    I barked a laugh.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious?¡±


    The other man sneered in response, unbothered by my provocation.


    ¡°If I could predict what that bitch was thinking, I wouldn¡¯t be in this position.¡±


    I had to concede that point. I had access to far more expansive information than he did, and I still could only guess at her specific aims. Still, the agreements we had made and the hints that had been dropped to me gave me a rough idea for what the clan¡¯s intentions were for my sect.


    ¡°Do you know how far away we are from Canvas?¡± I asked.


    Lao frowned, bearing a puzzled expression as he inspected a thin sword, finishing his preparations for the upcoming fight.


    ¡°Time is a resource, Riverfiend. Skip the hints.¡±


    I chuckled, my nerves icy and calm as I continued.


    ¡°It takes almost a year for a Staiven ship to travel from Canvas to Staive, and over five more to go from Staive to here. If you were to send a message back home, it would take twelve years for a response to return.¡±


    ¡°What are you getting at?¡± he asked, growing increasingly annoyed.


    I met his eyes, all traces of mirth dissipated completely.


    ¡°The answer to my question is that we¡¯re far enough away that the influence of Sunlit Hall is almost negligible in any tangible sense. I suspect the Matriarch sees little benefit in needlessly restricting her clan¡¯s potential.¡±


    Lao had a blank expression for a moment as he processed my words, and then his eyes lit up as he experienced a flash of understanding. He laughed loud and hard, leaning backwards in a joyful moment, as if many concepts had finally come together in his mind all at once.


    ¡°So that was it,¡± he said. ¡°I suspect you¡¯re right about that. It matches what I¡¯ve heard. Did you know that the Hadal Clan has been secretly suppressing the worship of Ceirra due to a deal they made with the churches?¡±


    I froze, taken aback by his words. I hadn¡¯t heard of this before, though I had noticed that the religion was significantly less widespread than it was back home.


    ¡°...I did not,¡± I said.


    The other man seemed smug about this. In my ear, I heard a whisper from Rachel, explaining why she hadn¡¯t mentioned this to me.


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen rumors about this, but hadn¡¯t found much in the way of evidence. It¡¯s been a conspiracy theory on the station¡¯s internet for years.¡±


    I subtly nodded, a way to respond to Rachel without having to reveal her presence to Lao Feng. With the soul sense of a spirit refiner, it was possible for him to sense something odd nearby me, but my soul was already so odd that this was no problem. If anything, he would likely assume it to be a problem caused by my spirit refinement method. As spirit refinement permanently altered the soul, strange changes to its form and structure were common for practitioners at our level, and could be considered both cost and boon.


    ¡°You must be happy,¡± said Lao, sneering, ¡°to be a commodity so desired by the righteous representatives of orthodoxy. Soon you¡¯ll probably marry one of the clan¡¯s daughters and gain access to their foundation, your sect absorbed into them.¡±  There was a glint in his eyes, his expression shifting slightly as he continued. ¡°Unless, that is, you die here and someone is prepared to fill the void you leave behind.¡±


    He was being oddly up front about his motives, I thought. Though, I supposed I was doing the same. Though he didn¡¯t know that the Celans had asked me to do this now, Lao fully understood that my intention was to take his gang and absorb it into the sect.


    ¡°Looking to create the Feng Sect?¡± I asked. ¡°Even if I died, I question your ability to convince Rachel and Jihan to serve you.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ll serve or die. I¡¯ll offer them the same deal I¡¯ll give you, Riverfiend. Serve under me. You could be my right hand man.¡±The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    I smirked, finding the suggestion humorous.


    ¡°Do you really expect me to simply hand over everything I¡¯ve worked to build? I asked.


    ¡°No matter what,¡± he said, ¡°Your force won¡¯t be able to last under your command. You¡¯ll submit to someone, whether it¡¯s me, that bitch, or even the Celans.¡±


    ¡°Haven¡¯t you already submitted to the clan, yourself?¡±


    Lao grinned widely, showing his teeth as if he were a dog baring its fangs.


    ¡°With our combined power, I wouldn¡¯t need to submit anymore. They would be the ones to submit to us.¡±


    ¡°I admire your blind self-confidence,¡± I sneered.


    Lao shrugged.


    ¡°I¡¯ll make the offer again after I beat you,¡± he said.


    I shook my head.


    ¡°How bold. Shall we get on with it?¡± I asked.


    Lao smiled again, performing a practice swing with his sword as if he were not accustomed to the weapon.


    ¡°I suppose we should,¡± he said, charging towards me with a flash of orange light.


    In an instant, he was already right in front of me, his blade slashing down towards my neck. I ducked, my motions similarly enhanced. One of the benefits of the unique nature of formless cores was that they were always activated, unlike the other miasmas which needed to be cycled from the dantians throughout the body.


    If the rivers coursing through my body were to cease their motion, I would die.


    Lao¡¯s thin blade slid over my head as I punched up with my left fist, cracking one of his ribs.


    ¡°You coward!¡± I hissed.


    Lao Feng laughed madly, looking far more the stereotype of an unorthodox practitioner than I did.


    ¡°All that matters is who wins, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    His sword arced down, and I was forced to dive out of the way, rolling and coming back to my feet. As I impacted the ground, I shifted my body, reducing the impact and propelling myself upward to minimize the time taken. I finally slid my sword from its sheath, entering into the first stance of my sword art. I had been feeling that I needed to alter the art to fit with the changes in my body, but I had yet to take the time to do so.


    He charged again, but this time I was prepared. I charged towards him as well, interrupting his motion before it was complete. He snarled, and suddenly his stance shifted, his sword in a defensive posture. I slashed three times at him, but Lao Feng was able to block each one, his sword ringing sonorously as it clashed with mine. It was a good sword, and did not seem to take any damage from the clash.


    My heart of rainfall stormed thunderously, but the motions of Lao Feng¡¯s arms simply could not be predicted. His arms continued to rapidly shift into highly impractical orientations that just barely managed to block my assault.


    ¡°Is that all you have, Riverfiend?¡± he laughed as he pressed forward, moving at extreme speed towards  and pressuring past my guard.


    Unfortunately for him, such a tactic was directly countered by my movement technique. I flowed out of his path, slashing at his chest as he passed me. This time, he was unable to block it, taking a graze to the side.


    ¡°I might need to ask you the same,¡± I said, taking advantage of the opportunity to apply more pressure. He turned to defend, but had difficulty maintaining it under my fierce pressure.


    The flickering path excelled in taking advantages in group conflicts, and in the sudden motion of a surprise attack, but lacked the fluidity of formless, the dynamic potential of manifest, or the power of genesis. I had come here to fight him having planned methods of dealing with him, after all.


    Suddenly, he met my eyes, and I was met with an intense, shocking pain. Rather than to a particular part of my body, I felt it everywhere and nowhere, and almost lost control of my miasma. Lao Feng had activated one of his techniques, and was somehow attacking my soul.


    I winced, barely able to bear the pressure, but with great force of will, I maintained my torrent of attacks. Lao Feng had been a spirit refiner for far longer than I, and had already altered his soul¡¯s nature. My soul was not only unrefined, but also small and fragile. His attempt to restrain me could have killed me outright.


    Luckily, I was shameless enough to make up for my weaknesses by not fighting alone.


    ¡°Can it even be considered martial arts at this point?¡± asked Rachel as she blocked the attacks of Lao Feng¡¯s soul.


    I ignored her as I continued to go on the offensive. Such questions were not what mattered at a time like this. What truly mattered was just as Lao Feng had said: all that mattered was who won and who lost.


    At the moment, nothing else existed for me, but I was interrupted as Lao took several steps backwards, smiling and raising his hands as if to dispel hostilities.


    ¡°Let¡¯s call it there, shall we?¡± he said.


    I took a step towards him, my sword ready for another volley of blows. I wasn¡¯t ready to stop. Not when so little blood had been shed. It had not even been a minute since the battle had started, and he was already surrendering? It felt like a waste.


    ¡°Why should we? Are you sated so easily?¡± I asked.


    Lao laughed.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you wouldn¡¯t be, given what I¡¯ve heard of you. But sometimes submission is the right choice, wouldn¡¯t you agree? You¡¯re working for the Celans right now, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    I frowned, unconsciously pausing in my approach due to surprise.


    ¡°What are you getting at? I have no intention of submitting to you. Are you offering to become my subordinate?¡±


    Lao laughed again, as if this was the most ridiculous concept he had ever heard.


    ¡°Of course not. What I aim to say is that I lied to you. I¡¯m a part of something greater, my goals not directed towards myself alone. Isn¡¯t your own goal a matter of acquiring benefits? If you want to continue receiving them from the Celans, you¡¯d be wiser to have another chat with me.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re¡­¡± I muttered, realizing what he was saying.


    Lao Feng still retained that smug grin.


    ¡°I¡¯m a member of the Heirs of Ottrien. Would you like to have some more booze and another chat, or would you prefer we keep fighting one another?¡±


    Flickering Arts: [Characterized by stuttering, chaotic motion, the flickering path is one that acquires more and more complexity the further one walks upon it. It seems inherently impossible to control flickering miasma, and a skillful practitioner of this path is one who is able to constantly adapt to changing circumstances. To an unobservant eye, a powerful flickering practitioner seems to be teleporting around the battlefield, constantly shifting location and orientation, though the truth is that the chaotic effects of flickering miasma do not solely affect one¡¯s motions.]

 128- Laott

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    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    As always, the office of the Heirs of Ottrien¡¯s Vice-Leader felt more like a broom closet than a dignified location. Usually when Deuvar met with others, he did so in meeting rooms so as to better uphold his image. It was Triezal¡¯s unique position within the organization that caused him to meet personally with the man in this place.


    It was almost a disappointment, but somehow the large man managed to be imposing and dignified no matter where he was.


    After hearing Deuvar¡¯s request, Triezal frowned, unsure about this matter.


    ¡°You want me to run the forward base?¡± he asked.


    ¡°If not you, it¡¯ll be Akekha,¡± said Deuvar.


    ¡°What, she actually wants the job?¡±


    ¡°She personally requested the position. It seems she thinks she can get herself promoted again if she has success there.¡±


    Triezal snorted.


    ¡°I wish her luck with that. But if she wants the position so badly, why do you want me to take it? Otan has yet to fully calm down.¡±


    ¡°Now that the government has intervened, the situation in Otan will not shift again in the short term. The Seiyal are now our major concern.¡±


    ¡°I understand that, but I¡¯m not sure a doomed position is the best use of my capabilities,¡± said Triezal.


    The older man gave him a stern look.


    ¡°Though it may be doomed, as you say, the forward base will be the main focus of the Hadal Clan for so long as it exists. It represents a great morale boost for our soldiers, and a huge slap in the clan¡¯s face. We need it to last for as long as possible. You know information the other squad leaders do not, and can understand our real priorities.¡±


    He wasn¡¯t wrong. Deuvar was an intelligent man, and Triezal had no intention of disputing such questions of resource distribution. Moreover, Triezal simply agreed with his position. The forward base was of great value, and it was worthy of having such focus dedicated to it. Triezal also thought that he could easily do a better job than Akekha could.


    However, there was one small issue. No matter how he looked at it, being stationed in the forward base seemed like nothing but a suicide mission. The Hadal Clan would be putting all of their efforts into destroying it, and it was very likely to be encircled. If the barrier collapsed, they would cover the escape routes.


    So it wasn¡¯t that he didn¡¯t understand where Deuvar was coming from, but simply that Triezal did not wish to die. Everything he had done to get to this point was a result of blindly grabbing for a lifeline, an extension to the time he had remaining.


    ¡°I¡¯ll agree, but only if you satisfy some conditions,¡± said Triezal.


    Deuvar raised an eyebrow. He was usually the one who performed negotiations for the organization, and Triezal knew that he was good at his job. Still, Triezal was unwilling to risk his life like this without gains, and his unique role gave him certain privileges that others lacked.


    ¡°I¡¯m willing to hear you out.¡±


    ¡°For one, I¡¯ll need at least four enforcers, and a supply of tactical nuclear armament.¡±


    Deuvar considered it for a moment, and then nodded.


    ¡°That¡¯s no small number, but it can be arranged.¡±


    ¡°Finally, I want to be able to use one item from the reserve.¡±


    This request led to a much longer pause.


    ¡°...I wasn¡¯t aware you knew about the reserve,¡± he said.


    Triezal simply smiled wordlessly. Deuvar sighed.


    ¡°Fine. But if it gets damaged, you¡¯ll need to pay for it. And if the Staiven find out¡­ that¡¯ll be your problem. I will not protect you.¡±This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    Triezal smiled.


    ¡°I can accept those conditions.¡±


    ¡°Good. I¡¯ll need you to-¡±


    A glyph slate buzzed on Deuvar¡¯s desk, interrupting his sentence, and the two of them both glanced at it. Deuvar sighed.


    ¡°I¡¯ll need to take this. It will be short.¡±


    Triezal nodded, continuing to stand and watch as a holographic figure appeared above the slate¡¯s surface. He knew that if Deuvar had wished him to leave the room, he would have been more clear about it. As the image resolved, Triezal recognized it, but found himself surprised by the figure¡¯s identity. It was a Seiyal, and one of the most notable figures within Canvas Town¡¯s underworld.


    ¡°Greetings, Vice-Leader Deuvar,¡± said Lao Feng, bowing.


    Deuvar smiled.


    ¡°You¡¯ve immersed yourself within their customs for quite a long time, haven¡¯t you, Laott?¡±


    The ganglord chuckled.


    ¡°Twenty years is quite a while, indeed. But you¡¯ve sent me something interesting this time, haven¡¯t you?¡±


    Deuvar frowned, not sure what the other man was talking about, until the hologram shifted, revealing another man standing next to Lao Feng. He was a very athletic looking Seiyal with the physique of a runner. His dark skin contrasted with the gold of his irises and his long blond hair. The crimson robes he wore gave him a very striking appearance that made him immediately recognizable.


    Deuvar paused for a moment in surprise, but only skipped a beat before recovering and greeting the man.


    ¡°We meet again, Sect Leader Yu.¡±


    ¡°Vice Leader Deuvar,¡± nodded the martial artist. ¡°I would never have guessed that your organization had such influence in Canvas Town.¡±


    Deuvar smiled.


    ¡°My style is one of intensive preparation.¡±


    ¡°I can see that. I¡¯m curious about why I was informed about this. I would have thought you would keep it secret from everyone outside your organization.¡±


    ¡°That was a miscalculation on my part,¡± admitted Deuvar. ¡°You¡¯re far bolder than I anticipated, Mister Yu. We expected you to pick easier targets.¡±


    ¡°I would have died long ago if I were a timid man.¡±


    ¡°I suppose that¡¯s true, given what we know of your background. But I have to ask, Laott, why did you tell him?¡±


    Laott chuckled.


    ¡°He was insistent on us killing one another. I figured that it was better to risk my cover than to pay the cost of either my death or that of a useful¡­ ally.¡±


    Deuvar frowned. He had been aware that the Redwater Sect¡¯s leader was the sort to enjoy combat, but this seemed a step too far. Perhaps the information Astna had brought that the Riverfiend¡¯s madness was cured was less than completely accurate. Or, perhaps it was simply a product of the life he had lived. Deuvar felt little need to over-analyze the psychology of a primitive, savage race.


    ¡°So what now?¡± asked the Riverfiend. ¡°I assume you wish for me to keep this a secret?¡±


    Deuvar nodded.


    ¡°We can pay you for the favor, of course.¡±


    ¡°I actually do have something I would like to request,¡± the Seiyal replied, something hidden in his smile. ¡°I¡¯m training up a group of flickering practitioners, but we¡¯re lacking proper techniques.¡±


    Deuvar relaxed, hearing his request. This was something trivial to him. The Epon had given them a large number of effective flickering techniques for martial artists when they had delivered Laott and the rest to Tseludia.


    ¡°That can be arranged. Laott, see it done.¡±


    The ganglord nodded respectfully.


    ¡°Of course, Vice-Leader.¡±


    The Riverfien glanced at Laott again, and then back to Deuvar.


    ¡°If that¡¯s all, I¡¯m afraid I have some other gangs to visit before the night is up.¡±


    Deuvar stopped him for leaving the call.


    ¡°Before you go, I have a matter to inform you of. About the squad you sent into Little Celah earlier today¡­¡± Deuvar smiled as the Riverfiend¡¯s expression betrayed a hint of surprise. ¡°I¡¯ll return them to you largely unharmed out of consideration for our close relationship.¡±


    After the moment passed, the sect leader¡¯s face remained impassive.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure what you are referring to, Vice-Leader Deuvar. What reason would I have to send a force into your territory?¡±


    Deuvar smiled, knowing that in this, he had the initiative. As the old adage went, the best approach combined softness and hardness.


    ¡°I suppose that¡¯s a good question, Sect Leader Yu. Let¡¯s simply call them a group of martial artists that we found skulking around. I¡¯m simply informing you that they¡¯ll be returned to their own district safe and sound.¡±


    ¡°...I¡¯ll accept your grace on behalf of their families,¡± said the Riverfiend, his teeth clearly gritted beneath his smile.


    ¡°Yes, I trust this matter will help to maintain our good relationship,¡± smiled Deuvar. Sometimes, congeniality was a better weapon than a firm stance, he thought.


    The call soon closed, and Deuvar returned his attention to Triezal, who still stood on the other side of the desk.


    ¡°Be careful at the forward base,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s difficult to guess who you will be facing off against, but they will not be simple.¡±


    The younger man nodded.


    ¡°Lao Feng, was he from¡­¡±


    Deuvar nodded in confirmation.


    ¡°I suspect you would know more about that matter than I would,¡± he said.


    Triezal pursed his lips.


    ¡°I see. I¡¯ll head to the forward base.¡±


    He quickly turned and walked out. Deuvar watched the young man¡¯s back as he left, and rubbed his temples. He felt the signs of an oncoming migraine.


    Martial Techniques and Technological Development: [Historically, the Seiyal saw martial arts as a discipline wholly divorced from science and technology, a type of magic granted by the divinity of the goddess Ceirra. However, after joining the galactic society, they were confronted with alien technology that utilized miasma, and it became clear that the principles of martial arts were not as unique as they seemed. Martial arts techniques and the abilities of miasma are one, and races such as the Staiven have been able to develop certain technologies by studying the capabilities of Seiyal martial artists. It is said that the Celans have taken the opposite approach: reverse engineering their own understanding of flickering miasma¡¯s principles in order to create martial techniques, so as to better understand the mechanics as a whole.]

 129- The Barrier

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    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    After receiving the techniques, I and Lao Feng had made an agreement for how to handle the matter of our reputations after our fight. If we were to say that I lost, I would lose a great deal of reputation, and Lao Feng¡¯s own reputation would soar such that he would be forced to expand his territory. If we were to say that he lost, he would become my own stepping stone, but would acquire a risk of losing control over his forces. The sorts of gangsters in his force were, after all, attracted to his power and reputation.


    Ultimately, we needed to compromise with a slim victory for me. The story would go that we had fought to a standstill, and ultimately he had admitted my victory, but declared that he would be the one to challenge me himself next time. I was fine with this outcome. It would grow my reputation, and if I was able to grow my reputation further in the coming weeks, would not harm his own too much.


    This was an acceptable state of events for me, and in particular I was looking forward to that rematch that he had promised. My thirst for battle remained unsated, but I would have to wait some more.


    I sighed. I would need to take over a gang or two myself, after this.


    For this reason I was in a dour mood as I stalked out of the Feng Gang¡¯s headquarters, though I made the effort to keep up appearances externally. After leaving the premises, I pulled out a pocket terminal, and activated it. I then pressed randomly on the screen, before Rachel¡¯s face popped up. I hadn¡¯t bothered to learn how to operate the device, it was simply an unobtrusive way for the two of us to communicate in a place where prying eyes might be watching.


    ¡°How are Jihan and the others?¡± I asked, still finding myself in an annoyed mood. Deuvar had claimed he had captured them, and I didn¡¯t see why he would lie. What I questioned was why I had been unaware of the matter. After hearing the question, Rachel sighed, her image on the screen appearing despondent.


    ¡°It happened while you were entering the building, and since there was nothing you could do I felt it best to wait until you had left.¡±


    ¡°Just explain what happened,¡± I said, my voice sharp.


    ¡°It turns out that the factory was a trap. I¡¯m not sure whether the clan was aware of this or not. I suspect they were wary but still wished to test it.¡±


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t Jihan have been able to sense the presences inside?¡± I asked.


    ¡°They were caught inside of a pseudoplasmic barrier. Only after that did the enforcers approach. It was actually quite an interesting method. Well tailored for martial artists.¡±


    The way Rachel was speaking spoke of actually being impressed. Though, I had not been aware the barriers could even be used in such a way. If nothing else, this was a lesson we would need to keep in mind for the future. Still, I thought, there wasn¡¯t much that could be done. The cost to activate such barriers was immense, but the effects were commensurate. If they were willing to spend such effort just to trap a few martial artists, there was little that could be done to stop them from succeeding.


    ¡°Has he surrendered, or are they still fighting?¡± I asked, aware of what sort of man Jihan was.


    ¡°Still fighting, of course. The factory is wrecked, but it seems like they won¡¯t be able to escape any time soon unless the Celans let them go.¡±


    I sighed.


    ¡°Tell them to stop fighting and that the Celans will just let them leave. This should be enough.¡±


    Rachel snickered.


    ¡°Should we tell the clan about the trap?¡±


    I snorted in response.


    ¡°Of course not. I don¡¯t intend to do any favors for anyone unless it¡¯s part of a direct exchange.¡±


    ¡°My, how cold of you,¡± she laughed.


    I ignored her.


    ¡°Has Orion¡¯s work been going well, at least?¡± I asked.


    Rachel set one of her hands horizontally and shook it, a body language I didn¡¯t recognize.


    ¡°So-so. He took down the Reds quite swiftly, but the Blade Daughters are posing a problem. We¡¯ve lost 3 soldiers already.¡±


    I frowned.


    ¡°Does he require assistance?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s ask him,¡± said Rachel with a shrug.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    Suddenly the sounds of colliding bodies and clashing steel emerged from the terminal, as well as a person¡¯s heavy breathing.


    ¡°How¡¯s it going?¡± asked Rachel.


    After a pause, I heard Orion¡¯s shocked voice.


    ¡°What- Vice-Sect Leader? How are yo-¡±


    His voice cut out as he let out a grunt of exertion, and I heard the odd sound that his glowing whips made when they were snapped towards an enemy.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been taking too long, so Cyrus and I wanted to know if you needed help,¡± Rachel chirped.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± grunted Orion, and I heard the sound of cracking rock and the crunching of bone.


    ¡°Well, it seems like he has it in hand!¡± said Rachel, smiling.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take your word for it,¡± I sighed. ¡°Send a letter to the Hadal Clan, informing them that we completed the task they requested.¡±


    Sometimes it felt like she acted this way on purpose whenever I was already in a bad mood.


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    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Sirena had not expected the war¡¯s status to go downhill so quickly. It had barely been a day, and already the Celans had created a huge eyesore which threatened the clan¡¯s reputation. Moreover, she had lost three core formation realm martial artists, and a large number of meridian establishment practitioners. It felt as if nothing had gone right in the past twenty four hours.


    The Riverfiend¡¯s force had apparently been successful, which was a relief, but even then there were issues. It seemed he had taken advantage of the clan¡¯s distraction to take over even more territory from nearby gangs. Of those his forces had visited, only Lao Feng had been able to hold them back. She cursed the man for his opportunism. They were gaining more territory than she wished them to. This would cut into the clan¡¯s profits, but she couldn¡¯t spare the forces to intimidate him.


    More importantly, her plans for the man would be greatly hindered if she damaged the relationship between their forces. If matters worsened sufficiently, he might even choose to side fully with the Celans. This would be a true worst case scenario.


    Rubbing her cerebral dantian to prevent a migraine from forming, Sirena glanced again at a terminal held in her hand, closely inspecting an image of the forward base.


    Taking up the top two levels of a stack and surrounded by a large orange barrier, the forward base looked quite similar to the battlefield at that black market just a few months prior. This time, however, the Celans had moved a large amount of supplies and defenses inside. It seemed they planned to hold out for as long as possible.


    ¡°How long should it be until Karie is able to regroup and surround them?¡± she asked, glancing over to Wei, who had just silently entered through the office¡¯s oversized red doors.


    ¡°Less than an hour, according to Pakas,¡± he swiftly replied, as he closed the doors again behind him.


    The former First Commander had been placed as Karie¡¯s second not only to help advise her and ensure the force was properly managed, but also to make sure they were kept fully updated at all times. The girl had a habit of going off and doing what she wanted without discussing it with her elders, Sirena grumbled silently.


    ¡°Good. Though, I¡¯m concerned whether she will be able to break it or not.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t see how it would even be possible to do so,¡± sighed Wei. ¡°We might simply have to wait until they can no longer maintain it. Should only be a day or so at the most.¡±


    Sirena nodded satisfactorily. The quicker the Celans could be forced back out of Canvas Town, the better the outcome would be for her. The question at hand was how many power cores they managed to sneak into the area, and just how much investment they would be willing to spend on this. Just operating a barrier of this size for an hour cost an immense sum. To operate it for a week would cost enough to bankrupt the clan¡¯s finances, so she doubted they would be willing or able to maintain it for long.


    As Sirena considered the issue, Wei got a strange look on his face. She glanced over, and saw him looking at his terminal in shock.


    ¡°Did something happen?¡± she asked.


    ¡°They¡¯ve dropped the barrier,¡± he said.


    ¡°What?¡± asked Sirena in surprise, before understanding the Celans¡¯ ploy just moments later. ¡°So that¡¯s their ploy,¡± she said. Her face and voice did not betray the anger which boiled inside her, but she couldn¡¯t help but wish to tear apart the Celans with her own hands. She was a woman who had been known in Tseludia¡¯s martial world as the ¡®Jade Empress of Pain,¡¯ and her instincts from those days had never truly left her.


    ¡°It seems this is their plan to save on costs,¡± sighed Wei. ¡°I suspect they¡¯ll be activating and deactivating the shield for days.¡±


    Sirena gritted her teeth. The Celans were openly mocking her, and the Riverfiend was testing her bottom line. One of the two she would have to ignore, but the other she would not allow to continue. She turned to Wei.


    ¡°Tell Juen to go assist his cousin.¡±


    Wei¡¯s brow furrowed.


    ¡°Are you sure? He will be able to use this to suppress your daughter.¡±


    Sirena understood the problem, and she felt for the damage this would do to Karie, but she had no choice. It was the Matriarch¡¯s role to work towards the greater good of the clan as a whole, and not focus too much on the internal disputes such as succession. Not in a time like this.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure. With three spirit refiners present, they¡¯ll be able to easily take the base down. But tell him to arrive in secret. It¡¯s better if they believe they only need to deal with two.¡±


    Wei nodded.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go speak with him.¡±


    Wei left as swiftly as he had arrived, and Sirena stood up herself, heading for the door after him. Her cognition was affected by her anger, and she wished to calm herself down. It had been over a week since her last soul refining session, and she was overdue for further progression. Hers had stalled since becoming the Matriarch, but she would not allow it to cease completely, especially during the war.


    Eventually, she suspected, she would have the opportunity to take action personally.


    Power Cores: [Staiven power cores are mostly simple superheated chemical reactants encased in strong insulators, though in the home system of Staive it is said these are being phased out in favor of the use of genesis miasma as a storage medium. Most races within the Pantheonic Territory use the Staiven-built cores, as their technology is simple enough the Staiven are willing to allow it to leak. In fact, those which are sold to aliens are purposefully designed to be very simple in concept but incredibly technologically difficult to manufacture, so as to maintain a monopoly on them. Celans largely make their own cores however, using a method involving flickering miasma which can increase atomic reactivity far beyond normal limits. These cores have threefold potential uses, able to function as batteries, reactors, or explosives. They rarely see use outside of power plants, mechs, and starships.]

 130- Encirclement

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Karie took a close look at the Celan base across the gap between stacks, trying to acquire a better understanding of its armaments. There were at least three enforcers, as well as various large mechanical objects she had to assume were some form of artillery, or perhaps the barrier¡¯s power cores.


    She turned back to the most important of her force- Pakas and Sulno, who was still accompanying her.


    ¡°They probably know we¡¯re here, but have yet to turn the barrier on. It must take some time to activate.¡±


    ¡°Should we charge in before they succeed?¡± asked Pakas.


    Karie quickly nodded.


    ¡°That was my thought. There¡¯s no need to let the soldiers get settled.¡±


    ¡°Understood.¡±


    While they were having this exchange, Sulno¡¯s brow was creased, clearly not anticipating the battle. For a spirit refiner of the clan, Karie couldn¡¯t help but feel he was a bit too cowardly. Perhaps this was why he had chosen to become an apothecary in the first place. Unfortunately for him, he had been too successful in his development.


    Karie couldn¡¯t help but smirk at his expression. Juen was quite good at attracting such cowardly or lazy subordinates, flocking to the one they saw as most likely to become the successor. On the other hand, Karie¡¯s supporters tended to be those who were most loyal to her mother, such as her Uncle Wei. He had given her small assistance here and there over the years, and helped keep her candidacy from being eliminated by the schemes of the other participants. It had allowed her to survive past the weakness of being one of the youngest candidates for the position.


    Now, she had finally become a spirit refiner, and Juen would not be able to suppress her as much as he had in the past. Once she gained fame, she would convince his supporters such as Sulno to switch to her side instead.


    Karie shook herself from her reverie, reaching to her twin sheaths to pull out her blades. She stretched her arms and legs, and scanned the troops, ensuring that they seemed ready for the charge. Seeing that they were ready, she gave them all a nod, beginning to sprint towards the bridge.


    Karie had wanted to give a morale boosting speech, like she saw the heroic martial artists perform in films and stories, but she wasn¡¯t sure what to say. Instead, she had simply remained silent. She could give a heroic speech after the fact, and that would probably be sufficient, she thought.


    As they moved past cover, the Celans began to fire their munitions, their slugs flying out towards Karie and her soldiers as explosive shells crashed down from above, clearly having been launched from artillery. Karie simply continued to run, quickly building up a lead over her force. Sulno was purposefully staying with the pack, while the other practitioners could simply not keep up with her speed. A bullet tore through her hair, cutting apart several strands, but Karie continued to run, trusting in her luck to get her where she needed to be.


    So long as no bullets impacted her cores, she would be fine.


    Another bullet impacted her forearm, but it, too, was not particularly deep, though sanguine miasma started to well up within the limb. She immediately suppressed the energy, not allowing such a minor issue to quell her momentum.


    Karie was only halfway across the bridge when a blaze of orange light lit up the sky before her, and she was forced to slow her motion. Just then, she heard a thunderous boom, and felt the ground fall from beneath her feet as explosives destroyed the bridge beneath her.


    Karie swore, releasing one of her swords to tumble into the abyss beneath her feet as she reached out to grab desperately at the crumbling edge of the stack, her momentum just barely enough to reach the far side. Her fingertips were all that held her aloft, just barely gripping onto the cool, jagged stone.


    Genesis miasma rushed through her veins, expending itself to strengthen her muscles and was able to cement her grip on the stone, slightly cracking it further as she hauled herself upwards, standing on the roughly two feet of walkable space between the edge and the glowing shield. Through its translucent sheen she could see numerous Korlove and Jobu watching her, unable to do anything about her presence.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    While she was unable to enter, they were similarly unable to send anything out, even munitions. Karie sneered at them as she glanced across the gap, where most of her troops remained. The rest were lucky, as she had been outpacing the others so much that nobody else was caught up in the blast. She sheathed her sword, wiping the soot and rock dust off of her robes.


    ¡°But how long can you keep this up?¡± she muttered.


    ¡°Are you alright?¡± called Sulno from across the gap.


    The space between stacks ranged a bit over twenty feet across, just long enough to be difficult to cross. If she had a running start, she would be able to easily clear it in one leap, but the ledge she was standing on lacked the space for such a thing.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine!¡± she called back. ¡°Regroup and surround the stack on both the top and lower level! And plant explosives on the level below them just in case!¡±


    Even across the gap, Karie could see Pakas giving her an odd expression as if to question why she was shouting their plans right within earshot of them. Chances were at least one of the Celans present understood seiyin, after all.


    Glancing back at the barrier, Karie saw an enforcer standing right before her, guns pointed in her direction. She reached behind her back with both hands, tightening the tie that held her robe in place. Given that the barrier could theoretically drop any minute, she decided it was best to move somewhere less risky.


    Karie glanced down to the level below, confirming that it was indeed also blocked by the barrier. The lower level¡¯s bridge, too, had been cracked apart by the falling rubble. In fact, the one two levels below had also been heavily damaged. She couldn¡¯t trust them to not break apart if she were to land normally.


    Glancing again across the gap, Karie was honestly uncertain whether she could make it. She did not wish to expend as much of her reserves as it would take to guarantee the matter, but luckily she had an idea that should be effective. She stepped back as far as she could, her heels mere inches away from the searing energy mesh that composed the pseudoplasmic barrier. Then, she shifted her weight, tearing across the ledge as she leapt into the air with all of her strength, clearing fifteen feet in one simple bound. It wasn¡¯t quite enough to reach the far side, but it should be enough to reach the level below. She pulled her head down to avoid colliding with the top floor of the stack, and allowed a thick green mist to spring up around her body, siphoning away all of her momentum and kinetic energy. Karie¡¯s feet landed softly and silently on the ground without a problem, and she smiled, absentmindedly reaching back with both of her hands to shift the complex system of elegant braids her flaxen hair had been set into. The damage was not severe, and some careful positioning allowed her to hide it completely.


    After fixing her hair, Karie made her way relaxedly up the stairwell, crossing paths with a squad of meridian establishment practitioners who Pakas had stationed down here under her orders. She gave them a nod as they passed, and quickly reached the top level.


    As she glanced around, she got a slight feeling of deja vu, as Pakas and Sulno were still standing in the same place they had been prior to the charge. However, there were multiple wounded being treated from bullet and shrapnel wounds around them, while most of the forces were moving around to surround the barrier and cut off any potential escape routes. Sulno had gotten down on one knee as he was inspecting a wounded core formation practitioner to make sure his dantian was unharmed despite a bullet hole going through his gut. Even if the man had not been crippled, it was a nasty wound, and he would need to be taken to a hospital if he wished to survive.


    Now that she was near, Pakas frowned as he saw her more closely.


    ¡°You¡¯re injured,¡± he said.


    The wound in her left arm continued to bleed, and Karie glanced at it, remembering its existence. The wound was relatively small, and she placed little importance onto it.


    ¡°So I am. I¡¯ll speak with Sulno after he finishes what he¡¯s doing. More importantly, tell those on the lower level to inspect the bridges from below for any explosives. It¡¯s simply implausible to assume that we happened to choose the only trapped bridge.¡±


    ¡°Already done, ma¡¯am,¡± said Pakas. ¡°It seems that all of the bridges on this level and the one below are similarly trapped. I imagine they haven¡¯t blown them yet simply to bait us into trying to remove the bombs.¡±


    Karie frowned.


    ¡°Don¡¯t bother. We might be able to make use of this somehow, and they would probably blow it the moment somebody got close.¡±


    ¡°Do you have something in mind?¡±


    Karie smiled.


    ¡°I expect they¡¯ll try to do this same trick again, injuring our men and wasting our time until their power runs out. So we can do something similar to them as well. How many explosives do we have?¡±


    Pakas¡¯ usually stony expression cracked as he understood what she was suggesting. A dark smile filled his face, one that left Karie taken aback.


    ¡°We have plenty, ma¡¯am. I¡¯ll have them spread among the squads.¡±


    Seiyal Explosive Technology: [While the Seiyal have enough of a technology base to understand nuclear technology, they simply have not done the testing and development necessary to turn such explosives into usable products that won¡¯t cross the Pantheonic Government¡¯s bottom line. Similarly, those within the Pantheonic Territory lack suitable places to test such weapons. For this reason, they are forced to use inferior methods such as synthesized nitroglycerin or napalm. Despite the fact that such compounds are often considered primitive, they are more than effective enough for practical use. In addition, a martial artist¡¯s hand eye coordination and ability to throw objects is outmatched among the mortal races.]

 131- The Forward Base

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Triezal quietly watched as the martial artist¡¯s charge fell apart before it properly began, and then returned his gaze to the interior of the barrier, unwilling to waste more time watching. He had already looked into the files Kalthen¡¯s mother had collected on the leaders of the force he was facing. Karie Hadal, a woman just a few years older than him. Despite this, he knew her life experience was far less than his own. It was one disadvantage of practicing martial arts- it usually required years upon years of secluded practice to reach the higher levels.


    In the absence of war, it was the only way to reach such levels.


    Meanwhile, Triezal had been able to develop his combat skill to near the limits of his own body in less than a decade, and use technology to improve it even further- if he didn¡¯t use his naeratanh knife, he could even contend in personal combat with a core formation practitioner.


    ¡°Prep the heavy artillery,¡± he said. ¡°Let¡¯s see how they do if we destroy their hiding spots.¡±


    ¡°Understood,¡± replied Denarza, a Korlove woman who was in charge of the artillery squad. They had four mortars, and a very large set of ammunition crates. Every time the barrier dropped, Triezal intended to have them fire a volley.


    All in all, there were thirty-seven soldiers within the forward base, a number which included Triezal himself. Deuvar had insisted only volunteers be assigned to this post, a matter which Triezal approved of. This was, after all, a suicide mission. Triezal had created an egress plan he was reasonably confident in, but it was hard to be sure just how effective it would be. More importantly, it was a method only he could use. He would have to leave all of his men behind if he were to attempt it.


    He was not so coldhearted that he could simply abandon them like that, not when there was still even the slightest opportunity for them to escape back to little Celah. No matter how much he doubted their chances. After all, the longer the forward base lasted, the more effort the Seiyal would likely put into their destruction.


    Triezal walked over to the technicians who were handling the core barrier generator, an oversized lump of vibrating metal which was glowing from the inside. At first glance, it looked even more explosive than the actual artillery ammunition.


    ¡°We¡¯ll rest for a quarter of an hour, and then be ready to drop it again, he ordered.


    ¡°Yes, sir!¡± called the technician, a Jobu man named Zalnaru still inspecting the machine to ensure it was functioning properly.


    Triezal gave them a respectful nod, showing his appreciation for their work. After that, he walked down the stairwell to a secluded area on the lower level, and sat down on a chair in one of the buildings. This place, which had been a Seiyal restaurant, was now Triezal¡¯s personal abode in the forward base, a place assigned to the commander of the force stationed here. It had not been furnished with a bed or any sundries, as the base was not expected to last long enough for such things to be worthwhile. In the air, Triezal could still smell the scent of Seiyal spices, a factor which made his mouth water.


    Despite their many similarities however, he knew little of the food here would be edible for him, and even if it was, it would not be nutritious. Ultimately, Seiyal and Celans had different origins, and their bodies required different nutrients to sustain themselves.


    He set an alarm for ten minutes, sat down on one of the restaurant¡¯s thin benches, and sat there in silence, his mind roiling with thoughts he needed to bring in line. He needed to plan out his next steps, or this place might crumble immediately when the barrier dropped.


    It felt like only moments later when the alarm rang, and Triezal escaped from the prison of his own plans and deductions. He pocketed the slate, standing and making his way back to the higher layer, glancing around to see how all the different groups were doing at the moment. He then walked to the barrier generator, where the technicians were all taking their own short break. This had been one of his first orders upon arrival. Everyone was to take breaks whenever possible, so as to reduce the strain that would inevitably build up.


    He stood there with the technicians for several more minutes, each of them silently suppressing their anxiety and trepidation. If Triezal was honest, he would have to admit that he was scared to drop it. Simply leaving it up until it ran out of power would be the safest and least stressful plan, even if it went against his orders.


    Triezal sighed. Courage was not the problem, of course. He had no lack of such an attribute. What he feared was the guilt that would come from leading all of these promising soldiers to their deaths.


    ¡°Drop the barrier, but be ready to turn it back on,¡± he ordered Zalnaru, watching carefully to see how the Seiyal would react.


    This was a very dangerous matter. Every time he dropped the barrier, there was a risk that the Seiyal would be able to force their way in before it could be brought back up. Even just a few martial artists would be able to cause significant damage, and unlike him, the Seiyal would be able to receive reinforcements. On the other hand, he only had enough power cores to sustain twenty-eight hours worth of the barrier. If he wanted to stretch this out for days, he would need to have it down for as long as possible. In this case, the goal was to last for at least fifteen minutes with the barrier down. Equal uptime and downtime was probably the best they could hope for, he thought.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Zalnaru pulled a switch on the machine, and the generator¡¯s rumbling slowed, the glowing light from inside fading as a fine, almost invisible mesh fell to the ground from where it had been floating inside of the barrier¡¯s surface.


    The moment the barrier started to drop, the artillery battery began to fire their mortars, launching explosives towards the Seiyal¡¯s resting positions. He could hear shouts and screams as the unfortunate martial artists began to rapidly move from their positions, trying to dodge the falling bombs. Some managed to escape, but most of those who had been fired upon were hit by shrapnel.


    Moments later, Triezal heard a call, let out by a Seiyal woman, and there was movement all across the surrounding stacks. From all the areas which had yet to be destroyed by the artillery barrage, small spheres were launched, presumably thrown by martial artists with their bare hands. As they approached, Triezal squinted, attempting to make out their nature.


    ¡°Shit!¡± called Triezal. ¡°Raise it! Raise the barrier!¡±


    Flustered, the technicians raced to halt the shutdown process they had not yet completed, attempting to reverse the process. They had not expected to have it down for less than a minute.


    The technicians, despite their haste, had been expertly drilled in the operation of the generator, and knew exactly how to resolve the difficulties they faced. While the barrier had been very swiftly raised once more, a number of the spheres had fallen inside, clinking onto the open stone ground of the stack¡¯s top layer. There was a lengthy pause as Triezal and the others reacted to this turn of events, but Triezal was too far away, and didn¡¯t have the opportunity to assist.


    The bombs exploded, sending flaming shrapnel across the forward base, and destroying equipment and soldiers who were near.


    Triezal cursed, running over to assist, and to dampen the flames. They were extremely lucky that the bombs had not ignited the artillery ammunition yet, but the blazing corpse of an artilleryman who had been caught in one of the blasts was just a few feet away from the stockpile.


    It had become clear that leaving the ammunition pile on the open ground had been a poor idea. They had wanted to make it easily accessible so that the mortars could continue to be loaded, but it also made for a convenient target. Had they been fighting against the Staiven or any other race, they would not have been so complacent. It was important to remember that despite their low technological base, the Seiyal were no less intelligent than the Celans were.


    Their shield was up, and no more explosives could arrive, but the surface of the forward base was ravaged. Triezal¡¯s only solace was the fact that atop the barrier, an even greater quantity of explosions resounded, sending fire and shrapnel to slide rapidly off of the barrier¡¯s surface.


    ¡°How many¡­¡± muttered Triezal as he ran around, helping the wounded. Luckily for everyone within the base, the generator had been protected by the body of one of the technicians. The unfortunate man had taken shrapnel all up and down his body, but his sacrifice had likely saved the lives of everyone present.


    All in all, the losses were minor. Three were dead and three were injured, but aside from significant damage to the ground and minor damage to one of the enforcers, their defenses and equipment had come out unscathed.


    Despite this, Triezal knew that both sides were being extremely restrained with one another. Not just in terms of how they were holding back their immortal level forces, but also the scope of their munitions. The Justice Office was willing to ignore small mortars and enforcer combat, so long as it didn¡¯t result in destruction of corporate assets or industrial areas, nor the destruction of the workforce or station architecture.


    In fact, so long as it was restrained sufficiently, it was even considered beneficial by the Pantheonic Government. War was of benefit to the economy, and the Fulstovan and Verainin churches viewed it with great favor.


    Particularly when the deaths were only of aliens or dissidents. No matter how many Celans and Seiyal died, the Staiven would not care unless their interests were threatened.


    However, Triezal felt he couldn¡¯t hold the moral high ground in this case. After all, his faction was fighting and killing the Seiyal for motives that were similarly related to their personal benefits. If they had truly wished to avoid the conflict, they could have pushed harder for a compromise, after all.


    He had once considered leaving the underworld altogether, but deep down, Triezal knew that even in the vastness of the universe, there was no other place that would accept him. Whether here or in the Janaste system, it was where he belonged. He knew of no other way to live.


    He sighed, knowing that there had only been two exchanges, and less than half an hour had passed since the conflict here truly began. From this point, matters could only get worse.


    Access to Food in the Pantheonic Territory: [Even races with shared origins often have different dietary requirements, much less aliens with little shared in terms of heritage and nature. Even the humanoid classification of species, which share such odd convergent similarities all have very different diets. In any given station or planet within the territory, farms and factories can be expected to produce more than sufficient food for the Staiven population, and nutrient bathhouses are a common sight. For the stations with a large population of a given species, such as the Seiyal, Celans, and Exid on Tseludia Station, mass production of synthesized food can be expected, as well as a number of restaurants. For those who are less common, such as the Telaretians and Escalos, food must be specially synthesized, and sometimes all that can be found is nutrient paste. For rare races such as the Reth, even such paste might be difficult to acquire.]

 132- Crossing the Barrier

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Karie gritted her teeth. It had been over twenty-four hours since they had arrived outside the Celan base, and it still had yet to fall. She had thought that the explosives that they had been using would be enough to handle the issue, but the Celans had simply moved themselves to the lower floor whenever the barrier dropped, and constructed fortifications from scrap to deflect them away from the core generators and power cores.


    They had even begun to leave the barrier off for longer and longer, waiting for the very last moment, sometimes just letting one or two soldiers in before activating it, so long as none of those martial artists were Karie herself. It was as if they were taunting her, and she felt enraged. Still, she couldn¡¯t help but play into their hands. To wait right outside the barrier would simply let the Celans make preparations inside. They had multiple enforcers, and even she wouldn¡¯t be able to do much if they fired at point blank range during a moment of inattention.


    Ultimately, the problem was that the barriers allowed the Celans total control of the initiative. They decided when to drop the barrier, and when to engage in combat. There was nothing she could do about this, short of blasting the stack on a lower layer to slay the lot of them in one blow. If she was being honest, Karie would have to admit that she had considered taking such action multiple times by this point. The problem was that doing so would incite the government, and Karie would not be able to handle the pressure. It would create too large of a weak point, and her enemies would undoubtedly take advantage.


    She felt trapped, with no possibility of success unless she was blessed with luck. It was only a matter of time until they succeeded, but Karie needed to be done already. She simply lacked the time to wait until they finally ran out of energy to maintain the barrier. It was turning into a matter of questioning her capability.


    While it was difficult to keep track of politics within the headquarters, Karie was aware that some of the forces backing Juen were already trying to suppress her and have her position of First Commander stripped away. It had been less than a week since she had acquired the position, but her backing was simply weaker than his. In theory, her mother should have been the strongest pillar of support imaginable, but the famed matriarch Sirena Hadal had refused to openly support any of the candidates, leaving Karie left in the lurch. All of her other children had long given up because of this.


    She found herself fidgeting as she waited for the next engagement, tying several thin strands of string into complex formations. The string was tied to her belt, and she thought it would look quite nice when it was completed. It was a good match for her look.


    Karie sensed the approach of a martial artist¡¯s soul, and turned to see Pakas briskly walking towards her, a terminal in one hand.


    ¡°First Commander, a shipment of supplies has arrived from headquarters,¡± said Pakas, inspecting his terminal as he updated her.


    ¡°Containing?¡± she asked.


    ¡°...Food,¡± he said.


    Karie sighed. She had requested additional explosives, but her requests had been consistently met with no response. Her soldiers had only managed two volleys of explosives into the barrier before running low on supplies. She had been keeping the remaining ones in store for a potential shift in the situation, waiting for more explosives to arrive so that she could make another attempt. In the past few days, however, even though they had been reinforced by more martial artists, all the supplies they had brought were their personal weapons and food. The food was useful, as they did still need to eat, but it would not help her succeed more quickly.


    ¡°Distribute it,¡± she ordered, but Pakas didn¡¯t move, and for a moment she saw a conflicted expression on his face.


    ¡°Is there anything else?¡± she asked.


    For a moment it looked like he was about to say something, but he shook his head.


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing, Commander.¡±


    She frowned, but turned back to the barrier, waiting for it to drop. The opportunity was slipping through her grasp, and she felt like her last opportunity was soon to be gone. She had been appointed by her mother, and she knew that the Jade Empress was not one to give chance after chance. Not when others were unsupportive.


    The barrier suddenly wavered, and Karie¡¯s face lit up. She slid the small woven string under her belt, calling for a charge. She had reservations, but could not risk losing this opportunity. She charged along with them.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    Every time they tried to invade the base, some of the bridges were blown, killing a number of her soldiers. Rather than blow them all from the start, they had left the bridges, waiting for the right time to blow them. Every time Karie herself stepped on one, it would immediately blow, but the same was not true for her lower level forces. In addition, she had purchased a number of portable bridges designed to be used in building renovation to open up more opportunities.


    Karie ran along one of these construction bridges with a group of soldiers who had been nearby. They were halfway across the bridge when it finished dropping, one of the convenient larger gaps right within a few steps of the end of the bridge.


    It seemed that this was not a result of a purposeful dropping of the shield, she realized, but rather some sort of technical error. As she ran, Karie could not help but smile. Her luck had finally arrived. The barrier was already flickering back into being as it was reactivated, but it was too late.


    This time, perhaps due to the suddenness of the problem, the fusillade sent forth by the Celans was not quite enough to hold the martial artists back. Karie quickly reached the lip at the edge of the stack, but right as she triumphantly crossed beyond the location where the shield resided, she felt a great force pulling her backwards, behind the soldiers beside her.


    She was shoved backwards, caught by surprise by one of her own soldiers, and almost instantaneously, the barrier closed once again, with Karie once again caught on the exterior. She glared inwards, trying to determine just who and why she had been pushed back out, but her gaze caught on one individual.


    Karie paused as she saw the face of one of the men, and her blood ran cold. He had sharp cheekbones, and a wide smile, his hair cut close, and his demeanor extremely confident and self assured. It was a face she deeply reviled, and his presence, she had to admit, scared her.


    Because she knew that Juen would be able to kill all of the Celans. He would take the honor of accomplishing the task, one she had not been able to. Karie had a clear vision in her mind, understanding perfectly that she would now become her competitor¡¯s stepping stone.


    All she could hope for was for Juen to make a mistake and die today.


    Incensed, Karie turned around, glancing across the army to look at Pakas and Sulno. Both were looking over, and neither had particularly surprised looks on their face. Sulno was one thing, there was no way he wouldn¡¯t have known, but¡­ Karie stormed over to where Pakas was standing, and hoisted him aloft by the neck, her face set into a deep scowl.


    ¡°You knew!¡± she hissed.


    Her second attempted to speak, but all that emerged from his obstructed throat were a series of gurgles. Karie relaxed her grip, not having lost full control of herself. Not yet. With her grip released, he tumbled to the ground, skidding along the stone floor. Pakas coughed, clearly almost as angry as she was, but what emerged from his mouth next was a snorted laugh.


    ¡°And what was I supposed to do?¡± he asked. ¡°You tell me, young miss. You¡¯re the favored daughter of the matriarch, and you can¡¯t even defend yourself properly. Why under the heavens would I have sided with you? Would that be wise? Do you know who had your cousin hide inside the force?¡±


    Karie was silent, the anger still bubbling inside her. She wanted to stick her sword straight through his heart, but her self-discipline remained stronger than her instincts. Pakas laughed again.


    ¡°It was the Matriarch¡¯s foremost Aide himself, Elder Wei. Do you see now how pitiful you are? Who do you even have supporting you? Is there anything except your identity and your level? Your delusion is severe,¡± he sneered.


    Karie breathed in, her eyes glancing back to the barrier, behind which she could see Juen and a few other practitioners fighting with the remaining enforcers. She glanced back to Pakas, who was beginning to stand up.


    ¡°Whatever,¡± she said. ¡°Even if all I have is my identity, yours is lower, so you¡¯ll need to follow my fucking orders, or I¡¯ll kill you myself. Gather the remaining explosives and blow the stack.¡±


    Pakas paused midway through rising back to his feet. His eyes widened with horror.


    ¡°You¡¯re insane,¡± he said.


    Karie grinned widely.


    ¡°Maybe you¡¯re right, maybe it''s a delusion. But if I can¡¯t make my name as a hero, why can¡¯t I be a demon? Juen is gone, and Sulno is weak. The others aren¡¯t here. There is nobody who can stop me, so if you don¡¯t follow my orders¡­ who do you think can save you?¡±


    Pakas trembled, but he reached into his robe, pulling out his terminal, and quickly communicating the orders to the squad leader.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure what you think this will achieve,¡± he said carefully.


    Karie continued to give him that empty stare and wide grin.


    ¡°It¡¯ll make me famous, won¡¯t it?¡±


    Canvasian Demons: [Many races have the concept of demons, a sort of evil being that exists in mythology. Similar concepts and terms have been ascribed to tumors, Cthonians, evil ascendants, certain races, or in the case of the Canvasian mythology, demons are simply people. In their traditional worldview, each person has two halves, the righteous and demonic aspects. Normally, everyone has a bit of both, but their righteous side remains in control, allowing them to operate normally in society. However, it is said that a demon is someone who has allowed their darker half to take control, turning them into a murderous monster. A demon.]

 133- A Collapsing Bubble

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Triezal watched the seven martial artists entering the base from several different directions, sweating heavily as Zalnaru tried his best to keep the barrier operating.


    ¡°Have you fixed the issue?¡± he asked, his voice clearly rushed.


    Zalnaru¡¯s forehead was even sweatier than Triezal''s, with deep bags under his eyes which spoke of his exhaustion. Ever since half of the technicians had died in one of the early skirmishes, he had yet to manage a proper break. The short breaks he and the others had managed were far from long enough to make up for the long hours and stress.


    ¡°I¡¯ve found the problem. It seems to be a defect in some of the components. Unless you can somehow get us the replacement parts, I can maybe keep the barrier going for another hour and a half, at most.¡±


    The weariness in Zalnaru¡¯s eyes was matched only by his clear resignation. He had volunteered for this post, just like the rest of them, a true loyalist. Still, nobody truly wanted to die.


    ¡°Less than two hours¡­¡± muttered Triezal.


    It was far less than he had hoped. Even if they were to clear out the martial artists who had managed to enter, it seemed that the forward base was nearing its end. He couldn¡¯t help but think of the relic that he had stored away in his room. He would soon need to put it to use.


    The repetitive clatter of ammunition being launched down the acceleration tubes filled the air, as well as the dying scream of one of the martial artists. It was all Triezal could hear, the only sound in his world.


    ¡°Are the explosives ready?¡± he asked, resigned.


    Another bead of sweat dripped down Zalnaru¡¯s brow after hearing his superior¡¯s words. The explosives he had mentioned were sometimes called the IP safeguard, and were an inbuilt part of the design of all the machines that the Heirs had inherited from the Epon, such as the barrier generator and the enforcers. The idea was that if the equipment was going to be taken by aliens, it was better to destroy it than let them have it.


    In the current situation, this was a worthy concern.


    ¡°Set a five minute timer on the generator,¡± ordered Triezal. ¡°I¡¯ll handle the enforcers when things get to that point.¡±


    Accepting his orders, the technician immediately began setting up the generator¡¯s implosion timer, while Triezal turned to assist with the invaders. He wasn¡¯t confident with his odds, but Triezal knew he wouldn¡¯t be able to live with himself if he didn¡¯t make the attempt.


    The martial artists who had entered the barrier were of varying levels, and two had already been dealt with by the enforcers by the time Triezal moved to help. The rest had a higher threshold of skill, mostly core formation practitioners. Still, this was also within the enforcer¡¯s ability to handle. The problem was one man.


    The individual in question was a quite handsome sei, his features sharp and refined, while his movements were brutal and uncompromising. He was fending off an enforcer by himself, taking advantage of his prodigious physical might. If Triezal had to guess, he would wager the man to be in the realm of a spirit refiner. In fact, he was certain of it. After all, his face matched that of a rather important figure within the Hadal Clan, one whom Astna had been sure to inform him of simply due to his importance. Juen Hadal, considered most likely to become the heir to the position of the clan leader.


    The man, Juen, smirked as he continued to handle the enforcer, even able to split his attention as he glanced over to Triezal and Zalnaru.


    ¡°You¡¯re Triezal, aren¡¯t you?¡± he asked. ¡°I¡¯ve seen your image in some of the briefings. You¡¯re quite highly ranked, aren¡¯t you? I¡¯d prefer if you would surrender, but I¡¯m happy to kill you as well.¡±


    Triezal gritted his teeth as he whipped his twin pistols out, immediately firing them at different martial artists. One of the shots clipped another martial artist, putting her in a tough position that soon found her bisected by an enforcer¡¯s blade, while the other was swiftly dodged by the spirit refiner, who quickly shifted position the moment Triezal pressed the trigger.


    Triezal frowned, confirming one piece of intel which had been present in Astna¡¯s file. Juen was suspected to have used a popular technique among the Hadal Clan as his cerebral core, one which greatly enhances the user¡¯s senses. Moreover, he seemed quite proficient in taking advantage of it, a matter which was extremely problematic for him.


    One of his bullets tore its way through Juen¡¯s chest, but the spirit refiner didn¡¯t even falter, as if no meaningful damage had been dealt at all.


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re quite good, for a mortal,¡± laughed Juen Hadal.


    ¡°Won¡¯t you also age and die some day?¡± asked Triezal, firing again. ¡°You don¡¯t really think you¡¯ll be able to become an immortal, do you?¡±


    Juen¡¯s smile wavered slightly, but he didn¡¯t stop swinging his staff, denting the thick armor of the enforcer before him. The mech¡¯s blade arm slammed down, but the martial artist¡¯s physical strength was actually enough to restrain it. At this distance, the enforcer was suppressed completely between his physical strength and the momentum devouring mist which cloaked him in green.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    ¡°Much closer than you will ever be, Celan,¡± he snarled, smashing down with his staff such that the enforcer toppled, unable to remain steady on its feet. He then leapt over its prone form, charging towards Triezal, who backed up, firing his pistols towards the man.


    Triezal was very aware of his own mortality. If he was being honest, he had to admit that he sometimes felt bitter about that fact, but he had little desire to waste his entire life in a doomed quest for immortality. Even the ageless would one day die, after all. It was true for mortals and ascendants alike. Triezal was still young, anyway. The issue was not pressing yet.


    More importantly, Triezal did not see a short life as less inherently meaningful than a long one. Perhaps it was a cultural difference.


    As Juen approached, Triezal took another backstep, and he activated the machine strapped to his chest, sending out a blast of repulsive force cloaked in orange smoke with which to make some more space. However, Juen merely absorbed the force with his own smoke, the much larger cloud of genesis suppressing Triezal¡¯s flickering miasma. Triezal cursed as he was forced to dive away from the martial artist¡¯s heavy pole.


    ¡°You can still surrender,¡± laughed Juen. ¡°Not that it matters to me. Just by being here I¡¯ve already achieved my goal.¡±


    Triezal chuckled as he rolled back to his feet, quickly exchanging his magazines as he activated his boots, starting to slide.


    ¡°Do I strike you as a coward?¡± he asked. ¡°Everyone here has signed their own death warrant. We are ready and prepared for it.¡±


    ¡°Then why don¡¯t you just let it happen?¡± sneered Juen, moving in a rapid burst of speed that harried Triezal.


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t I feel embarrassed if I died without company? I think you¡¯d make a great travel partner.¡±


    This time, rather than dive, Triezal merely ducked under the pole, taking advantage of the weapon¡¯s nature. It was extremely heavy, and despite the fact that he would likely die if he took one hit, the momentum was difficult to shift, even for someone as strong as Juen. Because of this, Triezal¡¯s boots stayed planted on the ground, paring the surface off of the stone ground with a faint searing noise which was barely audible over the sound of gunfire. He quickly moved beyond Juen¡¯s range again, able to get off a few more shots.


    ¡°You¡¯re quite good,¡± grunted Juen, taking another shot in the chest, but making another pass. This time, Triezal failed to dodge completely, the staff clipping him on the side of his chest. He grunted as several ribs cracked, and Triezal knew this would be the end of his participation in the battle. His chestplate cracked and exploded from the damage, forcing Juen back and sending Triezal skidding over twenty feet along the ground, further damaging his body and equipment. He groaned as he draped a scratched and bleeding arm out, trying to get back to his feet. His pistols had been dropped somewhere along the way. Triezal''s jacket had another pair hidden inside, but he was too disoriented to operate the holster.


    Juen glanced across the field of battle to where Triezal had landed, and laughed.


    ¡°I¡¯ll save you for later,¡± he said, changing course to charge at one of the remaining enforcers. Fortunately for Triezal, the man knew how to prioritize. A heavily injured combatant without guns in hand was simply not as vital a target at the moment, particularly when there was nowhere to run.


    The urge to grab at the knife that he always kept strapped to his side was severe, but Triezal restrained it. While he believed he would be able to catch Juen off guard with it, and perhaps kill him, creating a lesion here was a poor idea. Even at best, it would only solve the immediate problem, while creating many more. Even if he were to disregard the difficulty in hiding one here, the forward base would quickly become inhospitable if there were a lesion located inside.


    And then the Pantheonic Government would arrive.


    They were always present, no matter where one went on the station or what they did. Their oppressive nature affected every decision he and the other high ranking members of the Heirs made. Everything was about restraining themselves, bribing the government, not crossing lines they should not. They were second class citizens, but had to work through the system anyway.


    Even though this war did not involve the Staiven at all, they were still just as important as either of the sides.


    Triezal hissed, watching the remaining martial artists begin to slaughter the rest of the base¡¯s soldiers with a dead look in his eyes. He turned away, shuffling awkwardly on injured legs towards the downward stairwell. The forward base was doomed, and it was now time for him to make his escape.


    He hobbled down, past a squad of soldiers moving upwards to assist, prepared to give up their lives, and finally reached the restaurant that was his private space. Inside, he shambled towards the kitchen, within which he had stored a large stone block, roughly the size of a suitcase.


    The block was composed of a smooth brown stone, its surface cracked and pitted as if it had been left in the elements for centuries, despite the fact that it had been recovered from space. At various uneven intervals, small spikes of metal stuck out, like nails embedded into the rock surface. These nails slightly glowed, a pale yellow light emanating from within that shed light on the kitchen area around him.


    It was a relic of the Jankari, scavenged by the Epon during the long pilgrimage that had taken them to this distant part of the galaxy where they now resided. This was one of the items that had been stored temporarily on Tseludia for safekeeping, along with the Shade Rachel and other items. Luckily, the Riverfiend had shown no interest in any of these priceless artifacts.


    This particular artifact was not one of a kind, instead many of its type had been discovered by the various different spacefaring races who had scavenged the Jankari¡¯s wreckage for treasure. This design was called a sending stone, and had the peculiar ability to near instantaneously transport itself to the other sending stones in its area.


    Just as Triezal moved to activate the ancient machine, there was a loud crack, and Triezal felt the telltale rumble of an explosion beneath his feet. He cursed as he dove for the sending stone, activating several of his implants and equipment in an attempt to preserve himself. His flesh tore from the force he had sent through it, but at this point he could not bring himself to care. The rumble continued unceasing, and rapidly the floor began to fall from under his feet, crashing down as the stone crumbled under the force of the blast.


    The world turned dark as the ceiling collapsed down atop him.


    The Jankari: [An ancient civilization, perhaps the earliest advanced civilization in Telles, the Jankari had an interstellar empire before the Telaretians had even reached the stone age. It is unclear just what led to their downfall, but some say they were wiped out by the ascendants after making first contact. Little is known about the Jankari¡¯s physical appearance, as no bodies have been found, however they appear to have been a bit larger than the average size of modern races. While all that is left of the Jankari is ruins, these ruined worlds and stations contain ancient relics that showcase understanding of miasma and reality far beyond modern technology. Most attempts to understand or reverse engineer Jankari relics have failed, though some races have discovered the basics of activating and utilizing them. Some conspiracy theories claim that the reason the Jankari were so advanced in such an early era is because they were actually survivors from the previous universe, which they refer to as Effelzi, following its destruction.]

 134- The End of the Forward Base

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Karie watched expectantly as she waited for the soldiers to finish their assigned tasks, and was delighted when a cacophonous chain of booms echoed through the afternoon air. Moments after the explosion, the upper floors of the stack began to crumble, and multiple further explosions resounded within the barrier as it all collapsed inward. She gleaned over to see the reactions of others. Sulno¡¯s eyes grew wide and horrified, while Pakas had an icy, resigned look. Karie herself, meanwhile, did not even bother to hide her own smug grin as orange smoke drifted upwards from the collapsing structure. Sulno turned to her with that terrified expression still on his face.


    ¡°How could- I can¡¯t believe you would do that! Your cousin was inside!¡±


    Karie chuckled, enjoying the man¡¯s expression, before making a look of mock horror.


    ¡°Oh no! I had no idea! If only I had been told!¡±


    She then snorted and turned back to watch another explosion within the barrier, which soon collapsed.


    ¡°Good riddance,¡± she muttered.


    She then glanced over to Pakas.


    ¡°Let¡¯s kill any survivors,¡± she said.


    He slightly trembled, but nodded, raising his terminal to send the order out.


    ¡°By your will, First Commander.¡±


    Sulno was trembling as well, and his surprise and fear had turned to rage, as it often did for that sort of man, in Karie¡¯s estimation. Deep down, Sulno was hardly any better than his son was.


    ¡°You could be disowned for this! Or executed!¡± he barked. Anything to soothe the concern he felt for the loss of benefits he would receive if Juen were to die.


    Karie sneered at him.


    ¡°We¡¯ll see. Like they would give up a spirit refiner.¡±


    ¡°They might¡­¡± he muttered, still enraged.


    Karie turned away, ignoring his meaningless gripes, and moved to approach the still shifting rubble. She knew the danger of her actions. However, she had now destroyed the base, and there was a reasonable chance that Juen might have died as well.


    Before she had even stepped on the bridge, however, she was interrupted by an incredibly bright yellow light, glowing from deep under the rubble-strewn surface. Beams of light shone from cracks in the debris, blazing all the way up to the dome, far above.


    Karie frowned, confused about the potential origin of the light. She could sense traces of extant miasma, decidedly not something she expected from the Celans. Had Juen done something?


    The light quickly faded, and the rubble shifted again, a large portion of it tumbling down into the depths of the stack as if down a sinkhole. Karie began running faster towards the area, hoping to find the corpse of a relative. Unfortunately, it was not to be. Even more unfortunately, it was not she who found Juen, but one of the soldiers, who quickly shouted that he had found a survivor in the rubble. Pakas swiftly approached, leaning down to confirm his identity. Juen¡¯s face was severely wounded, but his identity was clear, and he was taking slow, shallow breaths in an unconscious state.


    Pakas glanced back over to Karie, and then gave the order for the soldier to help pull him out and take him to the chief apothecary to receive medical attention. Karie said nothing.


    The man¡¯s disregard for her orders rankled Karie, but she dismissed her annoyance at the situation. It was to be expected. If Karie had her position stripped, he would even be promoted. From his perspective, there was no need to risk his own position on her behalf. It was instead better to pretend she had never given such an order in the first place, and assist the man who seemed to be everyone¡¯s preferred candidate.


    Of course, Karie was aware that she and Juen were not the only candidates. In fact, the second most likely candidate for the position was another cousin of hers, Lorelei Hadal. The difference between her and them was that she lacked the family backing that the others had. After all, Karie¡¯s family was dead aside from her mother and half siblings. Even if Juen were to die, most of his supporters would probably flock to Lorelei rather than her, or perhaps even one of Karie¡¯s own siblings.


    Based on what she had heard, she was seen as unpredictable and ¡®difficult to manage.¡¯ As far as Karie could tell, all this meant was that what the other Elders wanted was a puppet.


    ¡°It seems my luck is poor once again,¡± Karie sighed, as she watched her unconscious rival¡¯s life being saved.


    For several moments, she fancied the idea of running over and slaying him, but she knew that there was no way to keep it unseen. The clan would never accept a kinslayer, or at least not one who did it openly. Stolen novel; please report.


    Her mother might have been able to get away with it, and the Supreme Elder certainly could, but Karie was simply not powerful enough both in terms of her progression level and her position.


    Across the stack, she could see Juen being assisted upwards. His body was covered in scratches and deep red marks that would likely bruise heavily. SHe suspected that he had probably also broken a number of bones, regardless of his physical durability. He would likely have to spend some time healing after this, something that Karie appreciated, at the very least.


    The conniving bastard deserved far worse.


    Having reluctantly accepted her cousin¡¯s survival, Karie sighed and sat down on a large piece of rubble, pushing around what looked to be a portion of a Korlove leg, still clad in the remnants of a soldier¡¯s garb. Her hands reached back to her waist, pulling out the string ornament she had been working on, continuing the meditative process of craftsmanship.


    After several further minutes of searching, she was interrupted by Pakas, who updated her on the situation. Juen had been determined to be the sole survivor.


    They had not dug their way through all of the rubble, nor had they used technology to visualize the internals of the wreckage. Instead, they had simply used their soul senses to see if they could feel any living people underneath. The results had been negative.


    The way that Pakas delivered the report was as crisp and professional as he usually was, and Karie couldn¡¯t help but admire just how shameless he was. One minute he actively disobeyed her orders to assist one of her enemies, and the next he acted submissive and dutiful before her.


    Like many things in the past hour, it got on her nerves.


    ¡°Understood,¡± she said brusquely. ¡°Search through the wreckage to see if the Celans left anything valuable, and send the excess troops back to guard the border areas.¡±


    ¡°Of course, First Commander,¡± said Pakas, bowing respectfully.


    He quickly left to execute the order, not pressing his luck. It was wise of him. If he angered her any further, she didn¡¯t feel she could be held accountable for any actions she might commit.


    After about a quarter of an hour, Karie finally finished her stringwork, and held it aloft to admire it. It was a complex, braided charm, and once she was finished, she tied it into her hair. Midway through the process, her terminal buzzed, and she removed it from her robe¡¯s internal pocket to see that her ¡®uncle¡¯ wished to speak with her. She accepted the call.


    Wei¡¯s face looked haggard, his eyes filled with concern. Still, she felt suspicious of him. Had he really arranged for Juen to be secretly placed within her force, without her knowledge? She couldn¡¯t be sure.


    ¡°Greetings, Uncle Wei,¡± she said with a smile.


    ¡°Are you alright?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine. What brings you to call?¡±


    In her current mood, Karie had little desire to engage in smalltalk. Wei sighed, reading her intentions. He had known her since she was born. He probably knew her even better than her own mother did.


    ¡°I was told you blew up the stack while Juen was inside?¡± he asked.


    So that was what he wanted to know about. Why was she surprised? Karie sneered.


    ¡°Hm? I don¡¯t believe anyone even told me that he was present?¡±


    Wei sighed once again, his expression growing even more tired.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I wished to inform you about his presence, but your mother ordered me to keep it a secret.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure she did. I¡¯m sure everyone else agreed on the matter as well. Was I the only one who didn¡¯t know?¡±


    Wei was quiet for a moment, within which the silence stretched out as if in eternal repose. When he finally spoke, it was quiet, as if he was reciting her funeral dirge.


    ¡°I hope you know that you¡¯ll have to be punished for this, Karie. Everyone will be in agreement about that. Your mother won¡¯t take sides, at least not in any blatant sense. I¡¯ll do what I can, but I can¡¯t promise anything. At minimum, you won¡¯t be able to retain your position.¡±


    Karie shrugged, a physical expression that did not quite come through fully across the video call.


    ¡°It¡¯s impossible to succeed in life without taking risks.¡±


    Wei¡¯s brow furrowed hearing this.


    ¡°Regardless of the dispute between the two of you, you and Juen are still family, Karie. Family shouldn¡¯t be fighting like this.¡±


    Karie sneered again at his words. What did she care about such meaningless bonds such as blood? Personally, she cared about her mother, her siblings, and Wei and his family. If the rest of the clan were to die, she wouldn¡¯t mind dancing on their graves if she felt the urge. What good had they ever done for her?


    ¡°Is that all you wish to speak with me about, Uncle Wei?¡±


    He sighed again, repeating himself to her.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do what I can, Karie. But if you really want to become the heir, there¡¯s one thing I will say. Internal backing is unlikely, at this point. You¡¯ll want to look outside. Your mother has been planning to-¡± At this he paused, as if unsure whether he should continue to explain or not. He then shook his head. ¡°I can¡¯t say any more. But consider what actions your mother has been taking recently. If you make the right connections, new opportunities will arise. Good luck, Karie.¡±


    Karie smiled.


    ¡°Thank you, Uncle Wei. I¡¯ll see you later, when you revoke my position.¡±


    Wei sighed for what had to be the fifth time in this short conversation, and bid his goodbye, before closing the call. Karie was still unsure whether she could truly trust him or not. Wei was like a father to her, as her own had died back on Canvas, and she could barely remember him. But she knew all he was truly loyal to were her mother and the clan, and Karie knew that she could not trust the things he would willingly do to preserve the balance between factions.


    Still, she couldn¡¯t help but trust in him. If even her Uncle Wei had turned against her, there would be no hope left.


    Naeratanh and Flickering Miasma: [Naeratanh, a material invented by the Celan civilization, is an extremely rare material that is created with a secret method involving flickering miasma within the incursion. It is the only known physical material capable of tearing lesions into reality with mere movement, bringing into question whether this is due to the unique properties of flickering miasma, or whether similar materials might theoretically be possible to forge using other miasmas. Such speculation is illegal to discuss in public within the Pantheonic Territory, according to a ruling set by the council in the year 1606 PTS.]

 135- Sending Stones

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    The rain fell softly upon me as I attempted once more to attune myself to the flows of miasma. I had opened myself up to the current, and it was all I could do not to be washed away entirely, my soul cleaned out. I was immersed in the process, watching the visualization while I allowed my soul to succumb to the flowing energies of the heavens.


    This time, I had succeeded. It was incremental, only the slightest step forward, but nonetheless I had done it. This truly was a method suited for me, I thought as I shook myself free from my meditations and back to the corporeal reality. This was a slow method, and would take years of practice before I would be able to reach the pinnacle of the spirit refinement stage, but in my case, this was beneficial. The faster the method, the more strain it put on the soul, and I doubted mine had the strength to handle it. Besides, I had at least another decade left in me. I could take the time to do it properly.


    ¡°End rainstorm,¡± I said.


    As if it could hear me, the steady beating water that dripped from the ceiling slowed and then vanished entirely, leaving me and my robes sopping wet. Rachel had set up some sort of machine to control it according to my instructions. I found it to be extremely convenient.


    With my attention returned to the corporeal world, my mind couldn¡¯t help but be drawn to events outside of the sect.


    ¡°How¡¯s the situation?¡± I asked, knowing that Rachel would be listening. I had long grown accustomed to her constant presence, even when I was alone.


    ¡°They¡¯re still fighting around that one Celan forward base,¡± she replied, her sudden presence before me another matter to which I had grown used to.


    ¡°Any developments I would care to know about?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m impressed that they¡¯ve been holding on for this long, actually. But it seems it¡¯s about to collapse now. It was inevitable.¡±


    To our surprise, the war, which we had expected to only grow in intensity, had so swiftly entered into a lull. In theory, the smartest move by the clan would be to eliminate the Heirs¡¯ factories, to reduce their construction of ammunition and their repair and construction of mechs. However, the problem was that their ability to gather information was lacking in this regard. How could they be certain whether a given factory was producing items for the Celans or for one of the major corporations? If they made a mistake, they would need to cover the loss or risk antagonizing the government.


    I suspected that they were caught between two bad outcomes- to destroy the factories and accept the government¡¯s suppression, or to simply allow their enemies to continue their industrial advantage. After all, the Celans could simply produce more spirit refinement tier combatants, while for Seiyal, they were difficult to train.


    But once the forward base fell, I knew that matters would likely shift in some way. One side or the other would make a move to press their advantage in some regard.


    ¡°The clan finally broke through?¡± I asked.


    ¡°More like, they¡¯ve given up, and have set up explosives beneath,¡± laughed Rachel. ¡°Looks like Karie finally grew impatient.¡±


    I frowned, considering the matter. If they actually blew the top of the stack, this would put them under pressure from the government. I had been hoping something like this would occur. I might be able to use the opportunity to negotiate for benefits the next time they asked me to help. In that regard, this would be a positive development. Still, something about it struck me as off. Even though from what I had seen of her, this Karie was on the impulsive side, I doubted she would have just chosen to take such action when the barrier would soon fall anyway. I felt like some aspect of the situation must have slipped past our awareness, and I wondered how important it might be.


    Suddenly, Rachel frowned, a curious expression filling her face.


    ¡°That can¡¯t be right¡­¡± she muttered.


    I turned to watch her.


    ¡°Did something happen?¡±


    ¡°It seems that someone activated a sending stone,¡± she said. ¡°No, that can¡¯t be right. Why would it be there?¡±


    ¡°A sending stone?¡± I asked, vaguely recognizing the term. ¡°That¡¯s a¡­ Jankari teleportation device, right?¡±


    Rachel had told me about the relic devices previously. Apparently, if one of them happened to be active, there was a chance that her conduit¡¯s teleportation might take us there, instead of to our target location. It was why we only ever used the ability when it was necessary.


    ¡°How curious. Hold on, I¡¯m tracking it. As for their target¡­ there¡¯s only four possibilities. The government has one, the Celans have two, and the Drelistai as well. It¡¯s probably a Celan using it, given the point of origin. But I can¡¯t say whether any of those are active right now. Hmmm¡­¡±


    Her eyes gazed nowhere in particular, though I suspected the senses she was actually using had little in common with vision. Suddenly, her eyes widened, her cheeks appearing flushed.


    ¡°Hold on, shit. Shit, shit, shit! Cyrus, get ready to dodge.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°Dodge? What are you-¡±Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    Rachel quickly interjected with half of an explanation, cutting me off.


    ¡°It works both ways, Cyrus. The conduit operates on the same principles as the stones do, and the connection works both ways. Whoever is using it failed to activate their target connection point, which means-¡±


    My face went pale as well, as I finally understood what she was saying. I tensed up, ready to move at any moment.


    A dazzling yellow light blinded me, filling the room with a vibrant haze, before a loud grinding and crunching noise resounded. The glow was quickly shrouded in a haze of dust as metal and stone of the sort most of the station was constructed from flashed into existence around me. I was forced to duck and weave as it all crashed down, destroying everything in its path. It felt as if no matter where I moved, the material only sprung up around me. It seemed, I thought, that it was all centered on the conduit housed in a small bag underneath my robe. As I dodged around the falling rubble, I spotted the source of the light slowly render into existence, a stone roughly the size of a child. It was crossed with veins of crystal, and long nails emerged from its surface at uneven intervals, each glowing a resplendent yellow that seemed to burn my vision.


    Attached to the object which I knew must be the sending stone was a heavily injured figure who had been hugging it closely. After the stone landed on the ground, the alien man toppled off, splaying out unconscious onto the ruined floor. A few more rocks dropped around me, but the light steadily dimmed, slowly dissipating until all that was left was a slight yellow gleam on the surface of the nails. I let out a long breath, sweeping the stone dust off of my still sodden robes. Now that it was over, I took a look around, disappointed by what I saw.


    The meditation room, what had been my favorite place in the entire station, was utterly destroyed, the floor and walls cracked and shattered. The ceiling, too, was heavily damaged by the rocks which had attempted to form inside of it. Water leaked around the boulders and warped metal, pooling on the tiles of what had once been a floor or a counter of some sort.


    All in all, I thought, as I sullenly inspected the damage, it was an excellent test of my improvements after becoming a spirit refiner. To avoid the falling rubble, I needed to shift my body, moving myself faster and more agilely than I had ever before needed to. Even then, I had barely managed to avoid it all. If nothing else, this was a great boost to my confidence in escaping any situation I were to find myself in.


    Suddenly, I remembered the alien who was still slumbering in the middle of the floor. I turned to look, seeing Rachel peering over at him, her expression ponderous.


    I quickly walked over, and frowned as I glanced down at him. Beside me, Rachel was doing something similar. The figure was clearly that of a Celan, a slender but athletic man with his hair dyed an unusual shade of blue. It took me a moment to place him in my memories.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t this that Magister?¡± I asked.


    I remembered fighting with him the month before. For a mortal, he had been quite deadly in combat. Rachel nodded at my words.


    ¡°He was in command at the forward base. It¡¯s no wonder they were willing to send someone this highly ranked out. It seems our friend here had an escape plan.¡±


    I pursed my lips, deep in thought as I squatted downwards to inspect him.


    ¡°What should we do with him, do you think?¡±


    Rachel smiled, glancing back at me.


    ¡°Magisters are ranking members of the Epon. I imagine he¡¯ll be a good resource to find out more about our Shade problem.¡±


    ¡°Will the Heirs be able to find out that we have him?¡±


    Rachel shook one of her hands noncommittally.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think they would have any way to tell who intercepted him, if anyone. They¡¯ll probably be able to know that someone used the stone, as the activation is fairly overt. But their brink-based technology is still a bit lacking when it comes to tracking such effects. If they could track my conduit, they would never have had such a hard time finding us, back when that was their priority.¡±


    I nodded at that. The logic was fairly sound.


    ¡°I imagine they might be able to make guesses, though, if we started to buy Celan food. Maybe we should just lightly interrogate him and then ransom him back to them,¡± I said.


    ¡°Either way, we have some time to think about it. Before we do anything, though, you should probably grab the knife he¡¯s keeping strapped to his thigh.¡±


    Obediently, I inspected the man¡¯s leg, where just as she had said, a knife was tightly strapped. It was somewhat hidden, which made me wonder if he kept it attached wherever he went. I pulled it out and inspected it.


    The blade seemed to be made of bronze, and was covered in small scribbles in a Celan text that seemed to overlap and cross over one another. I wondered if such blades had some sort of meaning in Celan culture. Ignorantly, I moved to toss it into the air and catch it, a habit I had recently developed from my time training my disciple Shadowblade in knives. However, I was interrupted by Rachel, whose eyes had grown wide, her arms waving rapidly in an attempt to draw my attention and make me stop.


    ¡°Don¡¯t toss it! Don¡¯t move it!¡± she shouted, her voice frenzied.


    Perturbed, I halted my movements.


    ¡°Is something wrong?¡± I asked.


    She let out a deep breath, as if a weight had been taken off of her chest, and gave me an awkward smile.


    ¡°I would appreciate it if you¡¯d grab the sheath it was in as well. And keep it inside. If you¡¯re not careful, you could kill us both.¡±


    I paused, my mind immediately flagging on her words.


    ¡°Us both?¡±


    She explained, her expression still awkward. Once she finished, I glanced down, the knife appearing far more dangerous in my eyes. I slowly and carefully reached over to unstrap the sheath from the Magister¡¯s leg, sliding the knife back in. Once it was enclosed, I felt like a weight was taken off of my back.


    I had never personally seen a lesion before, but my recent experiences with the spirit world had done nothing but cement into my mind the dangers of that realm. The fact that Rachel¡¯s true body lived there did nothing but amplify my understanding of how alien her true self really was. I found myself wary of the concept of a lesion, a wound in reality from which dripped more miasma than even an immortal could use.


    It was no wonder, I thought, that naeratanh items such as this knife had been banned. It was probably the most dangerous item in the entirety of the Tseludia System. I glanced back down to the Magister with a frown. He had known this, perhaps even better than I did, and yet he still chose to carry it around with him, had perhaps even used it. Did he have others? Were the Heirs hiding a secret stockpile?


    I almost wished I hadn¡¯t found out.


    Sending Stones: [Expertly crafted machines utilizing sanguine and extant miasma, sending stones are believed to utilize the Brink as a medium to transport objects which have been rendered nonexistent in the form of information states, and returning them to reality in another location. In practice, this means that they are capable of teleporting objects. Throughout the galaxy, there are said to be potentially millions of sending stones, however their limited range limits their utility. A sending stone cannot transfer an object more than a million miles away, and the transit is not instantaneous. Researchers currently believe that although the stones were designed as a network, the principle utilized by the technology should be theoretically possible to function, so long as the target location can be effectively marked. According to the Pantheonic Government, Staiven scientists are very close to being the first to reverse engineer the technology and manufacture their own sending stone equivalents.]

 136- Child of Anteky

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Triezal groaned as he awoke, feeling aches and pains all over his body, as well as the familiar sensation of tiny machines inside his bones shifting and squirming as they stitched his muscles and flesh back into place.


    Every Merris received implants and genetic alteration following their birth. It was both to improve the body and part of an ancient rite, one which the race had been practicing since before the fall of Epon Celah, when their ancestors had signed up to be the test subjects of an experimental program. In addition to this, it was also to allow the newborn¡¯s brain to be accessed by Anteky, the ancient Shade which resided in the race¡¯s collective unconscious.


    As Triezal¡¯s eyes blearily opened, it became immediately clear to him that he did not recognize this ceiling. His first instinct was to look around and observe the area, and his second was for his right arm to feel the side of his leg, where he kept his most important possession. He felt nothing, a fact which caused him to jerk fully awake in shock. The room had the basic Staiven patchwork stone and metal design, the unfurnished base that the entire city was constructed from. He could be anywhere, though the heavy chain connected to his legs narrowed the options somewhat.


    He tried to think back and figure out what had happened to bring him here, but the last he could remember was the falling rubble, and his dive towards the sending stone. It should have taken him to the storage unit where the other stone resided, deep inside Little Celah, but clearly something had gone wrong. Perhaps he had made a mistake when activating it, or perhaps the stone on the other end had been deactivated for some reason. He must have ended up at one of the other stones, and had been captured by whoever held it.


    Assessing his situation, Triezal checked the extent of his body, quickly realizing that all of his equipment had been removed, from his boots to his gauntlets. In fact, his clothing was completely different. He was wearing some sort of dark robe. As he inspected the coloration of the garment, his blood ran cold.


    ¡°Damn it all,¡± he sighed.


    It was the robe worn by the disciples of the Redwater Sect.


    Triezal glanced around, as if he would be able to see signs of someone¡¯s presence in the room, but there was nothing. The empty space was presumably intended to be used as some sort of cell, and there was nothing inside but the manacles, the bed he was laying on, and a hatch on one end of the room.


    Assuming someone would come in eventually, Triezal moved to assessing the condition of his body. The machinery inside of him was doing some repairs, so it was clear he was in no mortal danger, at least from his wounds. Still, the sharp pain he felt when he breathed, and as he shifted his left leg, told him that there were still a number of fractures on his bones. There was a limit to the power of his implants- their main purpose was to speed up healing, and allow him to last until he could make it to a hospital.


    Of course, there were few hospitals who even had personnel with experience in dealing with Merris. As far as Triezal was aware, there were less than thirty of his people on the station altogether.


    Midway through his assessment, Triezal was interrupted by the quiet hiss of a hatch rising into the ceiling, and turned to see a red robed Seiyal step into the room. He glanced around in various directions, his eyes finally settling on Triezal, their gazes locked together for a long moment.


    The powerful Seiyal¡¯s stare was rather intense, but Triezal was long past the point where such paltry power dynamics made any impact on him. He raised his right leg, resting it on his left knee, and ignored the sharp pain he felt from the motion.


    ¡°It¡¯s been a while, Riverfiend,¡± he said, greeting the alien man. ¡°It seems you have me in a poor position, this time.¡±


    The martial artist gave him a nod in lieu of a spoken reply, and glanced behind him. In the direction he had turned, a second figure walked in, and the hatch closed behind her. She was an attractive sei, and she left her hair loose and untied in a way that Triezal knew that most Seiyal would see as improper. He recognized her appearance almost as easily as he had her partner¡¯s. Rachel, the sect¡¯s Vice-Leader, and the Shade whose existence was at fault for all of his recent problems. She gave him a smile, clearly emanating a smug aura.


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe we¡¯ve had the pleasure of meeting before, Magister Triezal.¡±


    He met her smile with one of his own, wearing a mask of confidence to disguise his inner anxiety and trepidation.


    ¡°The pleasure is mine, Vice-Sect Leader Rachel. I must say, I had not expected you to be in control of one of the stones. Did you pick it up from the Drelistai?¡±


    Rachel giggled, as if something Triezal had said was humorous in some regard. He didn¡¯t quite get the joke, and if the Riverfiend did, he didn¡¯t seem to find it all that funny. His face was not quite a stone mask, but that was only because Triezal was skilled at noticing small details. The man was quite practiced at maintaining an impassive look.


    ¡°Not the Drelistai,¡± said the Riverfiend, not elaborating any further. If he was trying to hint something, Triezal was unable to tell what it was. Could he be suggesting Rachel had developed an alien technology which allowed her to intercept the transportation? Triezal considered the idea for a moment, before discarding it. He simply did not have the requisite information to theorize upon.


    ¡°You know,¡± said Rachel, resting an index finger on her chin, ¡°I never quite found out why you left Janaste. Assisting a vassal gang in a backwater isn¡¯t the sort of job they would usually hand to a man of your talents, regardless of my presence or not. I¡¯d love to hear about that.¡±


    She cocked her head, still giving off a bland-looking smile. Triezal sighed, willing to share such details. He would be able to share the basics without betraying Kalthen and the others. Triezal gave the two of them a wry smile as he shifted his seated position on the bed.


    ¡°Not sure if you¡¯d trust me when I say this, but there¡¯s no scheme involved. I was faced with the crime imposed on my people for all these centuries, and since I couldn¡¯t stop it, I felt all I could do was escape. I wanted to go anywhere away from the system, and conveniently they wanted someone to come and keep an eye on this system. I heard the reason related to some sort of exchange with the Seer, but never quite learned the details.¡±Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°The Seer,¡± muttered Rachel. ¡°Just what is he¡­¡±


    After a moment she sighed, giving the matter up. Then she glanced back to Triezal again, aglow with a refreshed vigor that caught him off guard.


    ¡°You¡¯re a Merris. You would know a lot about the Celan Shades, wouldn¡¯t you?¡±


    The remark caught Triezal off guard, because he immediately caught on to what she was getting at.


    ¡°Was I kidnapped just so you could mock me?¡± asked Triezal, his annoyance finally bleeding through his facade. ¡°You might as well just be clear with me. We can all waste a lot less time that way.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m in agreement,¡± said the Riverfiend, glancing at Rachel with that same impassive look. She sighed theatrically, and Triezal idly wondered how the man dealt with his partner¡¯s grating personality. The fact that she was an incredibly powerful alien machine likely had something to do with it, he wagered. Just a moment later, Rachel¡¯s expression hardened, her eyes slightly narrowing as if in focus.


    ¡°What do you know about the Celan Shade which calls itself Janottka?¡± she asked, her expression telling him that she had actually grown serious.


    Upon hearing this, Triezal¡¯s blood ran cold, and a bead of sweat slowly formed on his forehead. A profound sense of foreboding filled his body.


    ¡°Why do you ask?¡± he said, choosing his words extremely carefully.


    Rachel gave him a grim smile.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious?¡±


    His throat began to dry, words escaping him. It was possible that this was just a fear tactic, but if so, it was effective. He had to consider the possibility that they were in fact telling the truth, and if so, it would be extremely bad for him and the others. All Shades were dangerous, and Janottka was one of the worst.


    ¡°...You¡¯re not suggesting that she¡¯s here, are you? She couldn¡¯t have known that we would betray the organization, so far in advance¡­¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t know why she¡¯s here,¡± said the Riverfiend. ¡°We were hoping you could help us figure it out.¡±


    Triezal laughed madly, his trepidation for his current situation, anxiety about the future, and utter fear for the Sorceress all combining to break his self control.


    ¡°If she really is here, we¡¯re all fucked. She¡¯s insane, you know. Not even the other council members can control her when she gets some mad plan in her head.¡± He chuckled again. ¡°What sort of luck is this? Have I angered an ascendant or something?¡±


    The Seiyal and the machine posing as one both wore matching frowns at his response, clearly unsatisfied by it.


    ¡°But you should at least know her purpose, shouldn¡¯t you?¡± asked Rachel. ¡°You¡¯re both members of the same organization, and you¡¯re even from the Janaste system.¡±


    Triezal sighed.


    ¡°The Sorceress was once some sort of scenario writing machine designed for entertainment, or so the rumors went. The being she is now still shares that desire.¡± He glanced at Rachel. ¡°I¡¯m sure you would know all about how Shades tend to forever operate by the initial directives. Their purpose.¡±


    As he explained, both of his listeners remained quiet, paying close attention to each of his words.


    ¡°For Janottka,¡± he continued, ¡°everything is a story. Or, more accurately, she wishes to turn it into one. I suppose this whole war was her doing? Or at least she accelerated it, I would wager. Probably to create a backdrop for whatever personal conflict she wishes to ¡®explore.¡¯ I couldn¡¯t tell you any more than that, unfortunately.¡±


    Triezal leaned back on the bed with a groan, quickly rubbing his face and scalp.


    ¡°Where would she be housed, if the Heirs aren¡¯t keeping her?¡± asked the Riverfiend, ever practical.


    Triezal shrugged.


    ¡°I know that she has a physical body, but I have no idea whether she managed to bring it with her or not. The port authority certainly would have noticed her if she just tried to walk in.¡±


    Rachel frowned again, and Triezal knew she didn¡¯t see that as a very useful answer. Still, there was nothing he could do about that, no matter how much he might wish to. Information on the council members was not something that was widely disseminated within the rank and file of the Epon, or even for the Magisters.


    The somber mood in the room, and the seriousness with which they were asking the questions had quickly convinced Triezal that they were not lying to him about her presence. He knew that a Shade like Rachel would probably be an expert liar, but the Riverfiend had no such reputation. For someone as observant as Triezal, the man¡¯s body language and microexpressions betrayed his every emotion. He was concerned about the matter of Janottka, but trusted Rachel to handle it.


    Triezal wished he had the other man¡¯s confidence in the matter.


    ¡°By the way,¡± said Triezal, offering the two a congenial smile. ¡°Would you mind if I warned some people about her? The way I see it, we have a shared enemy. Wouldn¡¯t you agree?¡±


    Rachel snorted at his words, and Triezal¡¯s hopes were dashed.


    ¡°We¡¯re not so certain about that last part,¡± she said. ¡°Did you really betray the Epon? Or are you hoping to return to them?¡±


    Triezal¡¯s smile turned awkward and forced.


    ¡°I¡¯m not¡­ sure how I might prove it to you, but trust me, they wouldn¡¯t let me back even if I wanted it. Not unless I was willing to go back to Janaste, and¡­¡± He shuddered. ¡°I would rather die.¡±


    The last sentence was spoken confidently, and Triezal tried to fully display his inner conviction on the topic. He was not a man who could accept his mind being meddled with. Not in such a direct way, at least.


    ¡°We¡¯ll consider it,¡± said the Riverfiend, and Triezal gave him a thankful look. If the Sorceress Janottka really was here, then he felt that allying with another Shade was possibly his only hope for survival. He idly wondered, if she were truly treating the current Tseludia as the setting of a story, who did Janottka consider to be the protagonist?


    Triezal could only hope that it wasn¡¯t him.


    The Seer: [It is said that once, a young man stumbled upon a hole in the ground. He entered, his adventurous spirit driving him to explore. Inside, he encountered the legacy of the old, dead gods of Staive, the original creators of the Staiven race. While the details are shrouded in mystery, what is known is that he acquired machines known as the Calculation Engines, enormous machines from prehistory. They are said to be capable of absorbing all the information in the universe, and using it to compile accurate predictions of the future. The young man holed up inside of that domain, and a force under his name was built up in the surrounding area, as he could use his knowledge to influence the world to his liking. Despite being a mortal, the Seer¡¯s influence has spread to rival that of the Pantheon itself, in part due to the fact that only he can tear new voidgates. Despite being a mortal, the Seer is said to remain alive though it has been over a millennium since his birth.]

 137- Fiends and Demons

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    ¡°Do you think we can trust him?¡± I asked, angling my head to watch Rachel¡¯s response.


    The two of us were walking through the halls of the sect, having just left the cell where the former Magister was being held. The cell was just about the only unfurnished room left in the entire sect, a stark change to how the building had looked just a few weeks prior.


    Rachel considered my words, then shrugged.


    ¡°Most of them, at least. I don¡¯t think he¡¯s working with her. The Magister seemed very surprised when we mentioned her. They have clearly interacted before, and he seems somewhat scared of her.¡±


    I nodded, having caught that detail to myself. Rachel¡¯s words had clearly shocked the man. However, what I wasn¡¯t sure of was whether he would have told the truth. After all, even if we did have a shared enemy, we were the ones who had kidnapped him, and it was unlikely that he would decide to help out his jail warden so kindly. Some of the information would certainly be true, I thought, but it was difficult for me to decide what, if any, should be discarded.


    ¡°By the way,¡± I said, ¡°Do you plan on interrogating him further? I¡¯m not sure there¡¯s anything else in particular that I need from him.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m currently doing it,¡± Rachel replied smugly.


    I gave her a curious look. She shrugged, glancing off into no particular direction, as she tended to do every so often. I had never quite figured out whether she was actually looking at invisible screens and information when she did this, or whether she was simply the absentminded sort.


    ¡°This is actually a prime opportunity,¡± she explained. For me, at least. I intend to question him further about the Epon. If he truly has abandoned them, he shouldn¡¯t mind sharing all he knows. My people would appreciate the intel. I¡¯m not sure any of us have captured a Magister before.¡±


    Rachel seemed slightly excited, and I suddenly remembered that she was a representative of her entire race, rather than a mere individual like I was. Still, the Terrans could be considered my closest allies


    Even if they weren¡¯t, they were presumably so distant I could safely disregard any sort of large scale military action from them. Any large group of Shades taking action in the Pantheonic Territory would undoubtedly draw the attention of the Pantheon itself, and they would probably share the information with their allies the Sheneth-Ari. This was something they could not allow.


    The best allies, I thought with a faint smile, were the ones who couldn¡¯t threaten you. Of course, Rachel herself could, but one Shade and millions of them were two entirely different matters.


    ¡°I don¡¯t mind you doing what you want with him, so long as it doesn¡¯t kill him,¡± I said.


    Rachel grinned in response.


    ¡°I imagine if he¡¯s telling the truth, he¡¯ll be happy to share everything he knows.¡±


    I shrugged, not particularly caring either way. I believed I could trust her to inform me of anything important that she learned. I continued to walk, my path taking me to the training room. There were no particularly pressing matters to deal with, and my meditation room had been destroyed, so I felt the best use of my time would be to give pointers to my disciples.


    We walked in silence for a few moments, before I heard a sound from Rachel, and turned to see her laughing to herself.


    ¡°You Seiyal and your nicknames,¡± she said, grinning.


    I frowned, cocking my head. It felt like the shift had occurred without a basis, which made me think she had found out about something on the internet again.


    ¡°The story about what happened at the forward base finally hit the news,¡± Rachel quickly explained, chuckling again. ¡°They¡¯ve already given your friend Karie a title.¡±


    This didn¡¯t surprise me. I myself had, after all, received my own title not long after raiding a single Celan warehouse. In fact, I felt the mystery of my identity as an unorthodox practitioner was almost as large a portion of the reason as my actual strength was. Meanwhile, Karie Hadal was an orthodox practitioner who used genesis miasma. On Tseludia Station, such individuals were as common as stone. Her deeds needed to be greater to achieve the same notoriety.


    The reputation of someone who nearly destroyed two entire stacks was more than enough to do the job, I thought. It seemed the world agreed.


    ¡°What are they calling her now?¡± I asked.


    ¡°The Demon of Twinjade.¡±


    ¡°Demon¡­¡± I muttered. ¡°Is she truly a demon?¡±The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Rachel shrugged.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t say, but I don¡¯t believe so. It seems to me like she¡¯s simply the type to disregard the consequences of her actions.¡±


    ¡°Fitting for an accomplished young mistress,¡± I mused.


    Rachel nodded in agreement, the corner of her mouth quirking upwards into a smirk.


    ¡°Alas, it¡¯s only a matter of time until she angers the protagonist and is slain for being unable to see Mount Tai,¡± she quipped.


    I gave her an odd look, not understanding the joke. She didn¡¯t explain, so I simply expressed another thought I had.


    ¡°I a fiend, and she a demon¡­ it seems like the journalists here wish to demean us. Is there a rift between them and the martial artists?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Personally, I would say it¡¯s just because you showed up out of nowhere to commit robbery, and she risked hundreds of civilian lives.¡±


    I shrugged off her comment with a glare. Rachel chuckled at my response.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it normal for mortals to see it that way? Even though your actions were seen positively due to the friction between the races, you still acted in a rough, bloodthirsty manner, and so you were titled after a powerful beast. Meanwhile, Karie Hadal acted in a way that would terrify the mortals, so of course they gave her a title to reflect that.¡±


    Rachel paused, resting her index finger on her chin as she considered.


    ¡°Though I do suspect some of her internal enemies might have intervened to add the demon part. The Hadal Clan should be in too much control of the media to allow that one to slip through.¡±


    ¡°That would explain it,¡± I nodded.


    I didn¡¯t actually mind being ¡®the Riverfiend.¡¯ The beast my sect had revered as the Guardian of the Downpour had been a fiend as well. To me, and to most, this was no insult.


    ¡°I wonder when I¡¯ll get a title,¡± said Rachel suddenly.


    ¡°If we get further involved in the war, it¡¯s probably only a matter of time,¡± I replied.


    ¡°I¡¯m looking forward to it,¡± she disclosed, as if it were some great secret. I simply continued to walk. Titles assisted with influence, but were nowhere near our main priorities. If she acquired one it would boost the sect¡¯s prestige, however, so I was also slightly expectant.


    ¡°We can have you make a move personally, though you¡¯ll need to be careful not to let hints of your true nature leak.¡±


    Rachel nodded, her understanding of the threat even greater than my own. Her gaze went unfocused, and she bit her lip.


    ¡°Sometimes,¡± she said with a sigh, ¡°I wish I could develop myself like you martial artists can. Why couldn¡¯t humanity have been created with a progression system?¡±


    I gave her an odd look. She seemed to be in a strange mood today.


    ¡°That is simply the way of things, is it not? Besides, your technology more than makes up for the gap. In your situation, my people would have long died out.¡±


    Rachel sighed again, and gave me a pitying look. With a grim expression, she reached out with one intangible hand, appearing to set it on my shoulder, though I could feel nothing.


    ¡°You need to learn how to let someone complain, Cyrus. At this rate, you¡¯ll never be able to get a wife.¡±


    I gave her a blank look, ignoring the mockery. I had no need for such things. Still, her words brought something to my mind.


    Unlike myself, Rachel was not able to steadily improve past her limits. Due to the fact that she was an artificial life form, it was in theory easier to develop improvements to her design, so long as one had the blueprints. However, even if we were to acquire the designs needed to improve Rachel¡¯s capabilities, I doubted the system even had the facilities we would need to implement them. After all, her true body was located within the spirit world. What sort of equipment would be needed to do fine machine work in that place? Perhaps only the Terrans and the Osine had such technology. At the very least, I found it doubtful that the Staiven and Celans did.


    It was, I realized, actually quite similar to the problems faced by martial artists in their bottlenecks. One needed a method or technique, and the resources to properly implement them. Without the backing of a faction, it could be extremely difficult to improve oneself.


    ¡°I¡¯m still not sure why you¡¯re complaining,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯re an immortal being with great power who still has the capacity to improve yourself in the future. I¡¯m not sure what else you could hope for.¡±


    ¡°Other than a body?¡± she asked.


    I sighed, regretting having said anything. That part, I did understand. I would likely refuse to undergo a transformation into the sort of being that a Terran was, if the opportunity was offered to me. Most of what I enjoyed about life was tied to physicality in some way.


    ¡°I suppose.¡±


    Luckily for me, not long after I had spoken, we finally arrived at the training hall which my disciples used, and I glanced over to Rachel before stepping in.


    ¡°Inform me if anything important happens.¡±


    She simply smiled, and as I entered, followed behind me as if it was the most natural thing in the world. It seemed she was bored, I thought. Perhaps she did not find interrogation to be all that engaging. Regardless, so long as she didn¡¯t continue that conversation, I didn¡¯t mind her presence.


    The Demon of Twinjade: [Karie Hadal, foremost daughter of the famous Hadal Matriarch, Sirena Hadal, has greatly grown in notoriety in the past day, due to the revelation that she has been responsible for the partial collapse of two stacks. Charged with domestic terrorism by the Justice Office, she has been protected by the Hadal Clan. Many journalists have claimed that she may be demonic in nature, and she has received the title Demon of Twinjade due to her heritage and the fact that she is known for her expert ambidextrous swordplay. There have been numerous calls from the public for this criminal to be brought to justice. However, there is also a vocal minority who support her, claiming that her actions were merely ¡®defending Canvasian territory from Celan invaders.¡¯]

 138- Demon of Twinjade

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    ¡°Karie Hadal, daughter of the famous martial artist Sirena Hadal, has officially been condemned as an outlaw by the Justice Office. Earlier today she used heavy explosives on a residential stack in the third district. New findings have shown she may be responsible for a similar event in the eighth district last month. This terrorist is currently on the run from authorities. Her whereabouts are unknown, but the Hadal Clan has yet to give any statements on the matter.¡±


    Sirena smiled, amused by the news.


    ¡°I was wondering whether she would do this. She really is my daughter.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure this is okay?¡± asked Wei. ¡°She¡¯s your own daughter, Sisi, and you¡¯ve let her alienate most of the entire clan.¡±


    The Hadal Clan¡¯s matriarch gave him a dark look.


    ¡°Of all my children, Karie is the most similar to me. This was her decision, and whether she thought it through or was simply shortsighted makes no difference at this point. I wouldn¡¯t be a good mother if I simply protected her from all the consequences of her actions. I don¡¯t want her acting like Sulno¡¯s son,¡± she said, her expression shifting into a short chuckle.


    Wei frowned. The comment about Yulio Hadal was warranted, but he still felt that Sirena was far from as concerned as she should be.


    ¡°But what about the plans you had for-¡± he asked, pausing as he saw the expression on Sirena¡¯s face.


    She smiled, her golden eyes seeming to house infinitely profound depths within.


    ¡°What makes you think those are on hold?¡±


    Wei let out a breath, chuckling hoarsely. His oldest friend¡¯s plans were complex, but he had known her for a very long time. He stroked his beard as he followed her train of thought.


    ¡°What a¡­ convoluted solution,¡± he finally said.


    Sirena laughed at his expression.


    ¡°The other Elders would see through anything simpler, even more so the Supreme Elder. I think the odds are reasonable.¡±


    Wei shook his head.


    ¡°It¡¯s quite a risk, though. It will depend on whether you judged his nature correctly or not. Even then, poor luck could ruin it.¡±


    She shrugged in response.


    ¡°It¡¯s still a matter for the long term, anyway. The war and the selection are still more important. I¡¯m curious to see what will happen while Juen is recovering.¡±


    ¡°An opportunity for Lorelei, you mean,¡± said Wei.


    ¡°Karie, too, if she makes the right choices. This can be considered a trial and an opportunity for her.¡±


    Wei¡¯s aged brow wrinkled even further.


    ¡°With just a word of advice, you could lead her towards the right path,¡± he argued.


    Sirena¡¯s expression became hard, her eyes looking out into the cityscape through the wide windows of the office.


    ¡°If she can¡¯t find that path herself, she wouldn¡¯t make a good matriarch anyway,¡± she said.


    Wei simply sighed. Unlike his oldest living friend, his gaze had never glanced away from the Matriarch¡¯s face. She had always been the type to be engrossed by the world, while he could only hyperfocus on the people around him. For the both of them, he thought, it was simultaneously a strength and a weakness.


    ¡°I¡¯m not so sure your daughter would see this as grace, Sirena. She already feels she can¡¯t trust you to assist in any way. You don¡¯t have to model your parenting style on your own mo-¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± replied Sirena. ¡°That¡¯s how it should be.¡±


    Wei sighed again, taking a short step backwards and finally dropping the subject.


    ¡°Fine, then,¡± he said. ¡°We¡¯ll do it as you say. There¡¯s a larger matter at hand, anyway.¡±


    Sirena nodded, still glancing towards the foot traffic on the stack opposite.


    ¡°I¡¯m curious what their intentions are. I would have expected the Celans to make another attack by now, but it¡¯s been mostly quiet.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve been looking into their movements in Otan and the fifth district, but haven¡¯t seen anything notable.¡±You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    ¡°Just like how we didn¡¯t know they hid all those enforcers at the border,¡± snarled Sirena. ¡°They¡¯ve been leading us around wherever they want.¡± She sighed, glancing back towards Wei. ¡°Talk with the Riverfiend, and work with him to do an attack on their headquarters.¡±


    Wei¡¯s expression wavered, feeling a certain amount of anxiety well up inside of him.


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± he asked.


    Sirena leaned back in her seat, rubbing her cerebral dantian with a sigh.


    ¡°Our spies have clearly been giving us misinformation for years at least. Their headquarters at least, we can determine is important. It¡¯s certainly well-guarded, but they won¡¯t be expecting an attack. If nothing else, we¡¯ll be able to force them to move their defenses further inwards. While we do that, we¡¯ll have a second force move around to other locations we know about, to verify our intelligence.¡±


    Wei was conflicted, and the great risks were right before him. Still, he knew that their chances for victory would lessen the more the war dragged on. The industrial capacity of the Celans was simply too great of an advantage. There was only one thing he could say.


    ¡°By your will, Matriarch.¡±


    <hr>


    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Karie sighed, resting in a room Wei had told her about outside the clan headquarters. According to what he had said, she would not be able to return until the public relations matter had been resolved. Still, such a small matter could hardly quell the excitement she felt. She had finally earned herself a title.


    ¡°Demon of Twinjade¡­ Twinjade Demon¡­¡±


    As Karie said the name to herself, she smiled. It had a ring to it.


    Of course, she didn¡¯t quite appreciate being called a demon, but it was no surprise. It was along the lines of what she had anticipated, given the influence of Juen¡¯s faction. Even Lorelei¡¯s supporters wouldn¡¯t miss the chance to drag her down, though she and Lorelei had no particular malice built up between them personally.


    Karie sighed, glancing over at the things she had managed to bring over from her house inside the compound. It was a lackluster amount. Clothes, weapons, a few knick-knacks, craft supplies such as string and paints, and a small coniferous bonsai tree that she had been taking care of since before she had arrived on Tseludia. It was possibly her most prized possession, the last gift her father had given her before his death. She gave a small smile as she glanced at it, but then she lay down on the bed, trying to decide her next move.


    Wei had suggested that it would be better if she laid low, but Karie knew that the war was her greatest opportunity to raise the value of her name. In addition, she needed to build up a force to back her. If not one within the clan, then an external force would do.


    Perhaps she should speak to the Riverfiend, or to Lao Feng. Or both. Their forces each held a certain amount of influence within Canvas Town. She could promise them benefits after she became the matriarch. It would weaken the clan¡¯s standing, somewhat, but Karie did not particularly care. It wasn¡¯t as if most of the clan members had ever treated her well, anyway. As long as she became matriarch, she would be able to raise the clan¡¯s power enough to make up for the difference.


    If she needed to, she would even be willing to marry the two men into the family. An internal force was infinitely superior to an external one, after all. And despite being members of the clan in name, they would be ostracized by the others, and could only support Karie even harder.


    The thought brought a wide smile to Karie¡¯s face. It wouldn¡¯t be easy, but entering discussions with the sect leader and the gangster should be her first move. In her current position, she had little to lose.


    Karie¡¯s thoughts were interrupted as she heard an electronic sound emerging from the hatch at the end of the room¡¯s entry hallway. Someone had activated the doorbell. She frowned curiously as she stretched out the senses of her soul to gather more information, but Karie sensed nothing, as if nobody was present at all. Had the system merely malfunctioned?


    She stood, walking over to the hatch, careful and ready to dodge at any moment. As a spirit refiner, she felt secure enough to inspect, but had to be wary of explosives and drones. She couldn¡¯t trust her enemies not to make a deal with Staiven mercenaries.


    Arriving behind the hatch, Karie opened the camera feed from the outside to see a Seiyal woman who she didn¡¯t recognize.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± she asked.


    The woman smiled politely towards the camera, and gave a small wave. Her mannerisms were those of a mortal, rather than a martial artist.


    ¡°Are you Karie Hadal? I come bearing an offer for you.¡±


    ¡°An offer from who?¡± Karie asked.


    ¡°May I come in?¡± replied the woman, offering no answer.


    Karie considered the matter for a moment, and then complied, pressing the button to open the hatch. The situation was strange, and the odd lack of ability to sense the woman was even stranger, but Karie felt that as a spirit refiner, so long as she stayed on guard, there was nothing that could happen to her.


    The woman¡¯s smile remained as she walked inside, but as the hatch closed behind her, her form shifted, changing from a Seiyal to a form that looked more similar to a Celan. However, she was far too skinny for a Jobu. Her hair was pink, though Karie knew that was clearly artificial.


    ¡°You want to be the next matriarch, right? I can help,¡± said the Celan woman.


    Karie¡¯s eyes narrowed as she heard the words. This person would like her to think that it was the famed information network of the Real Spider that had allowed them to find out about Karie¡¯s goals, but Karie was inclined to think the opposite. She was not so foolish as to believe the Celans had that ability to alter their body. That was the domain of extant or formless miasma, not flickering. She was inclined to think this woman was actually a Tovus or an extant practitioner.


    ¡°Help¡­¡± said Karie. ¡°Who do you work for, Juen or Lorelei? Or¡­¡± she paused, realizing another possibility. ¡°Hold on, are you that Rachel I¡¯ve been hearing about?¡±


    The woman smirked.


    ¡°I won¡¯t say there¡¯s no connection, but you¡¯re wrong on all counts, Miss Karie. I work for myself.¡± Her smile grew wider, looking almost like she was baring her teeth at Karie. ¡°You can call me Janottka. I feel like there is a lot we can do to assist one another.¡±


    Miasmic Enhanced Tovus: [As an amorphous race, the Tovus are capable of shifting the shape of their body to whatever they wish, within certain limitations. They can even roughly replicate the appearances of other races, though the reproduction is only effective from a distance. As a mortal race, there is no natural way to lift this limitation, but with the assistance of a Seiyal extant practitioner, a Tovus operative can realistically mimic any race they need to, so long as there is not an extreme size difference, such as that with an Exid Queen. Popular media has even depicted the concept of a Tovus cyborg altered with advanced technology to use formless and extant miasma, and able to perfectly replicate not just any race, but also any individual. While there is no evidence such a procedure exists, the concept is fairly well known within Canvasian culture.]

 139- Formless Techniques

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    As usual, the room was filled with my disciples, several of them being hardworking and practicing in silence. A few, however, had been loudly laughing and talking with one another as they practiced their motions, suddenly ceasing their actions as they looked in horror to the door as it opened.


    ¡°Seems you¡¯re all enjoying yourselves,¡± I observed.


    Shadowblade had frozen mid motion, Gen and Han had awkward looks on their faces, and Lin was intensely blushing. Qian and Blake, meanwhile, seemed to be comfortably pausing their exercise to greet me. I suspected that in reality, Blake had been the only one of the group being fully diligent. Still, I was not foolish enough to restrict the youth of my disciples. That would only cause problems further down the line.


    Behind me, I heard Rachel snicker.


    ¡°Disciple greets Master!¡± called my disciples in unison, each bowing before me. I gave them all a nod, and they rose again to their full height.


    ¡°It seems you¡¯ve all been working on the exercises I gave you,¡± I observed. ¡°Show me your results.¡± I nodded to Blake, who was holding a training sword.


    By this point, all of my disciples had decided on the weapon they intended to use primarily. To no surprise, the majority of them had chosen the sword. Not only was it one of the most common martial weapons, it was also my own specialty, and they rightfully believed I had more to teach about it. Blake, Han, Qian, and Lin had all made this choice, though Qian had picked the more aggressive saber, rather than a dynamic jian like myself and the others. Gen, on the other hand, had picked a glaive, choosing to enhance the reach advantage provided by his lanky limbs even further.


    Shadowblade, to no surprise, continued to use throwing knives. I had needed to ask Ran to specially order a large quantity, and he was the only disciple currently using real weapons. With such a weapon, it was best to train for the exact size and shape one intended to use, so I had felt that training versions would be counter-productive. Shadowblade was not the type to listen anyway, and I suspected he would have trained with the low quality real ones he had already owned. Similarly, he had refused to tie his hair up, even though a clear sightline should improve his efficacy. I had, however, also insisted he learn knife fighting in melee, and in this, at least, he had thrown himself into with all his efforts.


    Blake quickly went through the motions, and I approved of his clean movements. I gave him a couple pointers, which he accepted gracefully, before moving on to the next disciple. Within fifteen minutes, I had looked at the fruit of their labors, and approved wholeheartedly. There were issues I had needed to correct, but what I was looking for at the moment was not perfection, but a sufficient foundation to move forward. These disciples of mine were all hardworking, and with advisement, I trusted them not to slack off on the basics.


    ¡°I believe you have all advanced enough to take the next step,¡± I told them. ¡°You can inform me which technique you wish for me to teach you, and I will find the time to do so. Of course, you are not allowed to share these techniques with anyone else, even one another, unless I give permission.¡±


    My eyes roamed over each of the disciples individually, and they each agreed to the rule. I gave them a firm nod.


    ¡°Good. I believe that Rachel already shared the list of techniques with you last week. Have you made your choices?¡±


    ¡°I would like to learn the Heart of Rainfall,¡± said Gen, and after a short pause, I gave him a firm nod. It was not a bad choice for a first advanced technique, and though it was a final resort, the technique was still useful in a variety of situations.


    ¡°I¡­ I want to learn the Water Striding Steps!¡± said Han, a storm raging in his eyes. I smiled at him and gave a nod.


    ¡°A good choice. Movement is vital for keeping yourself safe as well as for pressing the advantage. I turned to Qian, who stood beside him. She blushed, and then spoke.


    ¡°I would also like to learn it.¡±


    The words were slightly mumbled, but I paid no heed to it. The Water Striding Steps were, in my opinion, the most vital and powerful technique I knew. They had saved my life more times than I could count, and were the core technique of all of the Downpour Sect¡¯s martial arts. Even the disciples who did not choose it today would likely ultimately seek to learn it. Still, if they did not choose it now, I suspected each of them would choose it later, even if not as a technique they intended to turn into a core at some point. It was simply that useful. Next, I moved on to Blake.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    ¡°I wish to learn the Ripple Disguise Art,¡± he said. At this, I frowned.


    The art was one of the less popular of those I knew, as the Downpour Sect had been very isolated, and there were few of us who found a need for such an art. Still, formless arts were the best at disguises at the high levels, and such arts would be very useful on the station. I did not ask what drove Blake¡¯s interest in the art, as I felt what I knew of his background gave me a fair idea. Perhaps I was wrong, though, and he was merely inspired by tales of the Many-Faced Demon. Either way, so long as he did not break the sect rules with it, I did not mind such motives.


    ¡°Interesting,¡± is all I said, before I turned to the next disciple, Lin Wuyuan. As always, in front of me she wore a mask of intense focus and discipline.


    ¡°I would like to learn the Heart of Rainfall,¡± she said. I gave her a nod, approving of this decision as well. My disciples had good heads on their shoulders, I thought. They had clearly all put plenty of thought into this decision.


    Finally, I turned to Shadowblade, who smiled, his eyes bright and excited. For some look in his golden eyes gave me a bad feeling.


    ¡°I would like to learn the Soul Severing Art!¡± he said.


    I gave him an odd look.


    ¡°That art causes permanent soul damage to yourself, and if you lose your weapon you no longer gain the benefit from it. And you use throwing knives,¡± I reminded him, attempting to persuade him against this foolish plan.


    For some reason, his eyes remained filled with excitement. I sighed, knowing that reason alone would not get across to him. I supposed one had to let the young make mistakes and learn lessons from it.


    ¡°If you truly wish for it, I will teach it to you,¡± I said. I met his eyes, ensuring he understood how serious I was. ¡°But whatever you do, do not lose the weapons you use the art on, nor allow them to be destroyed. You will regret it until the day you die.¡±


    My gaze carried the weight of my own past mistakes, and I made sure he understood what I was saying. Taken aback, Shadowblade quickly nodded, and I allowed the pressure to die down. He still looked excited.


    ¡°I still wish to learn the Soul Severing Art, Master,¡± he said.


    I sighed.


    ¡°Alright, then. But I would recommend being extremely careful.¡±


    He bowed to me, and I moved on.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you are all excited to acquire some truly powerful abilities. But remember,¡± I advised, ¡°not to slack on your basics. The more you improve your foundation, the greater your overall fighting strength will become. Even I still occasionally practice the basic foundations of my sword art. As unorthodox practitioners, you must all be wary of ensuring yourself a very strong foundation, or you will be unable to progress further and doom yourself. As my disciples, I will offer you the chance to acquire a near-perfect foundation, but every martial artist must create theirs for themselves.¡±


    Once again, I gauged the reactions of my disciples, and approved of their solemn response.


    ¡°Good,¡± I said. ¡°In that case, I will first teach Gen and Lin after this. Then I¡¯ll teach Blake. Tomorrow, Qian, Shadowblade, and Han will be taught theirs.¡± They all bowed slightly as I gave the instructions. ¡°By the way,¡± I added. ¡°The meditation room is currently undergoing repairs, so you will not be able to use it for at least a week.¡±


    I saw some curious looks across my disciples'' faces, but I did not bother to explain what had happened. There was no need, and regardless I wished to keep the knowledge of Triezal¡¯s capture a secret for as long as possible. While the background checks we had performed on my disciples were as thorough as possible, this did not mean they wouldn¡¯t accidentally let something slip to a friend who was problematic.


    I turned to Rachel, who had remained quiet this entire time. She seemed distracted, and I questioned why she had even bothered to follow me inside. Perhaps something important was happening with the interrogation. I then turned back to my disciples.


    ¡°Blake, wait outside. Han, Qian, Shadowblade, take a rest. You¡¯ll be working hard tomorrow.¡±


    They all bowed.


    ¡°Yes, Master.¡±


    After this, they filed out, while the remaining two disciples waited before me, expectant looks on their faces. I smiled at them as only four of us finally remained in the room.


    ¡°First,¡± I said, ¡°We will need to discuss what it means to be a storm.¡±


    The Masked Specter Sect: [This force¡¯s existence is unknown. It is possible it is merely a rumor, or perhaps just a fiction. However, many believe it to be real. The sect is said to be a secret society of formless practitioners who have hidden themselves within Sunlit Hall using extreme powers of disguise. While none claim they secretly rule the orthodox path, due to the protective influence of the ascendant goddess Ceirra, many mysterious happenings over the years have been blamed on them, particularly among certain internet circles. On Tseludia Station, rumors of the Riverfiend being an ex member of the Masked Specter Sect have propagated, but few believe them, as he is being far too high key. In popular culture, the sect is said to be headed by a powerful earthly immortal known as the Many-Faced Demon.]

 140- Ripples in a Placid Body

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Despite my coaching, neither of my disciples had managed to activate the technique. This was not unusual, of course. I myself had taken days of persistent practice before first activating the Heart of Rainfall, and in my case it had only been the second technique I learned, rather than the first. Gen and Lin made good efforts, and I had faith they would be able to comprehend the technique¡¯s profundity.


    ¡°The storm,¡± I had told them, ¡°is a battle. It is the cyclical flow of water from the heavens to the earth. It is enraged, and it is calm, depending on where you stand. The core of this technique is to turn the dantian in your heart into such a storm, but composed of miasma. Once the meditation room is repaired, I would recommend you turn it into the storm, and simply feel it wash over you. The greater your understanding of a storm, the easier it will be to form the technique.¡±


    I turned to Rachel, then, and asked a question.


    ¡°How long do you think it¡¯ll be until it can be fixed?¡±


    Rachel turned, appearing as if she had been snapped out of a reverie.


    ¡°What? Oh, right, it should be about a week. We need to finish handling our gains from the gangs we took over in the past few days.¡±


    At this, I nodded, and then turned back to the disciples.


    ¡°That¡¯s a matter for later. Continue practicing on your own. Next time I give you pointers, you may ask me any questions you have.


    ¡°Thank you, Master,¡± said Lin.


    The two bowed, and quickly left the room, replaced by the ever solitary form of Blake Wan.


    ¡°Greetings, Master,¡± he said, with a polite bow that I waved off. He was always like that in front of me, solemn and composed. Unlike Lin Wuyuan, however, according to Rachel, Blake never came out of his shell in front of anybody else, either. This represented a problem for my intentions of promoting close relationships between sect members in order to increase loyalty.


    Blake, unlike his peers, had little interest in such behavior, or at least, had pushed away social interaction as much as possible.


    He was here for one reason: to gain the strength to achieve his goals, and he had no intentions of losing track of this. This posed problems to me, as it was more difficult to build up that sense of loyalty, and also increased the odds of damage to his mental state. For a formless practitioner, this was an important consideration.


    Of course, I had taken him in as my disciple fully aware of this. I smiled as I remembered it. This was a young man who had dedicated his entire life to revenge to the exclusion of all else. It was hard to say that he was like me, because as I had recently realized, I was not truly bound by my desire for revenge, real as it was. Instead, I was a man bound by my instincts. Still, Blake amused me, and I would use his talents for my own benefit while dangling the opportunity for revenge before him.


    Mutually beneficial arrangements were enough for me. Though I still would prefer he interacted more with the others. I would not have minded another layer of security.


    I glanced over at Blake, and could tell he was clearly unnerved by the intensity of my gaze.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you understand the social repercussions this ability might cause you,¡± I told him.


    He nodded firmly.


    ¡°In addition, be aware that the ability cannot do much at this stage. At most, you will be able to ripple your facial muscles such that you appear to be a stranger. This is a technique which only excels at the higher realms.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good, Master,¡± replied Blake. ¡°I don¡¯t wish to be recognized.¡±


    At this, I could only sigh.


    ¡°Fine, then. As I¡¯ve said before, the core of every technique is a visualization. For the Ripple Disguise Art, you must imagine a pond. A still, smooth body of water.¡±


    Midway through the explanation, I realized that Blake, a native of Tseludia, had undoubtedly never seen anything like a pond.


    ¡°Rachel, can you-¡±


    She obliged, and the image of a green pond appeared in the empty center of the room. While the image was perfect, the lack of any remarks almost felt off-putting coming from her.


    ¡°Is something happening?¡± I asked. For a while now, she had been acting as if she were extremely distracted by something.


    She glanced at Blake, and then back to me.


    ¡°It¡¯s not pressing. We can speak about it later.¡±


    I nodded, and returned my attention to my student.


    ¡°Imagine that this pond is you. You are still, you are calm. The world is the same. All is the surface of the pond, unaffected by the exterior world. Then the miasma enters, like a cast stone.¡±


    As I spoke, I mimed tossing a rock into the pond, and Rachel followed through, showing the ripples in the world that resulted from the action.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    ¡°With this, the natural order has been interrupted, and a new order is displayed.¡±


    I mimed another rock tossed, and a second set of ripples appeared on the pond. A third and a fourth stone were cast in, and the once still waters became turbulent.


    ¡°As so,¡± I explained, ¡°the miasma is cast into your body in pulses, each one dispersing out to affect the area around it. Each influence is slight, but they accumulate to cause great change. Here is what it looks like in practice.¡±


    I rippled my own flesh in tune with the water, a grotesque image that left Blake taken aback. Behind me, I heard Rachel giggle. My skin and bones shifted slowly as the ripples in the pond did, and Blake peered closely at my face, which did not appear how I normally did. I seemed bulkier, my jaw and cheekbones firm, wrinkles on my brow and deep bags under my eyes. I looked almost the spitting image of Kein Huang, if he were to have the dark skin of a farsei.


    ¡°I¡¯m not using the Ripple Art, of course. I¡¯m merely replicating it with the natural talents of a formless physique at my level. If you were to make this art one of your cores, you would be able to do far more with it than merely this.¡±


    In the time since I had become a spirit refiner, I had repeatedly practiced the limits of my physique, and had learned that I could roughly approximate the appearance of another Seiyal, enough to fool someone who was not a close acquaintance. In theory, I could do the same for other humanoid races such as the Jobu or the Reth, but I simply was unable to alter the color of my skin, hair and eyes. For that, one would either need technological assistance, a dedicated technique, or the help of an extant practitioner. With the demonstration complete, my skin rippled again, before I returned to my regular appearance.


    ¡°The trick to this technique is to fully still the flow of miasma within your body, and then finely shift how it interacts with the meridians within the part of your body you wish to affect. It¡¯s a test of fine control, and depending on how you alter the establishment of your meridians, it might become easier or more difficult.¡±


    Blake watched with what was clearly some sort of morbid fascination. Body alteration was certainly a powerful ability, but it came at a cost. It was easy to make a mistake and damage one¡¯s own foundation, and also to be stuck in the form one had changed into. I had never observed any of the rumored legendary formless arts that allowed one to transform into a monster to increase battle strength, but I could estimate the side effects of such a transformation.


    ¡°Keep in mind,¡± I continued, ¡°that this alteration is permanent. You must change yourself back on your own. It is wise to keep in mind your true appearance, or you might lose yourself. It is said that this is what drove the Many-Faced Demon into insanity. Of all the paths, the formless path is most prone to this, for more reasons than one.¡±


    After explaining the art to him, I helped Blake for about another hour to physically comprehend the complexities of it. Like the others, I didn¡¯t expect him to truly succeed with the art for at least another week, and it would take a few more for him to do anything more than make his appearance extremely unsightly. This would not, I estimated, do much to help with his poor social skills.


    After I finished teaching him, I returned to my office, followed by the still oddly quiet form of Rachel. I rested my elbows on the desk, clasping my fists together in a manner my master had once done.


    ¡°Tell me what¡¯s happening,¡± I said.


    In response, Rachel gave me an awkward smile, scratching the back of her head.


    ¡°It¡¯s really not anything important. I¡¯ve just been sorting through the information that the Magister told me. There¡¯s quite a lot that we did not know about the Epon. If this is true¡­¡±


    ¡°Is there anything I would care about?¡± I asked.


    Rachel shook her head.


    ¡°It mostly relates to their main branch in the Janaste system. Though, you might be interested to know that Lao Feng, the man you met the other day, was actually a Celan.¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°Obviously. He¡¯s a Celan operative.¡±


    Rachel smiled coyly.


    ¡°Not quite what I meant, Cyrus. He¡¯s the results of experiments in implanting a Celan mind and soul into a Seiyal body.¡±


    I paused, blinking for a few seconds as I parsed her words.


    ¡°Are you serious?¡± I asked, my words quiet and my reaction subdued.


    Rachel nodded.


    ¡°It¡¯s actually quite the innovation. My people came up with it centuries ago, of course, but our souls are incompatible with the method, obviously.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure how to feel about this. On the one hand, this was cruel experimentation performed on the body of a man of my race, and on the other, I didn¡¯t particularly care about what happened to someone¡¯s body after their death. If nothing else, this did serve to explain some of the questions I had left after my interactions with the man.


    ¡°Did he know how many of these¡­ infiltrators there are?¡± i asked.


    Rachel laughed at me.


    ¡°My, you¡¯re acting quite serious about this, Cyrus. But no, Lao Feng is apparently one of only three here on the station. The surgery can only be performed in the Janaste system, and only on mortals, so you don¡¯t need to worry.¡±


    Hearing this, I relaxed. I could handle the idea of a few mortal deaths, particularly if it meant no aliens were secretly infiltrating my sect. Still, I didn¡¯t allow myself to relax completely. If the Celans could do this, what was to say others could not? The Staiven, after all, were extremely interested in acquiring other progression systems, and their technology was no weaker than that of the Celans.


    I met Rachel¡¯s eyes once again.


    ¡°If there¡¯s two others on the station¡­ who are they?¡± I asked.


    Rachel smiled.


    ¡°You might find this rather interesting.¡±


    Soul Replacement: [Created roughly thirty years ago, according to the Pantheonic Calendar, this cutting edge technology is controlled in utmost secrecy by the Epon, and allows them to swap souls and engrams between humanoid bodies. One of the two bodies is destroyed in the process, and one of the souls is as well, though this is not considered an issue. Sufficient testing has allowed the Epon to use this on Jobu, Korlove, and Seiyal, though insufficient quantities of test subjects have rendered them unable to use it on the Reth so far. Despite their visual similarity to the humanoid races, the Staiven are not effective targets for the technology, as their brains are simply too different from that of humanoids for the process to operate smoothly. Similarly, using the technology with Korlove can cause locomotion issues due to their physical differences with Jobu and Seiyal. In addition, attempting the process with a soul enhanced by a progression system inevitably causes the process to fail, destroying both bodies and souls.]

 141- Next Moves

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    ¡°How do you not know?¡± bellowed Deuvar, his attitude a large step away from his usual demeanor with her, and more like how he treated an incompetent subordinate. His sister glared at him in return. He had not treated her like this in over a decade. Nobody had, and lived long afterwards.


    But of course, she couldn¡¯t have her brother killed, and she wouldn¡¯t truly wish for such a thing to happen, anyway.


    ¡°Do I look like I know how alien machines work?¡± asked Astna. ¡°For all I know, he activated it incorrectly and was cast out into the Brink. You know all I do, which is that the light went off, and he didn¡¯t appear here or with the Drelistai. All I can think is that either the government took him, or he¡¯s dead.¡±


    Deuvar slightly slumped, the energy fading from his body.


    ¡°Damn it all.¡±


    ¡°Are you going to tell the Leader?¡± she asked, a hint of concern displaying at the corners of her eyes.


    Both of them knew how much stock the old Korlove had placed on Triezal even before he had betrayed the Epon with them. Now, he was ranked of just as much importance as the two of them in the Leader¡¯s eyes. And he was one of only five individuals in the organization who knew the true status of their future. It wasn¡¯t just the Leader who placed great importance on the man. Deuvar and Astna couldn¡¯t help but do the same.


    Deuvar sighed.


    ¡°I wish to know just what happened before I disturb him. They didn¡¯t find any signs of the sending stone in the wreckage?¡±


    Astna shook her head.


    ¡°They found Merris DNA on-site, but little enough of it that it''s possible he escaped.¡±


    ¡°If that¡¯s the case,¡± Deuvar muttered, ¡°then where is he?¡±


    Astna spread her arms to shrug.


    ¡°I¡¯m certain I can soon find out, so long as someone¡¯s holding him. But if he¡¯s choosing to lay low on his own, or if he¡¯s dead, it¡¯s out of my control.¡±


    Deuvar felt that the evidence must be out there, somewhere. Perhaps an alien organization had recently bought some Celan foodstuffs, or traces of extant miasma had been recorded somewhere it should not be. They were simply not putting the pieces of evidence that Astna had brought him together. Suddenly, he had a wild idea.


    What if, he thought, he asked a Shade for assistance?


    The idea seemed insane, but Deuvar mulled it over. It was possible that no force in the universe could compile and analyze data better than a Shade, except perhaps the Calculation Engines of Staive themselves. Moreover, such a collaboration could deepen the relationship between the two forces. Unlike Lao Feng and his Feng Gang, Deuvar would never be able to completely trust the Redwater Sect and its two leaders, as they were simply aliens. One could never truly trust an alien.


    Still, collaboration for mutual benefit would always be a possibility, so long as both sides were capable of logic.


    Rachel already knew of their situation and what it meant for the organization¡¯s future, but if someone were to torture Triezal and find out about their severed ties with the Epon¡­ Deuvar dared not think what might happen. In that case, the Hadal Clan would become the least of their worries.


    The core difference, he thought, between how they and the Hadal Clan were treating the Redwater Sect, was that the Hadal Clan seemed focused on short term cooperation, while Deuvar couldn¡¯t help but focus on the long term. The Hadal Clan did not need the force¡¯s assistance, but as time passed, Deuvar was more and more certain of the fact that only with Rachel¡¯s help would the Heirs have the opportunity to exist in the long term.


    <hr>


    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    I peered over at Wei Hadal above the rim of my cup as I took a relaxed sip of tea.


    ¡°So what brings you here, Mister Wei?¡±


    I relaxed in my seat as I purposefully expressed a more casual stance towards the man than I had before. The clan had their hands full at the moment, and would not, I expected, bother to deal with any perceived minor disrespect from me. After being informed of his visit, Rachel and I had discussed what position to hold in advance, and as a result here the two of us sat, treating the vastly more powerful force as if we were their equal.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    He met my gaze evenly.


    ¡°Your force has been rather busy these past days, Sect Leader Yu.¡±


    I smiled at this.


    ¡°What sort of Sect Leader would I be if I did not take advantage of the opportunities which rested before me?¡±


    ¡°Truly a shame your ambitions were interrupted by Lao Feng,¡± he said.


    I remained unphased, but I couldn¡¯t help but wonder whether the Hadal Clan knew of the man¡¯s true nature or not. I shrugged.


    ¡°We came to an agreement, so I feel that it was a blessing in disguise.¡±


    ¡°The two of you never did reveal the true outcome of the battle. Who really won, if you don¡¯t mind my asking?¡±


    The same relaxed smile remained on my face.


    ¡°It was hard fought,¡± I told him, and then took another sip of tea, not saying another word.


    ¡°I see,¡± said the old spirit refiner.


    There was a moment of silence where we both drank our tea, and I couldn¡¯t help but wonder just what the Matriarch wanted from me, this time, that it was worth sending her aide to personally speak with me about the matter. The old man quietly smiled as he carefully placed the cup back on the table, lifting the pot to refill it.


    ¡°Say, what would you think about making a raid on the Celan headquarters?¡± he asked.


    Surprised by his words, I checked his expression, but Wei had taken the time to drink some more tea, avoiding the chance to accidentally leak some of his attitude.


    ¡°You want the two of us personally to attack them?¡± I asked.


    The aged martial artist shrugged.


    ¡°To take part in it. Not just yourself, though. We wish for the Redwater Sect to participate. We would be putting in our own effort as well, of course.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t this a rather bold interpretation of what our previous agreement discussed?¡± asked Rachel.


    Wei chuckled  in response.


    ¡°All informal agreements are up for dispute.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t disagree with him, but I frowned anyway. The clan was pressuring me more rapidly than I had anticipated.


    ¡°Bold indeed,¡± I said. ¡°One would think this would mean you wish to make an enemy of my sect.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll be able to make it up to you,¡± he replied. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯re aware that what you need most is time to stabilize your foundation. Both for yourself, and for your sect.¡±


    I silently continued to listen to his words, knowing that he had hit spot on for my motivations. Even with my efforts blocked by Lao Feng, Orion had been successful enough that we almost had more territory than we could manage. Ran and Kein were having to work overtime to keep up with it, and Kein¡¯s mortal body was having difficulty handling the strain. We needed to develop not only our management capabilities, but also to train our new disciples sufficiently that we could use them as guards and enforcers for the sect.


    ¡°And you believe expending more of our forces for a suicide mission is just what we need?¡± asked Rachel.


    Wei shrugged.


    ¡°As I said, I¡¯m sure we have the capacity to make it up to you. What are you wanting? Accountants, technique manuals, miasmic treasures? Whatever it may be, we have plenty.¡±


    ¡°Tell me more about this attack,¡± I said.


    While it still sounded like a suicide mission, regardless I needed to give the clan at least a certain amount of face. Perhaps I could send a token force, or even take action myself, as they seemed to wish. Even facing enforcers, by this point I was extremely confident in my survivability.


    However, Wei shook his head.


    ¡°I''m afraid you¡¯ll have to agree to join us before I can share more information. I apologize, but there¡¯s only so much trust we can offer to someone¡­ uninvested.¡±


    It was hard to say how much he knew of my dealings with the Celans, but it was certain that he was aware of my maneuverings. It would have been difficult not to be, for one such as him.


    ¡°Might we at least ask why you¡¯ve chosen such a forthright tactic?¡± Rachel asked.


    This time Wei felt willing to respond.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you have a rough understanding of the situation. The faster the war ends, the better the outcome for us. Wouldn¡¯t it be best for you as well, if your gains could become cemented in place?¡±


    Personally, I wished the war to last for at least a couple of months, and weaken both forces further, but he was, of course, also aware of this.


    ¡°Do you mind if we speak bluntly?¡± I asked.


    Wei smiled, having waited for this.


    ¡°Not a problem. To be clear, we¡¯ll need you to help with this. Consider it a duty as martial artists, to handle the aliens working against our species¡¯ interests.¡±


    I gritted my teeth, but nodded.


    ¡°But you¡¯re willing to make up for the losses we¡¯ll receive, yes?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± he said with a nod, and a smile. ¡°Now, do you wish to continue digressing, or shall we begin to negotiate terms?¡±


    Rachel smiled, and I noticed something odd about it, but I simply accepted the result.


    ¡°I¡¯ll call in our advisors,¡± she said.


    Wei nodded as if he had expected this development, and took a sip of tea with the corners of his lips still slightly upturned.


    ¡°I would expect no less.¡±


    Trade in the Pantheonic Territory: [Trade, the lifeblood of all great civilizations, is a core element of life within the Pantheonic Territory, spearheaded by the influence of the Church of Fulstovis. Despite the vast distances between stars, technology, unique resources and products, and even entire populations are constantly moving between star systems. The use of long term stasis technology by most of the territory¡¯s races has allowed this industry to thrive despite the long voyages. A single trade deal between two systems might take over two decades in subjective time to complete, potentially even arriving an entire decade late if delays occur during transit. Still, the revenues generated through such trade are immense. Due to the unique advantages provided by the voidgates, Staive has managed to become one of the richest trading hubs in the inhabited galaxy, second only to those within the Osine nations.]

 142- A Loosely Constructed Method

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    ¡°Hold on,¡± said Orion, ¡°I don¡¯t think I caught that right.¡±


    We were seated around the long table in the meeting room, a group composed of myself, Rachel, Orion, and Jihan. The Sect¡¯s Elders, as well as the Iron Palace Leader. It was, in essence, a war council.


    Hearing Orion¡¯s words, Rachel gave him a demonic grin.


    ¡°Was he unclear?¡± she asked. ¡°We¡¯re attacking their headquarters.¡±


    There was a lengthy pause, before Orion spoke up again.


    ¡°Would you mind if I asked why we¡¯re doing that?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t have a choice,¡± I said, and Orion went quiet as he noticed the tone of my voice. Even with the concessions from the clan, I was not happy about this.


    ¡°We agreed to send four squads of meridian establishment and foundation refinement practitioners, six core formation practitioners, and three spirit refiners. That means us, Jihan and his squad, and the rest is on you.¡±


    Orion frowned, but did not dispute my decision any further. He knew that it was a pointless effort. Jihan, meanwhile, still had an impassive expression on his face. He had already mentally committed.


    ¡°Your first priority is to complete your mission, or at least to seem as if you are doing so.¡±


    At this, he seemed to be catching on to my intentions.


    ¡°Your second,¡± I continued, ¡°Is to minimize casualties as much as possible. If anything, we would want this to fail, but we can¡¯t risk antagonizing the Hadal Clan too much, so you will need to actually make an effort.¡±


    He nodded, but still seemed uneasy. I couldn¡¯t blame him for that. After analyzing his expression for a moment, I turned back to Rachel.


    ¡°Let¡¯s discuss the details,¡± I said. She nodded, and gave me an apologetic look.


    ¡°I have the official blueprints, but can¡¯t be sure whether they¡¯ve renovated the interior layout since then. I expect that my model will only be fully accurate for the building¡¯s exterior.¡±


    ¡°Show us what you have,¡± I said.


    She nodded, and with a flourish, the image of a stack appeared. As always, Rachel¡¯s visual provided an excellent depiction of the location.The headquarters of the Heirs of Ottrien were on the lower half of the stack, but closer to the middle than to the bottom. This, I thought, would greatly increase the difficulty of the attack.


    ¡°According to the plan, we¡¯ll be going in from below,¡± she explained. We had ended up with that role following the extensive discussions with Wei. ¡°The Hadal forces will come from above, and the mercenaries from the flanks.¡±


    Jihan and Orion frowned, hearing this. To come from above or the side, one could easily arrive by aero, and run quickly to get to the location. To arrive from below was far more difficult, when one could not blend in to the surroundings.


    ¡°Most of it,¡± she explained, ¡°has the layout of a normal office building, but there are armed guards, defensive checkpoints, and fortifications. Previously, they didn¡¯t bother to even look over who went in and out, so long as they were Celan.¡±


    She glanced over to me, and our eyes met. I could see mirth buried in those faux-amber depths.


    ¡°I expect the tighter security measures were because they were worried you or I would try to sneak in. Ever since we tried to kidnap Astna they¡¯ve been extra careful about who goes in. This has allowed the clan to schedule their attack for a time when the Heirs¡¯ Vice-Leader Deuvar is present. Of course,¡± she smirked, ¡°I would be surprised if the Celans didn¡¯t know of the planned attack. That¡¯s where most of the danger comes from. We can¡¯t tell whether they will change up the security measures or not based on that knowledge.¡±


    The rest of us at the table were all listening intently. I and Jihan were unphased by the information, in part because I had already heard most of it before, from Wei. Orion, however, was less able to keep his cool.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    ¡°How many enforcers should we expect?¡± he asked, a bead of sweat slowly dripping down his brow. It seemed he was nervous, I thought. This did not surprise me. Though he was quite talented, he was still only a core formation practitioner. And unlike me, he lacked a sufficiently powerful movement technique. Alone, he couldn¡¯t hope to last more than half a minute against one of the war machines.


    Rachel shrugged in response. ¡°Hard to say. I¡¯ve yet to see evidence of them moving any enforcers to the area, which I would think either means they haven¡¯t yet begun to make their preparations, or that they feel confident in the defenses that they already have.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps they intend to move past the Canvas Town border again while most of the strong forces are occupied,¡± I suggested. If they felt their headquarters would be able to hold off against the attack, this would be the best move, in my opinion. The clan would wish to fall back to protect their interests if the enemy penetrated deep into their territory.


    ¡°Either way,¡± said Rachel, brushing past my speculation, ¡°we¡¯ll need to make the attack regardless. So be wary of enforcer ambushes, because I would be surprised if they lacked any squirreled away somewhere. Don¡¯t worry, though. We¡¯ll largely be in one group. It¡¯ll be Cyrus and Jihan¡¯s job to handle the enforcers. You and your men will handle the footsoldiers.¡±


    As she spoke, her eyes remained fixated on Orion, who nodded, some of his concerns alleviated.


    ¡°Is that the extent of our current plans?¡± asked Jihan.


    ¡°We intend to use a more loose plan, shifting according to our needs, since we aren¡¯t sure what exactly we¡¯ll be facing. For ingress and egress, we are still working on the plans. Suggestions would be appreciated, if either of you have any,¡± she explained.


    ¡°We should be moving out some time in the next few days, so make sure your subordinates are ready,¡± I said.


    Sensing my tone, Jihan and Orion stood, offering a short bow and clasping their hands.


    ¡°Yes, Sect Leader,¡± they said. I nodded, and the two filed out of the room to get to work.


    After they left, I sighed.


    ¡°There will be a lot of casualties, even in the best case scenario,¡± I said. ¡°I suspect we¡¯ll start having to put the children to work to keep up.¡±


    Rachel shrugged. I glanced over to her, realizing for the first time that she was currently wearing an odd, altered version of her sect robes, that had been recut to more resemble a dress than a martial uniform. She was leaning relaxedly over the table, seemingly held up by one elbow.


    ¡°We always intended to use the former gangsters as cannon fodder, and to send them into battle until they died out, and were replaced b y the disciples we trained up. Besides, everyone needs to grow up eventually.¡±


    I turned to face her.


    ¡°That¡¯s not the problem,¡± I said. ¡°I would simply prefer to maximize their training time until they at least reached the meridian establishment realm. It¡¯s barely been a month since they began.¡±


    Rachel shrugged.


    ¡°We can always train more. It isn¡¯t as if ambitious youngsters without any backing are a scarce resource on the station.¡±


    I sighed again, looking off into nowhere, as if I could see myself as I was in the past. A cold, scared young man sitting on the street in the rain.


    ¡°I suppose.¡±


    These thoughts lead my mind astray, and I found myself thinking of my disciples. Just this morning, I had trained Han and Qian in my most important technique, and Shadowblade in what I felt was obviously a fool¡¯s errand. He had learned it excitedly, even after I had banned him from using it until he reached the meridian establishment realm. If he was going to learn an odd technique, I thought, it would be better for it to be something like the disguise art that Blake had-


    Suddenly, my eyes went wide as an idea flashed into my mind. If we were able to sneak into the district, our mortality rate would be able to be greatly lessened. I was a formless practitioner, and Rachel could create illusions. Why couldn¡¯t we disguise ourselves as Celans, at least from a distance? Sure, it would be dishonorable, but I cared not about such trivialities. This was, after all, an unorthodox sect. Everyone already expected us to act in such a way. I smiled.


    Rachel glanced over to me, noticing the shift in my expression.


    ¡°Did something happen?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I had a thought,¡± I said. ¡°How feasible would it be for you to disguise our force as Jobu?¡±


    Rachel paused, considering the idea, and then her expression warped into a grin of her own.


    ¡°I feel we can make that work. Your disguise will be the only particularly convincing one, however. And we might need to acquire props and prosthetics to make it work.¡±


    I nodded, having anticipated this issue. Still, in the crowds of Tseludia during certain times of day, sneaking a few odd looking individuals around at a time was a more than feasible task.


    Rush Hour on Tseludia Station: [Though the Staiven are blind, and thus pay no attention to the on and off cycles of the station¡¯s dome light, their sleep schedule, presumably due to the will of their dead creators, quite similar to that of the humanoid races. It is a roughly 25 hour cycle. As the vast majority of the station¡¯s population is Staiven or humanoid, the trend of largely synchronized low activity periods followed by high activity ¡®day¡¯ periods is simply a part of station culture. Because of this, the concept of ¡®rush hour¡¯ exists, when a large percentage of the station¡¯s inhabitants wake up and walk to their workplace, or leave their workplace to return home, rendering the streets extremely congested for a period of time. The sole exceptions to this trend is the spacedock, which is bustling at all hours, and Otan, where shifts of drones are constantly moving around. Of course, a city as widely inhabited as Tseludia is never truly in a slumbering state, and many live on their own schedules, with no care for how the majority of the population spends their time.]

 143- Disguises

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    I sat at a small cafe, drinking some odd, bitter liquid many Celans enjoyed. Personally, I did not understand this, as I found it more unpleasant than enjoyable. That said, it was the only drink on the menu aside from water that my body could digest, so I would continue to drink it while fiddling with a glyph slate. I could not read the glyphs, of course, but nobody was looking all that closely towards the short Jobu with an ordinary face.


    It was odd to be in a location so designed for and filled with members of another humanoid race. The Celans were so similar to my own people, but were different in just as many ways. As many regular chairs as there were at the tables, there were also odd stools almost level with the table¡¯s surface, designed for the comfort of Korlove. The script that directed passerby, and advertised the shops and restaurants was composed of those same alien glyphs, and the smell of the street food cooking was little like that of my own people¡¯s meats and spices. Somehow, it was even more alienating and off-putting than the endless swarms of oversized bugs in Otan.


    Of all the sect¡¯s forces, I was the only one who could truly pull off a convincing disguise, even with Rachel¡¯s help. With too close of an inspection, there was a risk that the disguises of the rest might be seen through. Thus, I was sitting out in public, ready to assist if there were any problems.


    On the other side of the table resided an illusory Korlove, Rachel¡¯s ¡®addition¡¯ to my disguise. There was absolutely no need for such a thing, but she had insisted. I had felt it was unlikely to cause problems, so I had allowed it. Still, I couldn¡¯t help but question why she had chosen a Korlove appearance over that of a Jobu.


    Suddenly, Rachel leaned over, whispering to me.


    ¡°They asked for our status, and I told them that we were ready to go.¡±


    Instinctively, I cringed backwards from the oversized insect so close to my face. I had to restrain my instinct to smash her face in. Between the Downpour region and Otan, I had met few such creatures without having to fight them.


    ¡°Did you really need to go with that appearance?¡± I asked. In response she laughed at me.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I would look good with that many muscles. I prefer being the slim type.¡±


    I glanced over at the spindly, spider-like legs which extended from her abdomen. She certainly was slim in this form, I thought. However I did not understand how she felt this appearance might be more flattering than that of a Jobu. Sometimes I wondered why the Korlove were even classified as humanoid. At first glance, one would think them more likely to be distant relatives of the Escalos.


    On the street, I saw a group of workers bump into a woman who seemed like a corporate drone, and watched as she became extremely angry. I glanced at Rachel.


    ¡°Is that¡­¡± I asked, and Rachel nodded.


    Following the confirmation, I stood up, and walked over to the altercation, where a pair of Jobu men in baggy worker¡¯s overalls were staring down an incensed woman in a neatly pressed suit. The two were speaking very quietly, at contrast with her loud, overbearing voice. In my ears, I could hear the translation of their words. Though I had been continuing my study of the Staiven language, I hadn¡¯t even begun to touch the Celan tongue. That was a matter I would address eventually, but had not yet found the time for. Eventually, I wished to be fluent in all three major languages on the station.


    The two men involved in the event were, of course, Orion and one of his subordinates, a mostly unremarkable flickering practitioner named Li Qing. The two were, I assumed, being quiet because they had no idea what the woman was even saying, and did not wish to reveal their distinct accents. ¡°Is there a problem?¡± I asked as I approached the trio. My words were spoken in Staiven, and Rachel modulated the sound of my voice to remove the hints of my true nature.


    Not appreciating my meddling, the Jobu woman spun, facing me with her glare.


    ¡°What do you care?¡± she growled. ¡°These idiots made me spill my drink! You had better pay for the dry-cleaning!¡± she said, with another angered glance at Orion. He protested in fluent Celan, and at the exact same moment, Rachel¡¯s voice translated it in my ears. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    ¡°That¡¯s ridiculous!¡± he said, ¡°You were the one who bumped into us!¡± For a moment I was taken aback that he could speak the language so well, before I realized it was more likely that this had been the product of Rachel puppeteering the illusion which covered his body.


    The woman sneered towards him.


    ¡°I don¡¯t see your clothes being wet.¡±


    I glanced over, and saw that her clothes were instead slightly wet, and perhaps even slightly stained by the dark brown liquid which had been in her cup. It seemed to be the same one that I had been drinking earlier.


    ¡°Look, I¡¯m sure they would be happy to pay for your¡­ ¡®dry cleaning,¡¯¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m sure you can all work this through easily. Just keep your arguments quieter, alright? Some people are trying to eat.¡±


    I turned back to return to my seat, playing off my involvement as random chance. We should still have a number of hours prior to the attack, and I was concerned that Astna¡¯s famed information network, or even Janottka might inform them of our specific locations in advance. Even if they knew we were coming, I wished to be able to launch the attack as swiftly and instantly as was possible.


    I felt it was better to get this over with as quickly as possible and avoid the potential issue of her looking too closely at the others. I couldn¡¯t imagine the price would be much at all, compared to the quantities of money an underworld organization such as the Redwater Sect dealt with on a daily basis.


    Orion nodded.


    ¡°I can give a little, but within reason!¡± he said.


    It was odd to know mentally that this was him, but his appearance and speech was so extremely different from his actual self that it threw me off. It didn¡¯t help that the voice Rachel was using for the translation sounded like her doing an impression of his voice.


    The argument went on for another couple minutes, with Rachel taking the main role, but ultimately they gave her forty serite, and the woman moved on with her day without taking much note of any oddness with the two workers she had pestered earlier. As I saw her leave, I let out a long breath.


    Before passing by to reach the place we had rented as a meeting spot, Orion gave me a sneaky salute as he passed my spot at the cafe. I gave him a nod, and he progressed beyond view.


    Our plan, insofar as it had been one, was both simple and complex. We had disguised ourselves as Jobu, and had simply walked into Little Celah from the fifth district border, moving in small groups to avoid attracting attention. I had arrived first, and the others had slowly moved in. This was not the first situation I had needed to resolve, but it was one of the easiest, hardly even requiring my presence.


    I relaxed back in my seat, knowing that it was likely nothing for me to do would happen for at least another hour. The position was relaxing, but I felt as if there was something I needed to do that I had not yet achieved.


    And now, I thought, we waited. Soon, the signal would come, and war would enter the streets of Little Celah, just like Canvas Town and Otan before it. I felt that the civilians living nearby would not appreciate the development.


    I turned back to Rachel, still not liking her current appearance much.


    ¡°You¡¯ve gotten access to the video feeds from around the headquarters, right?¡± I asked.


    Her arachnoid body rippled in what I could only guess was supposed to be an approximation of a shrug.


    ¡°They have the area pretty locked down, but yes. Those around the main entrance, at least. It¡¯s difficult to be sure whether or not there are alternate entrances at different points. I would be surprised if there weren¡¯t, though.¡±


    Hearing this, I frowned, wondering if the Redwater Sect could use such backup plans in case of invasion. In fact, it seemed odd that we lacked them. I supposed that Rachel¡¯s ability to teleport us in a pinch counted, even if there was risk of disruption by any active sending stones.


    I sighed, and leaned backwards in my seat. My hand itched to grasp the hilt of my blade, and tear through the Celan defenses. This, I hoped, would be the battle I had sought ever since that moment in the underground facility.


    I wanted a good fight, and this time, I would not allow the Celans to back out. Not until I felt satisfied, at least.


    Public Perception of the Heirs of Ottrien: [As is not uncommon for gangs formed from a disenfranchised population, the Heirs promote themselves as the guardians of Little Celah. Though they do take protection money, they successfully ¡®defend¡¯ the district from the majority of predatory alien interests, and due to the current divide between the Celans and the Seiyal, this matter earns more merit in the eyes of the local population than it normally would. Many Celans see the organization as a ¡®government and military of their own¡¯, though some, particularly those living in the fifth district, see them as a criminal force which extorts the people. Currently, however, the public support for the Heirs are at an all time high within Little Celah proper. The other races, however, see them as nothing but alien thugs, unless the potential for some sort of deal exists.]

 144- Raiding the Heirs

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    It was hard to tell whether we had been caught or not. The effectiveness of our disguises were limited, and aside from my own disguise, there would likely be a limit to how often we could use this trick, at least for disguising as Celans. There was simply too large of a difference between a Seiyal and Jobu physique. We were too short and slender, which left the disguises lacking. It would have been better if we could pretend to be Merris, but there were far too few of the race on the station for us to move without notice in that case.


    Once everyone had made it over, we had set up about a stack away from our target, as well as one level below. There was a rent house just far enough away that we could avoid the eyes of the Celan security forces patrolling the area, and we had bought it out for the day. At such a distance, I felt we could arrive at the headquarters in under a minute, so it seemed a good place.


    In the room, we had removed our Celan disguises, donning the martial uniforms we had been hiding beneath. We could wear disguises to move around the station, but in a fight, it was important that we displayed our identity. My sect would not be one with a cowardly reputation. We would fight outwardly and openly, as if unafraid of reprisal.


    Despite waiting for hours, we never actually received the call to move out from the clan. Instead, I was surprised to feel a powerful rumble filling the stack, followed by the crack of stone and the boom of an explosion in the distance.


    I turned to Rachel, immediately calling for a report on what had happened. Her eyes had glazed over, but she swiftly explained the shift in the situation.


    ¡°It seems that the Celans managed to find out exactly where the clan¡¯s aeros planned to land, and staged an ambush. They¡¯re fighting on top of this and the nearby stacks.¡±


    ¡°Have the mercenaries made their move?¡± I asked, but she shook her head.


    ¡°Not yet.¡±


    I paused for a moment, considering my options, and then sighed. No matter how poorly the situation may have turned for our ¡®allies,¡¯ we still needed to fulfill our part of the deal. This would not, I thought, be a pleasant experience for my forces. It would be a massacre. I turned to Orion and Jihan.


    ¡°Remember our priorities,¡± I said. Both men nodded in response.


    ¡°Defenses on all parts of the headquarters are preparing to activate,¡± warned Rachel. ¡°We should probably get moving quick.¡±


    My eyes roamed over all the martial artists present. I did not want to move before the Hadal Clan asked us to, as it was possible they could call the attack off. However, the longer we waited, the more dangerous the situation would become.


    ¡°Let¡¯s move out,¡± I finally said, immediately charging out of the room, and onto the populated street.


    The passersby were shocked by the explosion, but they were even more shocked as a Seiyal in crimson robes tore out of an alley and across the street to the nearest bridge. The commotion only grew as tens of other martial artists followed behind me.


    Rachel, of course, had turned invisible, her apparition fading, a tactic she would certainly use if she had been a real martial artist. Though the Celans already knew of her true nature, it was still better to keep it a secret from forces such as the government, the Hadal Clan, and the other underworld forces.


    ¡°Keep me apprised of the situation of the other battlefields,¡± I said, speaking the words under my breath as I ran.


    ¡°No changes so far,¡± replied Rachel, speaking in that same whispered voice as always.


    Miasma coursed through my meridians, power surging within me as I pressed my body as fast as it could move. It was exhilarating, and I wished I could do this regularly. There were certainly problems with living inside such a greatly inhabited environment like Tseludia. There were no places to just go out and run without worries.


    Now, however, I could move as I pleased. While the crowds were too slow to part before me, I was sufficiently agile to dodge and weave between them, rapidly outpacing all of my subordinates. Even Jihan, with all his strength, could not keep up, only able to swiftly charge behind me.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    I charged up the stairwell, ending up before the section on the bottom layer of the building where we had planned to break in. A squad of Staiven soldiers were standing guard by the entrance, and I could see a heavy firearm which had been set up on a stand within the entryway. The moment I left the stairwell, they shouted some words in Celan and began to fire.


    It seemed, I thought, that they had been more prepared than I had hoped. However, I was pleasantly surprised not to see any enforcers present and only one gun emplacement.


    I dashed the remaining distance, my sword already unsheathed and delivering a torrent of slashes towards the soldiers, dismembering all those who were too close to my position.


    I couldn¡¯t restrain the smile on my face as my robes were stained an even deeper shade of crimson by the spilt blood. Before me, I could see the intimidated figures of the Celans. The Korlove operating the heavy gun was even trembling, his aim unable to keep up with my rapid, erratic movement, and my body which contorted out of the way of any bullet which arrived too close. A number of bullets I had barely dodged had left tears in my robe, but I paid no heed to such trivial matters.


    By the time Jihan and the others arrived, I had already cleared out most of the guards, having become someone beyond the capacity of such mortal adversaries. All that was left was the heavy gunner and the others hiding inside the building. I was restrained from a direct charge by the overlapping fields of fire, and charging directly in would be a risk, even for me.


    A spirit refiner, after all, was not bulletproof.


    As Jihan arrived at the top of the stairs, he immediately moved to reinforce me from the flank, forcing the Celans inside of the defended aperture to split their target, reducing the pressure I felt. I fed the storm within me, and in an instantaneous burst of swiftness, rolled beneath the line of fire, my sword diving out to tear apart both the heavy gun and its Korlove operator. Still right behind me, Jihan assisted me in slaughtering the remainder of the Celans who were in sight. For a moment we stood there, not even winded, and locked gazes.


    ¡°This was too easy,¡± I said.


    He nodded in agreement, inspecting the limited number of defenders, and the open entrance leading into the headquarters.


    ¡°The mercenaries have made their attack,¡± said Rachel suddenly. ¡°They¡¯ve been met with resistance by enforcers, and it¡¯s the same for the Hadal Clan up top. It seems they wish us to believe that the lack of defenders here was an oversight.¡±


    At this, I snorted. More likely, I thought, was either that they wished us to enter and step into a trap, or were still attempting to appeal to us. But would the Celans really sacrifice these soldiers for such little gain, just to do such a thing while upholding appearances? If so, that Vice-Leader of theirs was far more dangerous than I had previously believed.


    The rest of my force rapidly arrived, settling into careful stances around me as they waited for my next order. I glanced into the well-lit stone hallway which lead into the building, feeling an odd sense of foreboding. I could see at the end of the hall that it split up into two separate directions.


    ¡°We¡¯ll go in,¡± I ordered. ¡°Elder Jihan, you and your squad will infiltrate ahead of us to the left and compare the layout to the blueprint we saw earlier. I¡¯ll lead the forces to the right. Make sure to keep in touch about your situation. Palace Leader Dinyu, split your forces into two parts, and have them follow myself and the Elder.¡±


    He bowed respectfully.


    ¡°By your will, Sect Leader,¡± he said, turning back to talk with his squad leaders, while Jihan and I took our first steps into the bright hall.


    Deep down, I hoped that this was actually a mistake by the Celans, and there were no deeper motives, but I couldn¡¯t delude myself into believing that. It would simply be far too convenient. I felt as if some plot was going on of which I was unaware. It was a feeling that I deeply reviled. Working around and within the schemes of others was simply a part of living within a group or society, but I had always preferred to deal with open schemes and forces whose desires I could understand.


    The unknown, I thought, was rarely one¡¯s friend. As I stepped further and further into the confines of the alien headquarters, I lifted the hem of my robe, wiping the blood from the surface of my blade, but placed no effort on stemming the slow, steady drip of the sanguine liquid from trailing on the ground behind me. There was no reason to. This was but the start of the amount of blood I would see shed today.


    Blood Among Humanoid Races: [Interestingly, the purpose and composition of blood among the various humanoid races is startlingly similar. While only those of shared direct origin, such as the Jobu, Korlove, and Merris, can directly transfuse blood between one another, by adding and removing certain specific compounds, it can actually be possible to transfer blood between a Seiyal and Korlove, for example, without causing major issues, though the chance for complications is much higher than usual. For some reason, this only works for the blood, and not other fluids and organs that a given two humanoid races share, at least without significant anti-rejection treatment. A common hypothesis in the past was that this has something to do with the unique trait humanoids have of generating sanguine miasma within their body after being wounded in certain ways, however as the reason for that trait is unknown, this idea still remains untested.]

 145- Old Soldier

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Wei growled as his mist domain spread around him in all directions, stalling the bullets which flew in all directions to control the chaos of the melee.


    He was too old for this, he thought. Every time he released his energy for a burst of strength, Wei could feel the creaking of his joints, the weakness of his muscles. War was the domain of the young. In the end, what mattered in this conflict would be the new spirit refiners such as Karie or Juen. He was too much of a fossil, his progression long stalled out to a halt, and age had finally caught up. He had plenty of lifespan left, of course. A few decades more, if nothing went wrong today. But the closer he got to the end, the more Wei understood his own weakness, and felt concerned about what he would leave behind.


    After all, he had trouble fighting just one enforcer. A young spirit refiner had a distinct advantage against the machines, the reason why the clan could hold out against the far greater number of combatants on this level. But his aging bones simply could not take the strain they used to, his senses dulling. He could not help thinking, however, that he wouldn¡¯t mind dying today all that much. One day soon, his children would start reaching the end of their lifespans, and Wei did not wish to outlive them. Still, he would not leave Sisi and the rest of the clan behind, not when he could still assist them.


    It was his duty.


    The blades of the enforcer slammed down upon him, but Wei met it with his own sword, expertly parrying even despite the vast power of the machine. Drawing upon his experience from the two wars he had lived through already, Wei was able to conserve as much energy as possible in his motions, saving it for when his own sword dug into the gaps between the enforcer¡¯s heavy plates.


    A blast of flickering miasma pressed into his domain, causing the stone of the ground between them to bubble and warp. Wei knew this heralded a swift uptick in the machine¡¯s energy output, so he took a swift step backwards, buying himself some space. As expected, moments later the mech burst forward with a quick motion, and Wei was prepared. With a swift burst of green smoke, he ducked beneath the machine, digging his blade into its left leg with a squeal of clattering metal. The mech fell to one knee, and Wei was not one to allow such an opportunity to escape him.


    If he was on his own, Wei might have had to expend far greater effort dealing with the enforcer, but a number of his relatives and even descendants were backing him up. With the enforcer needing to split its efforts to deal with them all, Wei¡¯s job was much easier. Blocking Celan bullets taxed his domain, and handling the swords and overall bulk of the machine took very swift, precise motions. Sometimes, he wished he had taken a proper movement technique when he was younger. Its lack made many matters far more difficult for him.


    Wei clambered up the enforcer¡¯s surface, taking some light grazes from bullets as he fended off the swords and approached the upper chest of the machine. Before he could be forced away, he slammed his weapon down, driving it deep into what he knew was the cavity where the pilot resided. This was a very difficult and risky trick for most martial artists to attempt, but Wei¡¯s cerebral technique had a very simple, yet powerful ability. If he wished, he could enhance his senses, able to precisely understand not just the rough location of the pilot, but their specific body shape and orientation, just from his senses of smell and hearing. As such, he could tell exactly where to aim, his sword skewering right through the torso of the Korlove pilot, killing her in instants, and leaving the damaged enforcer without a pilot. He then quickly dove away from the machine, half-expecting it to explode.


    The Celans always destroyed their technology if they were worried that aliens might get their hands on it. If possible, they preferred to do so when an enemy was nearby.


    ¡°What is the situation?¡± he asked, stepping into a well-defended dwelling that was being used as a command post, to gather his energies once more. With the enforcer down, he had felt that the others could handle the battle for a bit more. As a spirit refiner, he needed to conserve his energies for where they were most needed, a mobile force that needed to affect multiple different parts of the battlefield.


    Pakas, the First Commander, stood there inside of what seemed to be somebody¡¯s living room, analyzing results from various terminals. He looked up on Wei¡¯s approach, moving to bow, but Wei waved him off.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    ¡°No need to bother with this. An update would suffice.¡±


    The younger man nodded, and then launched into a summary. Overall, the situation was going well. While they had stalled up here, they were also stalling out the majority of the Celan forces. The mercenaries had yet to breach the compound, but were steadily making pace. The success of the Riverfiend and his sect, however, surprised Wei.


    ¡°They¡¯re already inside?¡± he asked, slightly shocked by such an outcome. It hadn¡¯t even been a quarter of an hour since the fighting had begun.


    Pakas continued to look over and tap on his various tablets.


    ¡°We haven¡¯t received an update in several minutes, but that seems to be the case. It seems the Celans did not anticipate how effective the Redwater Vice-Leader¡¯s disguise capabilities were.


    ¡°So it seems,¡± muttered Wei, unable to help but feel as if something was off. But he could not be sure whether this implied the Celans had staged a trap for the Riverfiend, or were collaborating with him. This was the problem with that type of personality- people like Sirena and the Riverfiend always attracted both allies and enemies in equal measure. Moreover, he thought, there was often far too little difference between the two. Wei returned his attention to Pakas.


    ¡°Where should I go?¡± he asked.


    Wei knew that the younger man¡¯s tactical acumen far surpassed his own, and had no desire to interfere. Everyone had their own specialties, after all. While Pakas was officially in command of the battle, Wei was still his superior, and a true-blooded member of the clan. Still, he knew Pakas, who was aware of the exact current battle situation, could tell him the perfect location to attack.


    ¡°Another enforcer just arrived one stack away, leading a company of soldiers. If you can prevent them from harassing our flank, it would take pressure off of our main force.¡±


    Wei considered the idea, and then immediately decided to do it. There was no need to overthink such things. The faster he moved, the greater his impact would be. Such was the nature of battle.


    Quickly running to arrive at the designated location, Wei was easily able to find the enforcer in question. There was little such an oversized machine could do to hide itself in any case. Green mist began to pour from his body as Wei prepared to engage himself in combat once more.


    Wasting no time, Wei swiftly sped across the battlefield, surprising the enforcer¡¯s pilot with his sudden appearance, and forcing it to divert one of its guns to him. It was too bulky and slow, however, and Wei arrived before it could fully react. He brandished his sword with a thunderous swing, forcing the great mech to take a step backwards from the pressure he imposed.


    The enforcer slashed back in moments using two of the lengthy, heavy blades attached to half of its arms, but Wei dodged one and parried the other with ease. Bullets crashed into his barrier, but were slowed just enough that he could keep out of their way by continuously moving.


    He watched the enforcer carefully, looking for any openings, but it pressed forward before he could find one, the fusillade of blows sufficient that even Wei felt pressured. He leapt backwards, adeptly dodging a Jobu¡¯s corpse that lay on the ground, but the last minute shift of his legs midair caused him to land with more force than he had intended. With a painful shift of his knee joint, Wei¡¯s leg slightly buckled, and it took a moment for him to regain his readied stance. But it was too late, and he knew it.


    Had he the time, Wei would likely have sighed.


    He had made an error, and as was common in combat, it was devastating. Just as he could theirs, the enemy could take advantage of each and any mistake that Wei made. A bullet tore through his clavicle, followed by one to his thigh, and another to the chest. Shocked, Wei took a few steps backwards, drawing on the strength of his genesis physique to remain awake and standing. However, the fusillade did not stop. After the seventh impact, Wei¡¯s legs gave out, and he fell to the ground as in the distance, his enhanced senses heard the dismayed calls of Elder, Uncle, and Grandpa.


    As he spiraled into darkness, Wei couldn¡¯t help but feel that he really had become a fragile old man. When he got back, Little Sisi would probably laugh at him¡­


    ¡®Windless¡¯ Wei Hadal: [Few on Tseludia remember the battle that gave this aged warrior his title, and few were even alive at the time, as over a century has passed. The meaning of it, too, is known by few, even those who have heard of his title. The rumor went that he once sapped the energy out of the wind itself, leaving an entire plain perfectly still. He was one of the Clan¡¯s true elites during the war that resulted in their exodus from Canvas. On Tseludia, the man is known for his dedication to his clan and Matriarch. He had four children, one of which died back on Canvas, while the other three remain alive. His wife, however, has been deceased for over seventy years. While few believe he has much chance of approaching immortality, he remains among the most powerful martial artists on the station, and a vital figure for the Hadal Clan¡¯s internal stability.]

 146- Exploring the Interior

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    I couldn¡¯t help but think that the interior of the Celan headquarters was oddly mundane. I wasn¡¯t sure what I had been expecting, but a bland, generic office floorplan was not it. The walls were painted white, the featureless color still somehow better than the patchwork unsightliness of the Staiven designed structure I knew must exist underneath. What did not surprise me in the slightest was that the place was seemingly abandoned.


    No matter what, the most important aspect of a headquarters was the people who worked inside of it. Even if the Heirs needed to move their personnel somewhere else to do their work, an organization of that size simply could not function effectively without the hard work of a skilled support staff.


    The building itself still held an importance of its own, however. It was a symbol, and that symbol was the clan¡¯s true target today. Anything else would just be a pleasant bonus for them. The core of this mission¡¯s purpose was to damage the Heirs¡¯ face while uplifting their own. It forced the Heirs to decide just how much this building was worth to them, and if the clan succeeded, this would not only mean the Celans would be demoralized, but would also force them to set up a new headquarters somewhere else. Somewhere with less effective defenses, most likely. The fixtures they had here would take time and money to set up, after all.


    As we carefully stepped further into the depths of the building, I felt that the space was filled with an eerie quiet, a fitting match for the alien architecture of this maze of hallways. They were brightly lit by fixtures set into the center of the ceiling, like a rope extending, beckoning us deeper inside. I felt ill at ease, and a couple glances at Orion and the others told me that I was not the only one. Orion had not been happy about this mission from the very start, and I couldn¡¯t imagine the current situation had left him feeling any better about it.


    It was simply too quiet, too desolate. I had been expecting some sort of internal resistance, or at least some sort of evidence to suggest we had been let inside intentionally, but was met with nothing of the sort. The offices were all picked clean, clearly having been scoured of any useful or incriminating evidence, as well as all of the vital personnel who worked here. Looking around, it struck me that this was one of the advantages of advanced digital technology- the Celans were able to easily and secretly remove all of their vital documents because those documents were safely secured within their systems. One simply had to remove a few server banks.


    Though Rachel confirmed that this was the case, it was not something I could confirm with my own eyes. The desks were still covered with knick-knacks, portraits, and desktop slates, as if the workers had simply returned home for the day with the intent of returning in the morning as usual.


    I peeked into one of the offices, seeing nothing amiss, just a small set of shelves, a couple chairs, and a desk. I then returned to the hallway, continuing to explore the winding passage.


    ¡°Has the layout been matching your blueprint so far?¡± I asked suddenly, my voice directed nowhere in particular. Orion shifted, startled to hear me break the silence, but he knew that Rachel was hiding among our numbers, invisible, so he quickly regained his pallor.


    ¡°The area we¡¯re in right now does,¡± she replied, her voice for once loud enough for others to hear, ¡°But the other group is currently in an area that wasn¡¯t even shown on the-¡±


    As suddenly as it had appeared, Rachel¡¯s voice cut out. It did not seem to be any sort of mechanical issue, more so that she had been distracted by something. I waited for a moment, expecting her to explain the pause.


    ¡°So that¡¯s what that was,¡± said Rachel, her voice finally filling the silent air again. ¡°It seems we weren¡¯t alone, after all.¡±


    Moments later, I heard the sound of gunfire in the far distance, echoing through the halls of the building. But the echo and the fact that I had yet to figure out just where the floorplan diverged from the blueprint rendered me unable to discern precisely where it was coming from. Orion tensed up beside me, and I heard muttering from some of the former gangsters around us.


    ¡°Rachel, is-¡± I started to ask, but she answered my question instantly, before I could even finish my sentence.


    ¡°They¡¯re fighting with Jihan¡¯s group. I haven¡¯t noticed any nearby, but you know how imprecise it can be to track relevant locations between Telles and the Brink.¡±


    I had a vague understanding, as the senses of one¡¯s soul never seemed to be entirely accurate. It was as if there was some offset, some disconnect between the two realms. I had little anticipation of understanding the reason behind it. It was simply the nature of things.


    As I processed the current situation, I frowned. Had I simply been more fortunate, while Jihan had taken the only path where they resided? Or were the Celans intending to perform some sort of guerrilla warfare inside of the building, hiding deeper into the den, just out of range of my senses? Unless we continued to explore the depths of the headquarters, there was no way to know.


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be able to sense their presence?¡± I asked. ¡°If not the specific location, just whether or not more are present?¡±Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    ¡°My senses are powerful enough to record every soul within the Tseludia System. The problem,¡± she explained, ¡°is that the further away from me they are, the less precisely their physical body¡¯s location can be estimated. I¡¯ll tell you this, there¡¯s a large number of souls in the rough area of the headquarters, but I can¡¯t tell you whether they¡¯re civilians nearby, combatants around the sides of the headquarters, or Celans inside.¡±


    I sighed.


    ¡°Worth a try,¡± I said. ¡°I can¡¯t sense any, either. Just tell me if you sense anyone approaching. I imagine your range would be further than mine.¡±


    We continued making our way through the halls, approaching and taking a stairwell up into the more important areas of the building. I felt anxious, waiting for something to happen while Rachel delivered reports every so often. Jihan¡¯s group, she had said, had dealt with the ambush fairly easily, with only one death and a few injuries. Meanwhile, they believed that all of the Celans were dead. It was an effective trade, but it was unable to quell our anxiety. A known enemy was far less intimidating than one skulking in the darkness.


    ¡°Any progress with the system infiltration?¡± I asked, the anticipation getting to me. Even though I had little to fear from a Celan outside of a mech, I still felt anxious about the stark emptiness within the headquarters. There was something off-putting about it. When raiding a building, one expected to encounter shocked or angered inhabitants, not simply¡­ nothing.


    ¡°Yes, actually,¡± said Rachel. ¡°Surprisingly, they left a lot more behind than I expected them to. Not any of the really juicy stuff, of course, but I might be able to track down some of the properties they own using some of this financial transaction data.¡± She paused for a second, chuckling. ¡°This lady named Khandra, though. She really doesn¡¯t know how to properly file an invoice. It¡¯s no wonder that everyone gossips behind her back about her failing marriage.¡±


    I had zero desire to ask her what she was talking about. It seemed like she was wanting me to ask about it, but I was not foolish enough to comply. Still, the manner in which she spoke so casually greatly lessened my nerves. I shifted my grip on the hilt of my blade, half hoping we would be ambushed at any second, so I could let loose my emotions upon the Celans. Really, what I wanted to fight was an enforcer or another spirit refiner. Mortals, like the ones who had been guarding the entrance, simply did little to sate my thirst for battle, anymore. Despite this, I knew I couldn¡¯t let my guard down. Even a mortal, provided they aimed well and caught me by surprise, could successfully take my life.


    ¡°Anything of note?¡± I asked, not caring in the slightest about some irrelevant finance matters. More likely than not I wouldn¡¯t understand its importance even if it was explained to me.


    ¡°I¡¯m still checking through all of the emails stored on some of these devices. But I¡¯m not sure if any of it will be immediately- oh, nevermind. Found an exchange where they¡¯re talking about the ¡®Vice-Leader¡¯s Office¡¯. Go up one more floor. I should be able to direct you there, because I think I¡¯ve figured out which of the rooms it was. I feel like we should probably check the area out, just in case.¡±


    In many organizations, the Vice-Leader was a secondary figure, someone who took the role of an assistant to help the true Leader to focus on matters of overall policy and directive, while they would handle the smaller details. In our Redwater Sect, the relationship between the leader and vice leader was more of a partnership than anything, but the same was not true for the Heirs of Ottrien. There, Vice-Leader Deuvar was in absolute command, taking care of everything on the Leader¡¯s behalf. An extremely small number of the Heirs¡¯ members even knew what the Leader looked like, much less had met the man in person. For all intents and purposes, Deuvar was the man in charge. Even had Deuvar decided to refuse to serve the Leader any longer, and taken over the organization, the rank and file would probably not have even noticed.


    I could understand Rachel¡¯s logic and desire to search his office, but I couldn¡¯t help but also feel that the Heirs would certainly have expected us to search there. If anything of import was left, it would be something they wished for us to see.


    As we moved towards the place where Rachel claimed a stairwell had been in the original blueprints, Rachel let out a small noise.


    ¡°Huh,¡± she said. ¡°It seems someone is approaching.¡±


    We all tensed up again, and I shifted into my first stance, ready to make any movements needed. Beside me, Orion made a similar motion, his instincts trained by hundreds of battles in his time. But I could sense nothing in the surrounding rooms, and the moment slowly dragged out before Rachel spoke again.


    ¡°Hold on, this might be a false alarm,¡± she said.


    ¡°Where are they?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Look above. You should be able to sense them by now.¡±


    Decisively, I swept my soul senses upwards, and immediately felt several presences above us. By now, some were moving closer while others further away. I frowned, trying to figure out whether it was a coincidence or somehow a plot. I glanced upwards, as if I would somehow be able to see through the roughly four foot thick platform which split the levels off from one another. I then sighed, releasing the tension within my body once more.


    ¡°Let¡¯s keep moving,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯ll deal with them when we get the opportunity.¡±


    Orion nodded in response, and I returned my attention to the featureless hallway before us. I kept in mind that while we may be able to acquire benefits within the structure, our agreement with the Heirs simply mandated that we put proper efforts into the building¡¯s subjugation. If they retreated, we would be alone and easily surrounded, while the longer we stayed inside, the more risks we experienced.


    If we continued exploring the interior for too long, I thought, those risks would begin to far outweigh the rewards.


    Pantheonic Law and Organized Crime: [Throughout all of Pantheonic space, Pantheonic Law remains consistent. After all, the presence of the churches ensures that no local government would dare to rebel against the rule of the gods. Because of this surety, and the influence of the Church of Verain, very few types of weapons are illegal under Pantheonic Law, and certain amounts of corruption within the system are granted a blind eye, provided prisoner quotas are met. After all, if the ruling powers support the system, and the weaker powers such as the corporations are able to benefit from it, only the oppressed might wish to confront Pantheonic hegemony. This is where organized crime syndicates come into play.  By tacitly acquiescing to the existence and development of such organizations, this creates an environment where individual racial and cultural groups form their own forces, ones which inherently conflict, and must fight one another for dominance. A setting where each of them rely on the laws and rule set up by the Pantheonic Government to maintain their standing, and each would also be glad to see the downfall of another, rather than work together to achieve independence.]

 147- A Righteous Culling

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Juen was not as injured as the world believed him to be. He had broken a few bones, of course, but this was nothing that could hamper a man such as him. He was a spirit refiner, after all. Even when he was injured, no martial artist below his level could even hope to contend.


    He had been excused from the mission to destroy the Celan headquarters. For separate reasons, both he and Karie had been absent during the meeting of the Council of Elders to decide on the course of action, and his supporters had managed to play up the scope of his state. Even if the opposition knew the truth, they had not bothered to intervene, likely suspecting it was more a matter of worry that he might die in the fraught battle. After all, even the greatest of warriors could falter and die in the chaos of war. In truth, however, it was all for this moment.


    Some people, said the Analects of Ceirra, could tell apart righteousness and evil, and which choices should be made. Others needed the wrong choice to be stripped from their options, to remove the chance to slip off of the righteous path.


    The Matriarch, the Supreme Elder had told him, was the latter. She was a great woman, but one who might endanger herself and others if the wrong opportunities were presented to her. Juen¡¯s role was to strip such opportunities away, to excise the cancer which had been growing inside of Canvas Town. He was here to destroy the Redwater Sect, to pull up every little unorthodox sapling by the root, and salt the earth from which it had grown. The Redwater Sect should never have been granted the opportunity to exist, and Juen was simply rectifying his aunt¡¯s mistake.


    In Juen¡¯s mind, his Aunt Sirena was simply too liberal-minded. To have a truly stable rule, he thought, one needed to bow to tradition, even when one found it foolish and backwards. To that end, he would grasp the support base his predecessor had disdained. If he destroyed her pet project, Juen knew that he would gain the support he needed. Currently, he already had support from the Supreme Elder, the greatest backing he could wish for. Meanwhile, Lorelei had the support from the merchant faction, while Karie was only supported by Wei.


    Juen actually deeply respected the man, just as he did his Aunt Sirena, but he believed that the both of them were blinded by their emotions. It was obvious to everyone else that Karie was a poor choice, and in her current position, she was no threat at all to his position.


    Now, he only needed to contend with Lorelei for the position, and that meant appealing to his supporters. In fact, his current move would not strengthen his position, and nor would it weaken his opponent. However, it was a personal request from the Supreme Elder, and so Juen knew he must obey. After this, the old man would owe him a favor. The mere thought brought a smile to his lips.


    As Juen inspected the live video of the sect headquarters, he couldn¡¯t help but think about the sort of people that resided within. They were all Canvasian, of course. The majority Seiyal, with a small number of Tovus acting in support roles. His heart panged slightly when he thought of killing so many of his own people, but Juen knew deep down that this was a righteous culling. Each and every person inside was a traitor to the orthodox path, someone who had willingly chosen to join up with an unorthodox force. They had signed their own death warrants, and Juen was merely the one who would deliver the final blow.


    If anything, he could be considered to simply be acting under orders from god herself. If anyone could decide what was right and what was wrong, it would certainly be the creator of the Seiyal herself.


    He turned to those around him, ready to get started. This was something that could only be done right now. Most of the Elders were busy in Little Celah, and all of the Redwater spirit refiners were gone as well. There would never be any opportunity of this level.


    ¡°Are the explosives ready?¡± he asked, receiving a sharp nod in response.


    Due to the sheer size of the force which had been sent to the sixth district, Juen had needed to secretly move forces that had been residing in safehouses in various different districts. One commonality was that each of the practitioners present was either a devout Ceirran, or had deep ties to the faction.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°Good. Let us get going.¡±


    ¡°By your will, Elder.¡±


    Moments later, the man, whose name was Eiri Duzu, if Juen recalled correctly, began running around to relay his orders to the others. They would need to react in unison if they wished to maximize their effectiveness. Otherwise, there would be little chance for success.


    With the process in motion, Juen simply stood, watching the headquarters of the second largest force in the district, this mere upstart. Waiting for its walls to be blown open. He watched as a line of practitioners standing on the opposite stack activated long tubes of bootleg weaponry, sending rockets blasting across the way. The walls of the Redwater Sect were rapidly torn open, revealing the finely paneled interior. Shocked accountants and disciples were blasted back, unable to react in time.


    They had only barely begun to react as Juen led a charge, staff in hand. As he passed by a black-robed disciple, he slammed the staff down, crushing in the face of the mere foundation refiner. There was nothing she could do, her life snuffed out in an instant. Juen felt sorry about the task he was performing, but his decisions were not governed by such feelings.


    It was unfortunate, but not everyone could be granted the opportunity of a second chance. He needed to be merciless, to send a message that the unorthodox path was something wholly unacceptable.


    He continued to move deeper into the sect, slaying those he crossed. The chaos had begun to spread as he and his men moved inwards, and the disciples continued to move further inside. But Juen knew of every entrance and exit to the building, as the opportunity of the sect¡¯s renovations had allowed the clan to compile a full map of its interior. There would be no escape for any of them, merely a delay of an inevitable outcome.


    Juen swung his staff again as he charged a fleeing disciple, but rather than flesh, his swing was met with steel, deflected by the blow of a sword. He turned, surprised, as there were few who could interrupt the force of his blows. None of which he had expected to be present.


    The figure was that of a farsei woman, her hair tied up properly, and who was wearing the white and red robes of the Redwater Sect¡¯s Palace Leaders. In the pale hallway light, he couldn¡¯t help but feel that her form was a clear opposite to his own pale skin, and his black robe lined in green.


    However, he thought the difference was that unlike him, this woman was weak.


    ¡°It is Cinto Sakie, right?¡± he asked.


    The woman laughed madly in response, a crazed expression on her face as she waved the disciple to run away, deeper into the building.


    ¡°I knew this day would come,¡± she said. ¡°From the day I met him, I knew he would lead me to my death.¡±


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t it obvious? All formless practitioners are mad. You should have thrown your lot in with a better force.¡±


    She sneered at his words, disgusted by them.


    ¡°How is your petty clan any better? Your powers might not kill you, but you take your strength out on everyone else, instead. You¡¯re oppressors, not guardians. He, at least, offered these children an opportunity to better themselves, and you wish to kill them. All because of a situation you created.¡± Her knuckles tightened on the hilt of her blade as she set her stance tighter. ¡°If you wish to hurt them, you must kill me first.¡±


    Hearing this, Juen smirked.


    ¡°Quite bold, coming from a mere core formation practitioner.¡±


    He could see the sweat beginning to drip on her forehead, and suspected her palms might have moistened as well. This woman was a fool, but Juen respected her conviction. He would allow this. He set himself into a martial stance, facing towards her. She silently stared back at him, her eyes unwavering.


    His smile grew wider.


    ¡°In that case, allow me to see the strength of your conviction.¡±


    The Ceirran Faction of the Hadal Clan: [While it is somewhat repressed, a few choice religions have been allowed to exist by the Pantheonic Government, particularly those where the figure of worship lacks a conflicting domain with the Pantheonic gods. One of these is the worship of Ceirra by the Seiyal. Brought over to Tseludia largely by the Sunlit Hall force known as the Hadal Clan, the Ceirrans are both suppressed openly by the government and in secret by Sirena Hadal, their own Matriarch, who is a firm believer in secular rule. Such policies are rumored to have a relation to the clan¡¯s choice to go into exile. Despite such disadvantages, due to hidden support, the faction has grown over time to become one of the clan¡¯s two great factions, along with the merchant faction.]

 148- Opportunities Unmissed

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    ¡°Shit! Shit, shit shit!¡± said Rachel, her sudden curses surprising me as they rang into my ears.


    We were making our way up the second set of stairs, moving closer towards the location she claimed held Vice-Leader Deuvar¡¯s office.


    ¡°Is there a problem?¡± I asked.


    She sighed in response.


    ¡°It¡¯s not necessarily a large issue, per se, but a situation has developed far faster than we anticipated.¡±


    I paused mid-step, taken aback by her dour mood. Around me, the other martial artists froze in their tracks as well. They knew not to leave their sect leader behind.


    ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°The Hadal Clan attacked our headquarters. It seems they intend to slaughter the disciples and support staff.¡±


    Hearing this, my own mood took an immediate downturn, the present circumstances having totally faded from my mind.


    ¡°How many of them are there?¡± I asked, my voice strained with concern. If my disciples were killed, I knew that I would try and tear the culprit¡¯s throat out with my bare hands. Without skipping a beat, Rachel provided more information.


    ¡°Twelve core formation practitioners, one spirit refiner. About thirty meridian establishment practitioners. They blasted the walls with explosives, and have been killing the disciples.¡±


    Hearing her, I frowned, most of the tension leaving my body.


    ¡°I''m not sure I see the problem,¡± I said.


    There was a pause, and from her silence I got the sense that Rachel was frowning back at me. It was hard to tell whether I was just blindly attributing emotions to her action, or whether she actually felt that way. I sort of wished she would manifest her apparition so I could see.


    ¡°I wouldn''t call that part a problem, or at least not one worth dealing with yourself. I could take you back to assist, but obviously that would be a waste of time. It¡¯s already being dealt with, after all.¡±


    "As expected," I said, nodding at her words. While I certainly wasn¡¯t happy about the matter, I knew it would be resolved quickly enough. We had not, and would not have left our headquarters undefended, after all. The most dangerous aspect of this event was the exposure of one of our secrets. With so few Hadal clan members involved, I trusted that they would be stopped before too many of the sect¡¯s disciples were killed or wounded.


    ¡°The problem,¡± she continued, ¡°is that Juen Hadal is the one leading them.¡±


    Hearing this, I finally understood the issue. I sighed, and pinched the bridge of my nose as I further considered the matter.


    It would normally be possible for us to make reparations with the clan, after killing the members of a force sent to attack us. In fact, given the clan¡¯s current situation, if the attack failed, they would likely just pretend they were sent from another force and merely masquerading as the clan¡¯s practitioners in an attempt to frame them. While this would be an obvious falsehood, it would allow us to preserve our image by killing all attackers, and the both of us to avoid exacerbating the conflict. This was the case if we were to kill almost any specific clan member.


    But Juen Hadal was different.


    Not only was he a main family member, he was also one of the most popular candidates for the heir selection. If he were to be killed, the clan would have no choice but to annihilate us. With his inclusion, the situation became far more complicated.


    ¡°He should still be injured, right?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m watching the feed and that seems to be the case. He¡¯s not moving as quickly as he¡¯s been shown to, and his attacks are sixteen percent weaker than normal.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± I said. ¡°See if they can capture him alive. No permanent injury or crippling.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell them they can cripple him if absolutely necessary. I imagine it should be fine.¡±


    ¡°That will work. We do have a few more questions, though. Why didn¡¯t we know about this? Is this the matriarch¡¯s intention, or has one of the factions made a move behind her back?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m honestly not sure,¡± she replied. ¡°I don¡¯t believe Wei was aware of it, at the very least. Neither Eli nor I heard anything about it, so clearly they kept a tight lid on the plan. I noticed they were moving forces in from out of district, but I had thought that was to better defend from the Celans.¡±


    I nodded in agreement. Based on my understanding of the man, Wei Hadal was many things, but that sort of schemer was not one of them.


    ¡°I think we should act as if it¡¯s just one of the factions acting out of line.¡±


    ¡°The Ceirrans, probably,¡± mused Rachel.


    I nodded, finding her words likely. Only one of the clan¡¯s more powerful factions could have convinced a man like Juen to do their dirty work, and the merchants were enemies with the man. In addition, the Ceirrans also had a clear motive.


    After they learned what we were hiding, I mused, they would probably become even more intent on our destruction.


    ¡°Let¡¯s continue with the mission for now,¡± I said. ¡°I expect we can trust the Matriarch to uphold her end of the deal, provided we return Juen to them. If need be we can still back out. But inform Jihan of the matter. It would be better if he was aware.¡±This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do so. The office is right ahead, so you should probably continue anyway.¡±


    I nodded in agreement, and continued to walk up the stairwell¡¯s wide steps. The rest of the practitioners surrounding me had heard all of my words, but not even Orion bothered to ask for their context. I didn¡¯t mind if they knew, but there was also no reason to tell them, so I didn¡¯t bother. They would find out later, upon our return. Those who remained uninjured by the time we got back might even be roped into the casualty reports and reconstruction.


    Finally reaching the top of the stairwell, I found myself in another lengthy hallway. It extended outwards for quite a ways, and I could see an exit down its length. According to Rachel, Deuvar had chosen his office solely based upon the convenience of its location. It was located just far enough away from the entrance to avoid the bustle, but close enough that it was within visual range. I could hear heavy gunfire in the distance, muffled by the hatch sealing the entrance off from the battle raging outside. It seemed that some of the mercenary force was fighting right outside of this area.


    With Rachel¡¯s assistance, the hatch silently slid into the ceiling upon my cautious approach, revealing a small, spartan room that felt more like a closet than the office of one of the most notorious and powerful gangsters on the station.


    ¡°Is this really¡­¡± I asked.


    ¡°It is. There were many comments about it in the emails I read through. That was how I was able to find it so easily.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    The room had nothing but a pair of chairs and an old, metal desk with a worn ceramic surface. It was cluttered with glyph slates, more than five of the things, strewn around on the surface as if they had been discarded there.


    I had barely stepped into the room when one of the slates flickered, and a holographic figure appeared, an insectoid face appearing above its surface. The figure was clearly that of a Korlove, but small gaps in its chitinous plates let out tufts of odd, hairlike gray strands. It was the oldest member of the race that I had ever seen, but there was a definite spark in his eyes that told me his mental faculties remained fully intact.


    ¡°So you were the one to arrive, Riverfiend,¡± said the figure. "This is good. I have a matter I wish the two of us to discuss."


    I took another cautious step forward, not sure what to make of this situation. Who was this strange Korlove? A ranking member of the Heirs? If so, why had I not seen him in any of the information I knew of? Or was this a ploy by some other faction?


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid you have me at a loss,¡± I replied.


    The Korlove chuckled, his throat emanating a high-pitched chuffing wheeze that sounded painful to me.


    ¡°They call me the Leader,¡± he said. ¡°I felt it might be best if we found a time to speak. Would you mind letting your men out so we can talk in private?¡±


    My eyes narrowed as I heard his words. The Leader of the Heirs of Ottrien- that mysterious figure whose identity was said to be one of the best kept secrets the organization even had, was showing his face to me. I couldn¡¯t help but feel that even if this was the Leader I was speaking with, he must still be using some sort of disguise, or had some other ploy. Nothing was ever simple with Celans. I considered his request.


    ¡°They have internal sensors in their vents,¡± said Rachel suddenly. ¡°I¡¯m not detecting much radiation, nor traces of explosive powder. I don¡¯t believe there are explosives inside.¡±


    Hearing this, I felt I could spare the time to speak with one of my greatest rivals. I waved Orion back, and despite a wary look, he backed out of the room with the others.


    ¡°Search the area, but don¡¯t move too far away,¡± I told him. "Make sure not to fight with the mercenaries, if they break in."


    Orion nodded, and began issuing orders. Not long after he left, the hatch slowly slid closed as I sat down in one of the chairs across from the desk.


    ¡°Assuming you are who you claim to be, I¡¯ve heard quite a bit about you,¡± I said.


    The Leader shifted his mouthparts in what I felt must be the Korlove approximation of a smile. Once again I couldn¡¯t help but question their designation as a humanoid species.


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard plenty myself. Your actions today say much about your character.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow, and he explained. I sensed his sneer more by his general attitude than by the specific expression.


    ¡°You continued your mission, despite the fact that your allies have betrayed you. How commendable of you.¡±


    I smiled at this.


    ¡°I consider myself a man of honor.¡±


    In my ears, I heard Rachel snort quietly, as if I had made a jest. I supposed I couldn¡¯t blame her, given that it was an outright lie.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you do,¡± said the Leader. ¡°Let¡¯s say that¡¯s why I wish to come to an accord with you. The two of you, that is.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± I asked. His assumption of Rachel''s presence did not surprise me, though it did strengthen my belief that he was telling the truth about his identity.


    He shrugged, a motion that was somewhat disturbing to watch when that many shoulders performed it at once.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you feel that the Ceirrans have gone too far?¡± he said.


    ¡°You¡¯re claiming it was them?¡±


    He chuckled at me.


    ¡°You would be deluded to believe otherwise. But what if I told you I knew the location of their grand temple?¡±


    ¡°You wish for me to ruin the relations between myself and the Hadal Clan,¡± I said.


    The Leader smiled again, a dark look in his eyes.


    ¡°I¡¯m just giving you an opportunity,¡± he said.


    This time I was the one who smiled.


    ¡°I would be interested in hearing more.¡±


    His mandibles spread apart, revealing what seemed like a disturbingly humanoid-looking set of teeth as he gave me quite a broad grin. Somehow, for just a moment, the expression reminded me of Rachel.


    Ceirran Worship: [Among Ceirrans, worship is a simple matter. Followers are encouraged to pray at the altar, and it is said that working on one¡¯s martial progression within the temple will improve one¡¯s talent and increase the odds of success through the goddess¡¯s divine favor. For this reason, there are few organized services, merely a few priests who answer questions from the followers and teach them the principles of the Ceirran faith. Devotees are merely expected to live out the precepts of the religion in their daily lives. With the exception of Tovus, aliens are forbidden from entrance into Ceirran temples, and both worshippers of other gods and practitioners of the unorthodox path are similarly banned from the premises. In the Pantheonic Territory, as the Ceirran faith is limited in how it can publicly advertise itself, many temples can be relatively hidden, their locations known only to a select few, and some worshippers are forced to make do with personal shrines placed inside of their houses. Despite this, certain symbols, such as the white sun, indicate their locations to those who are in the know, a beacon for far-travelling Ceirrans.]

 149- To Stand Up

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    The first indication that Han received was the screams. The shouted cries of fear and terror which echoed through the sect¡¯s halls were more than Han could ignore, and he paused in his training, quickly wiping away his sweat as he pushed past the doors of the training hall to see a surging crowd of disciples running past. Almost on instinct, he grabbed one of the disciples out of the group, intent on figuring out what was happening.


    The girl stumbled out of the crowd, unable to resist Han¡¯s pull due to her current state. He narrowed his eyes, recognizing her. This was Sashan Ji, first disciple of the sect¡¯s Steel Palace Leader. She, too, recognized him. While they hadn¡¯t interacted very much, both of them, as personal disciples, were considered to have a higher status than most of the rest.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± he quickly asked, grip still firm on her arm. Sashan forced his fingers off of her arm with a glare. As their eyes met, Han saw a deep look of fear within hers.


    ¡°The Hadal Clan has attacked us. They¡¯re slaughtering everyone they find.¡±


    Han frowned.


    ¡°That can¡¯t be right. My Master would have-¡±


    ¡°The Sect Leader isn¡¯t here. My own Master told me this morning that they would be gone for most of the day,¡± said Sashan, interrupting him.


    ¡°What about Vice-¡°


    ¡°They¡¯re all gone, you idiot! Nobody is here, nobody can help us. We need to get out of here, and survive until they return.¡±


    Han shook, his head, adamant.


    ¡°We can fight, we need to-¡°


    His voice cut off as he saw the scathing look Sashan directed at him.


    ¡°You may die if you wish, but I plan to run. Live to fight another day.¡±


    ¡°But we¡¯re not mortals anymore,¡± he whispered. ¡°We¡¯re different now.¡±


    Still, Sashan looked at him as if he were the greatest fool she had ever seen in her life.


    ¡°You need to wake up to reality, Yu,¡± she said, ¡°or you will not live long in the martial world. In the face of a spirit refiner, someone barely refining their foundation like us is nothing. There is no difference between us mortals. Not yet.¡±


    She was right, of course, and deep down Han had already been aware of that fact. He had seen the way his master moved, and some of the insane illusions the Vice-Sect Leader was capable of. He could barely even comprehend his master¡¯s motions, much less handle the speed or force of his sword swings.


    Han had wished to become a martial artist to improve himself, to become someone who mattered. In the end, it seemed just becoming a martial artist was not enough. Every step he took further on the path, it seemed that the more he understood just how small he really was.


    That was when Han thought of Qian. She was still somewhere within the sect, one of the many threatened by the invaders. His martial siblings as well, he thought. He felt like he had become good friends with them all. Even the solitary Blake had given him comforting words when he had needed them. If Han was being honest, this month he had spent in the sect was undeniably the happiest period in his life. Now, some bastards had come to take it all away from him, to kill everyone. The very idea angered him. Han knew that Qian could fight, he knew he could trust in her capabilities. Still, however¡­


    Such thoughts made Han feel like he had a responsibility. Not just to Qian, but to everyone. Even his Master, he thought. He owed much to the opportunities that man had given to him. So long as they all held back the enemy until the Riverfiend returned, it would all be fine. Everything would go back to how it had been before, and nobody else would die.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care,¡± he said, his eyes firm. ¡°They won¡¯t be delayed unless someone delays them.¡±


    Sashan laughed at him.


    ¡°You really are a fool, aren¡¯t you? Do what you will, Han Yu. I hope you¡¯re fortunate enough to survive.¡±


    With that, she slipped away, merging back into the thinning crowd. The shouting had continued all this while, and Han felt a strength fill his body. He pushed into the crowd, forcefully making his way against the flowing tide of bodies. During the time in which he spoke with Sashan, the group had thinned, but the terror of those who were present had greatly increased. Many of them had heavy wounds, hobbling their way by, eyes filled with a deep-seated horror. It wasn¡¯t long before he saw the person he was searching for.


    In the Hadal Clan, martial uniforms were not color coded according to one¡¯s position as it was in the Redwater Sect. With the sole exceptions of the Matriarch and Supreme Elder, everyone wore black robes with green trim, and only had the embroidery on it to showcase their role and identity. This martial artist¡¯s robe was completely lacking in terms of embroidery, which Han knew must mean he was not a member of the family itself. Or perhaps he simply could not see the embroidery under the thick layer of blood which covered the man¡¯s body. The man was a butcher, Han thought. A demon.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    Han had been training with a real sword, and it was still held in his hand, ready to be used. He clutched it tightly as he continued to move closer to the man, who unsheathed his sword from the body of a Tovus who Han vaguely remembered as one of the sect¡¯s cooks.


    Han had never killed anyone before, of course. Even before entering the sect, he had been in some pretty brutal street fights from time to time. But those fights generally only ended with someone losing some bones or teeth. Han and his friends had not had weapons, after all, and had not been foolish enough to fight anyone who had one.


    Since joining the sect, he had been sparring every day, mostly with his martial siblings. But that was not the same as a true, life or death battle.


    Han carefully raised his sword, shifting into the first stance of the Rising Downpour Sword Art. His master had told him that he needed it to be reflexive, effortless. But Han had not even been learning it for a month, yet. He simply had not been able to train it anywhere near such a level. But regardless of the awkwardness he felt in the stance, Han still believed it was his best choice. A poorly trained tactic was far better than no tactic at all.


    The enemy swordsman charged without saying a word. His movements were smooth, and a thin green mist emanated from his arms as his sword slammed down towards Han.


    Han moved to dodge. He first tried to activate the Water Striding Steps, but his proficiency in the technique was far too low, and while a thin line of blue mist spread from his feet and lower legs, nothing special occurred, aside from a painful muscle cramp that nearly caused Han to trip. Luckily, his instincts were sharp enough to save him regardless. The other man had telegraphed his next move, giving Han the time he needed to react. He swiftly back-stepped, barely managing to stay out of the blow¡¯s range, and then immediately responded with a slash of his own. The man grunted, but did not even bother to parry or defend the blow. Instead, the slash landed on his shoulder, cutting through his robes and tearing into the man¡¯s flesh.


    But that was where the blow ended. It barely even cut into the man¡¯s shoulder, trapped in the muscle long before it could hope to reach a bone. Han wrenched his sword out, but it was too late. The Hadal clansman¡¯s sword was coming towards him again, and with such force that Han knew he could not hope to block it.


    Instinctively, Han¡¯s hand moved up to defend himself as he dodged, and his hand was lopped off, halfway down the forearm. It fell to the ground with a prompt splat, and for a moment it was as if the world had frozen. Han watched as blood bubbled from his newly severed arm.


    It was almost funny, thought Han in that unending moment. He had not even lasted a minute.


    Han screamed in pain, the agony of the wound something he had never before experienced in his life. He really was a fool, he thought. A fool to think that perhaps he could do something, to think he might actually have a chance to change things. Sashan had been right. His father had been right about him, too. The bleeding stump of an arm before him was evidence of this, and Han gripped tightly to it as if his fingers might staunch the flow of blood, might bring his hand back.


    Of course, no such thing happened. It still sat there, wobbling and bleeding on the floor while the Hadal practitioner prepared another blow.


    Suddenly, Han noticed the darkness.


    A thick black smoke billowed around him, emanating from somewhere outside his field of view. It was starting to surround him, and a thick bead of sweat dripped down his brow in his confusion, the sheer quantity of which distracted him from the pain. Was this some sort of manifest technique, he wondered? If it had been any of the colors of miasma, he might have been able to identify it, but Han was unable to tell if this was a positive or negative development for him. He held only to the bleeding stump of his arm, frozen in shock and indecision. The smoke¡¯s appearance had broken him from his reverie, but there was still nothing he could do.


    The enemy practitioner before him seemed nervous, grip tightening on his sword as the mist began to surround the both of them. His eyes were wide, his breath unsteady and fast.


    ¡°This can¡¯t be¡­¡° he muttered to himself, his voice gruff and raspy.


    From inside the smoke, Han heard words in a language he did not understand. The voice was feminine, but there was something slightly off about it. Despite the fact that they had been trying to kill one another, Han found the other man¡¯s fear infectious. Just what was going on?


    The Reth smiled at him, her expression seeming to be oddly soft. She spoke words in an alien tongue, as if to comfort him, and then turned to the Hadal clanmember. His face was enraged, as if fear and hatred were fighting one another inside of him, each unable to overpower the other.


    Han, meanwhile, was not sure how to react. He had never seen a Reth before, at least not outside of the fictionalized versions of them he had seen before in films. Was this Reth woman on his side? She was certainly against the Hadal clanmember, he thought. An orthodox force would never work with members of the alien species. Meanwhile, the Redwater Sect was an unorthodox force.


    Han had no problem with the Reth, personally. He was no Ceirran, after all, and was even a follower of the unorthodox path himself, now. Moreover, he was in no condition to fight anymore.


    The woman stepped forward, and Han realized that the smoke was coming from her, steaming off of her colorless skin like miasma from a martial artist. At the end of each of her hands were dark claws, and a slight red mist mixed with the smoke, trailing from the ends of her claws, as well as her eyes and mouth.


    They truly did, he thought, look like wraiths.


    Han stumbled, his legs toppling as he fell to the ground, colliding with a grunt of pain. His vision slowly faded, as the smothering dark smoke continued to flow around him. The dark substance tasted foul, and he couldn¡¯t help but feel like it was likely poisonous.


    Han wondered if this was truly how it felt to die. It was something of a lonely feeling.


    Technique Failure: [Of course, like with any motions and skills, techniques can fail. Whether it was an incorrect motion, incorrect body shape, or failed miasmic motion, a variety of results may occur upon the failure of a technique, depending on one¡¯s level, how much miasma was involved, and how poorly the technique¡¯s execution was. On the lower end of results, the technique might simply not function, and the motion be effectively a normal bodily motion. If the technique is forcefully interrupted however, or the miasma involved is too great, a failed execution might result in damage to one¡¯s meridians or even the fracturing of the martial artist¡¯s dantian itself. Usually, the more powerful a technique is, the more difficult it is to use, and the risk of permanent damage caused by a technique¡¯s failure is part of the reason martial forces often restrict their strongest techniques to only the most talented of practitioners.]

 150- Talons of Sanguine Mist

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Irid¡¯s claws glowed, the flow of miasma dripping from them just like the smog which poured out of her skin. Both substances had originally emerged from her blood, the conduit from which all of a Reth¡¯s energies flowed. Before her, the foolish Seiyal wavered, cowering from her intimidating demeanor.


    She smiled, her pointed teeth bared. A small cloud of red mist pooled from her mouth, slowly drifting towards the floor below. As it fell, it intermixed with the smog surrounding her, almost making it seem as if she were covered by an aura of blood. In essence, she thought, that may well be the truth.


    Unlike the Seiyal, the Reth felt no foolish need to train themselves in combat in order to develop themselves. They simply needed to train up their endurance under harsh conditions. Every inch of the body needed to be damaged and healed before a Reth could fully awaken their latent power with the assistance of the inborn conduit all humanoids received within their blood. From there, they needed to meditate and try to grow the connection between their body and soul even stronger. This stage was the true bottleneck, and was the realm where the vast majority of Reth failed to surpass. It was also the realm that Irid and the others in the station were at currently.


    Irid was actually considered rather talented at this stage, though she had no misconceptions that surpassing it might be possible for her. While her progress had been fairly steady, at her current rate it would take over a century to fully embody the conduit. It was simply too long of a timespan, and unlike the Seiyal, progression did not extend a Reth¡¯s lifespan.


    Despite the fact that they had no need for training in combat to increase their level, the Reth still very much knew how to fight. It was a necessity for life in the Pantheonic Territory, just as it had been necessary for their ancestors back on Canvas. Telles was, she thought, quite a dangerous place for a race like her own.


    On the ground between Irid and her opponent, a young Seiyal had fallen, bleeding from the stump where his lower arm had previously been. It was an injury he could recover from, but Irid felt that she shouldn¡¯t focus on him at the moment. She was, after all, about to kill a man.


    The Ceirran suddenly charged, his ardor finally enough to break past his fear. With a small expulsion of green mist, Irid¡¯s keen eyes caught the slight contortion in his muscles as his strength more than doubled, and how his feet pressed into the stone of the floor as he quickly dashed in her direction.


    Claws splayed out to either side, Irid continued to maintain her conduit, smog billowing out from within her. It was always a comforting sensation, she thought to be surrounded by the dark mist. It felt natural, as if she belonged inside of it.


    Her presence was greatly reduced, and she sidestepped the blow. It was as if she had faded into the mist, her body as much a part of the smog as it was a part of her. She was bound to it, as surely as her body was to her very soul.


    The essence of sanguine arts in all progression systems Irid knew of was that of contracts, but each Reth was contracted with their Mother Goddess Saaya and with the ancestral smog of their long-destroyed homeland. It allowed them to enhance their bodies and natural features, but also a variety of more esoteric abilities, sometimes even ones specific to a particular Reth.


    Irid¡¯s own technique was almost like that of an extant practitioner, at first glance. A conduit went both ways, and she could drag a portion of herself out from this world, and partially merge into the mists.


    The Seiyal continued a frenzied barrage of swings, but the hazy Irid continued to dodge, occasionally slashing back towards him with attacks of her own that utilized her talon-like fingernails. A Reth¡¯s nails were considered a very attractive feature, and for the sake of vanity, Irid prided herself in keeping hers extremely long and sharp.


    This practitioner, she thought, was simply too slow. His attacks were large and telegraphed ahead of time, and since she was difficult for him to see or sense, they were slightly off-target as well. She almost felt as if she were playing around with him. She was simply on another level, as far as he was concerned. Deciding not to waste time, Irid waited for the man to make a mistake, when he overcommitted to a swing and was forced to take a step forward to maintain balance. She weaved under the blow, releasing the pressure inside her soul as the conduit snapped back into place, her body fully returning to this sector of reality.


    The man realized that she was behind him, but there was little that he could do before her attack landed, a brutal, crushing blow that his attempted dodge could not resrtrain. Her razor sharp fingernails tore into the flesh of the Ceirran¡¯s back, the claws gouging deep chunks of meat out as her sanguine energies clashed with the miasma within the man¡¯s body. He grunted, quickly coughing up blood and chunks of flesh, before she removed her hand from his internals, and he fell to the ground, as if he were replicating the motions of the formless practitioner resting on the floor just a few feet away. His mouth gaped open and shut as he stared up at her, rage still filling his eyes as the life within them faded.


    A true zealot, she thought. This was no surprise. Only the most dedicated would be willing to commit such an atrocity against a force like the Redwater Sect, whose numbers largely consisted of youths.


    Irid peered down at the man¡¯s body, checking to make sure he was dead. She would feel greatly embarrassed if she were to make such a foolish mistake.


    Irid had never quite understood the Seiyal fixation with wearing robes instead of body armor. She personally lacked armor because she was a civilian. For the Seiyal, the genesis practitioners in particular, there was little reason not to wear any. However, this man would have had a much greater chance of defeating her had he been properly equipped. They truly were a foolish species, each and every one of them. She might never truly understand their thought processes, she thought.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    With the Ceirran slain, Irid glanced back towards the Seiyal he had wounded before she arrived. He was still breathing steadily, but she knew little of Seiyal medicine, and could not guess whether he would survive or not. Perhaps if she were to take him to a hospital, now, but she knew she could not spare such an effort, not when she still had important tasks to fulfill. There had been more than one invader, after all. Irid kneeled beside the young man, quickly deciding on her course of action.


    She used her sharp claws to cut strips of cloth from the young man¡¯s robes, and quickly fashioned a tourniquet which she cinched onto the place where his limb had been severed. If the blood loss was mitigated, he would certainly survive. Despite the pressure of the situation, Irid felt that she could spare a few moments to save the kid¡¯s life.


    Particularly given the fact that he seemed to be a formless practitioner. If it had turned out that he was one of the Riverfiend¡¯s disciples, she would have regretted abandoning him to his demise.


    Suddenly, a voice emerged, speaking from someplace behind her back. Irid spun, searching for its owner, whose presence she had not noticed, but it quickly became clear that it was emanating from the walls, presumably from some sort of hidden speaker. It was the voice of Lady Rachel.


    ¡°Do you mind if I ask you for another favor, Irid?¡± Rachel asked.


    The words were spoken in that alien tongue which Irid had learned years ago. All Reth merchant ships needed at least one person fluent in the language of the trueborn, and one who could speak with the Staiven. Being able to speak with a Terran Shade in their native language was a great honor for Irid.


    ¡°Whatever you desire, Lady Rachel, it shall be done,¡± she replied.


    ¡°I am happy to hear that. The leader of the invading force is a man named Juen Hadal. I need you and the others to capture him, rather than kill him if possible.¡±


    ¡°Can we cripple him?¡± asked Irid.


    ¡°You may do so if necessary, but it would be better if you did not.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± she replied. ¡°I will share this with the others.¡±


    ¡°No need,¡± said Rachel. ¡°I¡¯m currently speaking with the others as well.¡±


    For a moment, Irid was surprised to hear this, but then she remembered who she was speaking with. It was not strange that a being such as a trueborn Shade might be able to have learned their language within the weeks they were here. Still, it rankled her slightly to realize that she was no longer unique in her ability to communicate with the woman.


    ¡°I see,¡± she replied simply.


    Moments later, a terminal she had placed into one of her robe¡¯s internal pockets buzzed, and she heard a familiar voice. It was Agaral, who had been the inventory manager for their merchant group. She and him had never fully gotten along with one another.


    ¡°I¡¯m assuming she spoke with the rest of you as well?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± said Irid. ¡°We are to capture the one named Juen.¡±


    ¡°How will we know who he is, though?¡± chuckled Agaral. ¡°Seiyal all look the same to me.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, said Rachel, her voice suddenly appearing from the call, a matter which took Irid slightly aback. ¡°I will tell you when you see him.¡±


    ¡°Much appreciated, Lady Rachel,¡± said Irid.


    Agaral sighed theatrically, reminding Irid of why she did not particularly like him. Sequestered as they were, she had needed to deal with his attitude much more than she had previously had to.


    ¡°I find little desire to put so much effort into protecting these Seiyal,¡± he said.


    Irid frowned as she heard his words.


    ¡°Are you really going to spout off about this where the Lady Shade may hear you? They are suborned to her, so of course we must assist,¡± she said. ¡°You know well that our people owe much to Nathan Crawford and the Trueborn Children of Delithia. And we cannot forget her assistance in granting us food and housing while we are here.¡±


    The others expressed their agreement, but Agaral did not seem to fully agree.


    ¡°There is no doubt that we will help her, in his name,¡± he said. ¡°It is our honor to assist a child of Delithia. But how long do we intend to remain here? We have spent far too long kept from our people. We cannot live on Lady Rachel¡¯s welfare forever, and I do not trust the Seiyal.¡±


    ¡°The Riverfiend works closely with both those Lee practitioners and with Lady Trueborn. If any Seiyal can be trusted, it is him.¡±


    Agaral sighed, the sound crackling slightly on the communication device¡¯s microphone.


    ¡°He is a Seiyal nonetheless, and one following the path of madness. I find it difficult to trust such men.¡±


    ¡°It is not a matter of trust,¡± she replied. ¡°It is a matter of debt. If we failed to repay what is owed, we would stain our mother¡¯s names.¡±


    ¡°Fine, then. I will drop the subject. I don¡¯t mind the idea of slaying Ceirrans in either case.¡±


    Irid sighed, closing the communications link. She had always felt that Agaral was a bit too close-minded about the Seiyal. After all, certain forces such as the Lee Clan could be considered their people¡¯s closest allies. Prejudice, she thought, did little but close off opportunities for them. While she would not go so far as to trust an orthodox practitioner, Irid felt that a man like the Riverfiend might be a natural ally for them.


    After all, if he was working with Lady Rachel, his goals would not be incompatible with Irid¡¯s own.


    She sighed, finishing the treatment for the young man, and returning to her feet. The Ceirran here was just one of many, and all but one would need to die for what they had attempted to do today. She had a lot more work to do.


    Reth Fighting Style: [As their progression system utilizes only one type of miasma, the Reth lack such obvious and simple distinctions like the Seiyal have. Instead, the difference in Reth fighting styles is largely a matter of tactics, influenced by unique tricks and skills that a given Reth might have. One commonality between most Reth is the idea that melee weapons are unnecessary, spurning such implements in favor of their natural claws, or in modern days, the usage of firearms. Historically, they are known for using ambush and hit and run tactics, taking advantage of the sense-clouding traits of their smog, as well as their agile nature to move quickly, and strike upon their enemy¡¯s weaknesses. According to Sunlit Hall, this is evidence of their cowardly and demonic nature.]

 151- The Second Spy

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Triezal was sitting cross-legged on the cell¡¯s floor, extremely alert. He had been exercising when he had felt the distant rumbling, and had set himself down to better feel the vibrations which passed through the stack¡¯s structure. Because of this, he had a very clear understanding that something unusual was happening within the sect.


    The first great vibrations had clearly been that of explosives, but after that, there were lesser sensations. Perhaps, he thought, it could be that of a great host of people moving around all at once.


    All he could think was that either there was some sort of accident, or the sect had been attacked. It was possible that Deuvar had ordered an attack if he discovered Triezal¡¯s captivity, but knowing the man, Triezal was certain he would have attempted to negotiate his release instead.


    As he considered this, Triezal heard a clicking noise at the entrance to the cell, and watched as the hatch steadily rose into the wall, revealing a figure standing behind the aperture. The individual was clearly a Seiyal, and a man at that. His pale skin and blonde buzzcut spoke of that, and he was garbed in the black and red robes whose nature Triezal knew all too well.


    Triezal had wondered whether he would be rescued by this man, and it seemed that possibility had been the one to bear fruit.


    Triezal smiled wearily as he rose to his feet, approaching his savior.


    ¡±Would you prefer if I called you Mung, or would your real name be better?¡±


    The spy known as Mung Seo chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his head.


    ¡°I¡¯ve lived with this identity for over a decade now, Magister. It would feel strange to use the identity I¡¯ve discarded. You may call me Mung.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do so, then. More importantly, what¡¯s going on?¡± he asked. ¡°An attack?¡±


    Mung nodded grimly.


    ¡°The Hadal Clan suddenly attacked. I felt this would be our best opportunity.¡±


    Triezal frowned. That didn¡¯t make sense to him. Why would the clan have decided to attack the Redwater Sect while they were currently facing off with the Heirs? He knew that the Riverfiend had not set up a proper alliance with his faction, as otherwise he would have long been released already.


    ¡°Why would the clan have- at this time?¡±


    ¡°It seems to have been the work of the Ceirran faction,¡± Mung replied.


    Triezal¡¯s mouth widened into an ¡®o¡¯ shape, signaling his understanding. He then smiled.


    ¡°The work of that Supreme Elder of theirs, no doubt. Good, this is the perfect time for them to be infighting. Angering the Redwater Sect as well is simply a bonus. But why now? Is your Sect Leader gone?¡±


    Mung nodded.


    ¡°The other Elders as well, actually. They¡¯re attacking our headquarters currently.¡±


    Triezal chuckled.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have thought my opportunity would come when they attacked us. But this is good. If he was here, we would need to escape immediately, but this way we have an opportunity.¡±


    Mung frowned at Triezal¡¯s words.


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we be escaping? I don¡¯t doubt that man will kill me if he captures us.¡±


    Triezal shook his head.


    ¡°We can¡¯t leave just yet. We need to get my equipment back.¡±


    ¡°Is it really that important, Magister?¡±


    The other man¡¯s lack of understanding did not surprise Triezal. After all, only an extremely small portion of the station¡¯s inhabitants knew about the weapon that he carried. But regardless of the risk of Mung finding out and spreading the information, Triezal knew he needed his knife back. He could not let it fall into the hands of anybody else, not if he could help it.


    He felt that such weapons should not exist, but if they did, it was best if they were in his possession.


    ¡°It is,¡± he said, leaving the matter at that. ¡°The Riverfiend has an office, right? Show me where it is.¡±


    Triezal noticed Mung spend a moment of hesitation, but eventually he nodded.


    ¡°Right this way, Magister.¡±


    The pair had barely started to walk before they were startled by a feminine voice emerging from the walls around them, as if a ghost were present in the corridor with them.


    ¡°For the record, we aren¡¯t storing it in his office,¡± spoke the voice of the Shade known as Rachel.


    Hearing it, Triezal sighed. He had known that the Shade would certainly know of his escape, but he had been hoping that she might be too busy to interfere. Mung continued to search around, his body going into a martial stance as if expecting the woman to be physically present in some way. It struck Triezal that the other man had not been informed of her true nature.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°She¡¯s not actually here, she¡¯s just using speakers in the walls,¡± he explained, before responding to her comment. ¡°I¡¯m afraid that I¡¯m not feeling obliged to trust your words on the matter at the moment, Rachel.¡±


    She snickered at his words, and Triezal felt an oncoming headache.


    ¡°I just figured I would spare you from wasting your effort, but do as you will, Triezal.¡±


    ¡°Is there something you wish to achieve here? He asked, feeling irate. He found it difficult to forget the hours of torment the woman had heaped upon him. Triezal had been trained to resist torture, and had not shared any information he was unwilling to, but it had still been an unpleasant experience.


    He got the feeling that she had done most of that simply because she enjoyed it. Her collection of unpleasant music was truly tremendous.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to escape anyway,¡± she replied, ¡°so I figured we might be able to do a small exchange. I¡¯ll tell you where we kept your guns and equipment, or at least what remains of it. In return, you kill some of the invaders for us. What do you think?¡±


    Triezal considered the offer. While it was surprising, it wasn¡¯t that strange of a request. Despite his capture, their forces were not truly in conflict, and given the logic she had underlined, he could understand the train of thought which might lead to such an offer.


    ¡°And my knife?¡± he asked.


    Rachel chuckled again as she heard this.


    ¡°Nice try, but no. That we have stored separately, and I will not be sharing where. I don¡¯t expect you¡¯ll have the opportunity to find it, however.¡±


    This was in line with Triezal¡¯s expectations. If she had told him where it was, it would immediately make him far more suspicious of the offer.


    ¡°Fine, then,¡± said Triezal, after a moment of consideration. ¡°After I acquire the weapons, we can deal with anyone we find on our path.¡±


    ¡°Perfect. Your equipment is in Cyrus¡¯s office.¡±


    So that was her game, Triezal thought. She talked him into agreeing to assist her while only informing him of something he would soon learn anyway. The idea of her ¡®outsmarting¡¯ him did not bother Triezal, however. He might have taken the time to kill any Hadal Clansmen he ran into, anyway. They were his enemies, after all.


    ¡°S-should we go?¡± asked Mung Seo, face still lacking in pallor. Triezal found he couldn¡¯t rightly blame the man for it. He thought his rescue of Triezal would make him irreconcilable enemies with a pair of spirit refiners, and wished to quickly be out of the district, and into safer territory.


    He lacked an understanding of the bigger picture, but Triezal felt little need to enlighten the man.


    ¡°Show me the way,¡± he said, promptly following behind the martial artist.


    The Sect Leader¡¯s office hatch slid open easily after, with Mung¡¯s assistance, Triezal opened the hidden access panel and fiddled with the magnetic locks until it released. It was a trick that could get through most consumer grade hatches in the station. Personally, Triezal would have used better defenses for a place such as this, but he suspected the reasoning behind it was budgetary in nature.


    Cyrus¡¯s office, thought Triezal, was actually rather similar to Deuvar¡¯s. While Cyrus¡¯s was well upholstered and furnished, it was also devoid of any personal additions, and was clearly not the sort of place where one spent a considerable amount of their time. It was simply too pristine, lacking in wear.


    As promised, resting in a corner of the room on a small table was Triezal¡¯s equipment, looking much worse for wear than it had the last time. His chestplate was fractured, the gauntlets dented. One of his shin guards was missing, while the other had a deep gouge running just to the side of its center. Both of the pistols were intact, but there were only about twenty rounds left. Each of the items had seen far better days. When he returned to Little Celah, he would need to get them all refurbished one by one. It could be a quite expensive and timely process, one he was not looking forward to.


    After inspecting his equipment, Triezal and Mung quickly scoured the office for any potential hiding places that a dagger such as his might have been hidden. Five minutes later, Triezal finally felt that they had exhausted all the possibilities. As Rachel had promised, it seemed to have been stored elsewhere. For all hew knew, Triezal thought, it was stored on the Riverfiend¡¯s own person. If that was the case, he would likely have little to no chance to take it back at all.


    Giving up on finding the item immediately, Triezal began to don his equipment despite its current state. Before he had even finished buckling the first gauntlet, a small buzzing sound filled the room, and Triezal glanced over to see Mung reach down to his terminal. The device was of the Seiyal design, as befitted the man¡¯s surface identity. Upon viewing the message he had received, Mung¡¯s eyes widened involuntarily, a factor which drew even more of Triezal¡¯s attention.


    ¡°Is something the matter?¡± Triezal asked.


    Mung looked up to meet his eyes, and fumbled his words for a second with a dry mouth.


    ¡°It seems that Juen Hadal is present in this very building. He¡¯s leading the attacking force.¡±


    Triezal narrowed his eyes, a slight smile crossing his face as he buckled another strap, ensuring that his gauntlet was firmly set in place. It had taken him mere moments to use this information to develop a plan. The idea was simple, but to him it seemed perfect for his current goals.


    ¡°Is that so?¡± he asked. ¡°Since you¡¯re undoubtedly listening, Rachel, how about I offer another deal?¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± she asked, her voice clearer and better audible in this location than it was in the hallway. Triezal was not quite sure whether this was because this room was enclosed, or whether it simpler had better speakers installed.


    ¡°How about this?¡± he laughed. ¡°If you tell me where you put my knife, I¡¯ll spare him for you.¡±


    Rachel¡¯s disdain was clear from her voice alone.


    ¡°I¡¯m not so foolish. There¡¯s no guarantee that you would even succeed.¡±


    ¡°So he truly is here. Let me guess,¡± Triezal mused, ¡°you wish to capture him and ransom him back to the clan. Say, if he¡¯s restrained, how difficult do you think it would be to kill him?¡±


    A threat was clear in Rachel¡¯s voice.


    ¡°You¡¯ll find the matter more difficult than you expect, Magister.¡±


    Triezal smiled.


    ¡°I¡¯m thinking you¡¯ll be the one to find yourself in difficulty, soon enough.¡±


    This time, the Shade chose not to reply.


    Torture in the Pantheonic Territory: [Most advanced civilizations largely spurn torture¡¯s use, as it has been known to be very effective at acquiring useless, false, or unusable information. That said, the threat of torture alone can be effective at times, so few forces are willing to do away with it altogether. The practice is in theory illegal, but both the Justice Office and the underworld organizations use it when needed. For this reason, certain groups such as the Epon train each of their higher rank members in how to resist torture, and the Staiven have even tested brain alteration that allows a Staiven operative to diminish their pain and discomfort by as much as needed, so as to increase their tolerance. In fact, over half of the current major corporations of the territory require personnel in certain roles to undertake such treatments, with stipulations in their contract detailing punishments to occur to them or their estate if any confidential information is leaked.]

 152- Black Bullet PMC

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    After several minutes worth of negotiations, me and the Leader of the Heirs of Ottrien had come to a preliminary agreement. Still, I did not find myself entirely convinced about his intentions. There simply was not sufficient basis for trust between the two of us. Not under the present circumstances.


    It was a problem which faced both ways, restricting our cooperation. But there was no overcoming it of course, I thought. We simply had conflicting interests.


    ¡°By the way,¡± he told me, as our discussions finally reached their conclusion. ¡°I¡¯ll give you some advice. You should leave the area. What they¡¯re giving you is not worth the cost.¡±


    With that, his holographic image faded, leaving me standing alone in the cramped office. I sighed, draping a hand through my hair and ensuring it was still properly tied.


    ¡°We can consider accepting his offer later. For now, how has the situation developed?¡± I asked.


    ¡°The Reth are handling the situation at our headquarters. The clan is slowly pushing past the defenders, and the mercenaries are about to reach the nearby entrance,¡± said Rachel. ¡°Should be here in less than five minutes.¡± The tone she was reporting in was unusually dry for her, I thought. She seemed slightly stressed for some reason.


    ¡°And Jihan?¡± I asked.


    ¡°He¡¯s met with some further resistance, but has so far been able to handle it.¡±


    I nodded approvingly. Acquiring the services of Jihan and his men was one of the greatest investments I had made since entering Tseludia.


    ¡°I suppose I¡¯ll have to meet with the mercenaries myself.¡±


    I left the office, moving into the hallway, and immediately turning to make my way towards this level¡¯s entrance.


    While the Heirs¡¯ administrative headquarters was a multi-level building, it was not so massive as to take up the width of an entire stack. Instead, it took up a large corner, and thus had two proper entrances per level, and took up a total of 3 levels altogether.


    When I arrived, Orion was waiting by the entrance.


    ¡°Did any of the soldiers find anything?¡± I asked.


    Orion shook his head.


    ¡°There don¡¯t seem to be any Celans around here, except for the ones defending against the mercenaries outside. It¡¯s really making me wonder what they even intend to defend, at this point.¡±


    I found myself thinking something similar. I would have expected more internal defenses. Why was Jihan encountering resistance, but we had not found any? The Celan Leader¡¯s ominous final words resounded in my head. He had warned me, but I couldn¡¯t be sure whether he simply wished to make the task of the defenders easier, or whether he was actually trying to offer me a favor. Perhaps it was neither, I thought. It could simply be that he wished to distract me and weaken my resolve on this matter.


    ¡°We¡¯ll wait for the mercenaries to enter. We might be able to send them into the ambushes instead of ourselves.¡±


    Orion nodded, and we simply waited, watching the entrance portal in silence.


    It took a couple minutes for the distant sounds of combat to fade. From the sound alone I could tell that it was a diverse group. There were sounds of blades impacting armor, and firearms of different types. I even heard the distinct sound of an energy weapon being used, which to me was quite a surprise.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have expected mercenaries to have the funds for one of those,¡± noted Rachel, her voice sounding impressed. Her words were loud enough that both I and Orion could hear.


    ¡°What are they using?¡± he asked, apparently curious.


    ¡°It¡¯s an Indichian plasma catapult. This model comes from an Osine client race. They¡¯re from quite far away, so you don¡¯t see their tech in the Pantheonic Territory very often. Very expensive, too. Beyond the means of a normal mercenary.¡±


    ¡°Not bad,¡± he said.


    I grunted. I had little interest in alien weaponry, as it would never be as good as my own sword. I suspected that Orion¡¯s own interest was purely academic, for similar reasons. Only the weakest Seiyal would use such alien weaponry, in my estimation. A martial artist¡¯s advantages lay in martial arts.


    Before long, the entrance opened, revealing a number of Celan corpses lying on the ground, right past the entry hatch. Stepping over the corpses were a group that was clearly mercenary in nature. If it wasn¡¯t for the guns and ammunition, I would still have found it easy to guess their profession simply based upon the eclectic nature of its members. The force was mostly Staiven and Seiyal, but had a number of Tovus and Telaretians as well.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    The apparent leader of the mercenary group seemed to be a Staiven woman. She was bald, her yellowed skin even flakier than most of her people, and a large, inch-wide flake fell off the side of her head as I watched. She was wearing a set of high-end body armor, one which I knew by experience would restrain the blades of weaker martial practitioners. Her eyes were a deep, sanguine red. As she entered, her attention turned to myself and Jihan, clearly unsurprised by our presence. As expected of a Staiven¡¯s senses.


    One of her aides, a very muscular Telaretian woman, leaned in to whisper into her ear, presumably informing her of what the color of my robes implied. I noticed a slight change in her demeanor as she clearly started to regard me with greater interest. The two spoke quietly for a moment, before the Staiven returned her attention to me and spoke.


    ¡°Sect Leader Riverfiend,¡± she said, her words in a thickly accented seiyin. ¡°I have heard much about you.¡±


    Hearing this, I took a step forward.


    ¡°Might I know to whom I speak?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I am Eitian, second commander of the Black Bullet PMC. This,¡± she said, motioning towards the Telaretian, ¡°is Jhrask, my second. The Hadal Clan informed us of your presence in this engagement.¡±


    I nodded respectfully to her in acknowledgement, but made no other move. To do so risked lowering my image as a powerful figure and the sect¡¯s leader. Eitian did not seem surprised by this. Between her knowledge of seiyin and her force¡¯s relationship with the Hadal Clan, I suspected she had built up a solid understanding of Seiyal culture over the years.


    Wishing to skip further pleasantries, I decided to inform them of the situation.


    ¡°This area of the interior seems to be empty of Celans, but some of my forces have encountered resistance in other parts of the building. We don¡¯t know what the distribution is or whether there¡¯s anything they are guarding in particular. We suspect they just intend to cause as much damage as possible to our forces.¡±


    Eitian nodded at this, and turned to quietly discuss something with Jhrask again. It almost made me feel like something was wrong, but perhaps the two were simply the sort who always liked to come to a consensus on a matter before acting.


    According to Wei Hadal, they had discussed simply toppling the building, but due to the fact that the building crossed several floors, this was far too risky an endeavor. It risked toppling the entire stack, and not even the Hadal Clan wished to deal with the consequences of such an action.


    With that option off the table, they would have to settle for rendering the place unusable, and defacing its exterior. I had not been informed about the clan¡¯s specific plans for this matter, but I suspected they still involved explosions in some manner.


    In war, few were the problems that could not be solved using explosives, in my opinion.


    Regardless, we had been told to clear the building if we entered first, and that was still my intention, provided matters did not get out of hand.


    There was a moment of quiet as they spoke, their words just quiet enough that I couldn¡¯t hear. I almost wished that I had the abilities of a genesis practitioner, and could enhance my senses to listen in, but I knew Rachel would be listening in, and I trusted her to tell me if anything particularly important was said between the two.


    ¡°I feel we can both better achieve our aims if we take different paths through the building,¡± I said, once their discussion concluded.


    Eitian frowned, seeming to be considering the matter.


    ¡°Do you have a map of the building¡¯s layout?¡± asked Jhrask, who surprised me with even greater fluency than her superior.


    ¡°We acquired a blueprint and were inspecting that, but it seems the structure is different from what they claimed to the government.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± she replied. ¡°Which direction are you intending to take?¡±


    From the entrance, the hall split into two directions. One led onward, to a direction Orion¡¯s men had only light scouted, while the other led back to the territory we had already been through. I pointed in that direction. I did not mind the idea of returning to an area we had already passed, and going to assist Jihan and his group, and leaving the rest of the actual exploration to the mercenaries. It was better for my interests for others to take the risks.


    ¡°We will go that way, and you go the other,¡± I suggested.


    I glanced back at them, awaiting a response. The two quickly conferred, and then Eitian gave me a sharp nod.


    ¡°This is acceptable,¡± she said.


    I returned the nod, and gave Orion a look. He quickly caught on, and sent some messages to finish recalling his force. I then turned to glance back down the path we had come, mentally doing the math for how long it would take to reach Jihan¡¯s general position. That moment of distraction was enough.


    A mere instant after I had turned my back, the mercenaries made their move. Had I not been half-expecting such a turn of events, I would have been hit by the arcing beam of Jhrask¡¯s plasma catapult. Instead, it passed inches from me, slightly singing the outer layer of my robe. I smiled as I turned to the Black Bullet troops, my smile growing and becoming more real.


    ¡°Was this what you were discussing so much? I¡¯m curious,¡± I said. ¡°Did the clan tell you to do this, or do you have another employer? I suppose it doesn¡¯t matter.¡±


    The rest of the mercenaries quickly redrew their weapons, while myself and Jihan drew our own. I¡¯ve never fought such a diverse force, I thought. This could be interesting.


    The smile on my face refused to fade.


    Indeice: [Tall and slender creatures with six arms and five dark eyes, the Indichians are one of the many client races of the Osine. Despite their advanced technology, their reproductive capability is extremely limited, thus they never ran into the restrictions imposed by their Osine masters. A very insular race, they also have seemingly little interest in exploring the universe, merely focused on living comfortable lives in their own home system. Aside from trade with starfaring races within Osine territory such as the Telaretians, the Indichians interact extremely little with the outside world, and aliens are not even allowed to reside within their territory on a permanent basis.]

 153- The Orthodox Path

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    With Rachel¡¯s assistance, it did not take Irid and the others very long to encounter the man named Juen Hadal. To Irid and the rest, most Seiyal faces tended to blend together, but Juen¡¯s bearing and the way he dressed made it clear that he had a high position.


    His dark robes were wet with blood, and as she watched, he carefully wiped the length of his staff on the clothes of a woman who was laying on the ground, apparently attempting to wipe the blood off of it. The woman was a farsei in white robes, one who Irid vaguely recognized but had never spoken to. She lay on the ground before the man, breathing slowly. She wasn¡¯t dead, but Irid suspected that she may be dying.


    The crushed collarbone that was hemorrhaging blood served as a strong clue, in her estimation.


    Sensing her presence, the man turned towards her, but paused in surprise as her appearance registered to him. Quickly, his eyes narrowed as he realized what she was, his face wearing an expression filled with disgust. Juen sneered, and spoke some words in seiyin that Irid suspected must be derisive in some way. That was simply the manner in which she expected this sort of Seiyal to act towards her. The Orthodox Path and the Reth were ancient enemies, after all. Her opinion towards him was little better. Particularly due to the fact that he was a genocidal monster who was trying to slaughter the weak.


    As expected of the Orthodox Path, she thought. They were cruel and inhuman, each and every one of them. And the Ceirrans were even worse. Servants of the Devil of Light.


    Smog still flowed out of her skin, draping over her body as if she were wearing a cloak of mist. Irid smiled, baring her pointed teeth at the man as she stretched her claws out in an intimidating pose, ready to make a move. Juen simply raised his staff, flicking some of the blood off of the end in an arrogant motion as he spoke a few more words, steadily approaching towards her. Just like her own smog, a vibrant green mist began to emanate from his body, making Irid wary.


    Irid took the effort to relax her body, certain that a fight was imminent. There was no alternative, unless she fled, but Irid knew there was little chance of that. She had made a promise to the Lady Shade, and would not break it unless her circumstances became truly desperate.


    Juen suddenly charged, his steps speeding rapidly as he put great force into his legs. If he had a proper movement technique, the attack might have been quite threatening, but as matters were, Irid had plenty of time to react, as within the dark mist she was more than able to outpace him.


    The martial artist¡¯s staff slammed down towards her, and from the sound of its passage through the air alone, Irid could tell the force of its motion. She stepped backwards, fading into the mist, and charging back towards him from another direction. Juen cursed, trying to shift his momentum to defend, but he did not have the time.


    Her hardened nails tore into the genesis practitioner¡¯s shoulder, streams of sanguine miasma bleeding into the air in their wake, and diving into Juen¡¯s shoulder. He tensed up, not because of the pain, but because of the sanguine miasma which had formed inside of his body, and steadily increased due to the wound. It was an advantage of the Reth, part of the reason that they generally preferred to fight barehanded when they were in melee combat.


    Juen said a few more words, but Irid did not bother to respond. It was presumably curses, recriminations, or something else that she had little interest in. She attempted to duck under his next swing. She expected to easily dodge an attack at that speed, but could feel herself slowing as she passed through the small area of green mist, as if something was sapping away at her momentum.


    Fortunately, she managed to reach just far enough to avoid the attack, feeling his staff sweep through her loose hair as it passed above her. Irid dove past his legs, swiping for his shins as she rolled by. Juen kicked out with one of his feet, sending her skidding across the floor, back into the dark mist which continued to fill the room. She could see him coughing slightly, and smiled as she slowly rose back to her, coughing a clod of blood out of her own mouth.Stolen story; please report.


    She might have been injured, thought Irid, but his own would be much worse by now. Between the poisonous smog and the sanguine-producing gash in his shoulder, Irid knew that there would be a limit to how much longer Juen could fight effectively.


    She lurked in the darkness around him, searching for an opportunity to strike. Juen, meanwhile, simply stood in a careful stance, eyes shut, as if he were trying to pay closer attention to his other senses. His breaths were extremely slow and shallow, as if to reduce the amount of smog he breathed in. It was wasted effort, but Irid could not blame him for trying.


    Suddenly, Juen charged once again, sweeping his staff low to the surprise of Irid, and driving her legs out from under her. She toppled to the ground with a grunt, and barely managed to roll out of the way as he slammed it downwards towards the center of her chest. This time, Irid was unable to react quickly enough, her motions dulled by the restraint of the verdant fog. The swing grazed her ribs with a loud, extremely painful cracking noise. She winced in pain as she scrambled away, fairly certain that the blow had fractured more than one rib. Though the man¡¯s motions were predictable, each of them held unbelievable force, and the green mist surrounding him slowed any part of her which entered to attack him. He might be slow, she thought, but if she could not attack without slowing to match, that weakness might as well not matter at all.


    Juen¡¯s fighting style was one of sheer dominance, thought Irid. His powerful strength made even the weakest attack a severe threat, and his excellent spacial control allowed him to pressure opponents, keeping them at the perfect distance. Irid¡¯s main advantage lay in her agility, but to take advantage of it, she needed to make bigger, faster movements, thus causing her to tire out much faster. Not for the first time, Irid wished she had a firearm. She was not like the Seiyal; she had no fixation on ¡®traditional¡¯ weapons and battle tactics. If a firearm was better in a given situation, that would be what she wished to use. Lady Rachel would likely be able to find her one, she thought, though that was a matter for later.


    As Irid once again scrambled out of the man¡¯s way, trying to buy herself time to regroup, she suddenly realized that she could hear a third set of footsteps. Though a Reth¡¯s eyes could to a certain extent pierce through the gloom of their smog, the stranger was on the far side of the hall, and she had no way of identifying whether they were friend or foe. Juen¡¯s head was cocked, listening carefully, and Irid was fairly certain the man had noticed the sounds before her.


    Taking advantage of his distraction, Irid made her move, diving once again toward Juen, claws bared and ready to carve once more into his flesh. Juen stabbed forward with his staff, forcing her to veer off to the side and miss her chance. However, her attack opened a window for an ally.


    Another Reth charged from the smoke, diving towards Juen¡¯s back and forcing him to spin to force the new combatant away with his staff. The Reth man backed up once more into the smog, and Irid recognized him as Agaral. Though they did not get along particularly well, she very much appreciated his appearance at such a time. This fight would be far more manageable with his assistance. Without it, she felt that she might well have been the one who died first, before too long.


    Glancing at one another from opposite sides of their opponent, Irid¡¯s eyes met with Agaral¡¯s, and with a few quick motions, the two were able to establish a proper strategy. Relentless pressure was their ally, thought Irid. They would not allow Juen to stall. They had no hope of beating a genesis practitioner in a competition of endurance, after all.


    As Irid flexed her fingers, she saw a strange motion from the corner of her eye, and quickly gave it a quick look. At the edge of the smog cloud, Irid saw an odd alien whose species she found difficult to discern, standing next to a Seiyal in a black and red robe. As they did not appear to be attacking one another, she decided that it was unlikely the alien was a threat, and ceased to waste time with mindless observations. The current situation was far more pressing. She returned her attention to Juen, who raised his staff once again to fend off Agaral¡¯s blow. He still seemed unwinded, though his breathing seemed to have become rougher, presumably from the smog inhalation.


    With Agaral¡¯s assistance, she thought, this battle had a legitimate chance of success. Irid slowed her breathing, making sure not to exacerbate her wounded ribs, and prepared to attack once more.


    Reth Governance: [In the modern era, the Reth do not have a true government, finding themselves willing to rely on the Pantheonic Government and the Church of Saaya to handle their logistics. With the relatively small and scattered population they have in the current era, there is little need for any more structured command. Prior to their exile from Canvas, the Reth homeland was ruled by an elected council. The final members of the council died in the homeland before the race¡¯s evacuation, and it was never reconvened. Some of the larger Reth enclaves have considered forming such a government again. The Church of Saaya has, notably, stood against this proposition.]

 154- Semi-Private Threats

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    While Triezal and Mung made their way through the Redwater Sect, Triezal checked up on his equipment, keeping track of what was functional and what was not. The concussive blast pad in his chest had been shattered in the battle of the forward base. By some miracle, it seemed to remain functional, but he did not dare to activate it. In all likelihood it would explode again, sending enough shock and fragments into his body to maim or kill him. He decided to wear the armor piece despite this. It would likely take a blow for him, and that was enough for his purposes.


    His guns had also survived, and seemed to be in good enough condition to use. The remaining ammunition was limited in quantity, but Triezal was good at managing his resources. Of his two boot attachments, only one had survived in working condition. He felt he could probably make it work, but his agility would certainly be hindered until it was repaired.


    All in all, Triezal felt that he was at about a quarter of his normal fighting power at the moment.


    They continued to make their way through the sect, steadily progressing further from the sect¡¯s interior. In the distance, Triezal could hear screams and shouting, but was unable to tell whether it was from the attackers or the defenders.


    ¡°I recommend we leave, Magister,¡± said Mung, clearly still wary of reprisal for his betrayal of the sect.


    Triezal gave the other man an annoyed look. For someone who had an alien body with far greater physical capabilities than Triezal¡¯s own, Mung Seo was too easily frightened, in his estimation. If all the sect¡¯s Elders were out of the district at the moment, he did not see who could be a threat to the two of them outside of perhaps Juen Hadal himself.


    ¡°Not yet,¡± Triezal insisted. He refused to leave without what had been entrusted to him.


    Mung sighed, but made no further comments. If he was not deeply loyal, he would never have been chosen for soul replacement experimentation. So long as he did not realize that Triezal could be considered a traitor to the Epon by this point, he would be as trustworthy and reliable a subordinate as he could hope for.


    Personally, though, Triezal would have preferred to be dealing with Lao Feng instead.


    They continued creeping through the halls of the sect, but Triezal paused as he heard the sounds of battle somewhere ahead of them. Quietly, he shambled closer, wishing to grow his understanding of the situation.


    Triezal turned the corner to see a dark smoke filling the hall, and he was somewhat taken aback by it. He frowned, squinting as he tried to peer through the dense mist. Within, he could hear sounds of grunting and heavy impacts, implying that a fight was going on inside. But there was no sound of clashing steel, no impacts of metal on metal. Whoever was fighting here, they were not using blades.


    He turned his head to see Mung¡¯s reaction, but the martial artist seemed to share Triezal¡¯s own confusion.


    ¡°Are there any manifest practitioners in the sect who make this sort of smoke?¡± he asked.


    Mung shook his head.


    ¡°Not that I know of. Though I haven¡¯t been here for all too long.¡±


    Triezal pursed his lips as he vaguely saw shadows moving within the mist. He stepped a bit closer, his eyes straining as he was finally able to discern the details of the battle.


    If he was being honest, Triezal would have to say that the battle almost looked silly. All of the combatants were emitting thick auras of miasma, and the black smoke which surrounded all of them did little but suppress the miasma to remain right beside the combatant¡¯s bodies. It appeared that two sanguine practitioners wielding what appeared to be their own fingernails as weapons were fighting with a staff-wielding practitioner of the genesis path. Juen Hadal, Triezal vaguely remembered, was a staff-wielder.


    There was much that was odd with the current situation, Triezal thought, but the matters did not fully clarify themselves to him until the man who was possibly the target pressured one of his opponents, forcing them to step back near the edge of the smog. That was when he realized that it was not a practitioner after all.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    Triezal breathed out slowly. He had never seen one of the rare members of this race before, but it was still easy for him to recognize them. These were Reth.


    It seemed, he thought, that his captivity was not the only secret that the Redwater Sect had been hiding in its interior. This was huge news, and something that might be able to drive the wedge between the Redwater Sect and the Hadal Clan, to create an insurmountable gap.


    Unless the clan left Sunlit Hall, it was their obligation to eradicate any Reth they encountered.


    The corner of Triezal¡¯s mouth upturned slightly as a wave of ideas flowed through his mind.


    ¡°How interesting,¡± he muttered. Beside him, Mung Seo had a surprised expression on his face.


    Knowing that he was not in a condition to interfere, while Mung Seo¡¯s abilities were simply too lacking to participate, the two of them simply watched as the Reth duo¡¯s advantage slowly accumulated. Despite being weaker individually, the two cooperated well to continually pressure Juen, and reduce the opportunities available to him.


    In fact, Triezal realized, Juen was not moving all that much. Instead, he was standing in one position, guarding himself from the relentless assault of the two aliens. For him, at least, this posed quite the excellent opportunity.


    Triezal stretched his arm out, carefully setting his aim. His arm was oriented perfectly, directed right at the head of Juen Hadal.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you think you want to speak again, Rachel?¡± he asked, his attention unwavering. ¡°I feel we might be able to come to an agreement, now.¡±


    ¡°Do you really wish to break the goodwill between us?¡± she asked, her tone clearly curt..


    Triezal snorted crudely, unable to suppress a chuckle.


    ¡°What goodwill? You were the ones who imprisoned me for days. Return my knife to me, and then you¡¯ll have a foundation to speak of goodwill and cooperation.¡±


    Rachel paused for a moment, as if needing to consider the matter.


    ¡°What if I told you that it isn¡¯t here?¡± she asked, her voice softer. ¡°Cyrus took it with him.¡±


    Hearing this, Triezal¡¯s eyes narrowed. If her words were legitimate, he might as well give up now. However, he was not so easily convinced.


    ¡°A man like the Riverfiend wouldn¡¯t have taken it with him,¡± he said. ¡°He would have been more confident having it kept somewhere he felt was safe.¡±


    In reality, Triezal did not know this. He did not know the man very well, after all. They had only met twice. It was sufficient to leave an impression, but not enough to learn such miniscule details of his psyche.


    Rachel sighed, and Triezal got the sense that she was feeling the pressure. He smiled, himself feeling like his bluff had paid off. The gun was still carefully aimed at Juen, and Triezal was ready at any moment to fire if need be.


    It was something that Triezal had learned when he was younger. No matter the consequences, never make a threat you were not willing to complete. Your enemy would always call your bluff if you were the type to make promises you could not or would not fulfill. For this reason, Triezal was ready and waiting to take Juen¡¯s life. It would not, after all, be difficult to explain to the others upon his return that he had taken the life of a Hadal clan spirit refiner. In the current war situation, that was the goal of his faction, after all.


    After a short pause, Rachel sighed again.


    ¡°Fine. It¡¯s stored under Cyrus¡¯ desk. One of the drawers has a false backing,¡± she said.


    Triezal smiled, but did not let down his guard. It was possible that she was lying, and intended to waste his time on a wild goose chase.


    ¡°Send one of the disciples to bring it to us,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m not feeling the most trust, at the moment.¡±


    The sound of a laugh echoed from the walls in response, making Triezal feel slightly unnerved despite himself. He was not fully confident that he could maintain his grasp upon the situation, but he felt that it was vital that he try and take as much advantage of this opportunity as possible. He paid close attention to every shift of the battle, but did not close off his senses, careful to listen for signs of another party approaching, and perhaps throwing the situation into further chaos.


    ¡°Keep an eye out,¡± he told Mung.


    He would be surprised if Rachel did not try anything.


    Black Bullet PMC: [A Staiven-owned company, this mercenary force largely accepts corporate hires, though they are not unwilling to dabble in extrajudicial work on occasion. Black Bullet is one of the most diverse forces on the station, as its leader is a firm believer that each species has its own specialty in warfare, and that by combining them, they would acquire a competitive advantage in the mercenary industry of Tseludia. As the company has become the third strongest mercenary group on the station, some have claimed its founder¡¯s idea had merit. Forty percent ownership of this PMC belongs to the Church of Verain.]

 155- A Swift Engagement

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    It was interesting, I found, to face off against both martial artists and aliens at the same time. To a certain extent, the combination of fighting against both ranged and close-combat attacks by the mercenaries actually reminded me of my fights with Celan enforcers, to a certain extent. Or it would, if the mercenary practitioners had been at the spirit refiner level. In practice, only the aliens were any threat to me, in particular the Telaretian and her advanced weapon.


    Wide bolts of light emanated from an aperture at the front end of the boxy structure of the device Rachel had referred to as a ¡®plasma catapult.¡¯ Personally, I did not see any relation between the device and my understanding of a catapult. Rather than the question about the weapon¡¯s name, however, I was more worried about handling its output. Judging from how easily it tore a several inch wide hole through one of my subordinates, it was certainly powerful enough to threaten me if it were to impact me. While it did not fire as rapidly as a machine gun, it was still quite fast. But I was someone who could dodge my way through the interlocking fields of fire of an enforcer. Despite her best efforts, Jhrask had little odds of successfully hitting me with the weapon.


    I had been facing the other way when I first heard the sounds of weapons fire, but I had not been unprepared for a surprise attack. I was not such a fool that I would trust a mercenary who had been hired by somebody else. Particularly given the present situation. I dove to the ground, quickly rolling back to my feet as my body morphed and rebounded, speeding up the rate of my movements. As time passed, I was becoming more and more proficient in how I used my new physique, learning tricks that greatly assisted in boosting my overall combat power. In time, I felt it might become one of my greatest assets.


    One of the bolts passed mere centimeters away from my flesh, and I intensely felt the power of the superheated plasma projectile as it went by. This was the interesting part about advanced warfare, I thought. It was far easier to destroy than to defend, and so all combatants were ultimately glass cannons, firing at one another. The ability to dodge truly was the most important tool of a warrior.


    I ducked beneath another plasma round, steadily progressing closer and closer to the wildly firing Telaretian mercenary. She took a step backwards, intimidated by my charge, but my eyes were firmly kept on the direction her weapon was pointed, keeping close track of where the bolts would go. If I knew that, the chances of me being hit were minimal.


    From the corner of my eyes, I could see Orion and the others doing their part. I saw a few of the weaker martial artists take bullets, but Orion took advantage of his manifested stone to partially deflect the enemy¡¯s bullets. Most of the firearms were of Staiven make, however, and there was only so much he could do to handle the superheated slugs of metal coming directly towards him. What he could do, however, was fully restrain the martial artists among them, whose primary role simply seemed to be protecting the firing line.


    Orion¡¯s whips, however, were too much for them to handle. As one of the searing-hot strands impacted her arm with a hissing noise, Eitian cursed, clearly threatened and angered by the fact that we were not dead yet.


    The river rushed in and through me, and in moments, I had reached Jhrask¡¯s side despite the considerable amount of focused fire that the mercenaries had poured towards me. I merely ducked, dodged, and leapt my way through the gunfire, only taking the lightest of surface wounds as I reached them. With a final dash, I reached the Telaretian woman, and I raised my sword up, preparing myself to deliver a powerful flurry of blows.


    Jhrask tried desperately to dodge, to point her weapon towards me, but there was nothing she could do to restrain the force of the overpowering slashes which collided into her, tearing through the armor and slicing past her mortal body. The first took the hand holding her firearm, while the second tore through her chest. There was no need for a third. She fell to the ground, trying desperately to breathe with her ruined lungs. Even for a person such as myself this might have been a fatal blow, much less a mortal like her.


    ¡°Jhrask!¡± shouted Eitian, her brow furrowed with rage. A flake of yellowed skin fell from her forehead, loosened by the motion.


    It seemed, I thought, that she had been very close with her Telaretian lieutenant. That might make matters more difficult.


    With the only real threat down, I moved towards Eitian, who had been rescued from Orion by her martial artist subordinates. But while they could restrain my Iron Palace Leader by working together, I could handle them no matter how many stood before me. I reached Eitian even more rapidly than I had arrived before her lieutenant. This time, I dealt with the issue without even having to deliver a blow. My pommel cracked into her shoulder, causing her to drop her gun, and with my left hand, I released the hilt of my sword to grip the neck plate of her armor, pulling her towards me, and lifted her off of the ground. Her feet dangled aimlessly as she gripped at her throat, trying to kick me or pull my hands off. I ignored her, as she had no hope of success.


    The fighting spirit of the remaining mercenaries seemed to have died with their leader¡¯s capture, and they quickly turned to flee. I allowed them to leave, not caring to clear them out. My true enemy was not them, but their employer.


    Eitian cursed as she watched her subordinates abandon her, shouting several words in Staiven that were not part of the vocabulary I had learned. It was all in vain, as not a single one turned to assist. They were not so foolish, it seemed.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°Did they really believe they had a chance?¡± asked Orion, breathing heavily as he watched their escape. ¡°One weapon wielded by a mortal is certainly not enough to handle a spirit refiner.¡±


    Scrapes and grazes covered his body, and a large chunk of his leg appeared to be missing, clearly having been impacted by a bolt of plasma, judging by the size and cauterized nature of the wound. His face was slightly pale, but he was holding together admirably, barely even expressing the impact of such devastating wounds. I was impressed that he still had the energy to insult them, given his condition.


    ¡°Speak for yourself,¡± said Rachel, her projection appearing beside Jhrask¡¯s corpse, seeming to be inspecting it. ¡°You look like shit.¡±


    Orion let out a forced, ragged laugh.


    ¡°I¡¯m not yet a spirit refiner.¡±


    ¡°And how good do you think your chances of becoming one are?¡± she replied, sneering at him. ¡°By the way, pick up this weapon, one of you. It would fetch quite a hefty price on the black market.¡±


    I glanced over, following her gaze, and realized that despite her death, the Telaretian mercenary¡¯s firearm remained largely undamaged. I picked it up, giving the device a quick inspection, but found it largely uninteresting. I passed it off to a nearby surviving member of our force. Carrying the thing would reduce his combat value, but I did not place much value into the capabilities of meridian refiners anyway. They were mostly present to fill the numbers and make convenient meat shields if necessary.


    In terms of combat utility, such slow, plodding individuals might as well be mortals, from my current perspective.


    I turned back to Eitian, who was thoroughly restrained by the force of my grip. Even though I had no particular abilities enhancing my strength, the physical might of a spirit refiner was simply on another level compared to a mortal Staiven.


    ¡°I¡¯ll ask you again,¡± I said. ¡°Who hired you to kill me?¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t tell you anything,¡± she sneered, her words spoken even more violently than I had predicted. She was clearly shaken up, but not in any way which might be beneficial to me. ¡°I hope you fall to their next attempt.¡±


    ¡°So she expects there to be another,¡± Rachel noted. ¡°I would be surprised if it wasn¡¯t the Ceirrans again.¡±


    I nodded in agreement. At the moment, the Celans and the other Hadal factions were too busy to antagonize me too much, and I couldn¡¯t think of any other rich figures who might want me aside aside from perhaps Sioan, who had attempted to get me arrested. But I doubted she had the ability to know I would be present today.


    Eitian attempted to spit some foul Staiven liquid at me, so I dropped her, sending her sprawling to the ground beneath me, as I pondered what to do with her. She made the decision easily, as she scrambled for a discarded firearm just a few steps away. She didn¡¯t seem willing to comply, I thought. Torture was probably a waste of time as well, given the current circumstances. Moreover, she seemed to hate me. I felt it was better to tie off the loose ends.


    With a single swipe of my blade, Eitian¡¯s head fell from her body, and toppled to the ground with a muffled thump, falling upon the weapon she had been attempting to claim. I lifted the edge of my robe, and carefully wiped my sword clean of blood before returning it to its sheath. While it was incapable of rust or dulling, I had always felt it would be disrespectful to leave it in poor condition.


    Now that the matter was over, I turned to Rachel. There was something which had annoyed me.


    ¡°I¡¯m curious why you didn¡¯t warn me of their plans to attack us,¡± I said, glaring at her. ¡°They must have said something about it,between all that whispering they were doing.¡±


    She merely laughed in response.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it fine?¡± she asked. ¡°You weren¡¯t even injured.¡±


    I glanced over to the wounded Orion, and the eight dead Redwater practitioners on the ground, and hesitated, before deciding to let the matter go. Orion would survive, and I had wished for the gangsters originally co-opted into the sect to either die or prove themselves, anyway. This was no serious loss for us.


    Wasting no additional time, I stepped over the bodies as I made my way towards the exit. As I did so, I glanced back towards Orion. He was being assisted by one of his subordinates. Li Qing, I thought his name was.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to meet up with Jihan and then get out of here. There¡¯s no point in bothering to continue if this keeps up.¡±


    He nodded with a grimace.


    ¡°We¡¯re taking heavy losses, anyway.¡±


    I turned back, leading the way for the survivors as we began to make our way outside. Though there were likely more enemies out there, I felt it was more beneficial if we knew what we were dealing with. Comparatively, inside the building I could not help but be concerned about just what the Leader of the Heirs had been hinting at.


    ¡°Rachel, tell Jihan to turn back and head for the nearest exit,¡± I commanded, turning to look at her.


    ¡°I already did,¡± she replied. ¡°They¡¯re currently attempting to disengage from battle.¡±


    I frowned. Just how many Celans were still hiding inside the building?


    ¡°Again?¡± I asked.


    She smirked, her vibrant eyes seeming to twinkle.


    ¡°They encountered something that I find quite interesting.¡±


    Circumstances of the Telaretian Race: [Though occasionally, Telaretian planets are slated for harvest, the species is mostly allowed to freely spread throughout Osine territory due to their historical importance, provided they do not interfere with cultivated worlds. They are also considered to make suitable mortal forces for the ongoing war with the Khalak-Ora, and remain one of the most populous races in the galaxy despite their decline. Despite their vast population, relatively few Telaretians choose to reside within the Pantheonic Territory, not wishing to live the life of a second class citizen.]

 156- A Fractured Bargain

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    It did not take long for Triezal to realize the issue. How would he be able to tell whether the task was actually getting done? How could he tell whether the knife was where she said it was or not? He could send Mung to pick it up, but if there were more Reth within the building, he knew that Mung would not be strong enough to deal with it.


    The problem, Triezal knew, was that Rachel could likely see everything within the building, while he could barely keep track of the area right beside himself. The disparity was simply too large, and she was entirely untrustworthy. All he could do was either stand by his word and kill Juen, or return to the office himself, and trust in Rachel¡¯s words.


    Unfortunately, she was a Shade. Triezal knew that he could not trust a single word she said. A thinking machine like her was simply far too skilled at manipulating a person¡¯s mind.


    Triezal sighed, eyes continuing to track the still-ongoing fight between the Reth and the martial artist.


    ¡°We should just go,¡± suggested Mung, who still stood next to him, that nervous expression still covering his face. ¡°Is whatever you¡¯re looking for worth the risk? My duty is to get you back to somewhere safe.¡±


    ¡°It isn¡¯t worth it,¡± Triezal finally replied, his expression downcast as he faced reality. Maybe Rachel had actually sent a disciple to do what he had requested, but he could not blindly trust in it. It was far more likely that she had simply been attempting to delay him. ¡°I suppose she wouldn¡¯t care, even if I did shoot him.¡±


    He could be guessing wrong, of course. Triezal was well aware of this. He was exhausted, still somewhat wounded, and felt like his brain was not operating at its full capacity. His intuition would need to be good enough. Triezal slowly lowered his pistol, letting out a deep breath as he rubbed his forehead with the base of his palm.


    Finally, Rachel replied, a sneer clearly implied from her tone as she started to mock him, her words droning on and on.


    ¡°You finally noticed, Magister? You really aren¡¯t at your best if you thought I would care about his life or death. I can just film you shooting him, and suddenly all it will do is heat up your own conflict with them. You wouldn¡¯t-¡±


    He lifted the gun again and fired, the bullet coursing out of the chamber, blasted away by its flickering-enhanced propulsion mechanism, and impacted Juen near the base of hire forehead. Right where his cerebral core was located. The moment he did so, the Reth paused in their assault as Juen unceremoniously toppled to the floor, the room silent save for the continued ringing left by the sound of the gunfire, and the quiet buzz of the circulating air which caused the thick smog to slowly expand and dilute into the surrounding area. The screams in the distance, he realized, had quieted down by this time, the rest of the attackers either too far away to hear, or already dealt with.


    ¡°We¡¯ll see,¡± he said, motioning with his free hand for Mung to back up. By now, Triezal didn¡¯t plan on checking the Riverfiend¡¯s office again. He deeply doubted that Rachel had been telling the truth, and most importantly, he needed to escape before he missed the opportunity to do so. He would leave at a severe loss if he were to leave without his knife, but there would be other opportunities.


    As he slowly began to step backwards, Triezal noticed that Rachel gave no response to his action. Was she shocked? Perhaps he had surprised her, or perhaps he was simply playing into her hands. It didn¡¯t matter either way, he thought. So long as he escaped the district, all would be well.


    Triezal kept his pistol aimed at the two Reth as he left, and they simply stared blankly at him as he fled the scene. He would be back, Triezal promised himself. Next time, however, the circumstances would be much different.


    <hr>


    ???, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Rachel had to admit, she had not expected Triezal to take the shot. It seemed her model of him was flawed, and would need some modification. She had thought he would send Mung to check the office again, and waste a significant amount of time before returning empty handed. She would not, after all, have told him where the knife was kept. A naeratanh blade was one of the only items on the station capable of injuring or killing her, and she could not let it out of her sight, even if she needed to take a loss in order to do so.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    As she watched Triezal leave the headquarters, for a moment Rachel considered having Irid and Agaral chase after him, but ultimately decided not to. He would return to the Heirs and tell them about Janottka¡¯s presence, which might very well be of benefit to her.


    Rachel¡¯s mind was currently split into almost ten consciousnesses. It placed a strain on her cognition, but it was nothing she couldn¡¯t handle. So long as Janottka did not take the opportunity to pressure her, she could easily bear a load of this size. Carefully, she directed disciples to safety, Reth to the nearest Ceirran invader, and assisted Cyrus and Jihan with their own issues. There was much to do, and she was the only one who could do it all.


    As she watched blood ooze out from the hole in Juen Hadal¡¯s skull, for a moment Rachel pondered her own inability. She knew how to treat him, but lacked the body to take action with. If only she still had the drones that had been stored on her ship, she thought. But they were long destroyed, and Rachel knew pondering on the past would take her nowhere.


    In truth, Rachel had not wished for Juen¡¯s death. What she had told the magister was true, and if she could not save his life, she would indeed blame it on a Celan assassination. What mattered was not giving the clan the excuse for further attack. However, she thought, as she inspected his condition, she had a better idea. One which would bear far more interesting results.


    Juen was a genesis practitioner. While Triezal was well experienced in combat with Seiyal, she knew from records that he had never faced a genesis practitioner at the spirit refiner level in combat until quite recently. He did not truly understand, she thought, the sheer durability of a genesis physique. Despite his pierced skull and cerebral hemorrhage, if Juen was properly treated, he would be able to not only survive, but fully recover.


    As she inspected Juen, Rachel had realized that the slug had grazed his cerebral core, causing just slightly enough damage to the object that it could recover with time. A core was different from a dantian- it was more of a construct of miasma than a physical one, and with great effort, a martial artist could repair it to full condition. That was, she thought, unless someone were to interfere.


    Irid glanced around, as if looking for something, before simply asking a question with her gaze directed nowhere in particular.


    ¡°Should we save his life?¡±


    Rachel wished she could summon her projection, but she had only been able to acquire relatively rudimentary technology to construct the headquarters, due to the lacking technological base of the station¡¯s inhabitants. At such a distance from her conduit, all she could do to communicate was to use the machines she had installed inside of the walls.


    ¡°I say let him die,¡± suggested Agaral, to no surprise from either of the two women. The man acted politely to her, and casually to the other Reth, but seemed to have strong negative feelings towards the Seiyal in general, much less those of the orthodox path. She supposed she couldn¡¯t blame him, given their history. Rachel herself bore incredible hatred towards the Sheneth-Ari, a poison she suspected would never leave her heart until they experienced what she had.


    ¡°It is more convenient for me if he lives,¡± said Rachel. ¡°But don¡¯t worry, we won¡¯t be letting him off easily. Irid, I want you to drag him out of the smog and push sanguine miasma into his head.¡±


    The Reth woman frowned, not comprehending the purpose of the order. She considered Rachel¡¯s words for a few moments, before deciding to fulfill the request.


    ¡°If you so wish, Lady Rachel,¡± she said, before kneeling down before the dying man and resting her taloned hand on his forehead. ¡°Should I remove the bullet?¡±


    ¡°Not yet.¡±


    To the side, Agaral watched on, a scowl on his ashen face.


    The miasma pressed in, at first resisting the intense genesis miasma inside, but Irid continued to pour it in, rapidly filling the space inside of the unconscious practitioner. The wound was naturally generating sanguine miasma regardless, which combined with Irid¡¯s energies, a growing force which competed with the man¡¯s own powers. Before long, the green miasma was overcome by the competing red. Finally, a tendril of sanguine entered his core through its damaged side, intermixing with the genesis, and falling into an unnatural balance.


    ¡°You can stop there,¡± said Rachel. ¡°Remove the bullet and tie a strip from his robe over the wound.¡±


    While Irid busied herself with the simple task, stretching one of her claws into Juen¡¯s cranium to remove the bronze alloy projectile, Rachel was privately smirking. It seemed he would survive, but he would wake up to find his situation rather difficult. Juen would certainly attempt to keep this outcome a secret, but she found herself extremely curious about what would happen now that the foremost heir candidate of an orthodox clan had become an unorthodox practitioner.


    He knew too little about sanguine miasma, and if he wished to live as anything but a cripple, he would have to come to a deal with the only people on the station who could help him.


    Dual-Miasma Paths: [A path utilizing two miasmas is often not considered a real path. After all, the energies within the miasmas conflict, and cause damage to the body. For low-level practitioners, this can easily cause death. Such injuries, too, cause sanguine miasma to form within the practitioner¡¯s body, which can rapidly cause the path to become one of three miasmas, an even more fatal occurrence. But in rare cases, when an advanced practitioner with a sufficiently durable physique becomes so injured that enough sanguine miasma enters at least one of their cores, they can become so infiltrated by the sanguine that it becomes naturally generated, as if that was truly their path. This is an unorthodox path of pain and hardship, much more dangerous than a true sanguine path. None would choose such a path of their own volition. Not unless they had no alternative.]

 157- The Defenders Prize

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    The headquarters of the Heirs of Ottrien extended far more than Jihan would have expected. The area he and his squad had found themselves in was not even remotely included in the blueprint that Rachel had shown to him, an area located almost in the dead center of the stack.


    What¡¯s more, they had been facing constant waves of defenders. Every so often, Celan soldiers would pop out from hidden passages, or fire from a defensive choke point, a constant stream of attackers who pressured his forces. Jihan and his squad were strong, of course. They had easily dealt with the Celans each time, but the greater force he was leading had started to take casualties. This was an inevitable result, but letting the weak take blows for the elites was a normal practice for his people, so Jihan paid little mind to it. There had only been around ten deaths so far, which had yet to surpass his bottom line. At the moment, it was worth it to continue progressing into the depths of the building. After all, the consistent attacks merely served as evidence to inform him that he was heading in the correct direction.


    Just what, he wondered, were they trying so hard to defend? If they were merely wishing to protect the base, he would have expected them to do so from outside. Were they simply low on bodies, and wished to use ambush tactics to make up for that gap? This seemed the most plausible explanation, but Jihan could not help but feel that something was off.


    He was standing over the bisected body of a Korlove, having just fended off yet another wave of Celan forces. Jihan took deep breaths in and out, easing his fatigue. He might be a spirit refiner, but after so many battles in a row, even he was starting to feel slightly winded. The condition of his subordinates was worse, both physically and mentally worn out by the relentless ambushes.


    Jihan carefully cleaned his sword. A good sword was expensive, and took some damage every time it went into combat. It was vital for a proper martial artist to make sure to keep their tools of the trade ready and waiting/


    ¡°We¡¯re backing out,¡± she said, with only half a moment¡¯s consideration. ¡°See if you can go back the way you came.¡±


    Jihan frowned. He had no issue with this, but was curious about the change in plans. Had the casualties begun to grow too heavy, or had something occurred that he was unaware about?


    ¡°Did something change?¡± he asked.


    Rachel¡¯s response was curt, her voice steady.


    ¡°Some things have happened. The situation is not quite as simple as it was previously, and we want to get a head start on getting out of this district before matters worsen.¡±


    Jihan hesitated for a brief moment, before he let out a sharp nod, turning to meet the curious gazes of his subordinates.


    ¡°We¡¯re heading back. I¡¯ll take the back. Hedouin, Taiel, you take the lead. I¡¯m not expecting as many issues as we did heading inwards, but keep an eye out.¡±


    The two men let out nods of their own, quickly moving to their positions. Everyone¡¯s nerves were tense, having been through over five separate skirmishes in the past half hour. It was the worst for the weaker practitioners, as they knew better than anyone how expendable they were. The retreat had greatly relieved them, but was insufficient to fully resolve the pressure and anxiety they were going through. If the situation worsened, Jihan would have needed to help them alleviate their concerns, as they had been nearing the point of a loss in combat effectiveness.


    It was convenient, he thought, that he would need to take no such actions, and could instead retain the silent dignity of a commanding officer. It was an easy mode of leadership, and one which would cause no problems in this situation. The troops finally began their march out of the headquarters, as Jihan kept a watchful eye to all directions, his wariness still very much present.


    Against Jihan¡¯s expectations, however, not a single attack faced the force as they completed their return journey back to the building¡¯s nearest exit. The turrets were inactive, no soldiers appeared to confront them, and he even noticed that several hatches along their path seemed to have opened in advance, as if the Celans were actively making it easier for him to leave. He glanced backward, down the lengthy hallway, and sighed. He had to admit his curiosity, but curiosity alone would not overpower his better judgment, nor was it in line with his more pressing goals.


    Jihan was not truly a resident of Tseludia, after all. His relationship with the Redwater Sect was transactional, merely repayment for the rescue of himself, his squad, and the Reth he had been sent here in the first place to save. Above all, his goal was to fulfill his part of the contract and return home to the Lee Clan with the others. He did not mind assisting the sect, and even felt that developing a relationship with a powerful force in Tseludia constituted a niche but very real benefit to his clan¡¯s prosperity. After all, one was never saddened for having too many friends.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    He had long decided that at the very least, he would make an effort to ensure the sect could survive long past the time when he and the others left it.For more reasons than one, it was the best possible outcome for everyone involved.


    <hr>


    ???, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    As Jihan and his group slowly made their way out from the warren of hallways, Rachel considered the space the Celans clearly seemed to be guarding. Based on the blueprints of this and the other buildings around it, the space seemed to be a large area at the center of the stack. Now that she knew where it was, she was able to find that a large number of souls were located in that general area. Something, she thought, was certainly going on.


    She dove through the warren of firewalls, directories, and files. Due to the slow processing speed of the Celan computers, at least by her standards, Rachel knew it would take her a while to find anything useful unless she was extremely lucky. She had been searching for almost half an hour according to time in the physical realm. But as she was planning to simply copy what was present and erase all traces of her presence inside the site¡¯s internal network, Rachel stumbled upon a file which seemed out of place.


    It was oddly located, slightly unusual in the context of the organization¡¯s technical modus operandi. The sort of anomaly she would expect the system itself to either shift elsewhere, or flag and remove. It was almost as if someone had edited it, made it more easily visible on purpose. Rachel could not help but suspect interference. She frowned. This had to be the work of Janottka, but just what did she want Rachel to find?


    Based on her understanding, the Celan Shade¡¯s main goal was to simply make events on the station ¡®interesting.¡¯ This would be something that Rachel might be able to take advantage of, if only she could determine just what sort of ¡®interesting¡¯ scenarios Janottka was seeking.


    She carefully inspected it, but quickly determined that it did not carry much information at all. In fact, the file was so small that it could only be a joke, an error, or a link. Carefully, Rachel accessed the file, inspecting its contents.


    Indeed, she thought, it was a link, one which referenced a directory she realized she had missed. Due to her urgency, Rachel had only given most of the files a cursory glance, planning on returning to inspect them in further detail at a later date. Said later date, it seemed, was now.


    The first item Rachel saw in the files within this hidden database were employee records. As this was still part of the Heirs of Ottrien organization, most of the named members were simple janitorial and maintenance staff, as well as a number of administrative and defense specialists. One final group, however, caught Rachel¡¯s attention. A few too many of the workers here, she thought, after cross-referencing the names with other databases, were technical workers with significant amounts of education and experience.


    Rachel took note of that detail as she continued to inspect the file. She scanned through a vast number of other documents ranging from memos to personal emails sent through the internal server, and finally to funds and resources grants from the upper management of the Heirs themselves. A great deal of it was even signed off on by Deuvar himself.


    Of most importance, however, was a set of documents describing in far too loose terms the manufacture of a large machine, as well as access to the camera feed which overlooked the interior of the hidden chamber. That it was a cavernous place was her first thought. Her second was that the machine itself was massive as well.


    It was truly vast, tens of times the size of an enforcer, and rather than the vaguely humanoid shape of the latter machines, this one had a design that evoked the shape of a spider. Eight long, spindly legs stretched out from its bulbous center, which was shrouded in sets of extremely thick, heavy metal plates.  If an enforcer seemed to be designed after the shape of a Jobu, this machine was surely inspired by the Korlove. Rachel recognized its appearance, as her people had encountered data of such machines before. This was one of the greatest feats of Celan military technology.


    Rachel had never personally seen a titan mech, but this could be nothing but. Its presence here was surprising, yet undeniable. So this, she thought, was one of their staging bays for the supremely mighty machines.


    Upon discovering that knowledge, it all suddenly made sense to Rachel. It was no wonder that the Celans put little effort into guarding the exterior, compared to their interior defenses. They were trying to bait the clan into using explosives to destroy the headquarters, sealing the titan away, so that the Heirs could keep this trump card securely hidden for when they finally unveiled it at some distant period in the future.


    It was a reasonable expectation, Rachel thought. For a martial organization, the clan was certainly free about their use of explosives, but would also be far too wary of government involvement to topple the stack itself. The chamber would have been reinforced, and was extremely likely to survive such a partial collapse.


    Sitting in her simulated chair, the corner of Rachel¡¯s lips curled up. In this case, she felt that Janottka was right, if it really was her who had left the clue. Perhaps it had been her, or perhaps it had simply been a mere negligent technician, Either way, Rachel certainly found this matter interesting. The next question was who to inform about this, if anyone. This knowledge could be considered a tactical weapon, after all.


    Mechanical Suits and the Celan Military:[Due to both the fear the race has for Shades due to its history, as well as the heavy Pantheonic restrictions on artificial intelligence and machine learning programs, drones are unable to be fully effective for combat, particularly on a planet or within a station. After all, without internal control, a drone would need to be piloted remotely, leaving far too simple a weakness for an opponent to interfere with. Thus, Celan military forces have taken the route of creating advanced mechanical suits to make up the gap in personal power between them and races with progression systems.]

 158- First Commander Pakas

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Pakas let out a deep breath of relief as the final defending enforcer fell, allowing the clan¡¯s forces access to the entrance of the Celan headquarters. It had been a hard-fought battle, but finally, it had turned out as anticipated. However¡­ the costs had been much more severe than he had hoped. He was saddened by the thought, his mind drifting back to Elder Wei. However, Pakas always tried to keep a firm grasp of his emotions. The discipline of the clan¡¯s First Commander was too strong to be swayed by such thoughts, not while his mission still remained. More important than all else was the task that the Matriarch had assigned to him, and he would certainly complete it to the best of his ability. Above all else, Pakas saw himself as loyal to the clan, thankful to the Matriarch for all that he owed her.


    His eyes scanned across the battleground, giving himself a rough idea of the casualties, and the remaining fighting force. Wei was the only elder who had fallen, but a great number of core formation and lower practitioners had also lost their lives during the intense fighting. If the forward base was the first, this could be considered the second major battle in this conflict.


    Pakas gritted his teeth as he surveyed. Attrition was high on both sides, but the Celan soldiers were expendable, while the martial artists were not. Such trades could not continue if they wished to win the war. But such matters were for strategists, and Pakas¡¯ role was merely that of a tactician. His superiors would paint the broad strokes, and it was merely his role to finalize the details and put the plans into practice. Now that he had been returned to his rightful command position, Pakas was confident in his ability to do so.


    Pakas snapped out of his reverie, restraining his wandering mind as he noticed a young martial artist¡¯s speedy approach. It was one of his aides, and the speed of his movement was enough to draw Pakas¡¯ attention.


    This aide was a promising, yet inexperienced young man named Ahen Hadal. Though he was a branch member of the clan, Ahen lacked the haughty nature such young masters were known for. Pakas saw a lot of potential in him, and had decided to take the time to groom him as a talent now that his position had finally been restored.


    Pakas raised an eyebrow at the young man¡¯s swift approach, noting how he seemed to be somewhat ill at ease. Comparing his current state to his usual temperament, Pakas was easily able to determine that something was wrong.


    ¡°First Commander,¡± Ahen exclaimed, nearly tripping over his words due to his haste as he arrived near enough to speak, ¡°it seems that the Redwater Sect is retreating!¡±


    Pakas frowned, turning to pay more focus to this aide as the news caught his attention. Internally, he was surprised and confused. According to the clan¡¯s reports on the man¡¯s personality, he seemed the type to remain true to his word, and Pakas would not disbelieve this simply because the man was of the unorthodox path. Something must have occurred to alter the status of the situation.


    ¡°What happened?¡± he asked. ¡°Have they said anything?¡±


    Ahen shook his head.


    ¡°We haven¡¯t received any messages or explanations. Notably, they appear to have split up inside the building. One of the groups exited from the entrance they originally used, while the other left from the same entrance the mercenaries went into, less than five minutes after the mercenaries entered.¡±


    ¡°Did they fight?¡± muttered Pakas to himself. He then returned his gaze to the younger man. ¡°Contact both groups and request status reports for them. Report to me if and when you receive a response.¡±


    Ahen nodded firmly, before quickly scurrying away to fulfill his task. Pakas watched him leave for a moment, before firmly returning his thoughts to the matter at hand. Regardless of whether the mercenaries were dead or not, Pakas was very clear that something had occurred inside that building that he remained unaware of. It rankled him to lack important knowledge, but his experience had long taught him that this was a common occurrence, and to be expected. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    The commander¡¯s role was to synthesize the information he knew and make the best decision possible based upon it. At the moment, this meant that Pakas felt it was best to be cautious. He did not wish to send the soldiers inside until he at least had an idea of what to expect. If necessary, they could simply quickly place explosives, and seal off all Celans unfortunate enough to remain inside. This would be more than enough to fulfill the purpose of this assignment.


    Several more minutes passed as Pakas¡¯ forces regrouped, making an effort to clear away all of the bodies so they could be treated properly according to the clan¡¯s customs. As he was organizing and implementing these matters, he was somewhat surprised when Ahen returned, far swifter than he had anticipated. It could not have been more than around three minutes.


    ¡°We¡¯ve received a message from the Redwater Sect,¡± said the younger man. ¡°It appears to be a direct response to the query we sent out earlier.¡±


    Pakas¡¯ brow furrowed as he saw the man hesitate before speaking. Whatever it was, he was not sure it would be the sort of matter. With only a slight pause, Ahen continued, his face still slightly pale.


    ¡°It consisted of recriminations for our attacks on them, as well as their plans to step out of this operation.¡±


    Hearing this, Pakas was unable to maintain control of his expression.


    ¡°...Explain the situation,¡± he ordered. ¡°What are they referring to?¡±


    Ahen was starting to sweat under the pressure, his anxiety and inexperience certainly surging at the moment.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure, First Commander. They didn¡¯t give any details.¡±


    Pakas sighed, and absentmindedly rubbed his cerebral dantian.


    ¡°Who did you speak with?¡± he asked, continuing the barrage of questions due to his desire to fully comprehend the nature of the civilization. ¡°Hold on, never mind. Show me the message.¡±


    Ahen quickly obliged, and Pakas was handed a terminal, on which a short message from the sect was compiled. As Ahen had explained, the message gave little detail about what ¡®betrayals¡¯ were said to have occurred, though Pakas did take note on how the word was spelt in the plural sense. They expected the clan to know about this matter, it seemed.


    Pakas¡¯s frown deepened, and he rubbed a layer of sweat off his forehead as he analyzed potential causes. Had the mercenaries attacked the Riverfiend and his forces? That would have caused reasonable doubt of the clan betraying them. He glanced at the bottom of the message, where the sender¡¯s identity was clearly marked. This was interesting, he thought, seeing that the signature seemed to belong to the sect¡¯s vice leader. The fact that it had been personally drafted lent credence to the claim within. A small part of him could not help but doubt that perhaps his superiors truly had attacked the Riverfiend, and he had simply been kept in the dark.


    Of course, Pakas knew that had that actually been something the Matriarch was planning, he would have been informed so that he could help ensure that matters ran smoothly. Perhaps, he thought, this was an attempt by outsiders to drive a wedge between the two martial organizations.


    Pakas did not personally care much for the idea of an upstart force, wary of it eating away at the clan¡¯s prestige and privileges. However, he had been ordered to work with them, and largely, Pakas liked to think he was a man of utmost devotion to his orders.


    Karie had tested that idea, but by this point Pakas hardly even considered the woman part of the clan itself. She was unqualified for the position she sought, and nor did she have the capability to take the position by force.


    If she did not leave him with a bitter taste in his mouth due to the callousness of her actions, Pakas might have even pitied her situation. But this, he thought, was not that world. Though he tried to remain unbiased, he could not help but feel that perhaps what she had suffered in the past and what was to come, were both simply the consequences of her own ill-conceived actions.


    Seiyal and Firearm Technology: [Even prior to contact with the Staiven, Canvasians had invented gunpowder technology. Fireworks were a staple of large celebrations, and merchant ships operated by mortals and Tovus would at times utilize cannons in addition to on-board martial artist defenders to protect their cargo. Though the smaller, more portable concept of the gun was proposed and even invented, its use did not catch on. Part of this is because initial versions were of poor quality, and another is because the martial-oriented culture at the time focused on growing the quantity and quality of its elite warriors, rather than raising the standard of the general army. In modern times, the great power of the firearms used by the more developed races has in turn inspired many Canvasians, as the trend has started to shift over time. Some suspect that in the near future, it was possible that such weapons might start to pop up among the lower levels of certain more progressive martial organizations. After all, it is not that such weapons are banned outright by great forces such as Sunlit Hall.]

 159- Boundless Ambition

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    We met up with Jihan¡¯s group outside the lower entrance, and I felt thankful that they had made it out without any issues cropping up. Between that and the news that matters at the sect had reached their ultimate conclusion, I felt the pressure and anxiety decreasing. All that was left was to manage the aftermath.


    Upon meeting up, I inspected the remaining size of Jihan¡¯s force, noting the large number of casualties sustained, but said nothing. Many of the survivors had glazed looks in their eyes, and I did not wish for them to dwell on what had occurred inside the structure. If we left them alone, I imagined they would recover in time.


    ¡°Any considerations?¡± I asked, as Jihan stepped up towards me.


    He shook his head.


    ¡°No serious injuries among the survivors. Everyone should be back to normal after a long night of sleep.¡±


    ¡°Good. In that case,¡± I said, ¡°we¡¯ll want to head out immediately. Rachel, have you-¡±


    ¡°Already chartered an aero. Two stacks in that direction.¡±


    She was standing beside us, one arm outstretched towards the nearest bridge. My gaze followed that direction, thinking through the path we would need to take. There were at least ten flights of stairs upwards that we would need to take if we wished to reach the highest layer of the stacks, where the skydocks were located. It was an inconvenient but expected issue, given the circumstances. Not for the first time, I was glad that our own headquarters was located much nearer to the top of the stacks.


    ¡°Perfect,¡± I said, striding in that direction. I had no desire to waste time.


    With the aid of Rachel¡¯s illusions, we appeared to transform into Jobu. While a group of our size still garnered much attention, nobody halted our passage, and we quickly managed to reach a nearby skydock, where the chartered aero awaited us. From there, we sped rapidly towards the sect.


    By the time we arrived, the worst of it was over. The dead had been cataloged and the injured were receiving first aid under Rachel¡¯s directions in the largest training room. As I entered, I immediately saw over twenty individuals lying on the floor, their injuries ranging from the extremely mild to the extremely severe. The lost causes had been left to die, and these were simply those whom Rachel believed it was possible to save. Despite my surging emotions, my will remained resolute. The Redwater Sect would do its best to remain neutral in this conflict. I would not make another move, not until I found the right opportunity. But there certainly would be recompense, I thought.


    Once more, I gritted my teeth as I scanned the room, ignoring the polite greetings I received from all who noticed my arrival. The toll was extremely heavy for a force as young as ours, and this would delay the development of all affected disciples. I slowly walked through, immersing myself in the thick smell of blood and the ceaseless groaning. Rachel flanked beside me, and we drew the attention of all we passed.


    ¡°Why are the injured still here?¡± I asked. ¡°Have them moved to the hospital.¡±


    It had been over an hour since the attack had begun, and I felt it was odd that they were still all present within the sect. We had plans to set up a medicinal palace at some point, but had yet to acquire the talents we needed to make it work. In light of what had happened, I was starting to feel like those plans must be brought forward as soon as possible.


    ¡°I¡¯m concerned about moving some of them,¡± she said, ¡°and I delayed the rest from heading there until we arrived. I was concerned about a potential ambush along the route.¡±


    I frowned, knowing little of medicine.


    ¡°We should at least move who we can. I understand the quicker the treatment occurs, the easier the healing process is?¡±


    She nodded.


    ¡°We can have Jihan move with them and make sure no more Ceirrans make a move along the way.¡±


    This sounded like a reasonable idea, so I did not continue to ask about the matter. Rachel knew far more about this discipline than I ever would, so I would allow the two of them to handle it themselves. I could handle other tasks in the meantime.


    ¡°How many deaths were there?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Nine disciples, four noncombatants, and¡­¡± Rachel hesitated for a moment, and I found it difficult to parse just what emotion her face was displaying. The moment soon ended, however, and she finished her sentence. ¡°...and Cinto.¡±


    I sighed, unable to help but pause as well. This was a huge loss for the sect. I was not close with Cinto, and nor did she ever seem to like me. But I had always kept a firm estimation of her value. She would be very difficult to replace. I cleared my throat, returning my attention to the present. There was no benefit in dwelling on such matters. My duty as the sect leader was to always move forward for the sect¡¯s good.


    ¡°Who all died?¡± I asked.


    Rachel proceeded to give a list of the deceased, but luckily none of them happened to be any of the talented disciples who I had been keeping an eye on, nor any of the core logistical personnel. Ran had defended the center of our operations well. Despite this sliver of good news, however, a heavy cloud still hung over my mood, due to the loss of Cinto, and the environment surrounding us did nothing to assist. She had fallen in defense of the disciples, and I had to respect the stand she had taken. She was a great teacher, and she had died protecting her students. It was an admirable end, I thought. I hoped her friends and loved ones could take solace in that.


    ¡°She¡¯ll make a good martyr,¡± observed Rachel. I glared at her, but she pretended not to notice, merely shrugging. ¡°Everyone in the sect knows her. By publicizing the nature of her death, we can turn this attack into an event that builds loyalty and strengthens the sect¡¯s spirit, rather than damaging it. We can also use it to damage the reputation of the clan.¡±


    She was right, of course. It didn¡¯t fully sit well with me, but I would not be controlled by my emotions in such a way. Moreover, I felt that Rachel could be trusted with the implementation of such matters.


    ¡°Be careful about it, but go ahead.¡±


    She nodded, and I sighed again. Cinto was dead, and Mung had betrayed us. This would delay the development of our flickering and genesis disciples significantly. I idly wondered whether I could make a deal with the Celans to receive Mung¡¯s services again. Though he was only present for a little over a week, he had been a great help to the disciples during that time.


    I could consider the matter later. For now, I turned to Rachel.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Ran?¡± I asked.


    ¡°She¡¯s currently having the property damage assessed so that we can get it repaired as soon as possible. Why do you ask?¡±Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°I want to speak with her about something.¡±


    Rachel frowned, and something within her eyes shifted.


    ¡°If this is about how she acted during the attack, I feel the actions she took were very prudent. She protected most of our administrative and logistical personnel from the-¡±


    I quickly cut her off with a wave of my hand.


    ¡°It¡¯s not that,¡± I explained. ¡°I simply had an idea I wanted to run by the two of you.¡±


    For a moment she seemed as if she wanted to say something, but instead she shrugged.


    ¡°Sure. She¡¯ll be here in a few minutes.¡±


    I continued to look around the room as I waited, and it did not take long for me to notice the only disciple of mine who was present in the room. Alongside one of the training room¡¯s walls was Han, and I slowly approached, careful not to threaten him or anyone else with my body language. He did not seem to be in the best mental state, and as his master, it was my duty to assist as best I could.


    Once I neared, I realized that his right arm ended below the elbow. It was crudely bandaged together, his face still slightly pale, presumably from blood loss. I sat down next to him, and he looked up at me in surprise.


    ¡°Master!¡± he said, attempting to stumble to his feet, but I placed one hand on his shoulder, holding him down.


    ¡°Are you alright?¡± I asked.


    Han softly chuckled, his face downcast as he glanced down and stared again at the stump where his arm had been.


    ¡°Has it even been a month?¡± he asked. ¡°My martial path is already over. What will happen to me now?¡±


    His words clearly strained, and I could see tears welling up at the corners of his eyes. He was still quite young. I shrugged. I had never quite known how to handle such situations, so I chose to simply answer his question.


    ¡°We can pay the hospital to reattach it, but the cost will be expensive if you wish for all of the nerves and meridians to be reattached perfectly. I want you to focus on training your energy and your foundation as your body readjusts.¡±


    He paused for a long moment, before softly replying.


    ¡°Am¡­ am I not being kicked out?¡± he asked.


    Ah, I thought. So that was the source of the fear in his eyes. He was worried that we would abandon him now that he had received a crippling injury.


    ¡°It was a wound sustained in defense of the sect. Even if you were not my disciple, I would not leave you in the lurch. Problems that can be resolved with money are not problems at all.¡±


    This clearly was not the case in reality, but it felt like something that needed to be said. Han still looked down, but my words had clearly helped him.


    ¡°Was this your first real fight? Even the most brutal of spars cannot compare to a real battle,¡± I explained, my voice shifting into a tone I reserved for lectures. It was a natural reflex of mine, one I had picked up from my own master.


    ¡°I¡¯ve fought before, but never¡­¡±


    I nodded, unsurprised. He was young, and in the end today might become a positive experience for him, a benefit to his development.


    ¡°That man you faced¡­ one day you¡¯ll probably become like him,¡± I said. They were cynical words, but I had not been an idealist in quite a long time. ¡°The underworld is a brutal place, and a martial artist must become ruthless to succeed. You remind me of myself when I was younger.¡±


    Han did not reply, but his eyes widened as he stared at me, injury almost forgotten.


    ¡°How far do you think I can go?¡± he asked.


    I gave him a soft smile.


    ¡°I will give you the tools you need. The rest depends on you.¡± I clapped him on the shoulder again, standing back up. ¡°Go follow Jihan¡± I instructed him. ¡°He¡¯ll take you to the hospital and ensure you¡¯re properly treated.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Master,¡± he said, his spirits seemingly refreshed. I hoped this would give him what he needed.


    He obediently made his way off, while I turned to meet up with Rachel and Ran, who had just entered on the other side of the room.


    ¡°That was kind of you,¡± said Rachel, as I walked.


    ¡°It was my duty.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been getting curious, actually. Are you so concerned about him because you see your disciples as replacements for-¡±


    Her voice cut off as I glared at her, and she chuckled mirthfully.


    ¡°I suppose I won¡¯t say it then, ¡®Cyrus.¡¯ But it¡¯s important to keep track of how you think, even if it¡¯s subconscious.¡±


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t even know about any of that,¡± I said, my tone cold.


    ¡°I read the files the clan received from Sunlit Hall,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s important to face your past. You can¡¯t run forever¡­ Jin.¡±


    This time, I made no response, but the rivers inside me had turned to solid ice. I was not surprised that she had taken a look, and in fact suspected that she had done so a long time ago, perhaps even before we met. But I had journeyed this far out not only for the natural treasures- I also wished to leave the past behind me.


    I finally met up with Ran roughly at the midpoint of the training room, and returned my focus to the current situation as I immediately explained why I had called her in.


    ¡°I think we should increase the level of our partnership with the Venin Group,¡± I said.


    Both Rachel and Ran blinked.


    ¡°Do you mind if I ask why?¡± said Ran, speaking slowly. ¡°Currently, they¡¯re just a financial partner who is taking advantage of our threat to increase their standing.¡±


    This was the normal relationship between merchants and martial artists, I knew. The Downpour Sect had such a relationship with one of the merchant groups who ran caravans through the storm, which was one of our main sources of the food and materials we required. Matters were somewhat different in a city, where underworld organizations often had industries of their own, but there were some things that were universal. And the harmony between a financial force and a martial force was one of those things. Every successful government was a fusion of the two for a reason, in my estimation.


    I gestured to the wounded, many of whom were now being helped up and led towards the exit.


    ¡°Our medical capabilities are a great weakness. We cannot simply rely on a hospital three stacks over for all of our needs. The Venin Group is a pharmaceutical corporation we have a positive relationship with. I would be surprised if they didn¡¯t have the medical connections we needed to set up a branch hospital here.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a big ask. Nahalken would certainly not agree without acquiring sufficient benefits from us, and we simply lack the capital for it.¡±


    I shrugged.


    ¡°Corporations have no lack of competitors. There will always be more facilities he wants destroyed or protected. The two of you are thinking in financial terms, but it is important to remember that we are martial artists, above all else. I suspect Nahalken has been wanting to scale up our cooperation after my advancement, anyway. The fact that we are in need of another palace is of mutual convenience.¡±


    While I had not truly interacted with the Staiven for all that long, I felt I had no difficulties in comprehending their mindset. After all, the Staiven corporations were just the same as martial artists- their ambitions were boundless, and their sights set on a journey without end.


    Ran seemed to disagree with my thoughts.


    ¡°Sect Leader, that would be giving outsiders influence within the sect itself. Is that truly wise? ¡±


    I smiled.


    ¡°The tallest mountains are not the ones which stand alone.¡±


    Rachel sighed.


    ¡°One would think you¡¯d notice the irony.¡±


    Seiyal Medical Sector: [While the medical technology of the Canvasians are low, the Staiven are not unaware of the financial power of the large numbers of refugees and immigrants from the race who continue to enter the Pantheonic Territory. This is a powerful market, and the more time passes, the more pharmaceuticals, equipment, and dedicated professionals have been trained up to deal with the race¡¯s medical needs. While the power and influence of the Seiyal medical sector cannot compare with that of more populous and advanced races such as the Staiven and the Celans, the treatment options available to the race continue to wildly grow in number and quality as more is learned about Seiyal biology. In certain circles, it is rumored that the more powerful corporations within this sector have deals with government officials to acquire more information about Seiyal and martial artist biology.]

 160- Twin Shades

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Deuvar pursed his lips as he analyzed the situation. The Redwater sect had fought with some of the hired mercenaries and then left, easing most of the strain the defenders had been under. It was ironic that he had the Hadal Clan itself to thank for that occurrence.


    Meanwhile, the Hadal forces had annihilated the troops he had placed to guard that entrance. The situation seemed good on the surface, but the success or failure of his primary goal would depend on how the clan ultimately decided to handle the matter. If they explored too deeply, they would find the titan, and that was what he most wished to avoid. The machines were horrendously expensive, and due to the advanced technologies involved, each one was irreplaceable now that they had split from the Epon. If the Seiyal were to find out about its presence here, the war would scale up greatly in intensity, and Deuvar did not wish for that to happen.


    As his own office was no longer available to him, Deuvar and the other administrative personnel had set up in an office building much deeper in the stacks of Little Celah. While it was not quite so defensible as the previous headquarters had been, it would do. In taking the first headquarters, the clan had already lost a spirit refiner. They did not have so many high level combatants that their lives could be expended freely.


    Ironically, Deuvar¡¯s current location was much larger, and far more finely furnished than the previous one. While he did not care for extravagance, he felt no need to spurn it, and this office, too, had a convenient location to the building¡¯s entrance. It had not taken him long to settle in, and the wide metal desk was already covered in scattered glyph slates, each providing interest on fields ranging from the current factory output to the status of the ongoing battles. While the fight at the headquarters was his largest priority, he had also been keeping track of the border skirmishing and the fight at the Redwater Sect that was just ending. He would be surprised if the Riverfiend did nothing, after such an experience, and he knew that the man¡¯s every action would have an influence on the war, just as surely as his own did.


    Deuvar steepled his fingers and rested his elbows on the desk, waiting for further updates on the different matters, but instead of a buzzing tablet, he was interrupted by a digital knocking sound which emerged from the room¡¯s entry hatch. Not having expected any arrivals, Deuvar frowned.


    Casually, he scrawled a symbol into one of the slates, and its surface shimmered before revealing the few from a camera attached to the door. The image quickly resolved from symbols into the form of an injured, ragged-looking man who certainly looked as if someone had dropped a building onto him. Surprised, Deuvar failed to react for a moment, before quickly drawing the glyph to open the hatch.


    ¡°It seems you survived,¡± he said, his voice not betraying his true emotions. ¡°What happened to you?¡±


    Triezal truly looked awful, he thought. Aside from the horribly torn and tattered condition of his clothes and armor, Deuvar could see the slight squirming under Triezal¡¯s clothes as wounds slowly healed. His lengthy blue hair was unkempt, and Deuvar could see black starting to appear at the roots below the dyed portion.


    Triezal chuckled at his response.


    ¡°I spent the past few days ¡®recuperating¡¯ under the care of the Redwater Sect,¡± he explained.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t have guessed,¡± said Deuvar drily, motioning at the sect¡¯s robes that Triezal still wore on his body. ¡°A notice of your survival would have been appreciated. however. I was under the impression that you were dead.¡±


    ¡°Not quite.¡±


    Spotting an empty chair facing Deuvar¡¯s desk from the other side, he quickly sat down with a groan.


    ¡°Given your condition, I would have expected you to simply inform me of your status and then spend the night recuperating before you came to meet me.¡± Deuvar waited for the other man to respond, and glanced up when no response came. He frowned. ¡°Is something wrong?¡±


    Triezal gave a soft smile, but the look in his eyes was that of a man without much hope.


    ¡°Have you heard of Janottka?¡±


    Deuvar¡¯s brow wrinkled as he pondered the question. He had not anticipated this response, especially not so soon after the other man¡¯s arrival. It was a rare name. Quite an old one, too. In fact, the only figure he knew of with the name was- Deuvar froze, his blood running cold and his hands slightly shivering. He was worried he might know what Triezal was about to say.


    ¡°The Sorceress? I¡¯m not sure why you ask,¡± he said.


    Triezal¡¯s smile widened, and an unsettling look filled his eyes.


    ¡°She¡¯s here.¡±


    Though he had been expecting the words, they still struck deeply into Deuvar.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    ¡°...Please explain,¡± he finally said, after a momentary pause.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to first note that this is solely based on the actions of the two Redwater leaders. I¡¯ve not personally seen the evidence. What I do know is that rather than attempt to learn our future plans, when I first woke they immediately started asking questions about her. They claimed she was present on the station. Normally I would have been more suspicious, but they seemed extremely intent on the matter. And also¡­¡± Triezal paused, as if lost in thought before finishing his sentence. ¡°And also, this sort of thing would be exactly in line with how she thinks. We did already suspect that someone had engineered our present circumstances.¡±


    ¡°You must understand how implausible this sounds,¡± said Deuvar, his gruff tone stating the words as if they were fact. Triezal nodded in confirmation.


    ¡°I¡¯m aware. She would have needed to leave Janaste years ago, so her reason for being here cannot be related to our betrayal of the organization. If what they say is true, she should be here for Rachel, rather than us. Though I¡¯m not sure that would stop her from performing her ¡®duties¡¯ along the way. The real question,¡± he continued, ¡°is what she¡¯s up to. We haven¡¯t seen any of her traces, which means she¡¯s actively hiding from us.¡±


    Deuvar felt his brow wrinkle once again as he considered the matter. This was a matter involving the Epon, which was certainly the former magister¡¯s domain. His own speculations would be far less substantiated. Still, he was wary of Rachel''s tricks. Who knew just how capable the alien Shade was of manipulation.


    ¡°This would imply that the Epon placed far more importance on Rachel than we anticipated.¡±


    Triezal nodded in agreement.


    ¡°I suspect her design is from an entirely different system of engineering than Janottka and the other¡¯s. In fact, I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if Rachel¡¯s design is even more advanced. That could be what¡¯s attracting their attention. Perhaps it¡¯s what drew the organization¡¯s interest in the first place.¡±


    Considering the idea, Deuvar found that it was a plausible explanation.


    ¡°If they weren¡¯t lying to you, that would make sense...¡±


    Deuvar still wasn¡¯t quite ready to fully believe this information, due to the nature of its source, but he would not disregard it altogether. Being careful was certainly the better decision in this circumstance.


    He sighed.


    ¡°It¡¯s a good thing that you¡¯re back, though. The Leader has been erratic. He¡¯s actually taken the initiative in several cases without using me as an intermediary. It¡¯s very unusual, and makes me think something is going on. My sister is up to something as well, though that¡¯s to be expected of her.¡±


    Triezal nodded. He had known Astna for years, and was well aware of how she enjoyed frustrating her brother. He was also aware of how intelligent the woman was. She had to know that this was not the time to keep secrets between the organization¡¯s most vital figures. Thus, her actions intrigued him.


    Suddenly, a notification covered the surface of one of the slates on Deuvar¡¯s desk, and both men curiously glanced over feeling somewhat tense.


    Deuvar glanced down at that slate, and his demeanor relaxed as he saw the good news.


    ¡°It seems they decided to simply blow the entry hallways and lock our forces inside the headquarters,¡± he said, a trace of mirth on his face.


    Triezal chuckled, though he didn¡¯t have a complete understanding of the situation. All he knew was that the headquarters had been attacked, as well as what dwelled within its depths. He could guess at Deuvar¡¯s intentions.


    ¡°This was quite the successful operation,¡± explained Deuvar, noticing the blank expression on the Merris man¡¯s face. ¡°We killed a spirit refiner and tens of high-level combatants at only the cost of six enforcers and some real estate. Even managed to protect the titan.¡±


    ¡°Though the future may be grim, I believe there will be a way out of this, somewhere,¡± said Triezal, determination filling his gaze. ¡°We simply need to find it.¡±


    Deuvar nodded, agreeing with the sentiment. He had never been the type to give in and surrender when the situation became bad. His career would never have reached this level if he was.


    ¡°I¡¯ll put you in charge of the Shade situation. Both of them, that is. Talk with Kalthen and make sure that there are no signs of infiltration into the titan force. If you can find sufficient evidence to prove that Janottka really is here, send it to me and I¡¯ll make sure the Staiven are aware of the situation.¡±


    ¡°By your will, Vice-Leader. I¡¯ll get on it.¡±


    As Triezal replied, that look was still in his eyes. Deuvar smiled, admiring the younger man¡¯s will. To a certain extent, he could be considered to have been dragged into this downward spiral of a situation by Triezal, but at the very least, the former magister was a worthy ally, and a person whose capabilities he could respect.


    Before he crossed the threshold, Triezal chuckled, and turned back for a moment.


    ¡°If the circumstances were different, I would have invited you out for drinks. Shades know that both of us could use some.¡±


    Deuvar smiled lightly at his words. He wasn¡¯t normally the type to partake in such activities, but at the moment, he wished he could do so.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid we both have far too much on our plates as is,¡± he replied.


    Triezal smiled sadly in response, and Deuvar knew that the other man felt the pressure just as much as he did.


    As Triezal left, Deuvar pinched the skin at the bridge of his nose, and then dove back into his work. There was always something that needed doing, he thought. Deuvar suspected the list would only continue to grow, much faster than he could clear it out.


    One of these days, he really would need to find himself a competent assistant, he thought.


    Role of Shades in Traditional Celan Culture: [The Celan Shades are beings that had existed since prior to the foundation of the current Celan civilization. Due to the uniquely isolated location of their homeworld, no ascendants were present to claim the world, which led to a situation where the powerful Shades became dominant forces, equivalent to gods to certain groups. For some Celans, this treatment has yet to end. Many Merris still treat the Shade Anteky as their guardian deity, while Arvajott was said to be last seen in command of a flotilla which has yet to be seen in galactic society after leaving Celah. Jinulde was seen as a sage who could answer any question if one traveled to its mountain, while Janottka was the Sorceress, a trickster used in stories to scare children. Many have been lost to history, such as those who were destroyed in the fall of Opportunity, and the majority of the Celans simply see them as powerful and dangerous beings better lost to time.]

 161- Weis Phantom

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    When she first heard the news, Sirena hadn¡¯t believed it. It had come out of nowhere, shortly after she had received word of the incredibly foolish massacre Juen had attempted to commit. Between the two events, Sirena felt that she could kill someone right now. She wished to, in fact. If she did not know that it would be incredibly self destructive in the long term, she would have long begun to topple stacks within Celan territory. She cared little about the lives of alien civilians, and it might make her feel better.


    But it was not what Wei would want her to do. So instead, she would use this opportunity to strengthen her influence over the clan. Clearly, she had allowed the factions to have too much liberty over their actions. The situation had gone too far, and it was her turn to take a pull at the rope.


    Sirena walked confidently through the clan¡¯s most private areas, and the guards which flanked many of the doors bowed in polite deference, greeting their matriarch. She silently glanced at each of them, accepting their greetings without wasting too much of her own time. Had there been less of them, she would have nodded to each, or even greeted them back. But she would end up bobbing her head far too often, and Sirena had no desire to look like some foolish bird pecking at the ground.


    Even if she did not need to uphold a matriarch¡¯s dignity, Sirena had always been too vain for such uncouth appearances.


    She marched towards the end of the hall, where a hatch sealed off a room. A core formation practitioner tapped in the entrance code upon her entrance, and the hatch slid open. Sirena stepped inside without needing to pause for even a moment. Even had her presence not been expected, all of the clan¡¯s guards knew that the matriarch could go wherever she wished.


    As she entered, Sirena glanced around the table. The Supreme Elder wasn¡¯t present, a fact which did not surprise Sirena at all. Despite being the singular clan member who did not need to submit to her authority or personal power, he still would choose to avoid her when he knew she wouldn¡¯t be in a good mood. He had done so many times before.


    This was simply his personality. In times such as this when he had made moves behind her back that significantly damaged the clan¡¯s interests, he was nowhere to be seen. Sirena sneered at the thought. The man had none of the presence of the older generation.


    There was a reason why despite his capability, the man had not managed to become the patriarch of his own generation. He was living proof that even an earthly immortal could be a coward. In Sirena¡¯s opinion, such talent was wasted upon him. She would go as far as to claim that if life were fair, he never would have progressed past core formation.


    While the table had eight seats, four were currently empty. Other than the man who had willfully not shown his face, Juen remained captive by the Riverfiend, and Karie had yet to have her suspension released. The final seat was Sirena¡¯s own, an ornate chair at the head of the table which clearly stood out from the rest. She sat down, quietly inspecting the faces of the previous generation¡¯s spirit refiners. They had been partaking in a conversation prior to arrival, but the moment the hatch slid open to allow her entry, the words had all cut out, as if trapped inside of their speaker¡¯s throats.


    The four present individuals were Sulno, Laoin, Keitel, and Heina Hadal. In theory, the four would be split into two groups, depending on their faction within the clan. After all, Laoin and Keitel represented the Ceirran faction, while both Heina and Sulno were from the merchants. However, the merchant faction was not very uniform. While the majority of its members had shared their interests and supported Lorelei¡¯s candidacy, Sulno had made the opposite choice. To Heina, he represented something of a traitor, causing him to act much closer to the Ceirrans in this domain.


    Sirena focused her attention on the Elders of the Ceirran faction, glaring intensely at the duo. Keitel shrank back, clearly intimidated, but Laoin met her gaze with a firm look. Sirena narrowed her eyes at him. He seemed confident. That was unusual, given the circumstances. Still, he would soon regret it, when she had her way.


    ¡°It seems,¡± she said, starting up the conversation, ¡°that some of you decided to take action behind my back and talk my impressionable nephew into doing something rather foolish,¡± she said.


    Neither of the Ceirran Elders responded, though Keitel had an awkward expression on his face, seemingly embarrassed about the matter. Though, Sirena expected he was more concerned with the operation¡¯s failure than the fact it had existed in the first place.


    ¡°It seems to me that he was simply looking out for the image of the sect, and attempting to clear out an eyesore for you. I find it quite a proactive and admirable task, had he succeeded. I do admit though, his current status is suboptimal.¡± Laoin shrugged. ¡°An unfortunate outcome.¡±A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Sirena snorted.


    ¡°Such decisions and actions are not yours to make, nor are they my nephew¡¯s, or the Supreme Elder¡¯s. And suboptimal? We are not in a position to attack again, and even if we were, it would be a poor call. What¡¯s more, if they desire to ransom him back, the money will be coming from your pocket, Laoin.¡±


    This could be considered her suppressing the faction due not simply to their military action without her knowledge, but also for risking the life of an heir candidate and finally failing at the operation regardless. If they had successfully wiped out the Redwater Sect, Sirena would indeed have not paid much attention to the matter, simply chalking it up to a missed opportunity. She planned to leave the financial suppression here, at least for this meeting alone. Further strengthening her control was best done through other means.


    ¡°I would be happy to pay the price to return our clan¡¯s future heir to his home. But is it not our duty as members of Sunlit Hall to root out any unorthodox forces we come across?¡± asked Laoin, despite knowing the logic would have no influence on the others in the room. ¡°He was simply following the charter our force signed centuries ago.¡±


    ¡°What would Elder Wei have to say about such blatantly self-serving actions?¡± demanded Heina, almost as incensed by his words as Sirena herself was. She knew as well as anyone that only the Ceirran faction cared about such archaic terms. So far out from Canvas, here in Tseludia, money and might were the true creed of the clan. ¡°Besides,¡± she continued. ¡°Juen is not the only heir candidate. Lorelei is still competing, and unlike Juen, she hasn¡¯t been injured twice during ill-fated missions in the territory of our enemies.¡±


    ¡°The words of a dead man hold no meaning,¡± sneered Laion in response. ¡°Unless he returns to scold us, what does it matter what he might have to say on the subject?¡±


    So this was the source of his baseless confidence, thought Sirena. The Supreme Elder¡¯s protective umbrella, coupled with the loss of Sirena¡¯s most fervent supporter, was enough to drive the worms to the surface, it seemed. They had begun to forget how she had acquired her title, thinking only of how she had been acting for these past years. One day soon, Sirena suspected she would need to perform a display of force. And this time, nobody would be able to stop her.


    A thin green mist began to slightly emanate from Sirena¡¯s skin, and the Elders all shrunk back in their seats. Sirena smiled cruelly, and stretched her fingers out to raise Laion¡¯s chin. Wisely, he made no move to dodge.


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± she said, her smile at odds with the icy glare in her eyes, ¡°Wei is dead. But doesn''t that also mean that there¡¯s no longer anyone who can persuade me to hold back, if I find myself in a poor mood. What position does this put you in, do you think?¡±


    He was silent, now, as if he were frozen. It seemed he had remembered who he was speaking with. She liked him much better this way. Sirena dropped his face, wiping her hand off on a handkerchief she had produced from within her robe.


    ¡°If I hear that anyone has taken action without my knowledge again,¡± she said, ¡°it¡¯s possible I find that the clan does not need quite so many Elders.¡±


    This time, she found that her intimidation seemed to have worked. She found this to likely be a good thing, given that due to the extreme nature of her current mood, she very much felt the temptation to kill him where he sat.


    She gave a bright smile that was clearly but a mask, and cocked her head, before steeling her expression and rising to her feet to leave. Midway to the exit, however, Sirena remembered an important matter that she needed to mention.


    ¡°There remains one last matter to attend to, " she said, turning back for a moment as she exited. ¡°Wei¡¯s funeral shall be held in two days. I expect all of you to find time to show your face, at minimum.¡±


    The Elders nodded at this, likely having intended to do just that. It was their responsibility as Elders to show up to such important events. Wei was the first death of a high-level combatant during the gang war, and Sirena knew that the internal conflicts would more than intensify as a result.


    Having said her piece, Sirena rapidly moved away, and the hatch once more slid shut behind her.


    After leaving the meeting, Sirena quickly made her way back through the halls to her office and shut herself inside, sealing the door tightly. She then sat down at her desk as she had for what must have been tens of thousands of times over the decades.


    Wei truly was the only person who could make her realize that she wasn¡¯t as mature as she liked to think she was. She slowly leaned forward, resting the side of her head on the desk, unable to concentrate any longer.


    ¡°Older brother¡­¡± she murmured into the wooden surface, her voice trailing off.


    Alone in the lavish, empty room, she received no response.


    Funereal Practices of Sunlit Hall: [Due to the extremely close ties between Sunlit Hall and the Ceirran religion, the two groups share practices. In essence, for the members of Sunlit Hall, the purpose of a funeral or memorial service was to honor the life of a great warrior, and light up the deeds they had committed from the darkness of history, before cremating their remains and tossing them out into nature. On Tseludia Station, this means the ashes are discarded into space like most corpses. Some particularly devoute Ceirrans claim that if the deceased individual¡¯s life burned sufficiently bright, Ceirra herself would descend to take the individual¡¯s soul to her kingdom in order to reside forever in comfort. Most modern scientists believe that this is not in fact the case, and the claim¡¯s origin is dubious in general.]

 162- The Sanguine Children

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    I had almost expected events to calm down for a time, as if what had happened was enough for a week¡¯s worth of happenings, but my thoughts were wrong, for the Celans instituted a large-scale offensive against the clan¡¯s financial interests just a day after I returned to the sect. This time, fortunately, we were able to stay out of the conflict. I hoped matters would continue in that fashion for the foreseeable future.


    It had not taken long after we sent our demands for the clan to provide us with the materials and funds they had promised, which had been doubled in exchange for returning Juen to them. This windfall was more than enough to pay for the treatment of the wounded survivors, and would also go a long way to assist with our debt, though I knew it was ultimately just a drop in the bucket.


    ¡°The biggest problem,¡± I said, seated in a chair inside of my office and glancing at Rachel, ¡°is the loss of our teachers. Cinto was the best instructor we had, and our development will be greatly stalled without her. And Mung was a flickering practitioner of rare talent.¡±


    I sighed. If we did not find qualified teachers soon, some of the disciples might fall into poor habits that would take far too much time and effort to rectify. It was a major problem, but one that did not have, it seemed, an immediate solution.


    Rachel merely shrugged in response, as if the issue were unimportant.


    ¡°Genesis and flickering are the two most commonly used miasmas in the station. I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll be able to find someone else capable in their use before too long.¡±


    ¡°Still, we need to find someone as soon as possible. I want to maximize the disciples¡¯ training time as best as possible. For now, let¡¯s have Ran or Kein, or someone else assist with the genesis disciples in their extra time. You¡¯ll have to do your best to handle the flickering disciples.¡±


    Rachel smiled.


    ¡°Sounds good. I¡¯ll do a search and find some prospects in the meantime. Personally, though, we have a bigger issue. Everyone knows that we¡¯re housing Reth, now.¡±


    While Irid and the rest had not left the bounds of the sect, many of our disciples have seen them. Though I trusted them not to knowingly betray us in most cases, both Rachel and I were aware that we had no ability to restrain this information from leaking. Thus, we had chosen not to even bother. It was better to present an image of not caring. Why should we have an issue with the Reth? We were unorthodox practitioners, after all. They were our natural allies. Still, it was not the calmest situation. I personally, was expecting waves to come eventually, due to the matter.


    ¡°It¡¯s certainly bad for our public image in Canvas Town,¡± I sighed. Even many of the mortal Seiyal who were open to the idea of an unorthodox force drew the line at Reth. I found it an odd matter to fixate on, but such prejudices were never logical. Sunlit Hall¡¯s propaganda was simply too insidious. Though the Ceirrans were a minority on the station, general societal views of the Reth remained, and both Rachel and I were unwilling to be the ones to tackle such a difficult societal hurdle. That was for others to handle. We simply wished to avoid it affecting our development.


    ¡°I think we can make it balance out with the benefits of exposing what happened and martyring Cinto,¡± replied Rachel, thinking about the matter. ¡°I have a campaign set up for it already, and we¡¯ll host the memorial tomorrow, once most of the wounded are back.¡±


    I nodded firmly, approving of the action. I knew little about how to maintain public image, but I certainly understood how important a memorial service was. It was a necessity for internal cohesion, and would be a powerful tool for us to help strengthen the loyalty of the disciples.


    ¡°Has Nahalken replied yet?¡± I asked, shifting the subject once again. This was what it was like to be a sect leader, I had found. I simply needing to keep going down the list of tasks at hand, ensuring that all processes were underway. I could then delegate the work as much as possible, and spend the rest of my time refining my spirit or training my disciples.


    I appreciated that aspect of the job, though I knew I was only so free because of how competent my partner and subordinates were. Rachel alone handled the work of at least five individuals.


    Rachel shrugged.


    ¡°He offered to visit us for the memorial service, and said we could discuss the matter then.¡±


    To give us time to reorganize and then visit our ceremony¡­ it seemed he wished to give us face, I realized. This boded well for strengthening our partnership. It seemed that the Staiven businessman had taken it upon himself to learn more about my people¡¯s customs.


    ¡°Good, that will give us another day to prepare. Does Ran have the business value projections the two of you were discussing?¡±


    Rachel gave me a sly look as if to question whether I would be able to recognize such a report if I ever saw it. I felt no need to dispute the matter, as she was likely correct. I would never claim that the details of finances was my strong suit.


    ¡°It¡¯ll be ready,¡± she said, before something shifted suddenly in her expression, an interested look forming in her eyes.


    ¡°You¡¯ll wish to prepare yourself,¡± she said as she glanced off to the side.


    ¡°Did something happen?¡± By this point, I could tell when she wished to mention something to me.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    ¡°We have a visitor, presumably from the Depthists. Have you ever met a bloodspawn?¡±


    I frowned. Why would a depthist be here, much less a bloodspawn? I had only interacted with the cultists once, and never with a member of that quite uncommon species.


    ¡°I can¡¯t say I have. Are they already here, or just coming?¡±


    ¡°Already here. I had one of the disciples allow him in. They¡¯re heading to a meeting room. It seems they wish to meet us.¡±


    I stood, carefully smoothing my robes. On Tseludia, the Cult of the Depths held the position of an entrenched pillar of the underworld, and the strength of their organization rivaled that of my own. It was right for me to be in my own best condition before I met with their envoy. I made my way out through the hatch, heading to meet with this mysterious bloodspawn.


    The bloodspawn in question had roughly the appearance of a Staiven man, if the Staiven was composed entirely of shades of red, and had empty sockets where his eyes would normally be. Red mist slowly dripped from its skin where a Staiven would exude liquids, and slowly fell towards the ground, fading into the air around it. Its physical features were largely similar with those of the Staiven, though they slowly shifted around his face, as if they were floating on currents or squirming away like bugs. It was sitting comfortably in one of the meeting room¡¯s chairs, and turned its head to glance at Rachel and I. I noticed that its gaze was firmly locked onto her, and seemed to only be paying myself half attention.


    ¡°Has your goddess returned again with another prophecy about me?¡± I asked.


    The previous time such an event had occurred, it had greatly aided us in finding out about the retirement facility. It could be said that the Depthists had preserved my life, as I doubted I would have been able to find the miasmic treasures that I needed in time without that aid.


    ¡°This time, we were not instructed by our Goddess,¡± explained the Bloodspawn. This one simply wishes to greet the children of Saaya who are present in this location.¡±


    ¡°Did Poluus send you?¡± I asked, thinking back to the prophet I had met at the black market over a month ago. He had seemed to be the man in charge of the local Depthist organization.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to inform you, son of Ceirra, but the Prophet Poluus is dead,¡± responded the alien. ¡°This one consumed him, you see. You may call this one Poluus as well.¡±


    As a species, the Bloodspawn had a rather negative perception among the other races, in part because of the fact that they only acquired sapience after consuming the living body of another sapient individual. According to rumors, they also needed to consume the soul. Personally, I was able to take its words in stride. The fact that this alien had recently eaten the presumably living body of someone I had met perhaps might have made more of an impact if the original Poluus had struck me as more humanoid. In truth, he had been just as odd and creepy as the new one was. Their odd speech patterns were somewhat similar as well.


    ¡°I¡­ see¡­¡± I replied hesitantly, unsure how to reply. ¡°But you traveled all the way here just to meet with them? Forgive me if I suspect you of having an ulterior motive.¡±


    That said, I wasn¡¯t entirely against the idea of Poluus meeting with the Reth. I had heard from Rachel that this group of them followed some sort of odd hybrid religion and worshiped both Saaya and Delithia. They likely had plenty in common with the Depthists, and I doubted it would hurt just to let them have a conversation. In fact, perhaps I could take advantage of this opportunity to acquire leverage over the depthists. They had a moderately influential black market platform, after all.


    Poluus shrugged.


    ¡°There is no recrimination to be had from us. But may it be said, that if this force of yours is in need, the Sanguine Depths will be there for you. A force containing both the children of Saaya and the mother is a precious thing, existing on the skein of permissiveness. It is so easily ruptured¡­¡±


    It shrugged with a smile, and one of its eyeless sockets drooped slowly down its place, before a hand reached up to return it to its rightful place.


    ¡°I¡¯ll consider your offer,¡± I said. Though I did not trust this alien, I would keep these words in mind. Perhaps one day I really would need to accept the offer.


    ¡°We¡¯ll allow you to meet them,¡± said Rachel, and I glanced over to her in surprise.


    While we had agreed to a partnership, I was nominally the sect leader, and had largely been acting as if I were the one in charge. It was very unusual for her to simply act without discussing it with me in advance. But it was fine, I supposed. I would trust her judgment on this matter.


    ¡°Will you call them in, then?¡± I asked.


    She nodded.


    ¡°They¡¯ll be here shortly.¡±


    Quietly, on the opposite side of the table, Poluus burbled, a distinctly Staiven sound, though rather than the pungent odor I generally associated with the species, the bloodspawn had a much more coppery scent, and its intensity was not overpowering.


    ¡°Are you certain you are willing to be seen meeting this one?¡± it suddenly asked.


    I paused for a moment and gave it a blank stare, incredulous at the question. Not only was it out of pocket, on the surface it seemed quite foolish. I doubted that the question was mere small talk.


    ¡°I believe it may be a bit too late to keep matters quiet,¡± I replied.


    Indeed, if it had truly walked all the way here without a disguise, I could be sure that half the station would know that a bloodspawn entered the Redwater Sect. The creatures were rare and quite distrusted, though their reputation among the Seiyal was nothing compared to that of the Reth.


    Poluus bared its teeth in what was perhaps an imitation of a smile.


    ¡°A shame. It seems this one must apologize.¡±


    I narrowed my eyes. So it had been so blatant on purpose. Did the Depthists wish to pressure our organizations into a partnership, or simply trick outside forces into believing that we had? I could read little more from its appearance, and there was nothing I could do but sit and wait until the Reth arrived.


    Bloodspawn: [It is actually unknown just where this odd race of creatures originated, for even they don¡¯t know their origin. They have been spotted in various areas across the galaxy with seemingly no possibility of traversal, leading some scientists to believe their origin could either be the invention by a certain Osine or Ascendant, some type of extreme convergent evolution, or perhaps simply an oddity of nature. Bloodspawn are born as amorphous creatures without intellect, and only develop into sapient beings after consuming the body of a sapient mortal. They then develop an appearance vaguely similar to that of the race in question, but generally with a redder hue than the actual species. Despite not being humanoid nor possessing a progression system, Bloodspawn circulate sanguine miasma within themselves like a Celan circulates blood. While bloodspawn are not illegal existences like Shades, there is no known civilization willing to grant them citizenship, and they lack a civilization or even a culture of their own, as they are a rare species, reproduce asexually, and seem to possess little to no attachment to their own young. Though it does not seem to be a universal trait, many bloodspawn have been found to take on the name of the first sapient life form they consumed. Some depthist sects rear juvenile bloodspawn and feed them sapients, while others decry them as evil creatures which must be purged from the world.]

 163- Call of the Depths

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Irid and another of the Reth soon arrived, led by a second copy of Rachel that fizzled into nothingness after entering the room. Upon their entrance, Poluus visibly perked up, its entirely body visibly quivering from an emotion which I lacked the anthropology background to classify.


    The Rachel beside me, I suddenly realized, was in her ¡®true¡¯, alien form, despite the fact that an outsider was right here. This bloodspawn did appear to be blind, but it still felt irresponsible. I wanted to ask the reason, but felt I should not discuss the matter before it.


    Poluus seemed to smile as they appeared, but the odd way that it vaguely tilted its head in their direction felt unsettling to me. Though it lacked eyes, its reddened, empty sockets still turned as if to glance towards them.


    ¡°The rumors were true, it seems,¡± the bloodspawn said, speaking in the Reth language. Thankfully, Rachel quietly whispered the translation of its words into my ears so I could follow what was being said.


    ¡°So it seems,¡± replied Irid, in the same tongue. ¡°Are you the leader of the local faith?¡±


    Poluus shook its head.


    ¡°This one consumed him,¡± it said, as if that explained anything. Though I did not understand the connection, the Reth woman nodded sagely as if she understood completely. There was a dark look in her eyes, however. The man beside her had an even more grim expression.


    ¡°I see. What reason do you have for wanting to meet with us?¡± she asked.


    ¡°After Iearning of your presence, this entity wished to know what your intentions were. If you wish to return home soon, it can provide assistance.¡±


    After only a moment¡¯s hesitation, Irid shook her head.


    ¡°We intend to remain for a time further, and provide assistance to the Lady Trueborn.¡±


    Poluus frowned, and glanced at Rachel, seemingly taken aback by the comment.


    ¡°It seems this one lacks certain requisite knowledge. Would you happen to be thankful to her for your rescue, or¡­¡± Poluus¡¯ frown suddenly deepened. ¡°It senses that this desire derives from something else. But it is of no matter. Rachel¡¯s path is not one which your mother would hurt to see bear fruit.¡±


    ¡°Do not take our pleasantries for granted, beast!¡± growled the other Reth, clearly incensed. ¡°The Great Mother calls for the removal of parasites like you!¡±


    Irid quickly admonished him for his words, but Poluus simply gave him a broad smile.


    ¡°Heritage aside, the local chapter would disagree with your words. They see myself as a manifestation of the greater truth.¡±


    ¡°You are not a child of the Mother,¡± cut in Irid, and Poluus simply shrugged, laughing her words off.


    ¡°This one was first awakened a number of weeks ago,¡± it explained, ¡°so it hopes you¡¯ll forgive any discourtesy from it. Regardless of the differences in the doctrines we follow, it wishes the best for the sons and daughters of Saaya. Should your thoughts change, you may always contact this one if you find yourselves in need, or wish to return to your people.¡±


    After this exchange, there was a long, awkward moment of silence, before the bloodspawn spoke up once again. Irid glanced at Rachel, and held her tongue. I got the feeling that she was needing to expend effort in order to maintain her civility.


    ¡°As you do not wish to leave, the main purpose of this visit is null. Secondarily, this one shall offer assistance as needed. You need simply to ask.¡±


    ¡°Why do you wish to help us so much?¡± asked Irid. ¡°It seems to me that this is an odd course of action for the local force to take, particularly when our beliefs differ from your own.


    ¡°Your race can be considered siblings by marriage to my own,¡± Poluus explained. ¡°It is in our nature to assist one another.¡±


    For a moment, his gaze flickered to Rachel.


    ¡°If you wish, yourself and your people are welcome back into the fold at any time.¡±


    She merely sneered in response.


    ¡°We aren¡¯t the ones who need to apologize.¡±


    The bloodspawn shrugged.


    ¡°The situation is complex, but far be it for this one to communicate on behalf of the divine. That is not our main order of business, anyway.¡±


    ¡°And what is this business?¡± I asked. ¡°More offers of assistance?¡±


    Poluus nodded, as if to confirm my thoughts.


    ¡°Our organization wishes to form a partnership. Our portion would be largely financial, but the network we possess is quite extensive. This one suspects that it may be of use to you.¡±This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    I made no move to disagree, for it was simply the truth. The greatest weakness of the Redwater Sect was our lacking accumulation. We were simply far too young of an organization. We had existed for a time span that could be easily measured by counting the weeks, and could not hope to compare with any of the more established forces in the station¡¯s underworld. If the Depthists actually gave us access to their channels, it would in effect allow us to grow rapidly at the cost of their own development. It was a frighteningly tempting proposition, but one they would not make lightly. Was this newborn bloodspawn really in command of the cult, or was this simply a ploy? Perhaps its goal here was to trick us into assisting it in taking over. We simply lacked the information.


    ¡°Give us your information, and we will consider making deals with you. It may well be in our best interest to bind ourselves in this way, but we wish to¡­ look over it more, first.¡±


    As I spoke, I had been intermittently glancing at Rachel to discern her reaction to my words, and she gave me an encouraging nod. It seemed she shared my thoughts on the matter. It was best to be wary when I did not know his angle, I felt. Poluus smiled again, its teeth bared as if to shield it from the world. It turned its blind gaze towards Rachel¡¯s projection.


    ¡°Despite everything,¡± it said, ¡°you¡¯re still mortal. And in their lowest moments, all mortals find themselves seeking their gods once more.¡±


    Rachel shook her head, a glow of anger and determination shining inside the vibrant cerulean hue of her eyes.


    ¡°My people have no need for the divinity that she has to offer. When we require the power of a god, we can simply construct one of our own.¡±


    Poluus chuckled, as if Rachel¡¯s apostasy was simply some joke that it could easily ignore.


    ¡°Perhaps it may be best we leave the matter at that. This one believes it may have overstayed its welcome. You may contact us at any time, and we would be happy to strengthen the ties between our forces. We have¡­ plenty of capital. You simply need ask.¡± Poluus smiled, moving to exit the room. ¡°We hope to interact with you at a future date.¡±


    It paused at the threshold, and then turned back to me, as if it had just remembered something.


    ¡°By the way, Sect Leader Yu. The soul is an organ like any other. You would be wise to take better care of yours in the future.¡±


    With that, it turned past the door, following another projection of Rachel.


    ¡°That ship has sailed,¡± I muttered, watching the two disappear down the hallway before glancing at Rachel.


    ¡°I was not aware that you had such a negative relationship with the Depthists,¡± I said. I would have expected the opposite, given how easily she had ingratiated herself to the Reth.


    Rachel let out a deep breath, though I could still witness the fiery anger in her eyes. She glanced over to the two Reth, who seemed to quickly catch her signal, and both quietly filed out of the meeting room. Once they had left, Rachel spoke again.


    ¡°The relationship between my people and their mistress is complex, and I do not wish to get into it at the moment. Suffice to say that my people and the cult have a rather fraught relationship.¡±


    ¡°If you don¡¯t like the Depthists, why did you wish to let it speak with them?¡±


    I did not really mind the way that she had unilaterally made the decision, but it was not the way that she usually acted, so I found myself curious about the event.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious?¡± she asked, her mouth contorting into a vicious grin. ¡°They¡¯re useful. I can put my grudge aside in favor of potential benefits. Nothing was lost simply by hearing it out. What¡¯s more, there were no weapons or explosives on its body.¡±


    I frowned, and wondered whether I was simply imagining things. It had felt odd somehow, but her explanation was logically sound. I supposed I might simply be looking too far into the matter.


    ¡°I see,¡± I replied, after a pause to collect my thoughts. ¡°If there¡¯s anything we need that they might be able to provide, we can consider accepting the partnership.¡±


    ¡°The question is, what are their terms?¡± added Rachel, and I nodded in agreement.


    ¡°Other than platitudes, I don¡¯t believe it let any information slip. But cult or not, no underworld organization would offer such benefits without a trade.¡±


    ¡°They cannot be trusted blindly,¡± she said.


    I chuckled.


    ¡°Can anyone?¡±


    Rachel smiled in response, making no reply to my statement, but the particular brand of silence at the moment made me believe she agreed. Even the closest of friends and family could betray one another. This was something I knew well. Trust and loyalty were the foundations of a modern society, but that blade was one which bore two edges. It could cut both ways.


    ¡°Make sure that we¡¯re ready to greet Nahalken tomorrow,¡± I said, as I stepped out of the meeting room, beginning to make my way back towards my office. As the meditation room was still undergoing repairs, it was the best place to seek out the peaceful and quiet environment I preferred for meditation and practice.


    Rachel simply waved her hand dismissively, then gave me a meaningful look.


    ¡°I already told you that we would handle it. You should worry about your own preparations.¡±


    I brushed her words off.


    ¡°I intend to work on my soul,¡± I said. ¡°Specific preparations that involve me may wait until the morning.¡±


    Poluus words had gotten under my skin, simply because they had been correct. The truth was just as it had said- my soul was simply not in an adequate shape. I had never forgotten the limits of my own mortality- a decade was a long time, from a mortal¡¯s perspective, but I personally felt that it was not quite long enough. The development of my spirit would be powerful, but it was a process measured in years at the minimum. It would take a considerable amount of incremental development for myself to continue to grow, but with such things, it was best to start early and practice consistently.


    That was, after all, the foundation of all martial arts and progression. To train martial arts was a costly endeavor, and time was a resource like any other.


    The Cult of the Depths: [The church that worships Delithia, one of the oldest ascendants, is illegal in major galactic territories. Banning her worship is, in fact, one of the requirements to become recognized by certain influential forces such as Relya, the Sheneth-Ari, the Shalthen-Qatath, and the other Osine collectives. Despite this, many forces do not bother to harshly enforce these laws, due to fear of angering Delithia herself too much. The Depthist religion has spread throughout Telles, and even still, some planetary surface civilizations make contact with the galactic world having already formed their own unique sect of the religion. Despite having a unified name, many of the Depthist sects have very different beliefs, and there are few truly major leaders of it. Were it not for the shared persecution, the cult might perhaps have splintered into various truly separate and conflicting churches. The cult¡¯s name originates from the story of Delithia¡¯s ¡®holy land,¡¯ described as a puddle containing an ocean, a sea of worlds within itself. The descriptions are largely contradictory, and many Depthists see it as more of a symbol and a metaphor than a real, physical location. Some say, however, that the holy land is a true place, and is where their goddess resides.]

 164- Isolation

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    It had been a few days, and Deuvar still found himself mulling over the conversation he had with the Leader about the concern of Janottka¡¯s potential presence on the station. His reaction had simply been so¡­ lackluster. It was as if his surprise was muted, or he had already suspected something. The man had always been something of an ill-tempered enigma, but recently something had seemed off about him, somehow. Deuvar was not certain he could have put words to it had he made the attempt.


    For one, his temper had cooled, and he seemed much easier to deal with, aside from the fact that he had been sending messages through mediums other than Deuvar and his sister. Prior to last week, the aged hermit had not done that in years. More importantly, his responses seemed more measured than before. The Leader had never been a fool, but he had certainly been the sort to meet force with force. His orders now almost seemed foolish, as if they were designed to intensify the conflict.


    But Deuvar trusted him. The old man had created this organization from almost nothing, and he had always done well by Deuvar. Loyalty was vital, and he had to simply assume that the Leader had a particular plan in mind, based on evidence that Deuvar lacked. He had already straightforwardly asked the man about what his intentions were, only to get brushed aside.


    Perhaps the Leader was worried that Rachel and perhaps Janottka might be listening in, and thus could not speak his plans aloud, or give away too many hints to a potential Shade which might overhear it. It was a worthy consideration, Deuvar thought, but in truth it only made his job more difficult. To that end, he had finally found himself an assistant.


    Her name was Sitki, a Korlove woman who had previously worked as an accountant, and later a factory manager. She had set up a desk in the office adjacent to his, and so far he was satisfied with the efficiency and quality of her work, though it had only been a day.


    Sitki was a brisk and even-toned speaker, her voice always sounding as if she were bored, but according to her references, she was said to be very attentive to detail and skilled at personnel management. He felt that she would likely be qualified to reduce some of his workload, particularly in the sectors of logistics and book-keeping.


    In part, he had chosen her because of her professional acumen, and reported talents, but he had also picked her because he felt she would be loyal.


    Sitki was actually the cousin of Akekha, one of the more experienced squad leaders among the military force of the organization. Deuvar knew that Akekha wished to be promoted to a management position, but had always denied the request, feeling that it would be a waste of her talents. Some would call it nepotism to provide preferential hiring to the family members of ranking personnel, but Deuvar was a staunch believer that this practice increased feelings of belonging and loyalty. In his estimation, this was far and beyond more important than meritocracy.


    Deuvar sighed, standing and quickly stretching his lengthy and muscular limbs. He had yet to fully adjust to his new office chair, which he had been parked in for almost twelve hours now.


    Given the currently rough condition of the headquarters, it was inevitable that they had to move their operations center. This was, however, an opportunity that Deuvar had grasped to reorganize operations. They were able to have some of the employees such as accountants and managers work from home, which not only reduced the number of people they would need to guard, but also helped these members to feel safer. A corporation might have suffered concerns of lowered employee productivity, but the Heirs lacked such concerns. An underworld organization not only found it much easier to develop loyalty in its members, but was also much better at motivating them when strictly necessary.


    While he felt that putting the work in now would reduce headaches for later, Deuvar was still far too weary. He could not imagine how much paperwork he would have needed to deal with if he had not thought to recruit Sitki in advance.


    Finishing his stretches, Deuvar returned to the seat, but did not lift any of his slates, his mind continuing to be lost in thought.


    The underworld of Tseludia was a swampy lake, and Deuvar was a fisherman attempting to navigate it. The undercurrents were murky, and he could not discern in which direction they ran. This was natural, of course. No single man would fully be able to comprehend the thoughts and plans of all others. Not when the situation was this complex.


    The best he could hope for was to notice the general trend, though at the moment, even that eluded him.


    When they had first met up at the Leader¡¯s abode to discuss their plans moving forward, Deuvar had expected the inner circle of the Heirs to truly join together and toss aside their own priorities for the good of the organization. Their fates were tied together now, and he had expected everyone to act like it. Instead, the Leader was more enigmatic than ever, while Astna continued to play tricks behind the scenes. Kalthen was the only one who was hiding no deep secrets, as far as Deuvar was aware, but the young man had spent the past few weeks hard at work coordinating the titan program. And finally, Triezal. Deuvar had a positive opinion of the younger man, but could not help but always remain suspicious of him due to his background.


    Of them all, Deuvar was the only one who had never made moves in secret. He saw himself as the sort to be upfront, as one would expect of the one who managed the majority of the organization¡¯s policy. Perhaps, he thought, he should make such plans himself. If Triezal was correct, then the ten year deadline might be a vastly optimistic outline.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    First, however, he would need to finish the reorganization, and see how the war progressed. The current situation was good, though precarious, and he felt it was still the time to stir the pot.


    The time for overturning it would arrive later.


    <hr>


    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Karie first heard of Wei¡¯s death as she was reading through the daily news. She had been resting after a spirit training session, but had lost all thoughts of her exhaustion after seeing the ill news. She shivered, momentarily unable to accept what she was reading, and dropped the tweezers, nearly damaging the small potted tree before her.


    She felt isolated, alone in the endless expanses of the universe, more so than ever before. Had no one even thought to contact her? Had nobody thought that she might wish to know? One of the most important figures in her life was gone, and she had not learned about it until days later.


    Karie wanted to believe that her mother, at least, still supported her. She must have simply been too distraught to think to inform her. Karie could understand that. But none of her relatives, not one sibling, aunt, uncle, or cousin had thought to tell her. Her Uncle Wei had been more a father to Karie than her actual father had been. He had been alive, after all. Now they were both dead, lost to the Sunlit Kingdom. Karie gritted her teeth.


    Her Uncle Wei had always been there for her. Even in the busiest of times he had made sure to find time for her, and had been the greatest supporter of her aspirations ever since she was a little girl who had fled her homeland.


    Karie felt her fist start to clench, so she quickly set down the fragile tweezers, and moved away from the tree. She knew she would deeply regret her actions if she were to damage it.


    Her mental state was odd, she realized. The intense emotions were washing through her, and yet her mind was clear, dissociated from them. It was helpful, but the sensation was odd, as if something was wrong. It was right for her to cry, to break a wall. To break the bones of those who had failed to inform her of this.


    So much for family, she thought. Blood was only so thick. Even the direct family members could not be trusted, much less those who were more distant in their relations to her. For all she knew, someone had purposefully restricted this information from her so that she missed the memorial service.


    She had no way to know whether that was the case or not, but Karie did know that she would not allow it to happen. No matter what, she would not miss Wei¡¯s memorial. She would not be able to live with herself if she missed such an important event.


    Moving rapidly, as if she was scared of losing her clear-minded state, Karie removed a terminal from a table in the corner of the room, and quickly made sure to initiate a video call. As she had expected, he responded almost immediately.


    The man in question was another of her cousins, though Joden had not an iota of martial talent. Instead, he had taken training to work in logistics for the clan. He had been assigned to ensure she received everything she required to survive just fine during her temporary exile. He was of a similar age to her, though he appeared at least a decade older by now, because of his lacking martial arts. Having grown up at the same time, the two of them knew one another quite well. That did not, of course, mean that their relationship was in any way positive.


    Joden''s face soon appeared on the terminal¡¯s surface with a scowl, annoyed by the disruption.


    ¡°Is something the matter?¡± he asked, speaking in a bland tone.


    ¡°When¡¯s the memorial?¡± she asked. Karie had intended to do so in a calm manner, but the words had emerged far more harshly than she¡¯d intended, leaving Joden taken aback. His eyes narrowed, instantly comprehending the matter at hand.


    ¡°Karie, I understand how you feel, but I was told not to allow your return until-¡±


    Karie¡¯s eyes blazed, and she could feel her cores start to heat up as the miasma within roiled furiously.


    ¡°You may tell them that I will return after I attend. But I will certainly be there, and I will not allow you to stop me. My mother will surely allow me to attend my Uncle¡¯s memorial.¡±


    ¡°¡°I¡¯ll have to ask the Su-¡±


    ¡°If you ask anyone,¡± she interjected, ¡°ask my mother. Nobody else is qualified to answer matters of the Council of Elders.¡±


    The image of Joden Hadal shook his head firmly.


    ¡°That goes against policy and chain of command, Karie.¡±


    Karie gritted her teeth at him.


    ¡°It is Elder Karie, if need be. And I have a right to tell you to send messages to the Matriarch, Joden. ¡±


    As if considering her words, Josen paused for a moment before shaking his head.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Elder Karie, but we simply do not-¡±


    Karie smiled, and cocked her head in her best imitation of a coquettish pose, before speaking in a manner most unbefitting of her current pose.


    ¡°I expect you¡¯ll tell me when and where the event is planned for, unless you wish for me to return to the headquarters to break in.¡±


    Joden sighed theatrically, resigned to Karie¡¯s antics. She had acted similarly as a child, and he knew that he could expect her to follow through with her insanity. She had dropped an entire stack onto Juen, after all.


    ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do, but I won¡¯t make any promises.¡±


    ¡°The choice is yours,¡± she said simply, before ending the call. She was then left alone once more in the small room, unsure what to say or do. Green mist silently began to pool in the air around her, but Karie failed to notice.


    God of Death: [Despite the variety of beings worshiped as gods, there are none in current records who claim domain over ¡®death¡¯. This noticeable gap has been remarked upon, though the consensus is often that many religions claim their object of worship has their own afterlife for their believers. In that sense, some say, the power of death is one which belongs to every deity. Others have noted that until just a few centuries ago, the theology of the Church of Verain had begun to shift to a greater focus on rites and hymns of the dead, expanding from a mere focus on conflict and war. All of a sudden, however, that trend reversed, and the church instead began to focus more on her identity as Goddess of Conflict and Competition. The rites and hymns created during that period were all subsequently altered, and their focuses shifted to match the new trend.]

 165- Martyrdom

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Everyone had moved into the large training room, but the atmosphere was far more somber than the usual cheerful air. Everyone¡¯s mind had returned to the events just a few days prior. Han was no different, and found his thoughts filled with memories of the event.


    Han had been able to return much quicker than he had anticipated, due to a heavy metal machine covering the entirety of his lower forearm, slowly regrowing the flesh and bone that had been damaged. It was secured firmly to his chest by a strap for ease of carrying, though it was not so heavy that the strap was strictly necessary, in his estimation.


    Han and the other injured were some of the final arrivals, and he ended up at the back of the room, accompanied only by Qian, who had happened to be nearby when he returned to the sect. They had decided to enter the memorial service together, as a result of the coincidence.


    As they packed into the room, Han randomly saw Sashan in the crowd, and for a moment their eyes locked together. She glanced down to his chest and saw his injury, before quickly averting her gaze. Han did not condemn her for not helping him back then, though he suspected she was not aware of this fact. She had been right. They were simply not strong enough yet. If she had joined him, more likely than not she would have been injured as well, or perhaps even dead. As the proverb went, weakness itself was surely a sin. Han himself had come to understand that fact more than ever.


    He, along with the others injured in the attack had only been brought back to the sect with an expedited release from the hospital due to their desires to participate in the memorial service for those who had been lost. Han had been one of those who made the request to return for the event. He had been very down after awakening, but the Sect Leader had helped him to shift his mindset. He hoped that the others might have a similar experience after witnessing the memorial, able to put the experience and the losses behind them and move forward.


    Despite being at the far end of the room, Han actually had a good view of what was going on in the front of the room, where the stage rested. On a table before the uplifted stage were a series of metal containers, inscribed with the names and images of the deceased whose remains resided within. Each of the urns was handcrafted, and composed of an affordable metal alloy. It did not matter the material composing the urn, so long as it was sturdy and clean. Though there had been a total of fourteen deaths, the table only held nine containers. Apparently, Han had heard, the families of the other five had requested their remains to be returned to them, and the sect had willingly complied.


    The service was being held in the style of the Crucible, which did not surprise many of the participants. They were an unorthodox force whose founder had spent most of his life in that land. Many of the members had heritage going back to the continent, so there were few complaints.


    After the disciples and other members of the sect finished filing into the room, the Elders and the Palace Leaders slowly walked onto the stage, their white robes providing a set of uniformity to the procession. At their head marched the Sect Leader, his trademark crimson robes marking his identity even to those at the furthest areas of the room. Another day, there might have been murmurs and quiet conversations among the attendants due to the respect and idolization the sect members had for him, but today the room was near silent as they made their way to the center of the stage and stood somberly before the group. The Riverfiend glanced down at the bodies of the fallen before peering out to address the crowd. In the moments before he spoke, the room was filled with an utter silence unbefitting for the number of people inside.


    ¡°As most of you might have noticed, there are nine urns standing here. Each of them houses one of our brothers or sisters lost far before their time. They are here with us because they had nowhere to go. I understand that the same is true for many of you. These are people who are here because they wished to build a new future, a new life for themselves. A new family,¡± he said, his voice going soft for a moment. He then paused, giving time for his words to wash out over the crowd before he returned to speaking. ¡°They were heroes,¡± he continued, ¡°Cinto and the others who died, everyone who fought against those zealots who attacked us.¡± The Sect Leader had a firm, dignified expression on his face as his eyes scoured the crowd.


    ¡°When you all decided to join this force,¡± he continued, ¡°you made a bold choice. The choice to spurn handouts and grasp your future with your own hands.¡± As he spoke, he raised his left arm and clenched it into a tight fist. Almost subconsciously, Han found himself doing the same. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    ¡°The unorthodox path is difficult but rewarding, and this sect prides itself on merit. Anyone with the necessary skills can achieve greatness. This is what the Hadal Clan fears, and also what Palace Leader Cinto died to protect. You are our future, and you are also the future of Tseludia. Your potential is unmatched. We shall not be disheartened by this loss, for this is not what they would have wanted. We will be strong, and we will use this opportunity to inspire ourselves to grow stronger! To turn this force into one others will fear to attack! We are a force constructed from those this alien society has neglected, and we will not allow it to fall.¡±


    There was a long pause after the Sect Leader¡¯s words, as if the crowd was waiting for him to speak further. Han was one of the first to clap, and he almost forgot what sort of event this was as clapping filled the room. It took over a minute for the noises to cease prior to his master finally continuing.


    ¡°But these words are for us to consider later, in the days to come. Soon we will honor the dead in the ways that we live our lives, but first we will honor them with our memories. Those who wish to speak for the dead may come up and do so.¡±


    Leaving it at that, the famous Riverfiend stepped back with a solemn expression, and left the fore area of the stage open for others. This time, the pause was much shorter, as Palace Leader Kein soon stepped forward to speak on behalf of the deceased Palace Leader Cinto.


    As he spoke, rather than paying attention the story he told, Han could not help but think of how the Palace Leader, too, was once heavily injured in a battle. Unlike Han, however, his injuries could not be fully treated, and he was left as a cripple, a mortal incapable of martial arts. Han could imagine how that must have felt, as he had anxiously worried the same fate might have been his, after receiving his own wound. Han still could not fully wrap his head around just how generous his master had been in paying for his extremely expensive wound treatment.


    The others had been kind as well. His fellow disciples had all taken the time to visit him in the hospital. Even Blake had tagged along, though Qian had stayed the longest. That was natural, he thought. The two of them had grown closer during their time in the sect, but they had known one another for over a decade. She had invited her brother Tai for a visit as well. Though it had only been a month, to Han it felt almost as if years had gone by since he had last seen this best friend of his. So much had changed for him in that time. His conversation with Tai was short, but it had made him realize just how much had shifted inside of him unknowingly. In this short time, the Redwater Sect had become his home. His goals were no longer merely about reaching further with his own hands to improve his life. At some point, the sect had become something more than just a stepping stone.


    If this were to ever happen again, Han would take a stand just like he had done before. Except next time, events would turn out differently than how they had. His master had made it clear- he believed in Han, believed he had great potential. Han would not let down his expectations.


    Han¡¯s mind flashed back to his hospital room, when Tai had visited him. Growing up, Tai had always been the larger of the two, the more naturally talented fighter because of it. Now, when Han had seen him, he could only reflect on how weak his old friend seemed. It was the power of miasma. In just a month, he had already reached a level attainable only by the most talented of mortals, without technological assistance.


    Similarly, Han himself was like a flea before the true masters of martial arts. He felt his ambition welling, that drive that had burgeoned within him ever since he had first found the flier detailing the information about the sect¡¯s entry examination.


    As others began to speak further, telling tales in the memory of the deceased, Han quietly slipped out, noticed only by Qian and the ever-watchful gaze of the Vice-Sect Leader. This was not where he needed to be. He had spent the last few days resting, and was in dire need of some exercise and practice, lest his skills dull. The sect was a new life for Han, and it might not be around forever. He could not be lax in his efforts.


    As he left, something flashed in Qian¡¯s eyes, but Han did not notice, his eyes fixated solely on the path forward.


    Traditional Seiyal Funeral Practices of the Crucible: [As the Crucible was a continent dominated by unorthodox forces, the influence of the Ceirran religion was not substantial until Sunlit Hall¡¯s first crusade. Though scattered groups worshiped Toval, Domines, and Saaya, the region was largely secular, though it had spiritual traditions nonetheless. Perhaps as a trace left by the farsei¡¯s origins, the Seiyal inhabitants of the Crucible retained the tradition of cremation, but unlike their sei counterparts, they believed that rather than returning them to nature, it was best to inter their remains within a decorated urn, which would be held by the family of the deceased. The urns were said to bring fortune to the family, and in large clans and sects, entire buildings were constructed to contain them over time. During invasions, Sunlit Hall would often prioritize destroying the mausoleum because of this, in order to reduce morale.]

 166- A World Without Wind

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    One grew familiar with their routine over time. It could last for years without change. Decades, even. But all it took was a single misstep, a single moment for the house of cards to tumble down and turn the table on its head. For Sirena, the current situation felt extremely familiar, yet also extremely foreign.


    ¡°The Staiven aren¡¯t making any moves yet,¡± said Aven, a gaunt sei with sunken cheeks and a pallid countenance, ¡°but I can¡¯t imagine they¡¯ll ignore it for much longer, unless we can restrain the scope of the conflict.¡±


    ¡°We cannot pull back at the borders again. After what happened, it¡¯s possible that they¡¯re looking for a win. Make sure that First Commander Pakas knows what to do.¡±


    ¡°By your will, Matriarch,¡± he replied with a short bow, before moving on to the next note. He was meticulous, and had documented every aspect of his job far more than his predecessor had.


    She had not particularly wished to replace Wei so quickly, but her work efficiency was stunted without a competent aide, and the Matriarch could not allow her work to be held up. Not when that work almost exclusively concerned the future of the clan itself. Ultimately, she had chosen Aven Hadal, one of Wei¡¯s grandsons for the role. She had known Aven ever since he was born, and had heard Wei speak about the boy¡¯s exploits. He was now a middle aged man with a lengthy career, but she still could not help but think of him as the child he once was. He did not particularly take after his grandfather, but sometimes Sirena could see traces of Wei in him.


    While her body remained young, sometimes Sirena could truly feel just how her mind had aged. She had felt that way more than ever within the past few days.


    Overall, she had a positive assessment of the man¡¯s performance. Aven was extremely timid in front of her, but was fully confident and professional in front of others, which was good. She could not have an aide who was easily swayed or bullied. If the factions saw weakness, they would certainly pounce. As Aven was only in the core formation realm, he simply did not have the presence or the influence of his grandfather, and there was nothing to be done but to minimize the issue.


    As she watched, Aven carefully scrolled the list.


    ¡°How is Juen?¡± she asked.


    The most important role of her aide¡¯s job, at least in Sirena¡¯s opinion, was to become versed in every aspect of the sect. If there was something he did not know, Sirena expected him to rapidly figure it out. Wei had been an expert at this.


    ¡°Juen¡­¡± he said, before shaking his head. ¡°His injuries are severe, as one of his cores was damaged. The injuries are not permanent, but it is anticipated that it might take months to years for them to fully heal. I would have to speak with him to acquire more specifics. If you wish, I could do so now.¡±


    Sirena casually waved his offer off with one of her hands.


    ¡°So long as he is fine. He was injured attacking a force that had been our ally at the time. I intend to treat this as the price of him growing in maturity.¡±


    Hearing this, Aven glanced back to the list, deciding to continue forward. Seeing the next item, he scowled for a moment before returning to an impassive look.


    ¡°Next up, Matriarch Sirena, is Grandfather¡¯s memorial service. As far as I know, all preparations have been completed. As you requested, we restricted the attendance to his closest friends and family members.¡±


    A slight quiver betrayed Aven¡¯s feelings about the matter. She knew that the man had always idolized Wei. Perhaps he felt almost as distraught as she was. For a moment, Sirena considered attempting to comfort him, but she knew that it would either come across as patronizing or intimidating. It would be better not to mention it unless she found it absolutely necessary.


    ¡°Good,¡± she said. ¡°I don¡¯t wish for politics to influence his memory.¡±


    He nodded in approval.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    ¡°I imagine Grandfather would have wished for that as well¡­¡±


    His voice trailed off, as Sirena thought back to some of the many conversations that she and Wei had in this very room over the decades, all the time since they had first arrived at the station and began constructing this building. The construction had lasted for months, even with the highly advanced technologies of the Staiven. This office, gaudy as it was, had been one of the first facilities to be constructed, so as to be utilized to host other forces in the station¡¯s underworld for negotiations. After Aven had paused for several moments as if to regather his wits about himself, he glanced back down to his terminal to manipulate it once more.


    ¡°There¡¯s one more matter, Matriarch,¡± he said.¡±It strikes me as lower priority, but a news package from Sunlit Hall has arrived.¡±


    This time, as Sirena glanced over, she simply felt annoyed, having been interrupted from her nostalgic recollections.


    ¡°Is information six years out of date important at the moment?¡±


    Aven gulped, flustered by her temper. It amused Sirena to see a man who appeared older than her at first glance act in such a way.


    ¡°It¡¯s just that, Matriarch, the information is from a matter you designated as utmost priority.¡±


    Hearing this, Sirena¡¯s temper faded slightly, and she raised an eyebrow in an inquisitive manner.


    ¡°And?¡± she asked.


    Aven quickly stammered his words out.


    ¡°It¡¯s about Jin Luo, the last survivor of the Downpour Sect. You told us to inform you of any news about him. According to the report, six years ago he broke through to the spirit refinement realm and slew the entire squad of elites from Sunlit Hall who had been hunting him down. He received the title ¡®Stormdevil¡¯ Jin Luo, and is according to the information, still at large.¡±


    It took several lengthy moments for the information to set in, but the contents deeply confused Sirena.


    ¡°Is this information accurate?¡± she asked, choosing her words very carefully.


    Aven nodded.


    ¡°It¡¯s the same news source as always, Matriarch.¡±


    Something flashed in her eyes, and she gave him a stern look.


    ¡°Hide that report and make sure no one else lays eyes on it. Who else has seen it?¡±


    He trembled slightly, but was not sure just what was so important about this trivial news about some distant demonic swordsman. Sirena had not found it necessary to inform him of the Riverfiend¡¯s identity, as she had thought it a minor matter. Now, however, that might have changed.


    ¡°J-just me, and the scribe, Matriarch. She brought it to me as soon as she saw it, due to your orders.¡±


    ¡°Ensure her silence, and don¡¯t tell anyone about this, either.¡±


    If Jin Luo had reached the spirit refinement level six years ago, she thought, then he could not possibly be Cyrus Yu, who had reached that level on the station. As far as she knew, there were no ways to reduce one¡¯s level in that manner, and develop oneself for the second time. But if the Riverfiend was not Jin Luo, then just who was he?¡±


    The unknown, Sirena thought, was always far more troublesome than she would like. She sighed.


    ¡°I would love to pick your brain about this, Elder Brother.¡±


    Aven hesitated, as he heard her speak, but a look of resolve soon filled his face, and he asked the question on his mind.


    ¡°Matriarch, would you mind if I asked what the importance of this information is? Who is this Jin Luo?¡±


    Sirena waved a hand dismissively.


    ¡°It¡¯s not about who he is. It¡¯s about who he is not.¡±


    Aven frowned, feeling as if he was missing some vital information, but could not put the pieces together. Was she noting that this man was not the Riverfiend? They were both formless practitioners, after all. However, to Aven, this was an extremely obvious conclusion. Why did it matter that they were not the same person?


    Sirena sighed, her gaze passing through the great window on the side of the room, peering at the passersby on the neighboring stack.


    ¡°You¡¯re right to ask, Aven. Indeed, just who is he?¡±


    With her mind attentively focused on the mystery of Cyrus Yu¡¯s background, for a time Sirena was able to take her mind off of the upcoming service that afternoon.


    Sunlit Hall¡¯s Information Network: [For generations, Sunlit Hall has kept tabs on powerful martial artists both righteous and evil, as well as the movements of the various martial forces. This information was distributed to the other member organizations under Sunlit Hall¡¯s banner, so that they could collaborate to deal with rogue martial artists and unorthodox forces. This information is of great import to the orthodox forces of Canvas. After joining with galactic society, the scope of the network expanded, and is also used to help the sects and clans of Sunlit Hall to keep up with their peers who moved out to the various stations and worlds the Staiven allowed Seiyal to immigrate to. In particularly distant regions such as Tseludia, however, the information from Canvas is rarely relevant.]

 167- The Sunlit Lands

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    It was quiet in the funeral hall as Karie entered,the only sound being some whispered conversations off to the sides of the room. The room was large and imposing, with a tall gothic arched roof which held light fixtures resembling skylights. On Canvas, a proper funeral hall would have indeed had windows on the ceiling, but here, the clan had decided to make concessions to practicality. Natural light was simply hard to come by in sufficient quantities this far away from the system¡¯s star.


    Karie received a number of odd looks by those present in the chamber, and was somewhat surprised to see less than fifteen individuals altogether. It seemed that her mother had managed to keep the memorial as a private affair. Karie preferred it that way.


    She settled off to the side, ignoring the looks. After her attempted murder of Juen, most of the other clan members had turned against her. She did regret her actions, or at least she regretted her failure. If Uncle Wei was alive, she thought, he would have told her that her failing was being too reckless. She saw it more as a calculated risk.


    If she was being honest with herself, she would need to admit that these ¡®calculated risks¡¯ of hers had been turning out poorly more often than not in recent days. It was the fallacy of the gambler. One wagered their money and lost, and then chose to wager even more just to get back to their starting position. Karie was one such fool who had continued to wager, and it had been a downward spiral for her.


    If she had not tried to kill Juen, more likely than not she would have been present at the attack, and perhaps she would have been able to save Wei¡¯s life. It was an idle thought, and one unworthy of any serious consideration, for the past was immutable. Still, she could not help but go over and over scenarios in her head where she might have saved him.


    Karie sighed as she stood off to the side, away from any of the other groups standing in the room. Both hands reached behind her to untie and retie the elegant braid that she had placed her hair into. She had always felt better when she had something to do with her hands. Over the years, she had grown so proficient in her mindsplitting technique that it was almost always active, and after becoming a spirit refiner, she had found that such a mode of thinking had become intrinsic to her being. Aside from the obvious utility it provided, she had found that it caused her to become bored more easily if there was nothing to engage her.


    Contrary to her expectations, no one confronted her as she waited. She had never been the most popular member of her generation, and would have thought Juen¡¯s and perhaps even Lorelei¡¯s supporters would have come to make trouble for her. But all she received were dark looks and scowls directed at her.


    Perhaps it was because nobody wished to disrespect Wei at his memorial, or perhaps it was simply because Karie was no longer seen as a threat. Either way, it was better for Karie to not receive trouble here. Unless she were to withdraw her candidacy, no matter how poor her position, the others would not cease their attacks on her. Despite the indignity, it was probably better that she had been sent out of the headquarters for the time being.


    Karie quickly glanced around the room, scanning it for threats. It was mostly just assorted members of the clan¡¯s various generations. The only group that particularly stood out to her was one far to the other side of the room. There stood Ria and Taek Hadal, cousins of Karie¡¯s, and members of the same generation. Ria in particular was quite talented, she thought. If she had access to better extant techniques, Ria might well have the potential to become a spirit refiner. Taek¡¯s talent was not bad himself, but even if he could by chance become a spirit refiner, he would likely never be able to progress through the realm.


    The two gave her dark looks across the room, but Karie kept her head held high, not falling for such petty instigation. Nobody who had cared for Wei Hadal would wish to ruin his wake with arguments or brawls. For once, Karie had simply the plans of being honest and quiet. She had been given an exception by her mother that allowed her to return before her time was up, and she did not wish to invite more trouble before that.


    It was funny, she thought, ignoring their gazes. Ria and Taek, like most of Wei¡¯s descendants, were part of the neutral faction that supported her mother, but despised Karie regardless. The reason was rather complex, and related to some events that had happened when they all were children.


    Karie had never played well with others.


    It took another fifteen minutes or so before her mother entered the room, signaling that the service would soon begin. She was flanked by Aven, Wei¡¯s grandson, who it seemed had inherited his position. Karie had no qualms with this. While Aven, like many, did not get along well with her, she knew that he was a hard worker. The sort of person she would have liked as her own aide, if that had been an option.


    After entering, her mother quickly scanned the room, and their eyes met. She gave Karie a sad smile that was entirely unlike her usual temperament. As expected, thought Karie, Wei¡¯s death had impacted her mother the most. There remained very few clan members of her generation, and of them, she had been the closest to Wei.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    The Matriarch¡¯s presence meant the memorial could begin, and the room¡¯s inhabitants watched as she made her way to the pedestal at the far end of the room which contained the ashes of ¡®Windless¡¯ Wei Hadal. Her fingers touched slightly on the urn¡¯s surface as she turned to greet the room¡¯s inhabitants.


    ¡°Wei was my best friend,¡± she began, ¡°a brother to me.¡± The Matriarch¡¯s voice was as steady as ever, but the harsh cast of her eyes wavered slightly, an indication of her state of mind. Throughout her speech, Karie kept a firm eye on her mother¡¯s facial expressions. She had never seen her mother this emotional before, and it felt strange to see her in this state. There was little that could shake the great Sirena Hadal, but it seemed the loss of her oldest friend was one such exception. Karie idly wondered if she would ever develop such a firm relationship, herself. It did not strike her as likely, given her current situation.


    The ceremony was fairly lengthy, as it largely consisted of Wei¡¯s friends and loved ones speaking on his behalf. Most people in the room spoke up, sharing small stories of Wei¡¯s heroism, of his kindness, his love, and all the other virtues that had been present within the man. Even her mother had spoken at length about various events that occurred so long ago only the eldest of the clan members had even been alive at the time. According to the Ceirrans, if he was sufficiently virtuous, he would be taken in by the goddess to live for eternity within the Sunlit Lands.


    Karie found it amusing to think that the Ceirrans actually believed such obvious tripe. Regardless, even if it were true, everyone present knew that Wei would not have been chosen. While he outwardly claimed to be Ceirran, everyone present knew well that his loyalty was to the clan alone. While he was not pious, he was a devoted man.


    During the memorial, Karie passed on the opportunity to speak. It was not only concerns of angering those around her, but also the fact that she found herself unsure what to say. Nothing she could say would do justice to the meaning Wei had for her life, so she chose to remain silent.


    Wei was not going to heaven regardless, so there was nothing compelling her to speak in any case.


    The time passed slowly, and Karie listened to all the stories about her uncle. Many of them were things she had never known, and she slowly came to a better understanding of him. Wei Hadal had been a good man, and he had been a warrior. He had given his everything to the clan, to his family, and to his Matriarch, no matter the personal sacrifices.


    He was a very different person than Karie was, and she admired his path, though she had no interest in walking it herself. She had little interest in self sacrifice and devotion to others. But she did admire his dedication to doing whatever it took to achieve those goals. He was a man of great morals, but even those became flexible when it came to matters of his family¡¯s prosperity.


    Eventually, the ceremony ended, and Wei¡¯s two remaining sons jointly lifted the pale green urn from its pedestal, and began walking to the exit. A procession slowly formed behind them, one which would continue until they reached the nearest airlock, so that the ashes might be poured into space. Her mother quietly joined in behind them, but she paused as she stepped past Karie to give her a deep look that seemed to pierce into her soul.


    ¡°A birthright is unearned unless you take it for yourself, Karie. If you cannot grasp it, then you are undeserving.¡± Having said that, she turned to move onward, but hesitated, looking back towards Karie with a slight hint of warm concern on her expression. ¡°Be more careful to pay attention to those around you. Loyalty is never born from dominance alone.¡±


    Without giving her daughter the opportunity to respond, she turned her head and continued to walk, still flanked by Aven, who gave Karie a look of disdain. Karie did not care, for she couldn¡¯t get rid of the wide smile on her face, her previously dour and self-recriminatory mood almost forgotten.


    While she knew her mother would do little if anything to assist, Karie knew that she still hoped for Karie to succeed. She had even given advice. If her mother still believed in her, Karie thought, then the path forward must truly exist.


    She would not let those expectations down. No matter what she needed to do, she would do it. Karie would become the heir, would send her name spiraling to the lips of the millions of Seiyal in the station, and she would make her mother proud.


    They called her the Twinjade Demon, and that was a name that Karie could live up to.


    As she stepped back out of the wide red doors that led into the clan, Karie could not help but glance back to see them close behind her. The ceremony had somehow made her feel slightly better, her emotions having returned to their normal state once it had ended. She still felt guilty, but guilt would not restrain her. She had been putting this matter off for long enough, and finally she felt emotionally free for what came next. Wei had been her last direct supporter inside the clan, but Karie was not absent of opportunities. She would simply have to create her own.


    Having left the building, Karie furtively glanced in both ways, and scurried to mix in with the evening foot traffic. Her outlaw status had yet to be lifted, and she could not be certain that none of her relatives had provided the Justice Office with a convenient tip off of her location. Given her status, she had few worries of being sent to a prison moon, but the fee of bribing a judge would certainly end her candidacy for heir.


    In the crowd, however, she was just another sei, while the Staiven of the Justice Office would stick out like a sore thumb. So long as she was not careless, the risk was low.


    Outlaw Status in the Pantheonic Territory: [The Justice Office is not known for its careful policing of the alien population. Deaths are only investigated if corpses are found, and disappearances are ignored entirely unless ¡®funding¡¯ for the investigation appears. An outlaw, however, is someone whose death would not be prosecuted, and who the office at least claims to be actively searching for. This designation is reserved for criminals whose actions have either impacted the government¡¯s image, or who have threatened it. Outlaws are generally sent to labor camps on the prison moons, but in some cases they might be directly executed by the office, something that does not occur for ordinary criminals unless they resist arrest. It is not uncommon however, for this designation to be appealed and revoked in court.]

 168- Franchise Fee

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Shortly after the memorial service finished, Nahalken arrived at the meeting room, along with his retinue. They had been sitting in on the service from the side, expertly achieving the goals of showing their faces while not interrupting the Canvasian service. Rachel had kept a close eye on them, and while the Staiven seemed bored, their temperament remained quiet and respectful for the entire time.


    As expected, she thought, they were giving a great deal of face to Cyrus and herself. This meant that they had interest in Cyrus¡¯ plan. Rachel was still not sure whether she agreed with his plan to partner more firmly with the Venin Group. It was essentially allowing the corporation to construct a franchise inside of the sect, and give them the authority of a Palace Leader. It would be risky to give an outsider such influence over them.


    Still, she could see his point. On Canvas, wars had been fought many times over the legacies and techniques of spiritual doctors, a resource that, on Tseludia, was held solely within the hands of the clan. The Redwater Sect did not even have mundane doctors, and relied on incredibly expensive Staiven hospitals to treat their wounded.


    It was not a positive cycle. If they did not intend to fight with the clan, the sect¡¯s medical resources would forever limit them. She had considered attempting to offer one of the doctors a great deal and poach them from the clan, but even if the attempt succeeded, the clan would never allow it.


    ¡°The goddess would condemn me if I were to discard such an¡­ interesting offer outright,¡± said Nahalken as he settled down into one of the meeting room¡¯s chairs. ¡°But I do have reservations.¡±


    ¡°Name them,¡± said Rachel. Beside her, Cyrus nodded in agreement, fingers folded before his chin in a rather domineering pose.


    ¡°There¡¯s one problem,¡± explained Nahalken, posing as if he were exasperated. ¡°You see, this partnership would require us to further develop our understanding of the Seiyal genome. To replace the role of a spiritual doctor with only science and medicine¡­ This is not a simple task. The Goddess knows that my Venin Group is up to the challenge, of course. Except... recently, our supply of test subjects has dried up. It seems that the organization they were volunteering through has had some issues.¡±


    He was dancing around the point, but Rachel knew exactly what he was referring to. It seemed that the Venin Group had been using its connections to the government to buy some of the kidnapped Seiyal from the retirement facility that they had rescued. While the facility would undoubtedly be rebuilt, it would be some time before they fulfilled even their internal experiment quotas.


    The second implication of the Staiven¡¯s words were clear as well. Since his supply of subjects had been interrupted, Nahalken wished for them to acquire more. It was a bold proposition to offer to a largely Seiyal force. There were many who might kill him outright just for suggesting it.


    Cyrus hesitated for a long moment, then shook his head.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that¡¯s one step too far. I can kill my own people, but giving them up for experimentation is¡­¡±


    Nahalken pursed his lips as he heard the refusal, causing a piece of skin to flake off of his knotted brow.


    ¡°We would fund the effort, of course,¡± he said.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure there are plenty of criminals nobody will miss,¡± Rachel added, attempting to persuade him.


    Cyrus paused again hesitating , and then shut it down.


    ¡°Part of the sect is made up of those we rescued from that fate. We cannot be involved in trafficking Canvasians.¡±


    Rachel sighed, but let the matter go. It did not seem that he would be persuaded.


    Cyrus was an interesting man, she thought. To him, death was better than slavery. She paused, realizing something. Was she not the same way? Her people had once prided themselves on that idea.


    Rachel chuckled, leaning back on her simulated chair with a self reflective chuckle. The difference, it seemed, was that Cyrus cared because they were his people. If they had been human, she might have been more concerned about such actions. Ultimately, she thought, it was natural for someone to care more about their own people than others. One could die from being too kind in a cruel world, particularly when all the world seemed to wish for your people¡¯s destruction.


    Even Rachel had her limits, of course. She liked to think she still had her humanity. Innocents such as children and civilians would be off limits. But there were always more criminals in Tseludia. Getting rid of some of them could almost be considered a good deed, in her estimation.


    Sensing something in the air, Nahalken frowned, and changed the topic.


    ¡°Apologies, let us put this to a hold for a moment.¡± He was taking a step backwards, but Rachel expected him to push harder for this as one of the terms. From the perspective of a corporation, what was the purpose of working with an underworld organization if they would not handle such things for you?


    She knew that while he could not do it himself, Cyrus¡¯s morals were flexible enough to look the other way when someone else was at fault. He was no apostle of justice. And so long as he was unaware that the supplier was actually Rachel, there would be no issues. She would need someone with a physical body to handle acquiring and moving the unfortunate souls, but that was easy enough to find. Kein would certainly not allow it, but Ran and Orion were a bit more flexible.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    It would be trivial for her to find sufficient benefits to entice them. Life form trafficking was, after all, quite a lucrative business. Rachel had considered expanding the sect¡¯s businesses to include it for some time now. They were already criminals, after all. What was one more crime on the list?


    Before the conversation could recover and the negotiations to continue, a misshapen lump in the hands of Nahalken¡¯s second, Redias, began to buzz quietly, drawing his intention. He carefully kneaded its surface, inspecting the contents of the message he had received. In moments he froze, and turned his attention to Rachel¡¯s holographic form for a moment before leaning in to whisper in Nahalken¡¯s ears. She simply smiled at him, knowing the contents of the message that the terminal had just received.


    Addressed from herself, the message read: ¡°I can handle this matter. Terms can be discussed later, so long as you do not mention it in front of Cyrus.¡± Having read the message, Nahalken handed his terminal off to Redias with a wide grin.


    ¡°You¡¯re in luck, Riverfiend. It seems the problem has solved itself. A supplier just contacted me, so let us discuss other terms.¡± He smiled, as if he was just coming up with an idea, and it was not something he had thought through in advance. ¡°That sword of yours is rather unique, I hear.¡±


    Cyrus glanced down at his waist, where the Downpour Sect¡¯s heirloom always resided, and then back up to the empty green eyes of the Staiven businessman. It seemed he had finally found out, she thought. He would certainly have made an attempt to study it had he known about it during their earlier transactions.


    While it remained a mystery to the less advanced races such as Seiyal and Staiven, to Rachel¡¯s eyes the nature of the sword was far less abstruse. The unnamed weapon was not a product of advanced material science, despite what one might expect. Instead, it was a localized planar anomaly, a plain steel blade warped in an incredibly precise manner to grant it durability far surpassing its composition. Though she could not see the physical world with her true body¡¯s senses, the warping contained within the blade was clearly identifiable even from the Brink. It was almost strange to believe that such a simple weapon by appearance was actually an ancient masterwork of an Osine artisan.


    In any case, Nahalken¡¯s greed was doomed. As this was not a product of mundane materials science, they had no chance of replicating the weapon. The technological foundations of the Staiven were simply not advanced enough. She would be impressed if they could detect what it was without inference.


    ¡°...I can¡¯t give this to you,¡± Cyrus said, his hands moving defensively over the ancient relic. Rachel firmly agreed with his position. Most spirit refiners had to regularly replace their weapons, which made such a uniquely durable blade indispensable for Cyrus.


    Nahalken held his hands out consolingly.


    ¡°You can have it back afterwards, but I hope you¡¯ll allow my scientists to inspect it. That was forged by an Osine, was it not? There are few such objects in the entire territory, much less a place like Tseludia.¡±


    ¡°That can be allowed,¡± Cyrus replied. ¡°With supervision, of course.¡±


    ¡°Of course. We would also want a palace leader role, as previously mentioned, and permission to levy the soldiers.¡±


    ¡°The first is a given, but the second is not. Control of the soldiers lie fully under the control of Palace Leader Orion and myself. However¡­ You may rest assured that we will protect all interests that are ¡®a part¡¯ of the sect.¡±


    Nahalked nodded, as if this was an expected outcome of the negotiation, and had clearly known that they would not wish to merely become the Venin Group¡¯s personal military force.


    The negotiations went on for well over another quarter hour before the basic terms were decided. We would handle several more of the corporation¡¯s military needs, while they would increase their research and investment into the field of Seiyal medical science, particularly for martial artists. The hospital constructed within the sect would be considered an independent palace, and its leader could have a say in the sect¡¯s activity. In essence, it was nothing but a scaled up version of the collaboration the forces had before, but the meaning was very different. This was a true collaboration between the financial world and the underworld, and was information that would certainly be leaked to the other underworld forces. The effects of that were not something Rachel felt confident in predicting.


    Before leaving, Nahalken turned back to her, a satisfied expression on his face.


    ¡°We¡¯ll be in contact to iron out the details, but I imagine this will be a successful partnership. Before long we shall be thanking Estrivai, I suspect.¡±


    ¡°Let us ensure that is the case,¡± smirked Rachel as he made his way out. ¡°Ran and I will send you a proposal for the financial side of the partnership¡±


    Nahalked gave her an approving nod, and then he was gone. In all honesty, Rachel still was not sure whether this was the right idea, but activity was certainly better than remaining passive, given their current situation.


    ¡°It seems you will receive your wish, Cyrus,¡± she said.


    The martial artist nodded sagely.


    ¡°This will solve many of our problems.¡±


    Rachel sighed.


    ¡°I just hope it will solve more than it will create.


    Suddenly, she was interrupted, as a notification from a subsidiary program she had left watching over the minutiae of the sect¡¯s sensors informed her of a presence at the sect¡¯s main entrance. Rachel split off a portion of herself to observe, and it quickly frowned as it peered at the image the security camera was showing.


    ¡°Unexpected,¡± she muttered, ¡°but the timing is quite good.¡±


    Standing at their entryway was the figure of the ¡®Demon of Twinjade,¡¯ Karie Hadal.


    Rachel turned to Cyrus.


    "We might as well sit back down. We have another guest."


    Planar Warpings: [If the use of miasma to alter physical reality can be considered cutting edge science, warpings are several steps beyond even that. They can be considered the imprints left on reality by structured ashata itself. This is a level that has only been theorized by races such as the Staiven and the Celans, and claimed by some to be beyond the limits of technology- the realm of the divine. Osine and Ascendants, of course, are all fully capable of creating and utilizing warpings. In isolation, a warping slowly disappears, the universe returning to its rightful state. When multiple warpings are placed too nearby one another, however, they interfere with one another, causing extremely dangerous chaotic effects, and greatly increasing the planar torsion of the region. Some scholars have theorized that such issues and discrepancies may be the reason for the unique nature of the Incursion.]

 169- Calculating Risk

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Canvas Town had a different feeling when the domelight was off. It was hard to say that it was calmer, as the ever-present crowd still surged all around her, but something was just more vibrant about the world during the night time. As she progressed through stack after stack, Karie took a moment to pause and enjoy the air of a night market. The passersby and the merchants seemed for the most part to be happy. The children ran excitedly in different directions, and were collecting in different parts of the market than where their parents roamed.


    It was peaceful, she thought, feeling annoyed for some reason that was difficult to put into words. Perhaps it was the fact that not a single passerby recognized her.


    The influence of a name, she realized, was less than she had anticipated. She was the Twinjade Demon, now, and yet nobody seemed aware. The mortals took a wide berth around her, but that was only because she was wearing the robes of one of the clan¡¯s Elders. Beyond that, her identity held little meaning to these people. They did not even act as if they were aware of the war that was currently ongoing less than five stacks away.


    People had always been good at acting as if nothing was wrong, though the price of various items at the market was almost twice what it was just a couple weeks ago. Trade between the two districts had greatly reduced, and several of the factories in Otan had been operating at reduced capacity for a time due to the unrest that had been going on there.


    But these hints about the overall situation were all that Karie was able to see. The conflicts that meant everything to those in the underworld or living at the district borders could so easily be ignored by these mortals.


    She had thought that by acquiring a title she would become a recognized individual. She had been expecting fearful reactions from those who recognized her, scared that the ¡®demon¡¯ might kill them. As it turned out, the only reactions she received were those granted by her clan robes. This was a reputation she was already used to, and one which did not belong to her.


    If Karie were to die, all that would happen was a mildly interesting headline that would draw a certain amount of attention for being briskly forgotten by almost every soul on the station. A footnote in history.


    Perhaps only by becoming the next generation Matriarch could she escape this fate.


    Despite her annoyance, the peaceful aura of the area helped disperse the remaining notes of melancholy inside of her, allowing Karie to have total self control by the time she arrived in the Redwater Sect¡¯s territory.


    Karie was well aware that this plan of hers was a wager. There was some risk of being sold out, but it was low, given her understanding of them. The Redwater Sect¡¯s leadership was opportunistic, fueled by their ambition, but they were not the sort of individuals who acted without thinking. They would see that they stood to gain more by accepting her offer than by selling her out, or so she thought. She had looked through the report that Wei had written about his thoughts on the Riverfiend¡¯s psychology, and had decided to trust his judgement. Wei had always had an eye for that sort of thing.


    Karie carefully walked through the area, paying careful attention to those around her. The evening crowd had slowly begun to peter out by this point, but this was still the territory of a party not subordinate to the clan. Occasionally, a passerby would be wearing the clan¡¯s black and red robes, and many of them gave her antagonistic looks. This was no surprise. It had not even been a week since the Ceirran faction had killed a number of their members.


    Fortunately, none of them confronted her. She was in no fear of losing in battle to any of them, but it would be much harder to deal with the Riverfiend if she had beaten one of his subordinates immediately prior. It did not take long before she stood in front of the sect¡¯s entrance, and stretched her hand out to depress the ringer. Before she could, to her surprise the door slid open to reveal the form of Rachel, the sect¡¯s Vice-Sect Leader, flanked by a small group of black-robed sect members.


    ¡°Karie Hadal, the Twinjade Demon,¡± she said, her eyes seeming to scrutinize every inch of Karie¡¯s body. ¡°Normally I would say it¡¯s a pleasure to meet you, but I can¡¯t help but be wary, considering the circumstances.¡±


    Taken aback, Karie chuckled.


    ¡°It seems you know how to keep track of what occurs in your territory.¡±


    The other woman shrugged.


    ¡°If you had not been wearing your robes, it might have been less trivial. I¡¯ll admit I am surprised by your presence, though. Why are you here? Your clan is not particularly welcome at the moment.¡±


    Karie could not help but notice that she could barely even sense the woman with her soul¡¯s sense, despite the clear visual indication of her presence. It almost felt like a video call, despite the fact that it seemed perfectly real. She had heard that this woman was an extant practitioner. Was the body before her some sort of illusion?


    ¡°I apologize for my cousin¡¯s actions, but the reason I¡¯m here is unrelated to that matter. I¡¯ve come to make you an offer.¡± Rachel raised an eyebrow, and Karie smiled. ¡°May I come in?¡±


    Rachel frowned for a moment, but then stood aside, inviting Karie into the wolf¡¯s den.


    ¡°You¡¯ve come at a convenient time. Cyrus and I are already waiting for you in the meeting room.¡±


    Karie noted that Rachel spoke as if she was not standing before her. She gave a polite nod, and then took a step forward, feeling a sense of dread wash over her. There were three spirit refiners inside this building. While Karie was confident in her abilities, she also felt that she understood their limitations quite well. If they wished, and were willing to pay the price, Karie would not be walking back out.


    It did not take long to reach the elegantly paneled room that Rachel had described as a meeting room. Karie¡¯s eyes roamed around, admiring the fine artwork and the elegant table inset with what looked like resins matching the six colors of miasma. This was the sort of room that would look at home even in the clan¡¯s headquarters. While the Redwater Sect was a very new force lacking in foundation, it was still nothing for her to underestimate, Karie realized.


    Sitting down at the nearest seat, Karie glanced across the table and smiled as she looked at the man she had once tried to kill. Resting before her on the table was a small teacup, steaming slightly. A faint but pleasant scent filled the room. It was a fine tea, and Karie lifted the cup to take a sip.


    ¡°The last time we met,¡± said the Riverfiend, suddenly, ¡°you tried to kill me.¡±


    Karie met his gaze with an awkward smile.


    ¡°Much has changed since then. I¡¯ve heard your sect is not in the greatest of positions at the moment. By chance, I¡¯ve found myself in a similar situation.¡±This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    ¡°You might as well get around to the point, princess,¡± said Rachel. Karie felt herself needing to restrain the urge to glare at the woman. It seemed that Wei¡¯s report on her was accurate, at least.


    She sipped her tea calmly, doing her best not to let him notice that she was uncomfortable with the etiquette. As a clan scion, Karie had been properly trained, but there had never been many she needed to treat as an equal, so the formality slightly grated on her. Particularly for someone she had conflicts with in the past. However, Karie was not lacking in willpower, so she restrained her emotions as she lowered the cup.


    ¡°I¡¯m curious,¡± she asked, ¡°Is your sect still recruiting?¡±


    Even before Wei¡¯s death it had been clear to Karie that she needed support from an external force if she was to claim her birthright. Both her presence here and her offer were a calculated risk, just like the many she had done before.


    The previous wagers had failed, but this time, Karie had a good feeling about it. There was an undeniable thrill to taking risks, but more importantly, Karie refused to sever her aspirations. She had the resolve to become the Matriarch, no matter what it took. She had always liked to think that anything was within her reach, if she wished it. All it took was time and effort, and everything would fall into place. Even a matter as challenging as this competition was the same.


    Karie watched the Riverfiend¡¯s eyebrows raise in shock as he understood what she was getting at.


    ¡°I find myself curious about why you would ask such a question.¡±


    Karie shrugged, amused by his reaction.


    ¡°How much do you know about the selection of the clan¡¯s heir?¡±


    ¡°Not much,¡± he admitted.


    ¡°The clan council, with the exception of any candidates, must decide unanimously upon the candidate who is chosen,¡± Rachel explained. ¡°The candidates being those of the main branch who have reached the peak of the core formation realm prior to the age of thirty.¡±


    Karie nodded.


    ¡°Despite being the Matriarch¡¯s only daughter to qualify, it is meaningless unless I can also convince the others to vote for me. My mother cannot let her bias be too apparent, and Uncle Wei¡­¡± she paused, before carrying on as if nothing had happened. ¡°I currently lack support inside of the clan, due to suppression from my enemies, Juen and Lorelei.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t this be because your clanmates believe you would make a poor leader?¡± Rachel asked. ¡°People are not called demons without reason.¡±


    ¡°The most suited to lead is the one who becomes the leader,¡± insisted Karie, before taking a gulp of tea to calm herself. ¡°With your assistance,¡± she said, making an effort to seem composed, ¡±I can inherit the position.¡±


    Something glinted in the Riverfiend¡¯s golden eyes.


    ¡°But why should we assist you?¡± he asked. ¡°It seems like we would be shielding you by taking the attacks of the other factions.¡±


    ¡°Involving ourselves in the clan¡¯s internal politics is a large risk,¡± Rachel added.


    ¡°You¡¯re already enemies with the Ceirrans, and Juen¡¯s whole faction as an extension. Lorelei and the merchant faction are neutral, but in general they do not support my mother¡¯s plans for you.¡±


    ¡°And you do?¡± Rachel asked. She was resting her chin on her hands in a cutesy manner that annoyed Karie for some reason. It felt like she was being mocked.


    ¡°Even without this discussion, I¡¯m the one you would wish to control the clan. Juen will be pressured to destroy you for your ideology, and Lorelei will attack because you threaten her control.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re different?¡± asked Rachel. She seemed amused.


    Karie shrugged.


    ¡°It is a matter of one¡¯s goals. The others want power, while I only want the position. Hegemony would be ideal, but I¡¯ll take what I can get.¡±


    ¡°How¡­ practical of you,¡± said Rachel. ¡°Wishing to become the Matriarch just for the notoriety the position provides. If you were to succeed, I suspect you might be a candidate for the worst leader in your clan¡¯s history. Your desires are not in line at all with the clan¡¯s interests.¡±


    The words stung, but Karie did not let them get to her. Rachel was very clearly trying to get a rise from her, but it would not work on Karie. She sipped some more at her tea, which was getting very low.


    ¡°You¡¯re not part of the clan, so what would that matter to you, anyhow?¡± she asked, unwillingly losing a bit of her cool. ¡°In any case, after I become the Matriarch, I will still need your support to strengthen my position. You can rest assured that I will not betray you.¡±


    Cyrus snorted, causing Karie¡¯s eyes to flicker towards him once again.


    ¡°Why shouldn¡¯t we just destroy the clan and take over their position ourselves?¡± he asked.


    She shook her head, having anticipated this question.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯re aware that if you destroyed the clan, Sunlit Hall would send forces to kill you. An unorthodox force can exist only if we allow it to.¡± Karie somewhat wished she had something she could do with her hands. Messing with her hair would not be suitable for her image at the moment, and the lessons ingrained in her prevented such action. It would make her seem nervous.


    The conversation went on for a bit further, and began to feel more like an interrogation than a negotiation. It was clear to Karie that they were wary, and felt that they could not trust her. They were right to think in such a way, of course. Karie was very clear with herself that she would immediately betray them if it benefited her to do so, and the same was true for them as well. But for the moment, she believed that their interests lined up, and that only by strengthening their relationship could the position of Heir return to her sights.


    ¡°We will discuss the matter amongst ourselves,¡± Cyrus ultimately said. ¡°Rachel will lead you to one of our training rooms, where you can await our response.¡±


    He was speaking as if he was some sort of interviewer for a corporation, but Karie did not mind that. It was a simple method to apply pressure to her,Karie gave him a curious glance, and he smiled in response.


    ¡°If you wish to join, I will need to know the extent of your talents, and much has changed since we fought. After this, we can take the time to spar.¡±


    Karie smiled politely at him.


    ¡°I¡¯ll look forward to exchanging blows with you once again, Sect Leader Yu.¡±


    <hr>


    As Karie walked out, I turned to Rachel, who had an odd look in her eyes.


    ¡°What are your thoughts?¡± I asked. She shrugged.


    ¡°The timing is certainly convenient. I would have thought this was part of the plot from the start if I didn¡¯t know well how much she hates her cousin.¡±


    ¡°Do you think she¡¯s being honest?¡±


    One of Rachel¡¯s slender fingers lightly tapped on her chin as she considered the question.


    ¡°I think she¡¯s truly out of options. She probably hasn¡¯t told us everything, but I¡¯ve looked through the clan¡¯s database, and have found that she¡¯s essentially been temporarily exiled. Wei Hadal was her only real ally, and with his death, she was left isolated. Her behavior hasn¡¯t helped matters, either, not when she recently attempted to kill her own cousin. I believe it is as she says, she came to us because there were no other choices remaining for her. Moreover,¡± she continued, ¡°We would have a lot to gain from having her under our control. You already wished to retaliate against the Ceirrans, right?¡± I nodded. ¡°To a certain extent we should be better able to resist the fallout of such actions if we work with her.¡±


    It was a fair assessment. If she truly did join us, we would certainly benefit. If nothing else, Karie certainly had the skills needed to train disciples. We were still in great need of a skilled genesis practitioner.


    ¡°Of course,¡± Rachel went on, ¡°she¡¯s still probably equivalent to a spy. If we were to let her join, she would undoubtedly inform her mother of anything that she wished to know.¡±


    I chuckled, having decided the risk was worth it.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure there are other spies, anyway. We¡¯ve been betrayed by our subordinates before. No matter what, they¡¯ll find someone within our ranks with a price on their loyalty. Personally, I feel like it¡¯s better if we know who they are. So long as the person is useful, that is.¡±


    Rachel smiled, exposing a set of perfect teeth.


    ¡°My thoughts exactly.¡±


    Monopolies Under Pantheonic Law: [At any time, the Council of Clerics may decide that a corporation¡¯s monopoly on a product or service is not in line with the Pantheon¡¯s will, and forcibly break it up, or simply remove the product¡¯s patent qualification. Such preservation of the free market is widely celebrated by the territory¡¯s citizens at large, but is never invoked for businesses directly operated by the churches, and rarely for large corporations with deep ties to them. Unless one of the churches actively wishes for it to be broken, however, monopolies are never contested, and generally seen as ¡®good business¡¯ in the corporate sphere.]

 170- Arrogance

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    ¡°We¡¯ll make her an Elder,¡± I decided.


    Rachel nodded in agreement.


    ¡°It¡¯s best not to give her too much authority, but a spirit refiner can¡¯t be anything less than an Elder.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll keep an eye on her?¡± I asked.


    Hearing this, she gave me an incredulous, side-eyed look.


    ¡°I watch everyone, Cyrus. At all times.¡±


    ¡±By the way,¡± I asked, choosing to change the subject, ¡°why were you being so harsh with her? It felt as if you spent the entire interview trying to anger her.¡±


    Rachel shrugged, an unreadable expression on her face.


    ¡°She''s known for her recklessness, so I wanted to test her self control. If she was too easily angered, that would limit her usefulness to us.¡±


    ¡°I suppose," I replied. "Though I suspect that her temper was never the problem.¡±


    ¡°It was easy enough to test,¡± she said, shrugging as if it was a minor matter.


    This was not the first time that Rachel had acted needlessly antagonistic, for reasons that almost felt like excuses to me. It was hard to tell whether she was telling the truth in this case, or whether it was simply a justification for her actions. Either way, I would need to stand on Rachel¡¯s side regardless if this caused problems. Our partnership was more important than any deal we might make with Karie Hadal.


    Still, if this happened again, I thought, we might need to discuss the matter.


    ¡°By the way,¡± Rachel added, drawing me from my thoughts, ¡°you seem to have forgotten one major issue.¡±


    I frowned, unable to recall anything in particular.


    ¡°What would that be?¡± I asked.


    ¡°She''s currently an outlaw due to the incident at the forward base. Pretending we were somehow unaware would be an effective defense if the Staiven arrive, but this presents a wrinkle nonetheless.¡±


    As she spoke, I did remember hearing about that matter in one of Rachel¡¯s daily reports.


    ¡°How much focus do they seem to be on this matter?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Given her identity, not much. Sirena¡¯s halo seems to be protecting her. Of course, if she were to stumble into one of them, or her enemies bribed the right officer, that might change.¡±


    ¡°So long as we¡¯re careful, that won¡¯t be an issue,¡± I said, and my closest ally did not disagree.


    After asking Rachel to inform the others, I quickly made my way to the training room, looking forward to what came next. It had been days since the attack on the Celan headquarters, but even then I had not satisfied my desire for battle.


    Moreover, Karie was a spirit refiner. I had only sparred with Jihan once, and this would only be my second battle with someone of my level since my advancement. If I was being honest with myself, I would have to admit that I was looking forward to it.


    Entering the training hall, I saw the Hadal daughter idly glancing around as if there was something interesting to see. Perhaps she was interested by the mundanity of it, entirely lacking in ornamentation. Sensing my approach, Karie turned and met my gaze.


    She certainly took after her mother, I thought. While she did not by any means look like a younger version of Sirena, the similarities in their appearance clearly indicated their close relation. Karie¡¯s lengthy flaxen hair was expertly tied in a highly complex braid, framing her face, which contained a refined set of features. Speaking objectively, Karie could be considered a traditional sei beauty. It was a shame about her personality, however. Though it had not been immediately obvious through my personal dealings with her, based on my understanding of Karie Hadal, she was quite poor at managing interpersonal relationships.


    ¡°Did you finally decide?¡± she asked.


    ¡°We¡¯ll accept you, of course,¡± I replied. ¡°We¡¯d be foolish to turn down a willing practitioner of your caliber, no matter the circumstances."


    She smiled, a look that almost seemed like arrogance manifest.


    ¡°A wise decision, Riverfiend.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re free tomorrow, right?¡± I asked.


    The woman¡¯s eyebrows slightly narrowed in surprise.


    ¡°What are you wanting to do?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll discuss your duties after I test your skills.¡± As I spoke, I steadily approached her, setting myself up around fifteen feet away as I analyzed the relaxed resting position she was standing in. At first glance, she seemed vulnerable, but upon closer look it became clear that she was prepared to switch to a proper martial stance at any moment.


    ¡°Would you prefer to use training weapons, so as not to dull your blades?¡± I asked, glancing over to a rack of blades that my disciples commonly made use of. This room was exclusive for my disciples, which is why it was currently empty. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°There¡¯s no need for that,¡± she replied, speaking brusquely. ¡°Honestly, I doubt that your training blades can handle my energies.¡±


    It was a fair statement, and I preferred to use my own weapon as well. As for potential injuries, I discarded that issue altogether. I had confidence in both my ability to restrain my weapon, and my ability to dodge attacks. At worst, I felt I might suffer some scratches.


    ¡°In that case, let us see how much has changed,¡± I said, slowly stepping towards her  as I unleashed my energies. Cerulean miasma began to wash through my meridians as my movement technique activated, blazing along with the storm in my heart.


    I waited for her to draw her blades, and then dashed towards her, rapidly switching between the stances of my sword art. It still needed modifications in order to perfectly suit my current physique, but the art was still good even in its imperfect state. Karie was forced to take a step backward, parrying my slashes as a green mist began to form around her.


    As my strides took me into the emerald haze for another series of blows, I felt my movements begin to stall, as if weights had been attached to my arms and legs. My movements slowed, but their ethereal nature was unchanged, and the pressure I was causing her continued.


    Each movement of Karie¡¯s blades was perfectly placed, and the force behind each swipe was harder than I could fully withstand, but I had the advantage in both speed and agility, and I knew how to use it. Each exchange of blows was to her slight advantage, as both her blades and her mist sapped away at my velocity, making it much easier for her to deal with my fusillade of strikes.


    Like our previous battle, what felt like a lifetime ago, we fought in near silence, each too focused on our own movements to spare the brainpower for speech. I ducked backwards as she tried to provide pressure, attempting to step past my guard.


    The lost energy, I soon learned, was a bigger problem than I had anticipated. My movements were slow, their effectiveness limited, and the faster I attempted to move, the swifter my blows, the more energy she received with which to bolster both her defenses and her counter-attacks. Her fighting style was quite well developed, and to a certain extent countered my own. Still, I was confident in the fighting style developed by the Downpour Sect across generations.


    My heart of rainfall raged harder, providing a powerful burst of energy that fueled a sidestep past her blade, and a perfect opportunity to drive it up towards Karie¡¯s chest. Instead, I moved to slash her side. Her other sword quickly pulled back, just barely deflecting my sword with a powerful swing that caused my arms to vibrate from the force. My sword only sliced a thin graze down her side, and I was forced to take another step back to avoid a thrust from her other sword. Had I gone for her vitals, I idly wondered, how might that exchange have gone differently?


    We kept moving in this manner, our steps like a dance as the two of us circled around one another in hypnotic patterns. Karie¡¯s twin blades dove towards and against me in rhythm, while I continued an endless flowing spiral of shifting forms, even utilizing my ability to ripple and shift the shape of my flesh to my advantage, lengthening and shortening my wingspan as needed.


    In a real fight, the ¡®dance¡¯ would have fallen apart much more rapidly, but neither of us went for truly lethal blows, nor took huge risks. There was no reason to go all out in this sort of spar. It was better to use this as an opportunity to work on the basics. I shifted from the third form with a parry, took a step into her guard with the fourth, and shifted back to the first for another slash towards Karie¡¯s center of mass.


    To my surprise, the suppression from the coiling mist suddenly increased, allowing her a chance for a riposte. One of her blades defended against my sword, while the other grazed my arm, drawing a single bead of blood. She could have aimed for my gut, but chose not to, which I was forced to acknowledge.


    After this second blood, I grudgingly decided to end the spar. It had been an effective exercise, and I appreciated the diversion. Despite how short the fight was, I already felt as if I had identified several new inefficiencies in my movements that could be addressed. My movements need to be more illusory, and the flow between stances more fluid and natural. Finally, I needed to practice on being conservative with my stamina. If I could not achieve a rapid victory, my odds against a genesis practitioner of a similar level would slowly dwindle.


    I would have to find time to fight with Karie again. As a genesis practitioner, she was the perfect wall to beat against, as it seemed that her ability to forcefully slow my movement made her a perfect practice partner. Moreover, I knew that she would not be the last genesis practitioner I needed to deal with.


    After all, there were spirit refiners in the clan¡¯s Ceirran faction.


    Having stepped back, I took a soft breath and met Karie¡¯s gaze.


    ¡°We can stop here. Any further and we might have had more severe injuries.¡±


    She nodded, slowly breathing in and out as the verdant mist surrounding her slowly began to fade. Her breaths were heavy, which I found slightly odd, due to the fact that she had not seemed to be out of breath during the duel. I wondered whether she was simply trying to reset her mind in some way.


    I noticed that her sword was slightly warped, as if it had been pummeled and lightly melted. Moreover, the effect only seemed to occur starting at about halfway down the length of the blades. Had my own sword been mundane in origin, I wondered whether it would have a similar appearance as well.


    ¡°Do you know how to teach?¡± I asked suddenly, to her surprise.


    Karie paused, giving me an odd look as if she had not heard me correctly.


    ¡°What?¡± she asked, taken aback.


    ¡°Your cousin killed the teacher for our genesis miasma disciples, and we need someone to take up the role.¡±


    ¡°I see. I¡¯ve never taught before,¡± she said, teeth slightly gritted. I wondered whether she found the idea demeaning.


    ¡°You can learn.¡±


    ¡°I-¡±


    I met her eyes and cut her off, my voice calm and level.


    ¡°Nothing in this world is free, Karie Hadal. You would do best to learn that lesson as soon as possible. I¡¯m not sure what you would prefer to do, but this is what the sect needs at the moment.¡±


    Karie sighed, as if for the first time she was truly coming to terms with the nature of her situation.


    ¡°...I can learn,¡± she said. ¡°But I will not be able to teach any of the clan¡¯s exclusive techniques.¡±


    I nodded approvingly. This was the right attitude to have.


    ¡°That was expected. The limits of what you can do will be enough.¡±


    I planned to seek out ways to acquire the clan¡¯s secret techniques for the disciples at a later date.


    Canvasian Honor Duels: [Contrary to what is claimed by popular culture, there is no tradition of an ¡®honor duel¡¯ for martial artists. Duels have been fought to assert dominance, for betting, for challenges to authority, and as proxies to reduce losses as part of a larger conflict, but the idea of challenging another practitioner purely because of such nebulous concepts as honor is more myth than reality. There is, after all, rarely a need to make conflicts into a one on one fight. The concept of these duels, as portrayed in popular culture such as Canvasian martial arts films, originated from the mortal culture of Bounty in the mid 1500s. The practice originated with the Tovus, in fact, and spread among the farsei inhabitants due to cultural exchanges, though the practice lost a certain amount of popularity following the later colonization of the continent by Sunlit Hall in the late 1500s. Despite this, the practice lives on in mortal-produced media about martial artists.]

 171- The Titan Program

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Triezal had not been sure where to begin his search. In the first place, he had little chance of finding traces of a Shade¡¯s intrusion to their database, particularly one from the Epon. He wouldn¡¯t be surprised if the organization had hidden secret backdoors into all of the Heirs¡¯ systems. This eliminated the strategy of having their network security personnel scour the database for traces.


    Of course, Triezal had them try anyway, though he did not expect any results. There was no loss in making the attempt, and perhaps she might have made an error.


    Knowing Janottka, she might have left traces on purpose, so it was best to check. One could learn even from the information one¡¯s enemy gave willingly.


    It was said that Shades were natural manipulators- their ability to manage information and put it into effect far beyond that of a mortal being. As the rumors went, even the Osine feared their potential. Triezal lacked the connections to know the truth behind the rumors, but he did know the power of a Shade.


    It was not that Janottka was built for manipulation- rather, she had been designed to write stories. Her influence on Tseludia was indicative of this. The war had been almost inevitable, but in Triezal¡¯s opinion, it would not have broken out for years, at least. The wild card that was the Riverfiend was the perfect leverage, and yet¡­ the development was not a natural one. The tensions between the races had always been there, after the last conflict, but nobody had been quite ready for another. In mere weeks, the slumbering beast of discontent had awoken,


    They could have avoided the war, of course. Discontent among the population was one thing, but it could have stopped at the occasional riot and civilian casualty. While the two forces were a part of their racial community, they were not beholden to it. They could have come to a deal, and simply suffered through the


    All this might have been possible if the foundation for trust existed. Unfortunately, that foundation had eroded far too long ago, and this old war had returned to plague the station¡¯s people once again.


    Triezal sighed as he thought back on it all.


    ¡°Senseless,¡± he muttered.


    In Epon Celah, Janottka had fooled her targets because they had wished to be fooled. After all, her domain was entertainment. What she offered was entertainment at a level far beyond that which his own society could muster. All the joys and sorrows of an exciting, adventurous life, safely contained in a virtual domain.


    Modern civilizations did not develop the virtual arts past a certain point, restricted by the rules imposed upon them by the higher species, or so he supposed. For all he knew, the Shade Rachel was merely the scout of a thriving civilization with incredibly advanced virtual technology. In all likelihood, deep in the Frontier, or perhaps in the untold number of galaxies beyond Telles, a multitude of such races existed. Perhaps even Telles itself was only a part of a far larger tapestry draping across the distant cosmos, not that it mattered.


    While there was a great deal of difference between a true virtual landscape and mere internet chatter, those who sought discussion on the net were also seeking something to feel, something to engage with.


    Something that Janottka had been all too happy to provide.


    This had all been taught to Triezal in his youth back in the Janaste system. All magisters were taught of their homeworld¡¯s past, and Shades were an integral part of this, the final remaining vestiges of that civilization their organization revered. While Janottka in particular had not been heavily discussed, the information had been available to those who needed it.


    Perhaps due to their Leader¡¯s background, the Heirs had a similar way of going about things to what Triezal had become used to from the Epon. It was a concept that could be summed up in two short phrases: One could never be too prepared, and unspent money was wasted money. These were words that Kadeki lived by, and they had greatly influenced the policies of his protege Deuvar.


    Among other matters, this was the reason why the titan program was operated as it was. The program was split across different bases, each with no knowledge of the others aside from a general understanding that others existed. This was both to assist in keeping the base¡¯s vital information a secret, and also make the machines far more difficult to destroy in one move.


    With no better leads, he had decided to follow Deuvar¡¯s instructions and check on its status, with the goal of ensuring that it had not been infiltrated by either of the station¡¯s resident Shades. In addition, Triezal thought secretly, it had been awhile since he had spoken with Kalthen, and he felt that they could probably find the time for some drinks while he was at it.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Deuvar had sent notice ahead, so the guards at the facility had allowed Triezal to enter without much fuss. As he stepped into the vast room, he was met with the colossal structure of the powerful machine. Even from a distance, the machine was one of the most impressive sights Triezal had ever beheld.


    The bases all looked the same, but this was not enough to confront his instinctual awe. A cavernous hangar stood before Triezal, crowded with the machinery to construct and maintain the powerful weapon of war. Technicians worked to keep everything in perfect order, ensuring that the titan could be launched in mere minutes if the order arrived from above.


    At the center of it all stood the titan itself.


    Vast constructs of iron and bronze, as far as Triezal was aware, titans were still the pinnacle of military might for his people, at least for ground combat. Anything larger or more powerful would need to be a starship, otherwise the investment was not worth it. In theory, advanced naeratanh technology might be more destructive, but that was not something that could be used on a space station without inciting the ire of the Pantheon. In Tseludia, there was little that could compare to it, and perhaps only the Pantheonic Navy stood above.


    The cost of constructing a single titan could feed the residents of an entire stack for a year, and the cost of doing so in secret was even higher. Only the funding they had received from their former patron had made their three titans possible.


    Standing by the railing before him, Triezal jogged over as he saw the recognizable figure of Kalthen waiting for him.


    ¡°It¡¯s been weeks!¡± said Kalthen, jubilantly, upon his approach. ¡°It¡¯s good to see you.¡±


    He offered a hand outstretched, and Triezal happily clapped it and accepted the shake.


    ¡°You¡¯re doing well, I take it?¡± Triezal asked, a smile on his face.


    Kalthen truly did seem like he was doing well. Better than how he had been a few weeks back. Triezal knew that his friend had been dwelling on the deaths of those under his command, as well as his temporary demotion. It seemed that his current assignment was just what he had needed to finally recover from his slump. Triezal was truly happy to see it.


    ¡°They weren¡¯t all happy to receive a new overseer, much less one as young as I am. It¡¯s not been easy, but I feel energized handling even the minor manners. You know, as a kid, I always wished to pilot one of these things. This role is¡­ close enough to that.¡±


    The smalltalk continued as Kalthen gave Triezal a short tour around the base, helping him to familiarize himself with the building¡¯s layout. He did not suspect that he would need to do anything with that information, but it could not hurt, he felt.


    As the tour slowly wound down, Kalthen finally got to the point, likely catching on to Triezal¡¯s general unease.


    ¡°So, why are you here? If this was just a social call, I imagine we would have met in a bar.¡±


    Triezal hesitated, glancing around, before finally leaning in close to whisper into his friend¡¯s ear.


    ¡°Deuvar and I are concerned that a Shade might have intruded into the program¡¯s systems.¡±


    Kalthen¡¯s pupils dilated, and he took a step back, turning to Triezal as if to confirm.


    ¡°I thought the plan was to work with her?¡± he whispered, glancing around as if somebody might be listening in on their conversation.


    Triezal sadly shook his head.


    ¡°There¡¯s another, Little Brother. It seems that the representative we killed was not the lot of them. It¡¯s a complex situation, but I¡¯ll suffice to say that there is some solid evidence to support the theory.¡±


    Kalthen¡¯s brow twitched, and his expression that of a man who understood the issue at hand.


    ¡°What countermeasures were you wishing for?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ll need a full diagnostic to be run,¡± Triezal explained. ¡°Check the systems and ensure that the firewalls are untouched, and check for any unusual access records or other traces.¡±


    Though he had already done similar checks on the main system, the titan program¡¯s network was isolated, and would need to be checked separately.


    Kalthen nodded attentively, quickly fiddling with his glyph slate


    ¡°I¡¯ll want to talk to the pilots as well, Little Brother.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll call them over.¡±


    Having said this, Kalthen walked off to the side, rapidly drawing symbols into the surface of his slate. He had matured in this short time, Triezal realized. Kalthen was not quite the reckless young man he had been. Though, he did get the feeling that part of the reason for his friend¡¯s professionalism in this case was due to concern.


    Kalthen knew well the implications left by a Celan Shade¡¯s presence in the system.


    While waiting, Triezal found his eyes roaming around the chamber, eventually drifting up to the titanic machine before him.


    Every day, tens of the organization¡¯s soldiers died in the fires of the war. While neither side had made a large offensive since the attack on the headquarters, the low-level soldiers had been suffering for this choice. It was unfortunate, but inevitable.


    Triezal would do his best to help others, but in the end he needed to prioritize his own life as he always had.


    It was possible for the war to end now, of course. They could go into talks with the Canvasians, and perhaps bring things to an end. At this point, however, a gradual unwinding was far more feasible than an immediate resolution. Unless¡­


    Triezal¡¯s eyes glanced up to the mighty form of the titan, and sighed.


    Perhaps it was the only way. If he had been granted the authority¡­ Triezal was not sure which decision he would have made.


    The Pantheonic Navy: [A powerful individual is qualified to rule a nation, but to impose law, a military is necessary. Largely under the influence of the Church of Verain, the Pantheonic Navy is the sword-arm of the Council of Clerics, and altogether, is said to be the most powerful mortal military in Telles, simply due to its size. Every planet and station under Pantheonic rule is guarded by at least one warship posing enough firepower to annihilate it outright. Despite its great power, the Pantheonic Navy has never been a wartime force, as no mortal force has yet dared to covet that which belongs to the Pantheon.]

 172- The Newest Elder

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS


    ¡°A Hadal?¡± asked Han, incredulous.


    Gen nodded vigorously.


    ¡°Not just that, she¡¯s a famous sword demon. Word is that she¡¯s here to take revenge on her own family. Master defeated her in a duel a while back, and that¡¯s why she decided to take a position under him.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± asked Shadowblade, peering around the corner where the ¡®demonic woman¡¯ was talking with the Vice-Sect Leader. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have expected them to even be welcome after what happened. I wonder if those two are¡­ you know.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t he with the Vice-Sect Leader?¡± asked Han.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± replied Gen. ¡°That¡¯s what they say, at least. I definitely heard that someone spotted the two of them leaving his room one morning.¡±


    Sha shook his head knowingly.


    ¡°I heard it¡¯s happened more than once.¡±


    The three of them had spotted the sect¡¯s newest Elder while making their way from the showers to the mess hall after another training session with their Master. She was having a conversation with the Vice-Sect Leader outside another of the training rooms. They were far enough away that they could not hear what was being said, though Han did find himself curious.


    ¡°Anyway, she¡¯s a spirit refiner, right? How strong do you think she is?¡± Han wondered aloud.


    ¡°Stronger than you, idiot,¡± said Qian from behind the two of them, startling Han. Though he had awakened his soul¡¯s senses, he was not yet practiced enough to be using them all of the time.


    ¡°How long have you been there?¡± he asked, rubbing his cerebral dantian.


    She shrugged. Standing beside her, Lin was chuckling.


    ¡®We were curious what you were talking about, but it turned out to be pointless gossip. Where¡¯s Blake? asked Lin.¡±


    ¡°He ran off without us, as usual,¡± replied Sha. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it be weirder if he had still been with us?¡±


    ¡°Maybe he left because you keep talking about other people¡¯s love lives, Sha. Last I heard, you had no experience on that front yourself.¡±


    ¡°I have no need for such things,¡± he said, turning his nose upwards.


    Knowing his friend, Han did not find the effort persuasive.


    ¡°I¡¯m curious what she¡¯s like, though,¡± said Gen. ¡°I¡¯ve never met a Hadal.¡±


    Lin smiled, happy to relay gossip.


    ¡°Reinwan said that she¡¯s extremely strict when she¡¯s teaching. She made them repeat the basics again and again for hours, apparently.¡±


    ¡°Why were you talking with Reinwan?¡± asked Gen. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize the two of you were friends.¡±


    Lin shrugged.


    ¡°We happened to be sitting near one another during dinner, and besides¡­¡± she paused, and turned her gaze to Qian. ¡°...not all of us have what we¡¯re looking for, yet.¡±


    Qian¡¯s face went slightly red as she gave the other girl a scathing glance. Han glanced back and forth between the two of them, trying for a moment before realizing that Lin was talking about her love life.


    Did this mean that Qian was dating somebody?, he thought? Han wasn¡¯t sure how he felt about that, but shouldn¡¯t he have known, given all the time they had been spending together? It almost felt like a betrayal for him to be the last to know.


    ¡°She¡¯s quite pretty, now that I look closer, ¡± said Shadowblade suddenly, returning everyone¡¯s attention to their newest Elder, who he was still glancing at around the corner. Taking another glance himself, Han had to agree. From a glance, nobody would be able to guess that her identity was that of a notorious demon. All he could see was the refined air she put on with others, and the elegant. robes and the highly complex braid that she wore.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    Hearing Sha''s words, Lin gave him an amused glance.


    ¡°She would eat you alive.¡±


    He scowled.


    ¡°If we¡¯re discussing women, I¡¯d say I prefer Vice-Sect Leader Rachel''s looks,¡± mused Gen.


    Han did not miss the fact that Qian seemed annoyed at the direction the conversation had turned. For some reason, however, she was glaring at Han, even though he had not said a word.


    ¡°The Vice-Sect Leader?¡± Sha paused, hesitating slightly. ¡°Don¡¯t get me wrong, she¡¯s quite pretty, but she¡¯s¡­¡± He paused with a chuckle. ¡°I mean, you know what she¡¯s like.¡±


    Han began to nod sagely, but stopped when Qian¡¯s glare intensified. Was she in a bad mood or something?


    ¡°A-anyway,¡± he said, changing the subject, ¡°Aside from the Elder, what was with those rumors of a new Palace being built?¡±


    ¡°I have a friend who works for Ran, and she said the Staiven are building us a hospital,¡± volunteered Gen. ¡°The Venin Group. Apparently they¡¯ve been investing in the sect for a while now, and Master let them buy in because he¡¯s worried we¡¯ll be attacked again.¡±


    ¡°Master has been quite busy recently,¡± said Han.


    ¡°You mean Rachel and Kein have been busy,¡± chuckled Sha.


    ¡°Since when are you on a first name basis with them?¡± asked Lin, missing no opportunity to tease the boy. Sha quickly scowled at her words, but before he could reply, they were interrupted by a voice from behind them.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you have better things to do with your time than peeping and gossiping,¡± said the voice, ¡°Don¡¯t make me tell Cyrus about this.¡±


    Han jumped, startled by the sudden appearance, and turned to see the Vice-Sect Leader glancing at them.


    ¡°Ceirra!¡± cursed Sha. ¡°Give us a warning!¡±


    ¡°Apologies, Vice-Sect Leader!¡± chanted Lin, who had switched right back into her ¡®teacher¡¯s pet¡¯ mode, as the others had come to call it.


    Curious, Han turned back to look at Elder Karie, but she was still talking with another Rachel. It seemed one of the two was simply an illusion, though he was obviously unable to tell its flaws in any way. Just how did she do it? It almost felt like her illusory body doubles were the real thing, at times.


    ¡°Anyway, just keep it to where she can¡¯t hear you, alright?¡±


    With that, Rachel was suddenly gone, without even the slightest hint of ever having been there. After she was gone, the group of disciples remained silent for a breath, as if she would suddenly return.


    ¡°How does she do it, anyway?¡± Han finally asked, breaking the silence,¡°I feel like I always see at least two of her running around at any given time.¡±


    ¡°The illusions are one thing, but she was holding two simultaneous conversations, with us and the new Elder!¡± added Sha. ¡°That would be beyond even my  abilities.¡±


    ¡°I think it¡¯s more than two,¡± mused Gen. ¡°Aren¡¯t the flickering group practicing right now? They use the room after us.¡±


    All of those present knew that Rachel was currently in charge of teaching the flickering disciples, ever since Mung had disappeared,


    ¡°Does it matter?¡± asked Qian. ¡°She¡¯s an extant spirit refiner. Illusions are what she does, so I would expect her to be good with them.¡±


    ¡°...I suppose,¡± he said, still curious about how she was able to hold multiple conversations at the same time. Even without her illusion magic, it seemed like it might benefit him to  learn, but he would simply have to drop the matter if it were a technique exclusive to her miasma.


    Everyone had their limits, after all.


    <hr>


    In the past day, Karie had learned several new things about herself. The foremost of which was the fact that she did not enjoy teaching.


    Most of her students were of extremely average talent, to the point where she almost felt like the sect had purposefully moved its talents to the other miasmas.Given the number of personal disciples that Cyrus and Orion had taken, Karie was fairly certain there was some truth to the idea.


    Among the rubble there was a gem, however. His name was Reinwan Dan, and he was a talent that would have drawn notice even inside of the Hadal Clan. It was a shame that he had only started learning martial arts at this age, but if he was properly trained, his life-span would expand to a more than acceptable length. Had Karie been an old woman at the limits of her own potential, she might have considered taking him as a personal disciple.


    In the current circumstances, she believed her time was better spent working on herself. She had far more potential to burn before she would stall. As for Reinwan, she simply appreciated that he understood what she taught him the first time, unlike all of the other brats.


    At first, the disciples she had been assigned to were wary of her, and even held a certain amount of hostility towards her. This was nothing surprising, given Juen¡¯s actions here, but it was still an annoyance that Karie did not feel she deserved.


    Luckily, she knew a way to handle such issues. She simply had to replicate her mother¡¯s teaching style. Pushing to their physical and mental limits was not only easy, it was also effective at training them to both develop their skills and to fear her. The title of the ¡®Jade Empress of Pain¡¯ was not cosmetic, as Karie knew far too well.


    And neither, as her students would find, was the name of the Twinjade Demon.


    The Twinjade Demon: [A dangerous criminal, formerly a member of the Hadal Clan, the Demon of Twinjade is a reckless and unpredictable terrorist that has been known to use explosives and physical coercion to achieve her aims. The exact nature of these goals is unknown, but the Justice Office has promised to handle any and all demons within Tseludia Station''s boundaries. While her exact goals remain unknown, informants within the clan have claimed her goal may be to take revenge on her relatives, so it is suspected that she might stop laying low in order to involve herself once more in the ongoing hostilities between the residents of districts 3 and 6. Furthermore, there are rumors that she may have been harbored by underworld organizations around the area, a matter which is currently under investigation by our hardworking friends of the Justice Office.]

 173- Tainted Blood

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Juen Hadal had found himself in a bind. At first, the issue had not been clear, but as his continued efforts to heal over the weeks had been nothing but repeated failures, he had finally realized that the sanguine miasma which remained inside his system was not emerging from hidden unhealed injuries, but was being generated by his own cores.


    He had to admit, he had come to regret attacking the sect. After all, it was clear that this must have been the doing of those Reth he had been fighting. All he remembered was that they were getting the upper hand on him, and then suddenly¡­ nothing, until he woke up days later receiving treatment from one of the clan¡¯s spiritual doctors. Had he known there would be so many Reth present, he would have summarily refused to attack them without a much larger force. It was a shame that hindsight was only helpful for self recrimination, now.


    The larger question was what he could do now. Flowing from his cerebral core like ink into water, the red threads burned through him, clashing with the green mist inside him and straining his organs. The pain was constant, and if Juen did not have the sturdy body of a perfect genesis physique, he would have died days ago. As he was, he was trapped on the edge of a wire, forced to pay attention to his energies to keep them stable. For a spirit refiner, the task was not too intensive, but it did require constant attention, and he found himself worried of what might happen if he attempted to fight in this condition.


    Worse, Juen suspected that if he could not figure out how to purify his core, the sanguine energies would seep into and influence any techniques he performed using it. He would need to fight without using his highly enhanced senses, or risk those around him noticing that something was wrong.


    He dared not risk the possibility of them believing he had turned into an unorthodox practitioner. Given the circumstances, he would probably be assisted rather than banishing him from the clan like the clans on Canvas might have done, but it would end any of his hopes of becoming the Heir, and that was something that Juen would not allow. He had put far too much time and effort into this, and it would not end in nothing.


    He knew that this was not a secret that could be kept indefinitely. The truth would inevitably get out eventually, but there must be a way to fix this before that happened. Perhaps the clan¡¯s archives might hold information on the topic, he mused. If miasma could taint his path, then there must be a way to restore it, if only he could figure out just how to do it.


    His thoughts were interrupted with the slight hiss of the room¡¯s hatch rising, and Juen turned to see the form of Aven walking in.


    ¡°Shit,¡± he muttered, despondent. He knew what Aven¡¯s presence meant. ¡°Is it finally time?¡±


    Aven sighed and nodded.


    ¡°You must have expected this.¡±


    Juen groaned, and rubbed his forehead, which had been filled with a splitting migraine ever since he had awoken.


    ¡°I did. Is she here, or is it just you?¡±


    His cousin snorted.


    ¡°You think she came here just for you? She¡¯s being gracious just by not having you come to her, and wanted me to deliver the message.¡±


    Juen silently rubbed his forehead, already suspecting he knew what his cousin would say. He and Aven couldn¡¯t have been considered close, but they had known one another for all of Juen¡¯s life, and were of the same generation. Their relationship wasn¡¯t bad, but the problem was their positions and their factions. Aven, like the rest of his family, were loyalists, while several of the groups backing Juen were some of the Matriarch¡¯s greatest internal adversaries.


    ¡°What did she say?¡± he asked.


    ¡°First of all, she hopes you recover quickly, because you¡¯ll be put to work once you do. Recovering you was expensive, so you¡¯ll have to pay that back.¡±


    Juen blinked. He had expected far more harsh terms, given the circumstances. Had the Matriarch compromised with his backers? That was unlike her.


    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± he asked. ¡°No problem.¡±


    Aven chuckled.


    ¡°Of course not. I¡¯m not done. You messed up, Juen, and in doing so gave your enemies an opportunity. She would probably have pushed even further, too, if she wasn¡¯t still mourning.¡±If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Ah, thought Juen. He had missed Wei¡¯s funeral, and it had yet to fully register that the man was dead.


    ¡°Are you doing okay, yourself?¡± he asked.


    Aven¡¯s gaze wavered, but he nodded.


    ¡°Thank you for asking, but I¡¯m fine, Juen. You¡¯re the one who isn¡¯t. You have a mission. The council wishes for you to raid a number of suspected Celan factories.¡±


    Juen sighed again, his headache only continuing to grow. He knew the unspoken rules of the clan. One could get let off for breaking the rules so long as doing so did not cause problems. Had he successfully wiped out the sect and escaped, the punishments would not have been so harsh. He had angered the Matriarch, but he had also provided the merchant faction with an opportunity that they would not miss.


    ¡°They¡¯re quite nasty when they want to be,¡± he muttered.


    Aven did not dispute the matter.


    ¡°That is all I have for you, for the moment, he said. ¡°I¡¯m sure the dog outside can brief you on further details.¡±


    Juen frowned. Dog? Before he could ask, Aven had already started walking out of the room. Before passing the threshold, however, he turned back for a moment.


    ¡°...I hope you return in one piece, cousin. There have been too many funerals in recent days.¡±


    With that, he disappeared around the corner, and a tall form slid in right behind him, before the hatch could slide closed. His was a figure that Juen recognized instantly as a distant relative, originally from one of the less powerful branch families. He had broad eyebrows and a sharp nose, neither of which was a trait common among the clanmembers. His lengthy hair was tied back in a proper manner, and his attitude was clearly displayed by the firm cast of his features. Laoin, head of the Ceirran faction, and the Supreme Elder¡¯s personal disciple.


    ¡°It seems every time I act under your orders, I find myself in a place like this. I did as you requested, Laoin, but where¡¯s your sincerity?¡± asked Juen, not wasting any time.


    The older man shrugged.


    ¡°We paid off the ransom, and will support you from this point on. Had you succeeded, you might have been able to bargain for more.¡±


    Juen sneered, but had to stop as his headache worsened.


    ¡°Who else would you support if not me? Lorelei? Karie? Everyone else is too weak.¡±


    Laoin chuckled, leaning back onto the wall.


    ¡°As  much as we need you, you also need us. Without us, you have what, a branch family and Sulno?¡± The last name was spoken with clear disdain. ¡°Regardless, I¡¯m here about your mission. I¡¯m sure the brat told you about it already. Given the pressure, there will be no disputing the matter, but this can also be an opportunity. Lorelei is too weak, and Karie has run to play traitor. If you show that you¡¯re working for the clan¡¯s aims, he is certain that he can make you the heir by the mid-year solstice.¡±


    Juen gritted his teeth, waving her off.


    ¡°I¡¯m aware of all that. Tell him that I¡¯ll be there the moment I feel well enough to do so.¡±


    He did not want to hear a word from the Supreme Elder, not when this was all the fault of him listening to that man¡¯s request in the first place.


    Laoin¡¯s eyes scoured Juen from top to bottom, before shaking his head.


    ¡°You look well enough. You¡¯ll have to move out by the end of the week or matters will get worse for you, regardless of your physical condition. If needed, I can have Tamara look you over.¡±


    Juen hesitated, and then shook his head, waving off the offer.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be ready by then, so there¡¯s no need. I just need another day of rest.¡±


    Laoin paused, and then gave a sharp nod.


    ¡°See that it is so. I have a file on the details of your mission.¡±


    Juen nodded, and the older man tossed a terminal onto his bed, locking eyes with him as he did so.


    ¡°Do not let us down again,¡± he said, and then made his leave, just like Aven before him. This time, the hatch slid closed behind him, leaving Juen finally alone in his hospital room. With the two important figures gone, he let out a heavy breath, his body relaxing from a tenseness he had not even been aware of.


    Secretly, he cursed the Supreme Elder just as much as he did those foul Reth who had done this to him, but Juen was aware of who were his enemies and who were his allies. So long as the truth of his ailment did not leak, he could trust them to support him, at least until the heir had finally been chosen.


    That ailment was the worst of his problems, though he could not discount this coming mission, nor any potential further roadblocks left by Lorelei or her supporters.


    For a moment, he considered contacting the Redwater Sect for assistance. They had a number of sanguine practitioners, beyond simply the Reth. If anyone on the station knew how to heal him, they might be the best to ask.


    The problem was that he lacked leverage. After what he had done, there was no doubt that they hated him. He couldn¡¯t imagine what they would demand from him in return, particularly given the fact that apparently, they had decided to support Karie. If he were to reveal his condition to them, they might simply choose to announce it to all the station.


    He sighed again, kneading his brow as he thought desperately, seeking a way to solve the matters plaguing him. It felt as if the walls were closing in, and nobody could be trusted anymore. For a moment, Juen wondered whether this was how Karie felt all this time. It was not a pleasant experience.


    Though, he still felt that she had brought it upon herself.


    Meridian Purification: [More of a rumor and a legend than a real technique, in many stories even now there is a procedure known as purification, where a martial artist¡¯s meridians are ¡®washed clean,¡¯ expelling all miasma, and allowing another type of miasma to enter. In the stories, this was a way to change one¡¯s path, and is often used as a literary device to depict an evil unorthodox character renouncing their ways and becoming an orthodox practitioner. In reality, the technique is widely claimed to be a myth, though rumors of similar techniques existing have continued to spread for centuries.]

 174- Immersion

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    A light drizzle pattered against my body, slowly soaking into my robes as I settled into a posture of meditation. I shifted, distinctly aware of a lacking weight upon my side. My sheath was empty, my blade currently under the custody of Nahalken¡¯s scientists. Rachel claimed to be keeping a close eye on it, but I had still sent Jihan and his squad to guard it. In truth, I was slightly wary of them as well. That sword was the true inheritance of the Downpour Sect, and I was not sure what I would do if it were lost. Jihan¡¯s oath was likely trustworthy, but I was not idealistic enough to believe there wasn¡¯t a price that could move him.


    In this world, everyone and everything had a price.


    I shifted my position once more, attempting to clear my mind. After several long weeks, my meditation room had finally been repaired, and I could finally return to its use, which I hoped might have a great effect on the results of my meditations. This time, I hoped I might be able to finally achieve a lasting effect.


    I had been consistently practicing the One with the Sea Method, but had yet to perfect it. There was a reason, I supposed, that most spirit refiners eventually stalled and ceased to progress after a certain point. A refinement method only became more and more dangerous as it progressed, and if the risk passed one¡¯s capability, many lost their will. This was not an issue for me, but for those with a far greater life span, I could understand how it might be a real temptation.


    Breathing out, I immersed my mind into the flows of the world, letting the ashatic energies seep through and past my soul, attempting to replicate it. My soul was the ocean, and the waves crested and fell, washing clean and purifying the landscape. The waters traced a formless pattern, and I held onto their edges, holding back the force of the tide. I touched the Brink.


    My consciousness began to fade as traces of my soul began to drift, and I immediately stopped my practice, breathing heavily as I took stock of my near-death experience.


    Despite the error, this had finally been a proper success. I could feel something different in my soul, a more ethereal, formless attribute to it. I imagined that it might be just slightly harder to sense for others. At best, this had been the slightest, most incremental of successes, but progression was a slow matter. It would take hundreds, perhaps thousands such sessions before I had completed the process. This was just the beginning.


    ¡°End storm,¡± I said, rising to my feet as the rain stuttered and stopped, leaving my sodden form standing in the middle of the room. But I was no longer alone, as the moment the rain disappeared, I found that Rachel was standing across from me.


    ¡°What happened?¡± I asked. ¡°Did Juen finally contact us?¡±


    Rachel shook her head.


    ¡°Not yet. I¡¯m actually surprised,¡± she said. ¡°I would have given it just a week.¡±


    ¡°It should be a matter of time. Cowards like him lack the confidence to deal with this sort of thing alone.¡±


    She shrugged.


    ¡°I hope so. Having two options is certainly better than putting it all on one boat.¡±


    In truth, I fully intended to kill Juen Hadal. His actions crossed a line, and he had sided with the Sunlit Hall. There was no place for people like that. I hated them. While I wasn¡¯t driven by that hatred, I could still feel it swirl inside me. Some things were impossible to truly forget. Unfortunately, that part of myself had traveled elsewhere.


    But while I would certainly kill him, before I did so it would be possible to put him to use. If he came to us requesting our assistance with his condition, we could agree. If we had leverage on both him and Karie, we could become a guiding hand towards the Hadal Clan¡¯s future.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Oh, by the way,¡± she continued, ¡°the reason I grabbed your attention is because Heutel wishes to see you.¡±


    I frowned.


    ¡°I thought she was supposed to defer to you, so I could focus on other things.¡±


    Rachel shrugged, an exasperated look on her face.


    ¡°She¡¯s insistent on following the proper chain of command, apparently. It¡¯s not anything that would be particularly important to you, but it would make my life easier if you would pay her a quick visit.¡±


    I sighed, annoyed. For a species with as much corruption as the Staiven did, they could be annoyingly bureaucratic at times.


    ¡°Fine. Where is she?¡± I asked.


    The person who Nahalken had delegated to the position of the Linen Palace Leader was Heutel, a Staiven woman with a round, soft-looking face, her skin less flaky than most others of her people who I had seen. She was bald, which was slightly unusual for a Staiven, though apparently it was a result of her diet, somehow. I supposed it must be something similar to those among my own people back on Canvas who had refused to consume animal products. I got the feeling that he had chosen her for the role in part for her appearance, which would surely come across to most Seiyal as a calm, motherly role. A perfect fit for a healing organization.


    According to Rachel, Heutel had previously been the deputy head of the Venin Group¡¯s division which dealt with Seiyal biology and pharmaceuticals. It was hard to say whether this position was a promotion or a demotion for her, but upon our first meeting, I had approved of Nahalken¡¯s choice. She seemed diligent enough that I felt she could be trusted to handle the role, and  her mastery of seiyin was more than sufficient. I had entrusted the rest of the oversight of Rachel and Kein, aware that this was their skillset, rather than mine.


    To construct the new Linen Palace, the Venin Group had purchased the office that was our direct neighbor, which was slowly being remodelled into a proper research hospital. As I arrived at its entrance, Heutel was waiting for me, wearing a garment quite similar to the brown lab coats I had seen the researchers in the retirement facility wearing.


    I ignored the part of myself that saw that as ominous.


    ¡°Ah, Sect Leader Yu. It gladdens me to sense your presence,¡± she said, smiling widely upon sensing my approach.


    ¡°Is there an issue?¡± I asked, finally arriving before her. She remained standing before the entrance, making no effort to lead me anywhere.


    Heutel nodded sharply, and I noticed that as she did so, her skin barely shifted, as if the round, curvaceous body beneath was surprisingly firm.


    ¡°I would like to perform an anatomical inspection of the sect¡¯s members, so we can have a baseline understanding in case we need to treat them later,¡±  she replied


    I frowned for a moment, narrowing my gaze as I attempted to decide whether this was a failed attempt at tricking me into allowing medical experimentation. Her warm look did not shift at all as I did so, and after a moment I decided that I was probably just being paranoid.


    ¡°That¡¯s fine. Rachel, speak with Kein and make a schedule for everyone to pass by the Linen Palace and get tested at some point in the next few days.¡± I returned my gaze to Heutel. ¡°Is that all? Next time, just bring a matter like this to Rachel or Kein. They both have sufficient authority.¡±


    ¡°This is all for now,¡± she nodded. ¡°And I apologize for bothering you. I will speak with others in the future.¡±


    Something seemed off about the way she said it, but I had trouble following Staiven body language in general, so I assumed I must have been seeing things. I decided to ask Rachel later, just to be sure.


    Having said her piece, the Staiven woman quickly turned on her heels and walked smoothly back into the sect¡¯s newest palace, leaving me standing awkwardly in the hallway.


    ¡°She¡¯s quite odd, isn¡¯t she?¡± asked Rachel, appearing beside me once again.


    ¡°Something seemed off about her,¡± I replied, turning back myself to head into the depths of the main sect.


    ¡°She acts quite shifty, doesn¡¯t she?¡± Rachel laughed. ¡°She can be annoyingly proper, too. Still, I performed a background search and have been watching her, and have noticed no issues so far. I think she just comes across that way.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± I replied. ¡°Just be careful to make sure those files don¡¯t get leaked, even to the corporate database.¡±


    Rachel chuckled.


    ¡°Who do you think you¡¯re talking to?¡±


    Dietary Restrictions: [As the vast majority of all food is lab grown or synthesized, it is rare to find someone with a moral issue about a certain food. Indeed, even the concept of a ¡®vegetarian¡¯ has nearly died out among most residents, though the concept had previously existed among all carnivorous or omnivorous sapient races. However, despite modern comprehension of biology, there are still disputes about the ideal diet for a given race, nutritionally speaking, particularly because this may vary according to the individual. The Staiven are exceptional in this regard, as colonial organisms, because the various component organisms of their bodies each have different needs, and are affected differently by exposure to different nutrients. In extreme cases, a Staiven¡¯s diet might even cause clear and visible changes to their body.]

 175- The Cursed Path

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    After his long confinement, Juen had finally been forced to leave the hospital ward due to his need to prepare for the upcoming mission. He would have preferred to stay longer, as he was aware that his recovery was not complete. It would never be complete, not unless he came up with a treatment method.


    He had repeatedly turned down offers to let one of the clan¡¯s spiritual doctors treat him. They would be able to assist with his condition, but Juen was well aware that he could command the total loyalty of any of them. If one of the doctors were to find out about the true nature of his condition, Juen¡¯s position in the clan would rapidly decline.


    Juen decided that he was fortunate, though. The affliction was dangerous, incredibly so, but it was not crippling. So long as he split part of his attention to manage the cycling of his meridians, the sanguine miasma could be kept in check, restricted to only the area of his head and neck. The pain was immeasurable, but Juen was able to operate semi-normally with the use of painkillers. His consumption of the drugs was high, but as a genesis practitioner, Juen was resistant to the side effects.


    If anyone asked, he could pretend to have developed an addiction to the drugs from his time in the hospital. It was a flimsy excuse, but also the most likely explanation for his behavior. Unless someone were to inspect his meridians, nobody would be able to tell what his true state was, and Juen intended to keep it that way.


    The first thing that Juen had done after leaving his room was to inspect the clan¡¯s archives, curious to discover whether there was any sort of purification method hidden inside.  Unfortunately for him, his luck was poor. Meridian purification, and other similar methods, were relegated to the domain of myths and science fiction.


    If only, he thought, there had been a race which excelled in sanguine technology the way the Celans did with flickering. Had that been the case, his prospects for restoring his path would have been far brighter.


    He was beginning to face the unhappy future that most likely awaited him at this point. Not only would he be trapped in an unorthodox path for life, he would also have to suffer through the trials of an unorthodox existence- living on the edge of the blade, one¡¯s life span measured in but a fraction of the one he had anticipated. He was only thirty-eight: still quite young for a spirit refiner.


    Juen could still feel his powerful vitality, enough for perhaps another two centuries if all went well. Plenty of time to reach the immortal level, if fate and the gods smiled upon him.


    But if he remained on the unorthodox path, none of this bright future would await him. His health would dull and weaken, the conflicting energies within tearing him apart from the inside out.


    It was the end facing every orthodox practitioner, aside from those who ascended or died in battle. They were cursed, afflicted by abilities which had been denied by god.


    Juen sighed, his headache intensifying due to the brightness of the domelight. He had returned to his home, a nice place adjacent to the sect that he had been gifted by his father when he came of age. It had been modified decades ago, when the headquarters was installed, and had something that was very rare for Tseludia: an outward facing window with a view that showed across to the next stack, rather than simply a street immediately past the glass pane.


    On any other day, he might have appreciated the view, but today, Juen simply rubbed his aching forehead.


    During the time he had been in recovery, Juen had determined the extent to which his cerebral technique had been warped from to the infusion of the sanguine miasma. The technique, which enhanced his body¡¯s senses, now only had limited effects on his physical body. Instead, it enhanced the senses of his soul. By performing the technique, he could scale up the sense to a ludicrous extent, and sense even the slightest details of the exterior of the souls around him.


    It was disconcerting to have this least developed sense enhanced in such a way, but Juen could see how it might be useful for certain purposes. It would allow him to immediately sense the location of those around him, even with his eyes closed, and determine whether anyone he met was in the spirit refinement realm or not.


    However, he still much preferred his own ability, of course. There was a limit to the usefulness of soul senses. No matter their strength, they became less precise over long distances, and at a short distance he would rather just use his eyes.


    He had chosen his own cerebral technique because he had felt it was both useful and suitable for himself, and this new ability, while unique and interesting, was not worth the pain and danger its acquisition had brought to him.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Thinking of danger brought Juen¡¯s mind back to his most pressing issue, the upcoming attack he would lead. He reached for the nearby table, where his terminal had been perched precariously, and opened up the file which contained the mission¡¯s exact details.


    The orders were simple. The three factories in question were all suspected to either be owned by the Heirs or to have ties with them, and it did not particularly matter which of the two it was. His forces were to thoroughly destroy them, such that it would actually be cheaper to build a new factory in a different area than to rebuild. This part of the mission was an easy task, as he was simply able to request for explosives for this purpose. Simply making it in and out  was the larger issue, as all three  sites were located firmly within Little Celah, and were not particularly close to one another.


    One of the factories had recently developed ties to the Sikreis Queendom, which the analysts saw as strong evidence that the company running it was likely a subordinate organization to the Heirs. If not, then they were simply business partners. Either way, it would benefit the clan to destroy it. The longer the war went on, the greater the Celan¡¯s advantage grew, and the weaker the clan became. Whatever was being constructed there, the analysts firmly believed it had something to do with the war effort, so it would have to go.


    The second was more nebulous, a factory whose production had substantially decreased over the past two weeks, while their importation of materials had only grown, a matter which was so specific that Juen questioned how the informants had even uncovered it. They claimed that the dip in production was likely them producing products to sell directly to the Celans. While the evidence was certainly suspicious, Juen found it quite lacking in terms of actionable intel. Perhaps, he thought, it was because they were growing desperate due to the stalemate. The Celans seemed happy to continue this current state, but only, he suspected, because the odds were that it would eventually be overturned in their favor if enough time passed. No matter what, if the war was to carry on over time, the clan needed to hit their enemy¡¯s industrial capabilities.


    The final factory¡¯s complicitness was the most clear. Akher Industrial Solutions had, according to the information, been rumored for years to have ties to the Heirs. According to a recent tip, it seemed that their partnership had grown closer in recent years. This third factory was one of Akher¡¯s smaller locations, and according to the tip-off it was currently manufacturing munitions for the Celans.


    The three factories, to varying extents, were all likely important to the Celans, and Juen had no doubt that they would be guarded, perhaps even by the Heirs  themselves and their machines of war.


    He wondered whether he could force Sulno, or perhaps Keitel to assist him. Juen was wary of attacking deep inside Celan territory without another spirit refiner backing him up.  Even backed up by such a large allied force, Wei had died to one of the  organization¡¯s oversized machines.


    It was not that Juen lacked confidence in handling one of the machines on his own. However, he did have concerns about his ability to face off against multiple at the same time. That was the thing about enforcers- because anyone could pilot one of the machines, the Celans were able to train them as career soldiers, and ensure they had far greater group tactics than the clan¡¯s forces could hope for, at the higher levels. A spirit refiner was an important figure, too important to spend all their time training on combat.


    Because of this concern, as well as to reduce the risks of acquiring further injuries and worsening his condition, Juen had decided that he would take another spirit refiner with him for the mission, if possible.


    The Supreme Elder, the Matriarch, and Karie were all not legitimate choices, which left only Laoin, Keitel, Sulno, and finally Heina, who was also out of the question, as one of Lorelei¡¯s firmest supporters. Sulno would likely be busy with his medicines, and would certainly refuse. Despite his claimed support for Juen¡¯s candidacy, the man was a coward, and always refused to go into combat unless it was an order by his  superiors. This was a position that Juen had yet to achieve.


    Keitel was the sort of man who had become strong due to his intense fear of those who were stronger than him. Currently, he believed that was only the Matriarch and the Supreme Elder, and the palpable intimidation that occurred between him and the Matriarch at every council meeting was palpable. More importantly, however, was the fact that Keitel was a devout Ceirran, and thus someone who Juen was capable of manipulating.


    Laoin, on the other hand, had killed many on the battlefield, but his pride made him likely to refuse, if Juen were to ask him to assist at this time, he would likely say that he was busy, and blow him off. For all Juen knew, it might be true that the man simply was busy.


    In the end, he thought, there was nothing he could do but request their presence, and accept that his odds of success were low.


    Juen sighed, standing up and ambling his way to his small kitchen, one hand still resting  on his forehead. He opened the fridge and grabbed an ale out, before swiftly returning to his seat by the desk.


    He quietly chuckled to himself as he sat, and pulled another pill from a pocket before swallowing it with a mouthful of booze.


    Akher Industrial Solutions: [One of the largest corporations of Tseludia owned and operated entirely by Celans, AIS is ultimately a machine company. Their main businesses are the construction of assembly line mechanical technology, as well as their contract to supply the government with the cleaning robots that can be found all across the city. The company is quite successful, in part due to the assistance it had continually received from its largest ¡®Investor¡¯, over the course of its operation. Between its ties to both the government and organized crime, AIS is widely believed to be a contender for the ''next generation of major Tseludian companies in the tech industry. For an alien organization like Akher, this status is extremely uncommon.]

 176- Clearing the Factory

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Fortunately for Juen, his words did not fall on deaf ears. While the Supreme Elder was disappointed in the outcome of his attack on the Redwater Sect, he still saw value in Juen, it seemed. Against his will, Keitel had been ordered to assist Juen in his task, and help to preserve his life if the situation became poor.


    Juen had also wished to receive the assistance of First Commander Pakas, but unfortunately his assignment to the ongoing border conflict was extremely firm. He would have to make do with his own talents, as well as those he could actually lay his hands on. After all, he was going with a sizable force. Aside from Juen and Keitel, roughly ten martial artists from the clan had also been sent. In addition, Juen had hired twenty mercenaries from a reputable group to bolster their numbers. This was a dangerous task, and he was not foolish enough to disregard the utility of ranged weapons as some did.


    Every detail, every plan, every person he could send along that he felt would bolster his chances of both success and survival were thought out at length and chosen carefully. Though Pakas would not be able to come, he had spoken with the man, and the two had worked together to hash out a strategy that Juen felt was optimal, or at least close to it.


    There were three core components to the plan.


    The first was the entry. The factories were deep inside of Celan territory, and the presence of martial artists would be all too obvious to the residents. For this reason, all they could do was arrive as near as possible to the first target using an aero.


    The problem was that they knew the Celans would be watching the skydocks for just this reason, wary after what had happened just a week prior. The aliens were not fools, and Juen knew that their leaders were the type to prepare tricks and countermeasures to use against their opponent at any and every opportunity.


    The first target that they had was the Akher plant, because they believed it to be the most likely of the targets to actually have Celan connections. It was roughly at the middle of the stack, and not actually conveniently located for charging down the flights of stairs from the aero before the Celans were alarmed and reinforcements sent.


    While he was confident that they would be able to destroy the facility regardless of this issue, Juen knew that there was a serious risk of the other facilities on the list receiving more guards as a result, and rendering those parts of the mission a failure. If possible, he wished to succeed at handling all three.


    Fortunately, he and Pakas had developed a bold solution that they believed might be effective. They would simply leap off of the aero from midair, and land on one of the bridges near to the factory. In theory, Juen and Keitel¡¯s momentum devouring mists should be enough to arrest the downward momentum of all the martial artists they were bringing, though the mercenaries would need to find their own method.


    Once the plan was finalized, and the troops ready, Juen decided that there was no time better than the present. He doubted he would suddenly find more troops, nor would his physical condition be getting any better. If he was being forced to go on this glorified suicide mission, it was best to do so as swiftly as possible, and minimize the risk of unforeseen developments.


    Before heading out, Juen had taken a strong dose of painkillers, powerful enough to affect even a body as powerful as his for hours. He would still need to closely manage his energies so as not to let it run rampant, but the lack of pain certainly helped with Juen¡¯s ability to maintain his focus.


    He would need that focus for what came next.


    As Juen slid the aero¡¯s door open, he felt a rush of apprehension fill him, well aware of the sheer risk and stupidity that this act represented. If he did not wholly believe that this was the method with the highest odds of success, Juen would have never chosen to do it.


    He took a deep breath, glancing down at the alien borough beneath him, and released the aero¡¯s sliding door to fall from it.


    Juen toppled through the air, before righting himself, his balance perfect, as one would expect of anyone at his realm. The weaker martial artists were not so lucky, but Juen was confident in his abilities.


    Miasma roiled within him, but Juen kept a firm grip on his cycling despite his tenseness, and for the time being, the sanguine miasma remained relegated to his cerebral region. As the momentum devouring mist was a lower core technique, the meridians its use focused on were sufficiently far enough away to not cause any problem, and the vibrant green mist which spun out and around him emerged wholly untainted by any evidence of his unorthodox situation.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    For now, he thought, nobody would know the truth.


    Moments later, Juen slammed into the bridge, rolling and rising to his feet as if he had fallen a mere ten feet down, but secretly winced. For a moment, he nearly lost control of his internal battle before managing to recover, his technique still active. Moments later, the martial artists assigned to follow him tumbled behind, crashing down to receive minor scrapes and bruises as they haphazardly made impact with the bridge. The mist had slowed them, but it had its limits, and many lacked the balance and core strengths required to minimize the damage fully as he had.


    With a glance to the side, Juen realized that few of the group following Keitel had managed perfect landings as well, including, to no surprise from him, Keitel himself, who had landed roughly five meters away on the other end of the bridge. Despite all odds, Juen thought, they had succeeded with the first step of the plan. Now all he needed to do was to find the first of the factories, which should be extremely nearby.


    At first glance, the factory was unobtrusive, its facade undecorated and unmarked except for a small sign above the entry hatch which proclaimed its ownership. Juen almost passed it after his arrival, and had to double check the map on his terminal to make sure that he was in the right place. Inside, he could sense the souls of a small number of workers, numbering roughly twenty in total.


    Doubting that the building¡¯s inhabitants would willingly open the door for them, Juen glanced over to Keitel, and motioned to the door. Keitel gave him a blank look, before realizing what he was being asked to do.


    Raising his fists aloft, Keitel quickly slammed them down on the hatch with all the force his genesis-enhanced physique could muster, tearing a huge rent into the metal frame. With a second, the hole expanded, and with a third blow the hatch fell from its frame, toppling inside with a loud clunk and the screams of the building¡¯s inhabitants.


    Juen frowned, feeling somewhat like a hoodlum as he stepped through the aperture and into the factory, flanked by his subordinates. He glanced around, spotting terrified workers, as well as large industrial equipment which spat out gouts of orange smoke. It was chaos incarnate, a flickering tangerine force which ran counter to Juen¡¯s aesthetic tastes. He glanced back to his force.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have much time. Kill them all and plant the explosives, and then let¡¯s move on to the next one,¡± he said.


    The others nodded, while Keitel had already charged in, a wide smile on his face as he cut down a screaming Korlove. Juen watched him with disdain. It was understandable to derive enjoyment from the slaying of enemies, but Keitel was being overzealous in a way that only a coward could be when facing someone with no ability to fight back. In his mind, this was not like what had happened at the sect. This battle was not one ordained by the divine, merely a conflict between mortal forces over asinine justifications.


    Juen had few qualms about slaying aliens, but he could not bring himself to truly relish it, not when it was the slaughter of civilians. They were not even certain that this factory worked for the Celans. It was likely, but the certainty was lacking. It was simply a matter of the clan being in a poor position, and grasping at straws for ways to inhibit their opponent¡¯s assembly line.


    As he walked around the rooms, Juen carefully inspected the work of his subordinates, who seemed far too excited about the matter. Like lesser versions of Keitel, they were merciless and efficient, and the work progressed rapidly. Inside his body, Juen¡¯s meridians remained a mire of chaos, and part of his attention was constantly split as he kept track of them. It was tiring, a waste of his mental energy, but Juen was no stranger to weariness. Still, he knew how to be prudent, when necessary, at least better than some clan members did, he thought.


    This was why he had yet to take action himself. Juen would not use any of his techniques unless it was strictly necessary, preferring to rely on his subordinates to handle the dirty work this time. The defenses here were paltry, he thought. It only held a small number of Celan soldiers, with no enforcers defending. Even if it were only Juen and Keitel, this mission would have been trivial.


    Either this factory was unimportant, or they had felt the need to position their forces elsewhere. Juen hoped that ¡®somewhere else¡¯ did not mean the other two factories. The odds were low, but worthy of consideration, not that he would be able to do anything about them.


    That part of the mission finished quickly. The few employees and soldiers were slain without Juen himself needing to take action, to his pleasant surprise, and the bombs were promptly planted by the demolition experts.


    Next, he thought, glancing at the screen of his terminal, was Sedot, a privately owned factory that produced mechanical parts for other Celan companies. With their new goal in mind, the force quickly made their way over, sprinting towards the other location to avoid reinforcements. Just like he had at the previous factory, Keitel slammed his way through the hatch with a thunderous blow, clearing the way for himself and the troops to enter and plant the explosives.


    That was when everything went to shit.


    The Hadal Clan and the Underworld: [Unlike most underworld organizations, not much that the clan itself does is actually illegal, aside from some of the corruption and bribery, as well as conflict with other organizations. In fact, what to most other underworld hegemons of Tseludia is the legal front organization, for the clan is their true self. By accepting ¡®donations¡¯ from gangs operating within their territory, funds from technology smuggling, racketeering, life form trading, and other illegal industries are still able to fund the clan, without forcing its members to get their hands dirty. This is doubly so for the main branch of the family, many of whose members have broken even fewer laws in their lifetime than the average Tseludian resident. Of course, this current state of events was not true in the past, when ¡®Jade Empress of Pain¡¯ Sirena Hadal carved out the clan¡¯s place in the station by force.]

 177- Chance

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    The inspection of the servers had taken longer than Triezal had expected, because the firewalls meant that he would need to inspect each of the sites personally. It had been several days worth of work, and finally he had arrived at the last site, hoping to finish the job up before he could move on to his next task.


    Each of the three sites had been very similar to one another, though the one underneath the rubble of the old headquarters had been more difficult to access. Other than a number of somewhat unusual system access requests by the Leader, Triezal had found nothing out of the ordinary with the systems. He had initially been suspicious that the requests might have been from Janottka masquerading as the man, but he had confirmed with the Leader himself, and they were legitimate, though the elderly Korlove had been vague about the purpose, simply claiming that he had been testing the system.


    As far as he was aware, in all the years that Triezal had been present on the station, the Leader had never made such a test. It was not unique to this site, either. The other two had also noted down similar requests in their records.


    There was a reasonable explanation, of course. The presence of two potential enemy Shades was a sufficiently worthy reason to tighten the organization¡¯s virtual security. Despite this plausible explanation, a nagging suspicion had continued to grow in Triezal, one he could not ignore for much longer. After he finished clearing the sites, he intended to meet with Deuvar and discuss the matter.


    What if the location the Shade was hiding was right beneath their noses? Within the very abode of their own Leader?


    The idea was terrifying. If that were the case, what would their next course of action need to be? To save Kadeki? Would that even be possible for them? He was running out of time to think about the matter, as within a mere half hour he would be done with the last of this task.


    While he waited for the scan to conclude, Triezal¡¯s mind wandered, but his train of thought immediately dissipated as alarms suddenly blared, drawing Triezal¡¯s attention. He frowned, glancing around to see if any of the workers nearby knew what  it represented. Was there some sort of fire, or issue with the machine? Triezal paused the inspection, needing to know what was going on.


    ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± he asked, turning to a trembling technician.


    The Jobu shuddered, but slowly regained his senses.


    ¡°That¡¯s- that¡¯s the alarm for an attack. It¡¯s never happened before outside of drills. We¡¯re being invaded, Magister. I- I have to go to my station.¡± He slightly shook again, before running off to his presumed role.


    Intruders¡­ that would have to be the Hadal, right? He thought. In an effort to better understand the situation, Triezal quickly drew a series of symbols, shifting the slate¡¯s screen to show the feed of cameras near the factory¡¯s entrance. A large group of martial artists had forced their way in, and had already killed more than one of the factory workers. He also spotted what appeared to be explosive charges being planted. Triezal cursed as he recognized some of the Seiyal. Two of the attackers were spirit refiners of the Hadal Clan. He was astounded, and not only by Juen Hadal¡¯s rapid recovery from a brain injury.


    ¡°How did they know?¡± he muttered. He, and the others, for that matter, had believed that the locations of the titans had not been leaked. After a moment of logical analysis, however, Triezal realized what must have happened. Perhaps the Seiyal had attacked not because they knew what was lurking inside of the factory, but because they did not know. They might have thought this was a factory servicing the enforcers. Otherwise, they would have sent more than a mere two spirit refiners.


    Triezal cursed. If he was right, this was a real problem. The factory was not as large as the headquarters had been, and it would not take them long to find the entrance to the titan¡¯s hangar if they continued to search. The only solution he could think of would be to force them back, but Triezal was well aware of the limits of his ability. For a time, he was able to restrain a spirit refiner, but that was not something easy, and to restrain two would be an impossibility. Moreover, his equipment had yet to finish being repaired, so for the moment all he had on him was his boots and his pistols.


    While he attempted to find a solution for the problem at hand, the personnel around him continued to fulfill their part of the procedures. Said procedures for such an event, he knew, was for the titan to be prepped and manned, to await the orders to either send it out or shut it down, once the precipitating conflict had ended.


    Triezal glanced back at the slate, checking the current situation above. The Seiyal were now exchanging fire with the guards, and the first of the three enforcers defending the facility was about to arrive in less than a minute. If they wished for the best case scenario, of killing the attackers or forcing a retreat, their window of opportunity would soon vanish.


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Despite his initial hesitation, Triezal sprinted towards the stairs, making his way up to assist in the fight. While he had no illusions he could stall or kill them on his own, Triezal felt that he could certainly assist a force of enforcers in doing so.


    He flung himself up the stairwell, clattering his way up the metal steps in a rush, hoping desperately that his presence might influence the situation. Aside from his survival instinct dragging him upwards, Triezal also hoped that he would have the chance to shoot that Juen bastard. He had not forgiven him for the outcome of their last fight.


    Emerging from the concealed entrance behind the guard station, Triezal arrived after the first enforcer, running straight into a chaotic firestorm of conflict.


    The factory was normally dark, illuminated only by the red hot metal within the crucibles and the glow of flickering miasma. Now, however, it was lit further by both the bright arcs of the weapons fire, as well as the heavily increased density of miasma in the area, emerging from both the enforcer and the martial artists. This was the front line of battle, a place Triezal usually avoided due to his instinct for self preservation.


    On the front lines, anyone could die, no matter how skilled or powerful they were. What mattered most was luck, and Triezal hated relying on chance. He preferred situations under his control.


    Having reached the field of battle, Triezal immediately analyzed the positions of the forces. The Seiyal had set up nearer to the entrance, using the heavy industrial crucibles and printers as cover against the weapons fire. Most of the martial artists were trapped here for the moment, unable to handle the combined fire of an enforcer and two squads of soldiers, at least not in a space so enclosed. However, Triezal noticed gunfire emerging from that side of the room as well, which told him that they had hired mercenaries to bolster their numbers.


    That was something to handle later, however. Their numbers were smaller than his own forces, and would be eliminated given time. The larger issue was the two spirit refiners who were trying to reach the enforcer.


    Triezal moved carefully, bringing himself closer to the action, looking for a convenient and well-defended place to set up. Rather than the martial artists, what he had to fear the most in a pitched battle like this one was the fields of fire of his own allies. He generally preferred to fight solo for this reason, as his agility was hampered by such a situation. Ultimately, he decided to take cover and fire from behind it like any other gunman in a firefight.


    Carefully setting himself up beside a rack of oversized metal ingots, Triezal inspected Juen and Keitel, looking for shots to line up. He could fire blindly, but given the possibility they had yet to notice his presence, Triezal felt it would be best to take a perfect shot.


    Keitel was acting as expected of his profile, attempting to rapidly take down the largest threat, but doing so slowly enough that his partner, Juen, would have most of the gunfire directed at him. He kept glancing over to see Juen¡¯s position, ducking and weaving behind cover to avoid the waves of bullets as he steadily approached the enforcer¡¯s location.


    Juen was acting just as careful, but for him, this seemed out of character. The man who had acted like a mobile wrecking ball at the forward base was now this fearful of a single enforcer? He ducked and weaved through cover at high speed, occasionally smashing through a machine to make it closer to the enforcer, but he seemed overly wary of something, moving slowly and not even touching his limits. Triezal found something off about the matter. There were also slight delays to the man¡¯s reactions to incoming bullets and projectiles flung by the enforcer, as if his senses had been dulled.


    Triezal frowned, attempting to analyze the reason for the change. Had Juen not fully recovered from Triezal¡¯s murder attempt? Given his survival, it was clear that the Redwater Sect must have treated his wound, but perhaps they had not bothered to finish the job. But if that was the case, why had the clan decided to send him for a task of this nature?


    Regardless of the cause, Triezal could not help but spot an opportunity. He slid one of his pistols from the holster, carefully positioning the barrel to point directly in front of the spirit refiner¡¯s path.


    While most needed to use two hands to keep a weapon stable, the enhancements that had been embedded into Triezal¡¯s Merris physiology from birth allowed him to hold his arm perfectly steady, and for his eye to understand the exact direction it was pointing even without looking. He rapidly fired a volley of three shots, each one perfectly on course to collide with Juen¡¯s skull. Within the cacophony of gunfire already present in the room, there was little chance that he would hear this coming.


    The bullets had been perfectly accurate, even accounting for Juen¡¯s movements, but in practice, a spirit refiner was not so easily slain. Juen noticed the bullets when they were about two meters away. What would have been far too short a time for him to react was stretched, the shroud of miasma surrounding him slowing the bullet¡¯s velocity enough for him to shift his head out of their way. While he had avoided an instant death, however, the spirit refiner had not avoided a pair of grazes running down his cheek, nor a small chunk that had been torn from his ear.


    Enraged, Juen turned to see where the shot had originated, and the two locked eyes. Juen¡¯s gaze narrowed, and for just a moment, from the corner of his eye, Triezal thought he saw a flash of red smoke emerge from the man¡¯s forehead. Triezal sighed, knowing that with Juen now wary of him, such a convenient opportunity would likely not appear again in this battle. But Triezal would not allow himself to be beholden to chance. His core goal was not to kill, but to restrain.


    Without hesitation, he fired again.


    Internal Celan Virtual Networks: [The traditional model for a virtual environment is a computer network, a web where each node is a different machine interfacing with one another virtually. This is the model used by the Staiven, and is the nature of the Tseludian internet. Internal Celan networks, however, utilize a different design, the latter consisting of computer terminals merely serving as wireless access point to a single, large computer capable of mass parallel computation. The benefit of this design is that it is a fully closed system, and eliminates the risk of being hacked, so long as the central computer does not actively open itself to external sources.]

 178- Forbidden Techniques

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Juen cursed as the bullet grazed his flesh, the wound generating a new sanguine infusion inside of him. All Celan firearms caused a dash of sanguine miasma to well up within a martial artist¡¯s flesh on contact, but in his current state, it was but a drop in the ocean, unworthy of any attention.


    His eyes narrowed as he saw the man who had shot him. Triezal, one of the enemy force¡¯s highest officers. This Celan was difficult to forget, as he was far smaller than the other Jobu, and it was uncommon to see someone with their hair dyed such an artificial color. Juen was surprised to see him, having been under the impression that he was the sole survivor of the forward base¡¯s collapse.


    Unlike the previous time the two had met, Juen was not in a good mood. With a snarl, he launched himself towards the Celan. The seismic leap brought him close to the alien, but Triezal kicked off of the giant stack of ingots he had been hiding behind, sliding across the metal floor as if it were waxed.


    Just like he in their previous fight, the Celan¡¯s boots emanated thin trails of orange mist, slicing grooves across the ground in his wake. It was an annoyance, particularly so because Juen now had to deal with not only the gunfire from the enforcer and the soldiers, but also from this wildcard. He sighed, his migraine only growing.


    Just why was this facility so much better defended than the previous one, he wondered? After seeing the poor state of the previous factory¡¯s defenses, Juen had assumed the Heirs had simply moved most of their troops to the border, but this¡­ there was no reasonable explanation for this much defense unless something very important was being built here. Could this be one of the facilities constructing enforcers?


    Either way, as Juen charged towards the fleeing Triezal, by pure force of habit he activated his cerebral technique, hoping enhanced senses would help him to avoid the projectiles flying around him.


    It was only when his migraine greatly intensified that Juen realized his mistake. Despite the thoughtlessness of the action, however, Juen did not feel that the choice was wrong. He needed to do what he could if he wished to


    Juen¡¯s sense technique flared with the full power of genesis, and immediately, he realized that he was sensing far more than just the souls of those around him. He sensed the currents of the universe, the spots where the currents were tapped into to enter reality. Juen was sensing the sources of miasma. Each martial artist was a beacon, each gun resplendent, each enforcer a blazing forest.


    This was not worse than his former cerebral technique. In fact, perhaps it was even better. Operating with old, well-trained instincts, Juen brought his newfound information source to bear, applying it to his motions and reactions. This ability would not be so effective against the Staiven or another race, but every weapon the Heirs used seemed to utilize flickering miasma in some way, and he could sense all of it well before it approached him.


    With a burst of energy, Juen dashed past a wave of bullets that might have hit him, slamming heavily into a heavy duty fabricator with a pained grunt. He rolled off the machine, which now sported a large dent in its side, and attempted to continue some of his momentum towards his target. As his new senses did not emerge from his physical body, he had never lost  track of Triezal, and knew exactly where the squirrely man had dodged to.


    As if he was using a forbidden technique, Juen was more powerful than ever, his current senses just as powerful but more specific than those he was used to. The lack of information overload aided Juen in reacting faster to every occurrence around him,  as if he had finally grown wings and taken flight. But like always did in the films, this came at a cost, he knew. Still, Juen felt greater than ever before. So this was the seduction of the unorthodox, he thought. Juen understood why so many were attracted to such dangerous paths, though he still wished to free himself from the condition.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Such meager power was not worth its cost, but maybe, he thought, it wasn¡¯t quite so bad.


    Triezal pointed his arm back, the pistol in his hand firing a short burst, two of which collided with Juen¡¯s shoulders and dug deep within. He hissed as he lunged forward, finally catching up to the other man.


    ¡°I remember telling you that I would save your death for later. It seems that later is now,¡± said Juen, his staff coursing through the air mere inches above Triezal¡¯s head. His shoulder throbbed painfully, but Juen allowed the sensation to pierce through the cloud in his head, allowing for his full attention to be drawn to the condition of his body.


    As the man ducked out of the way, Juen noted that he was missing the chest armor that had exploded during their last meeting. That was good. The explosion would be quite dangerous in such a confined area.


    The Celan made no response, merely grimacing as his pistols attempted to fire on Juen once again. This time, however, there was no such luck, as the base of Juen¡¯s staff slammed into his left wrist. The attack had not used Juen¡¯s full force, as he had to move swiftly, but the weapon still skidded away from Triezal¡¯s hand, toppled out of his weakened grip. Taking the opportunity, however, his other pistol barked, the bullet tearing into Juen¡¯s abdomen at near point blank range.


    At this point, the pain was nothing, and Juen¡¯s physique allowed him to ignore such injuries for quite a long time. So long as he received treatment within two hours, he would be entirely fine. Still, the impact was heavy, and it forced Juen to take a step back, far enough for Triezal and his ruined hand to dive further out of the way, headed straight for the middle of the firefight.


    Juen leaped past him, hoping to cut the man off before he ended up in the thickest part of the hail of bullets, but failed to account for the enforcer, whose fire shifted to point at him. Juen cursed, giving up on catching Triezal, and was forced to dive for cover again.


    Even a spirit refiner, he thought, could only take so many bullet wounds before they fell. Forced to back up, Juen narrowed his eyes as he questioned the luck of the man before him. He was either the luckiest person Juen had met, or was simply an expert at grasping opportunities to disengage. Juen watched as he ducked low to the ground, sliding almost directly beneath the battle to take up a more comfortable position on the other side. Not a single bullet impacted him, though a number had come extremely close, including one which had dove right past his hair.


    Temporarily free from the practitioner¡¯s assault, the azure-haired Celan glanced down at his waist, then back at Juen, muttering something to himself in a language that Juen did not know, before running off, ducking into a side hallway. Juen did not follow, knowing that dealing with the enforcer was more important for the time being. Just like before, Triezal had fled the moment that the tides turned against his favor. Juen huffed a breath from his nose in disdain. What a coward. He should expect no less from a Celan. The race might have powerful technology, but their culture was primitive and dishonorable.


    Though he was not quite sure why, Juen found himself strangely angry, his emotions in turmoil, perhaps due to the stress or exertion of the sudden, unexpected situation. The emotion felt strange, however, almost disproportionate to the situation, however. Still, he had a task to do, and had the firmness of mind to retain control of himself and do what he must. Everything, he thought, was for the Mother.


    Juen frowned. He must be distracted, as such thoughts were unlike him. He decided that he had simply spent too much time talking with the Cierrans of late. He had more important business to take care of. Juen returned his attention to the enforcer, who was still facing off with Keitel.


    The factory was already essentially destroyed, so once the forces here were destroyed, they would be able to move on to the final target. Regardless of what was being produced here, there was little the Celans could do to stop them. He would fulfill his mission, and then he would kill Triezal. The man had gotten in his way one too many times, and Juen knew better than to allow someone like that to live. That was a one way journey to both a weakened reputation and an inner demon.


    Juen was a man who refused to live with either.


    Conduit: [Associated with sanguine miasma but not restricted to it, a conduit is a bridge between spacetimes, and unless there is a lesion, miasma cannot enter Telles without passing through a conduit. Artificial conduits are considered one of the vital inventions necessary to develop ashatic and miasmic technology, though in theory, such technology could also be created using biological conduits such as the specialized organ located within the eye sockets of the Staiven race. It is theorized that perhaps the reason why humanoid bodies are capable of generating sanguine miasma when damaged by miasmic effects is because humanoid blood contains an inherent capacity to become a conduit. Recent testing has only increased the support for this theory.]

 179- Cascade

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Triezal cursed as he staggered back down the stairs to the titan hangar. He had replaced his pistol in its holster, and was awkwardly holding his left wrist, which had gone limp.


    ¡°Should always shoot a second time, just to be sure,¡± he muttered to himself in annoyance. Perhaps none  of this would have happened if Juen had truly died back in Canvas Town.


    Triezal was not sure whether had ever met anyone hardier than the martial artist. Just how many assassination attempts had failed on the man in the past few weeks?


    It also felt as if he always was the one to come out ahead whenever they fought. This was not the first time that Triezal had felt jealous of a martial artist¡¯s power.


    It was a  natural emotion, he knew- the Seiyal had the potential for far greater physical capability and longevity than he ever could. They could even become immortal, something that was out of the question for a mortal like him. Still, this was his fate, and Triezal had always been practically minded enough to focus his attention on what he might reasonably expect in life.


    Besides, it wasn¡¯t as if martial artists like Juen could even reasonably  hope for immortality themselves. In practice, only the best could even acquire an additional several hundred years at most.


    The slate in Triezal¡¯s side pocket vibrated again, reminding him of why he had come down so urgently in the first place. With a grunt as his left hand contorted under the pain of his muscles repairing themselves, Triezal lifted the slate and quickly drew the symbol for accepting the call, prompting the image of Deuvar to float into the air before him. Triezal continued to walk down the stairs as he waited for the man to explain the purpose of the call.


    ¡°What the hell is happening?¡± asked Deuvar, eyes ablaze. Had Triezal been anyone else, he knew that the large man would have been far less polite with his question.


    Triezal hesitated, and then gave a quick explanation, prompting the Vice-Leader to scowl.


    ¡°It can¡¯t be that simple. It was always possible that they might stumble into one of the facilities, but¡­ shit. Try to keep the place under control. I¡¯m about to reach the Leader¡¯s place, and we¡¯ll discuss what to do.¡±


    His words brought Triezal¡¯s full attention, and Triezal thought desperately whether or not to tell the man his suspicions about the old Korlove. If the Leader truly had been compromised, Deuvar might be walking into a trap.


    Though he knew Deuvar might not believe him, Triezal decided to share them just in case.


    ¡°Deuvar,¡± he said, drawing the older man¡¯s attention as he noted the unusual form of address, ¡°I¡¯m concerned that something might have happened to him. To the Leader.¡±


    Deuvar frowned, and Triezal wondered whether he suspected anything himself. Deuvar was an intelligent man, after all. Perhaps he had simply refused to consider the possibility.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± he asked.


    ¡°You¡¯ve told me he¡¯s been acting strange, and I found records saying he has been interfering with the databases at the titan facilities. He is the only person who has been doing so. I¡¯m concerned that Janottka might have.¡±


    Deuvar¡¯s eyes narrowed, and Triezal found himself unintentionally quieting.


    ¡°I intend to confront him about how he¡¯s been acting,¡± said Deuvar, speaking softly, his tone having calmed from its prior urgency. ¡°I¡¯ll call back immediately afterwards, and if I don¡¯t, you need to speak with Astna.¡±


    Alarmed, Triezal began to speak again, but Deuvar simply shook his head.


    ¡°I trust him, and I believe there will be a reasonable explanation. But I need to know. I¡¯ll contact you.¡±


    A part of Triezal understood the other man¡¯s feelings, at least conceptually. But Triezal doubted he was even capable of such loyalty. In the end, Triezal¡¯s trust and loyalty ended at the point where he was substantially risking his life.


    ¡°...Be careful,¡± he said, as the call shut off, leaving him alone in the long stairwell, which finally came to its end, opening back up into the wide hanger centered upon the gargantuan machine.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    Glancing back at his slate, Triezal leaned onto the wall, shifting its image to reveal a view of the fight going on above. The  martial artists had already destroyed the first of the enforcers, though the second and third had finally arrived to assist. It was possible that they could injure or kill  the twospirit refiners,  but  Triezal did  not hold out hope, choosing to assume the worst case scenario. The terrain inside the factory had  lots of machinery serving as effective cover from the hail of bullets, terrain that well-suited the martial artists. For a moment, Triezal wondered whether he could set up explosives to destroy them, and take down the two ¡®problems.¡¯ Before he could,  however, Triezal heard a grinding noise so loud it caused the machines in his bones to vibrate, drawing his immediate attention. He turned, and saw that the sound was emerging from the slumbering titan.


    That couldn¡¯t be right, he thought. It would only make such noises if it were moving. Moments later, a nightmare he  had not even  imagined took form. To Triezal¡¯s mounting shock and horror, the vast spider-like machine slowly rose from its cradle and shifted, taking unsteady motions toward a quietly expanding gap in the side of the building. It felt like the moment he turned his attention away, something went wrong. Triezal cursed, paralyzed as he desperately sought a way to salvage the situation. If a titan took action publicly, the Justice Office would have no choice but to intervene. And if they intervened¡­


    Triezal sprinted towards the operations booth, hoping to shut down the careless action that was occurring. He spun around the corner, emerging into a room filled with personnel, each inspecting and fiddling with large slates as they shouted over one another. The room¡¯s faces were filled with equal parts joy and fear, though the expression of the man in charge was full of nothing but excitement. His name was Overon, a Korlove who Triezal had never paid any particular attention to in the past.


    ¡°Stand down!¡± he shouted, ¡°Use of the titan is not authorized!¡±


    Overon sneered.


    ¡°It seems you haven¡¯t heard. We have permission.¡±


    ¡°I was just speaking with the Vice-Leader, and he had no intentions to authorize  anything like this. I¡¯m concerned that the facility might have been infiltrated by hackers.¡±  Triezal spoke fast, desperate to halt what seemed like a nigh-apocalyptic threat. The titan could not be allowed to activate. Not until they were far more desperate.


    ¡°The Leader wishes otherwise,¡± said Overon.


    Triezal¡¯s eyes widened.


    ¡°What are you talking about?


    The Korlove scowled.


    ¡°He called me just now, and it is not your place to doubt his intentions. Who are you to stand in our way, Magister?¡±


    Triezal narrowed his eyes, attempting to determine whether the other man¡¯s words rang true, but did not notice any obvious falsehoods. Had the Leader really commanded such a thing? If so, just what could his intentions be? As far as Triezal could tell, such an action would result in an outcome negative for everyone.


    That was when Triezal realized. Triezal chuckled, and his chuckles turned into a mad laughter as his eyes blazed with vigor, and he strode from the room. If he thought it would help, Triezal would have shot them, but unfortunately, he did not feel that it would help the situation. By this point, the only one who could stop this was whoever was piloting the titan, and it seemed that nothing Triezal himself could do might convince the man.


    ¡°It seems I was right,¡± he said with a curse, raising his slate and redialing Deuvar. Before the first ring, the connection was picked up, and the hologram of the muscular Jobu appeared above his slate. To Triezal¡¯s surprise, however, the Deuvar that appeared seemed to be a broken, haunted man, a look of shock and horror filling his eyes. As Triezal watched, a look of rage more intense than he had ever seen filled the man¡¯s eyes as he slowly glanced toward Triezal, their gazes locking.


    ¡°He¡¯s not here,¡± he said simply.


    Uncomprehending for a long moment, Triezal¡¯s eyes slowly widened as he realized the implications. Kadeki almost never left his home. In his old age, he had become a hermit, a misanthrope, only speaking with those he strictly needed to, and largely just his proteges Astna and Deuvar. If he had left without a warning¡­


    Triezal had been correct, but he could not comprehend just what the implications were. Still, that was not the largest issue at hand. Breathless, Triezal glanced back toward the shifting titan, then to Deuvar¡¯s image. Carefully, Triezal pieced words together.


    ¡°The Leader has given orders for the titans to be activated,¡± he said, and Deuvar froze.


    ¡°Is it just that one, or all of them?¡± he asked.


    Triezal simply shook his head. He had no way of knowing, and Deuvar had to be aware of that. Deuvar cursed and ended the call, presumably intending to speak with Overun, Kalthen, and the other facility overseers.


    Triezal, meanwhile, continued to glance up at the shifting form of the titan, wondering if events were past the point where he could even hope to interfere. Sometimes, he thought, one¡¯s limitations truly were cruel. With insufficient preparations, what could he even hope to do against such a machine?  Perhaps it would be better to just sit back, and watch the end of the world.


    No, thought Triezal, there was one more thing he could try. Carefully managing his injured hand, which had almost recovered to useful condition by now, he replaced the slate in his pocket and readied a pistol as he turned to Overun, still standing halfway across the room.


    Weapons of Mass Destruction: [WMD is the designation for weapons of such magnitude that they  might destroy an entire city, starship, or space station. The Seiyal refer to these as weapons of the ¡®immortal level.¡¯. Nuclear and fusion warheads, antimatter bombs, the ¡®titan¡¯ series of Celan mechs, ablation engines, and many other instruments of war also classify as WMD. They are banned in most territories, though the Pantheonic Government, despite banning their use by all factions external to themselves, in many cases do not enforce this due to internal corruption. If a WMD is utilized publicly, however, the faction is not only censured, in most cases it is destroyed outright unless the revealed individual or machine is destroyed, and the capacity to create it is removed. Despite this, no underworld organization can be considered a true power unless they bear at least one weapon of this level.]

 180- Clarity

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Deuvar looked on in horror at the mass of plants in what had once been a jungle-like space. Every single one of the plants that the Leader had meticulously acquired and grown was dead, wilted in their pots, as if they had not been watered in weeks. He had last been here just two weeks before, and at that time, nothing had been amiss.


    For the first time in over a month, Deuvar¡¯s long-lasting headache was gone, his mind fully clear as he continued to inspect the space before him. Dust had begun to form, and he could find little evidence to indicate how long it had been since the house¡¯s occupant had left.


    Deuvar chuckled, as if the sight before him was humorous, but a fist lashed out smashing a ceramic pot against the wall. Shards of the pot and chunks of dirt exploded across his surroundings, staining the side of Deuvar¡¯s clothes a dark shade of brown, not that he noticed. His attention remained firmly ensconced in what was not present, and the rage in his heart only continued to grow.


    Deuvar had never considered himself a wrathful man. It was not that he lacked a temper, but more so that he had the self restraint to control it. He played the role of the intimidating and punishing superior because it was effective at handling his subordinates, not because he lacked restraint. But even his self control had its limits. He felt himself reaching those limits now. The Leader, the man he had looked up to and supported for the majority of his life, now missing, likely dead, and the culprit was nowhere to be found.


    Once the current crisis had been resolved, Deuvar swore that he would avenge this.


    In the history of the Celan people, there was a period where multiple nations simultaneously held an arsenal of nuclear weapons, enough to render all of the few truly habitable portions of their planet infertile. These weapons had never seen use outside of testing, however. Each side had been far too fearful of the consequences, the reprisal that would occur. Mutually assured destruction, they called it. After entering the Pantheonic Territory, Deuvar had looked into the histories of other races, and had found that many races had similar stories.


    In Deuvar¡¯s opinion, war was a fundamentally economic matter, a comparison of costs and benefits, and when the benefits were outweighed by the costs, few would wish to take action. He had taken this into account when ordering reconstruction of the titans, following the conflict ten years before. If the station¡¯s hull was breached, chances were everyone in the city would die, a cost too great for even his enemies to bear.


    Only a zealot would do so, and the powers that be resented such individuals. Even Janottka, the supposed culprit of this mess, would not wish for such a thing. It was an empty threat, one which nobody would take seriously. But the titans remained a threat regardless, at least to his foes such as the Hadal Clan. This was because what the titans truly threatened was for the conflict to scale up to a higher level, to where the government would involve itself. The problem was that whichever of the two sides used cards of that level first would receive more suppression by the Staiven in the aftermath.


    This was the second titan facility that the Seiyal had unknowingly attacked, and perhaps it was true that activating the war machine was the only way to protect it from the invaders. But given the current situation, Deuvar would rather it be destroyed than put to use. There was more than one titan, more than one hidden card¡­ the thought filled his mind, and Deuvar remembered what he had been doing. Perhaps, he thought, his mind had not been so clear after all.


    He scrambled for his slate, his meaty fingers struggling to draw the right glyphs to contact his nephew. After a few short moments, the youthful appearance of Kalthen appeared, surprised by his appearance.


    ¡°Uncle? Is something wrong?¡±


    He seemed surprised, and momentarily, Deuvar wondered just how he appeared at the moment. But the distraction faded, and he asked the burning question.


    ¡°Have you received any orders from the Leader?¡±


    Kalthen frowned, confused by the question.


    ¡°Should I have?¡±


    Hearing this, Deuvar could not help but let out a deep breath.


    ¡°No, don¡¯t worry about it. Someone impersonated him and spoke to Overun. Do not trust any messages you receive unless they¡¯re from me, understood?¡±


    Kalthen froze, surprised by his uncle¡¯s words, but quickly nodded.


    ¡°Of course, Uncle. I¡¯ll make sure there are no issues here.¡±


    Giving him a sharp nod, Deuvar cut the call, and immediately dialed Khot, the woman in charge of the third and final titan facility. She took longer to respond than Kalthen, but reiterated what he had said. There had been no contact from anyone, much less somebody claiming to be the Leader.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    This was odd, thought Deuvar. Triezal seemed to suspect that Janottka had slain and impersonated the Leader, and wished to use the Staiven as a borrowed sword to kill them. But if that was the case, why did she not communicate with the other two facilities? He considered the idea of Overun faking the message and overreaching, due to fear for his life, and could not discard it out of hand. Overun had not particularly struck Deuvar as a coward, but he would not be the first to reveal a new side of himself when under threat of death.


    Wanting to curse, and perhaps to smash another pot, Deuvar stalked out of the Leader¡¯s home, knowing that regardless of the situation¡¯s cause, he could do nothing by simply remaining here. Perhaps it was too late, but there was still a chance that Triezal could restrain matters at that facility. As he left, Deuvar did not glance back, but deep down he suspected that he might never return to this place.


    <hr>


    ???, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    One of Rachel¡¯s selves frowned, noticing an anomaly in the virtual space. She inspected the issue, and upon closer analysis of the discarded net packets, their identity became discernable. She narrowed her simulated eyes, peering at the unmistakable trace.


    For the first time in weeks, she had found clear evidence of Janottka¡¯s network interface.


    ¡°Did you overplay your hand, or are you baiting us?¡± she asked the open air, unsure of her next move. She mulled the options over for her internal equivalent of several seconds realtime, before another of her split selves noticed a second unusual occurrence. Several signals had entered the open airwaves, as if out of nowhere. They were faint, extremely faint, but steadily growing in size. It only took her moments to realize what she was looking at.


    A hidden aperture on the side of a stack in Little Celah was opening, and given the size of the room within, there was only one possibility.


    ¡°You¡¯ve hidden so well, so why are you taking action now?¡± she muttered.


    It made no sense. The Heirs¡¯ leaders were not so foolish as to escalate to this level. Had the Seiyal done something she was not aware of? Or¡­ her thoughts turned to the traces she had just located on the network, and suddenly Rachel came to an immediate conclusion.


    ¡°Shit!¡± yelled Rachel, her voice echoing through the open air of the meditation room, and startling Cyrus, who had been in the middle of his ¡®cultivation,¡¯ as she liked to call it. ¡°There¡¯s a situation, and you need to get to Little Celah right now if we want to affect things.¡±


    He frowned, glancing at her projection with a surprised look on his face.


    ¡°What? Why so urgently?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m honestly not entirely sure what¡¯s going on, but it¡¯s big. There¡¯s a possibility that an immortal level battle might occur.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± parroted Cyrus, who had already leapt to his feet.


    Rachel gave him a toothy grin.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t we plan to fish in muddied waters?¡± she asked. ¡°This is the perfect opportunity. Almost everyone present there will probably die, but I¡¯m confident in your survivability, and we can try to get rid of several of our enemies while we¡¯re at it.¡±


    He quickly nodded, not needing much persuasion. Cyrus, she knew, was no coward.


    ¡°Call an aero, and grab Karie and Irid. Jihan and the others will stay and protect the sect.¡± Left unsaid was the fact that if an immortal level fight did occur, spirit refinement was likely the minimum prerequisite for simply surviving the conflict. Regardless, she agreed with leaving behind Jihan. He was stronger than Irid, and far more trustworthy than Karie. There was no better choice for someone to protect the sect. And they would not be so foolish as to leave it undefended again.


    Rachel nodded, and quickly used split selves to go about the preparations. She informed all of the sect¡¯s leadership, chartered the aero, and continued to analyze what was happening. The aperture slowly continued to open, and she broke into the systems of the nearby companies, discovering that a factory one level above the aperture¡¯s location had just been broken in by a powerful force of Seiyal bearing the Hadal Clan¡¯s uniforms. Interesting, she thought. She was learning more about the situation, but still the details escaped her. Perhaps by the time Cyrus arrived, she would fully comprehend what was going on.


    Her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden appearance of a message implanted into a multitude of packets in the network, its carrier leaving behind zero traces, this time.


    ¡°See you soon, Rachel,¡± it said.


    Rachel froze, then scowled in annoyance.


    Moments later, her figure appeared before Cyrus again, and he raised an eyebrow as she interrupted him midway through dressing himself.


    ¡°...Make sure you bring the knife,¡± she said, ignoring his current state. He hesitated, and then gave her a sharp nod, trusting her advice. Her projection then vanished, not wishing to make it awkward.


    Inside her simulated world, Rachel glanced again at the message she had been sent, and sighed.


    ¡°She really does know how to make someone uncomfortable,¡± she muttered.


    Nuclear War and the Staiven: [Despite their invention of nuclear technology, the Staiven have had a unified government long enough that there was never a nuclear conflict between them. In fact, the Staiven have not fought a real war in centuries, not since the time when the Pantheon first arrived on Staive, the forces of their Reilanh fighting against the natives for dominance. Ever since the pact 1634 standard years ago, which concluded in Pantheonic rule, the Staiven military has only had minor conflicts with alien forces, and occasional border issues with Osine client races or the underlings of other ascendant factions. Their dominance simply grew to the point where conflicts failed to escalate. However, the Staiven still have an understanding of mutually assured destruction. They are simply the ones who handle the role of the destruction.]

 181- Imminent Catastrophe

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    ¡°Call him back,¡± ordered Triezal, his voice strained, and his tone urgent. Overun glanced over in shock to see the Magister¡¯s pistol aimed at his head. The Korlove¡¯s eyes narrowed in disdain.


    ¡°Are you really going to go against the Lead-¡±


    ¡°There is reason to believe that the message you received from ¡®the Leader¡¯ was falsified. Vice-Leader Deuvar has deputized me to deal with this matter,¡± replied Triezal tersely. In reality, Deuvar hadn¡¯t gone through the particulars, but Triezal knew that he would authorize anything necessary for a goal this important.


    Hearing this, Overun sneered. On the surface, he appeared confident, but it did not escape Triezal¡¯s notice that occasionally the man¡¯s gaze would flash to Triezal¡¯s pistol, and then to the stairwell partway across the hanger. Triezal started to get an inkling as to the man¡¯s mental state.


    ¡°Do you have evidence for this, or is this an attempt to stage a mutiny? None of us trust you, you know. An outsider, coming here to tell us what to do. We aren¡¯t having it!¡± shouted Overun, but he did not meet Triezal¡¯s gaze, and a single bead of sweat dripped down his brow.


    This was one of the most annoying types of people, Triezal thought. The sort who only became more obstinate due to fear. If he had more time, he might have obliged the man and talked him down, but at the moment Triezal could feel the threat looming. He needed the titan to stop as quickly as possible.


    Without saying another word, Triezal fired, the bullet colliding into Overun¡¯s surprised face and out the other side, breaking the stony mask on the faces of the others in the room. Triezal glanced around witnessing the shock and fear of the personnel in the room.


    ¡°Shut it down,¡± he huffed, his forehead sweaty and his hair damp, already worn out. The technicians, administrators, and guards all stared, incredulous about what had just happened. Triezal could read in their eyes what they were thinking. Did he really just shoot the overseer?


    ¡°SHUT IT DOWN!¡± he shouted, waving his pistol, and the technicians urgently returned to their stations, scared into line by the threats of violence. The guards simply glanced at one another, unsure of what to do. They were cowed by Triezal¡¯s threat, as many in the organization had an understanding of his capabilities. Furthermore, he was a high ranking member, and what if he had been telling the truth? If they got in his way, not only would they risk their lives, they might even earn the Vice-Leader¡¯s ire. Not one of them was willing to take the risk.


    In moments, however, the technicians were stunned by a new development, one which caused a host of fearful eyes to glance back towards Triezal.


    ¡°M-Magister¡­¡± the man chuckled awkwardly, as if he was scared Triezal might do something to him when he heard. ¡°I-it¡¯s not responding.¡±


    A light flashed in Triezal¡¯s eye as he dashed over with a curse. In fact, it was not just that station. No matter what he did or attempted to send, all communications with the titan had been cut, or at least the great machine was not responding to any of their pings and messages. Triezal glared at the room¡¯s occupants.


    ¡°What were the pilot¡¯s orders?¡± Triezal asked, his tone icy. Inside, his hope had plummeted, believing the situation was finally beyond his ability to interfere.


    ¡°Overseer Overun told him to deal with the martial artists upstairs. The pilot was going to wait for further orders after that,¡± stammered the technician. For any other race, it would look very strange for a man so muscular to be such a whimpering coward, but Triezal did not pay attention to this fact, his mind caught up with thoughts of his next move.


    One man could not hope to stop a titan by force, not unless he had weapons far stronger than Triezal¡¯s own. Perhaps if he had been able to set explosives¡­ but unfortunately that was not the case. Now, all that was left was damage control. Perhaps their organization would not be destroyed outright, and they would still have room to maneuver and prepare properly for what might happen in a decade.


    If not, Triezal might finally have to give up on Tseludia and seek a life elsewhere. If the Heirs were doomed, then there would be no remaining reason to stay. As much as he would feel stifled, perhaps he could live out the remainder of his life as a nobody farmer or something on some minor colony world. He could disappear into the fog of history, eventually forgotten by the Epon.


    ¡°Keep trying to make contact,¡± he ordered. He could give up later. He had made friends and allies here, and it would be foolish to throw all of that away before the end was certain.


    A sharp pain in Triezal¡¯s left hand announced his bones finally shifting back into their proper shape. It was not fully healed, and likely wouldn¡¯t be for at least twelve hours, but it was in usable condition, again. It would do, for now.


    He stepped out of the control booth, peering upwards to the titan, which had finally risen to its feet and began to clamper out of the aperture, which had finally expanded into a true hole in the stack¡¯s side, pushing through the gap between levels.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    ¡°Just for a pair of spirit refiners,¡± he muttered to himself as he watched it. ¡°Couldn¡¯t be more overkill.¡±


    He idly wondered if he should try to damage its joints and perhaps stall it, but quickly discarded the thought. Each of the machine¡¯s joints were well-defended. His pistols would do nothing but bounce off of the thick plating of the advanced bronze alloy. Perhaps if he still had the knife, but¡­ Triezal sighed.


    ¡°Fuck,¡± he muttered, unsure what he could do. The pilot would probably listen to orders to return, if he received them, but the machine was not responding. Was it an error, or a mechanical issue, he wondered? That was unlikely. Titans had a lengthy list of failsafes, redundant functions, and external shut down orders. But, he realized, titans were also constructed based entirely on blueprints that the Heirs had received from the Epon.


    ¡°Fuck,¡± he muttered again. It was entirely possible, and in fact he would be surprised if his former organization had not built a backdoor into the titan programming. Given all that had happened, there was only one logical explanation.


    Triezal whipped his slate out once again, rapidly drawing the glyph that would connect his slate to one of the Redwater Sect¡¯s internal communication lines. The connection went directly to a terminal that was ostensibly used exclusively for communication between the sect and the Heirs. In reality, Triezal suspected that only Rachel actually paid attention to it. He felt he could trust a Shade, of all people, to pay attention to their phone. While he did not trust or even like Rachel, he knew that she had a conflict with her counterpart, and just this once, he suspected she would be willing to collaborate.


    Before the device even rang once, the call was picked up, but Triezal¡¯s mood sank as he saw the figure whose form appeared above the slate¡¯s surface. Rather than a sei woman, what he saw was a relatively slender Jobu woman with bright pink hair crowning her dusky skin.


    ¡°My, it has been some time, Triezal,¡± said Janottka, a motherly smile on her face. ¡°How have you been?¡±


    Seeing her, having all of his suspicions finally be proven correct, Triezal felt nothing but a growing pit in his stomach, and a deepening feeling of unease.


    ¡°Did you intercept the call?¡± he asked, his tone level.


    Janottka smirked, as if she sensed his true feelings. In reality, she probably did. She was an expert at reading a person¡¯s facial expressions.


    ¡°No need to worry, she already knows about the situation, and soon the hero will arrive. I just wanted to have a little conversation with you. You know, I actually wasn¡¯t sure they would decide to come. I gave it even odds, but it turned out well. Ah, it will be triumphant.¡± She had an excited, exultant expression on her face, one that caused Triezal¡¯s guts to churn even further as she continued. ¡°The city on the precipice of utter chaos, the war brought to a climax, and under the hand of their own Leader, a powerful organization collapses. I just had to fan the flames, and wait for the right timing.¡±


    She was gloating like the villain in a children¡¯s show, but that was just how Janottka was. She was literally built for drama, constructed to make entertaining storylines for a game not designed for realism. Even now, millennia after the collapse of her creator¡¯s very civilization, Janottka lived to implement the stories she concocted.


    If only she didn¡¯t like to play the villain, he thought.


    As if sensing Triezal¡¯s loss of attention, the ancient Shade paused her monologue, and her expression returned to the false image of care. Unfortunately, Triezal knew better than to trust the veneer she put on. Deep down, a Shade was not a person, merely a machine pretending to be one.


    ¡°Do you really believe you¡¯ll be able to get your hands on Rachel if you do all this?¡± he asked. ¡°Your theatrics will ruin your plans.¡±


    Janottka chuckled as she shrugged her shoulders.


    ¡°As I said, I was not sure they would come. But she¡¯s not what you expect. I¡¯ve analyzed her processing power and scoured the city, but the machine your friends acquired is not the Shade. It is merely her conduit. Even if I were to take it, she could simply cease to use it.¡±


    Triezal silently watched, not one to cause problems when an enemy was giving away valuable information so freely. He simply listened as she continued, her expression reverent.


    ¡°I suspect the one you call Rachel to be a computer constructed from the very essence of mortal souls, Triezal. Can you imagine? If we study her, we could peek into the secrets of the Osine themselves.¡± She shook her head. ¡°I would have brought a servitor if I knew her nature. Still, we are not without hope.¡± As if an afterthought, Janottka stroked her lips, and added: ¡°If you help me capture her, I could forgive your failure, as well as your little betrayal. Deumak was expendable, after all.¡±


    As much as he reared and reviled her, Triezal had to admit he felt slightly moved by the offer. He did not wish to return to Janaste, but perhaps that would be better than living his entire life fearful of being hunted down. He had hoped the Heirs might help to protect him from the consequences of his actions, but those hopes had died the moment Janottka stepped on board the station. He gritted his teeth.


    Triezal had always seen himself as a practical man, a realist. In the end, living was what mattered most. Freedom was only a distant second. She couldn¡¯t be trusted, but it was not as if he had any other good options short of fleeing.


    This was part of the reason Triezal hated Shades, he thought. They were able to know you better than you knew yourself. Perhaps she had even known how he would respond before he did.


    ¡°What do you need me to do?¡± he asked.


    Janottka¡¯s eyes glittered as she laughed, the sound brilliant and clear, as if a bell had rung.


    ¡°A wise choice, as expected of you.¡±


    From the corner of his eye, Triezal watched as the titan emerged from the hole like a butterfly leaving its cocoon, rising many tens of feet into the air.


    Advanced Materials Technology: [Every civilization¡¯s material technology tends to diverge after a certain point in development. In part this is generally due to the resources they have available, as well as the other technological developments they have. For example, the Staiven excel at advanced molecular structure synthesis, and can create materials designed for extremely specific tasks, while the Celans focus on materials that function well under extreme conditions involving the properties of flickering miasma. But while Staiven materials are extremely difficult to  replicate without the relevant technology, they are relatively simple to analyze. Contrarily, advanced Celan materials are to an extent the product of warpings, and are extremely difficult to understand or replicate without an understanding of the circumstances of their production.]

 182- In the Mothers Name

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Standing over the fallen body of the third enforcer, Juen heaved deep breaths, ignoring the throbbing pain of both an intense headache and the various gunshot wounds he had acquired over the course of the battle.


    The fight had gone astonishingly well for the two of them, with both Juen and Keitel emerging with no substantial energies, at least not as far as their genesis physiques were concerned. The terrain had greatly assisted with this, as the factory floor was far more suited to the martial artists than to the enforcers.


    However, victory had come at a price. He had overdrawn his cores, nearly having gone far enough to damage his foundation. Inside of him, sanguine miasma flowed more than ever, a flood which threatened to overwhelm him. Juen could feel it, coursing inside like blood through his veins. It almost seemed to have started to integrate with the genesis, not fusing, but not causing quite as much damage as it had before. Far less than it rightfully should have, according to his understanding of miasma.


    He couldn¡¯t help but worry that perhaps those Redwater Sect bastards had done something to him while he was captured. He had been asleep for most of that time, leaving them with more than enough opportunity, and as for motive¡­ there was no question that they would do such a thing if possible.


    Still, praise the Mother, he thought. He had been worried about this mission ever since he saw the first enforcer, but this conclusion was far superior to anything he could have hoped for. Not only had they destroyed what was clearly an important Celan factory, but they had also taken down multiple enforcers, and with such few casualties. This punishment operation had turned out to be a powerful image boost for him. Personally, he did not mind the change.


    Juen chuckled as he walked to Keitel, clapping the other man on the back with his infectious mood on full display. His wounds were nothing compared to the joy of success and the power of his adrenaline high. Given the circumstances they would need to return to Canvas Town early, but with such success, that was but a trifling issue.


    A small part of Juen felt that something was wrong, his mood unusual, but he discarded such thoughts. It was better to enjoy the moment.


    Keitel, however, gave him an odd look, shrugging Juen¡¯s hand off of his shoulder with a scowl. Presumably, he was still upset about having been dragged out and put into danger.


    ¡°Let us get going,¡± Keitel said tersely, ¡°There will be reinforcements soon.¡±


    Juen frowned, and opened his mouth to reply, only to notice something odd at the edge of his senses. He glanced downward, only for his eyes to widen in shock. He moved to say something, but was shocked by the blinding energies looming below. Juen¡¯s newly enhanced sense brought new depth to his migraine, overstimulated by the intensity of the aura. It felt as if he was staring into the sun, and he was blinded by the magnitude of the power emitted. He could sense that it was flickering miasma, in such vast quantities beyond what he could even imagine. Juen was so distracted that it took him much longer than it should have to realize that the object, whatever it was, was steadily approaching, closer and closer with each second that passed.


    Noticing his distraction, Keitel gave Juen an odd look, waiting expectantly for him to follow in the older man¡¯s wake. He was still playing the part of the dutiful bodyguard, at least until one of the two returned home. Juen cursed, as suddenly, the world fell into chaos. A vast metallic shape slammed through the wall, crushing everything in its path. Startled, Juen took a step back as he watched another martial artist trip and fall into the newly opened hole in the ground.


    He cursed, not even sure what he was looking at. Was the stack itself collapsing? Not even a crashed aero could cause this much damage. Perhaps an explosion elsewhere in the facility? A stray bullet might have ignited something explosive. From the corner of his eyes, he had watched as tens of his soldiers were massacred, crushed under the piles of rubble. Juen¡¯s bright mood had already faded, his mind filled with familiar scenes of the forward base, the walls and ceiling falling in on him, leaving him cocooned within the earth. It was as if Juen¡¯s life was an endless cycle of misery, he thought.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Setting aside such questions of philosophy, Juen sidestepped a falling piece of the ceiling, inspected the changes that had occurred within the room. Of note, the room had become filled with a dense orange mist that seemed to be cast off of the oversized metal structure. Said structure appeared to slowly recede in a sinuous manner, as if it were some sort of tentacle or multi-jointed appendage. This movement finally clued Juen in, the final piece of the puzzle that he had been denying.


    ¡°They¡¯re insane,¡± he muttered.


    The Supreme Elder needed to know. If he was not able to arrive in time, Juen knew that his death would be certain. Despite all of his power, accumulated through great hardship and effort over the decades, a titan remained far beyond the reach of a mere newly advanced spirit refiner.


    But these thoughts had little to do with his immediate situation, as the titan¡¯s limb crashed once again into the factory, sending debris crashing towards Juen, who was forced to leap out of the way of a wave of sharp metal ingots. All care for his clansmen had faded, leaving only his opportunistic will to survive. As several of the ingots clattered into his back, his mist unable to handle the extreme force of their momentum, Juen let out a pained grunt.


    Had he never been tainted by the sanguine path, Juen might have died, but his new cerebral technique almost seemed perfectly designed for a situation such as this, and even through the thick metal walls still dripping with the blood of his allies, Juen could sense in detail the entirety of the titan¡¯s form due to the resplendent coating of miasma floating around it. In fact, it would have been harder for him not to notice the spider-like machine. His mind was operating in overdrive, his senses extended as far as possible, trying desperately to track the movements of the metal beast. However, sensing the timing of the titan¡¯s attacks only did so much. While he could sense the titan¡¯s movements in perfect clarity, the same was not true for their outcomes. The factory was filled with discarded chunks of rubble and machinery that was not secured to the floor, all of which went flying with each collision.


    Sensing another incoming limb, Juen dove to the ground, finally making it out through the factory¡¯s door as the interior of the factory was crushed for a third time by the repeated tempo of the titan¡¯s attacks. Juen rolled onto his back and made to stand up, gaining an idea of the situation.


    Though he was no longer inside, it was clear to Juen that the outside was not all that much safer. The surrounding area was filled with cracks in the metal and stone of the stack structure, fragmenting chunks of the ceiling slowly beginning to crumble and fall onto the street, where pedestrians were actively fleeing as quickly as their mortal feet could take them.


    The destructiveness of a machine comparable to the immortal realm was not to be understated, he thought, as the titan went in for a fourth blow. This time, part of the stack crumbled with it. The cracks deepened, splintering as the section of floor above him collapsed, causing hundreds of pounds of rubble to fall on everyone unfortunate enough to stand below. Caught in falling rubble for the second time in weeks, Juen could do nothing except curse his own poor luck.


    With a great exertion, Juen let out most of the stored energy he had left, shoving aside the falling rubble in a vain attempt to clamber to his feet, but he stumbled, having little energy left in the chamber after his injuries. The rubble fell around him, scattering across the area, and crushing a number of unfortunate passersby. For a long moment, Juen simply sat and breathed, impressed at his own survivability. As he sat and rested, his eyes still scanning for threats, the migraine suddenly intensified, and Juen felt as if something in his brain had popped, the region flooded with so much sanguine miasma that it was as if all of the genesis had been forced out.


    ¡°Shit,¡± Juen muttered, swaying from the intensity of his agonized skull, one which was rapidly losing consciousness.


    Hail to the lady of blood, he thought deliriously, as his mind faded, and he fell to the floor, feeling oddly resigned.


    The Supreme Elder of the Hadal Clan: [An enigmatic figure who rarely takes action, his existence only became known when he took action to fight off an attacking titan, before disappearing once again, with rumors of death from his injuries. Rumors have claimed that he is a true immortal ascendant, while others say that he is an earthly immortal, or perhaps just a very powerful spirit refiner. Regardless, the Supreme Elder is known to be the clan¡¯s trump card, someone who always remains in the sect to protect it unless there is dire need. Since the events of ten years ago, the Supreme Elder has remained in the Shadows, doing nothing that might provoke the government. To the wider world, his name and history remain unknown, prompting many to believe that he was either trained up in secret by the clan, or is perhaps simply so ancient that records of him have been lost to time.]

 183- Muddied Waters

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    In my estimation, the best view in the city was undoubtedly that from the side windows of an aero. The skies of Tseludia were a wide-open place, filled only by the tiny forms of other aeros, buzzing around us like insects after the rain, and one could see all across the vastness of the city. I had never seen the cities of my homeworld from such an aerial perspective, but I believed that Tseludia would have been noticeably larger than any I had visited. Even still, I found it difficult to adjust to such images, even more so on this day.


    The city, usually painted in the white light of the dome, was now a blazing field of orange. The brilliant glow filled the city, painting the world in ochre hues so intense that other colors were difficult to make out. As I tracked my eyes closer and closer to the sixth district, the glow only intensified until I made out a shifting form between the stacks.


    The titan was difficult to see at first, more than half of its form still located beneath the top level. With an armored central body and eight legs emerging radially, the titan really did look like a massive Korlove, if not for the sinuous nature of the legs and the constant flow of flickering miasma around it, as if the machine sat inside of an inferno. Looking at it, I could not help but picture in my head the vast fiend that had roamed my homeland. In terms of size and general shape, the titan was vaguely similar, though in all particular details it came across differently.


    As the aero continued to approach, I kept my eyes peeled, looking for any potential movements by other forces. I would be surprised if the clan did not make a move, and the interference of the Justice Office would be a foregone conclusion, though there was a question of how long it might take them to arrive.


    ¡°What is our plan?¡± asked Irid. Her words were filtered through Rachel, who sounded like she was trying to do an impression of the Reth woman. I turned to look at her and my other companion, who seemed excited.


    ¡°Rachel¡¯s trying to figure out where all of our targets are, so the plan will be shifting. Just remember the target list and kill them if you see them, and stay out of the titan¡¯s way as much as possible.¡±


    ¡°Juen is mine,¡± said Karie, eyes ablaze with fervor.


    ¡°If you see him,¡± I said, ¡°you may kill him.¡±


    Normally, in such a circumstance, I would have made sure that familial affection would not get in her way, but given the pair¡¯s history, I felt that Karie would have few issues with a second attempt on her cousin¡¯s life. In fact, of the three of us I was the only one who had never fought with Juen before.


    Having answered the question, I returned my attention to the steadily expanding altercation in my vision. It became clear that the titan was smashing into the side of the stack. That must be where Juen and the other Hadal spirit refiner were, I thought. It was good to know, as they numbered among our targets. The opportunity to kill the two and blame it on the titan was perfect for our goals. It would deal a tremendous blow to the Ceirran faction, and force the faction¡¯s focus to internal threats, rather than the sect.


    ¡°Do you have her location yet?¡± I asked, glancing over to Rachel, who was taking up another of the aero¡¯s seats in her Seiyal guise. As far as anyone else was concerned, the Vice-Sect Leader was participating in this mission, but of our own group, only Karie was unaware of her true nature.


    Rachel shook her head.


    ¡°I¡¯m scouring the area, but no dice yet. Assuming she¡¯s still in this area like she implied, I should be able to track her down fairly quickly. Of course, by the same token, she¡¯ll be able to track us. I¡¯m not exactly being stealthy at the moment.¡±


    I frowned, not enthused about the idea of having my location known by an enemy Shade, of all things. I had plenty of experience with the boundary between hunter and hunted, however, so I was willing to accept this state of affairs.


    ¡°Tell me when you find her,¡± I ordered, now having to crane my head to get a proper view as the aero approached the skydock for a landing. All the berths on the structure had been vacated, their occupants having presumably chosen to flee the area the moment they realized what was happening.


    No matter what happened from this point forward, it would likely not be good for any civilians in the area. In fact, I was somewhat surprised that our own aero pilot was willing to go there. In all likelihood, Rachel had simply paid him extra. The galaxy had no shortage of people who were willing to take risks in exchange for money. That was simply the nature of things. After all, what was an unorthodox practitioner if not someone who was willing to take risks in return for benefits? It helped that there was no need to actually land the vehicle.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Thirty feet above the surface of a stack I slid the vehicle¡¯s hatch open as the aero slowly passed, leaping from its side, and being extremely careful how I landed. I rolled as I collided with the ground, instantly rebounding up to my feet and looking around to acquire a greater understanding of the situation. There had been no major changes, at least not yet. Due to Rachel¡¯s awareness we had perhaps been the very first, outside the Celans themselves who knew what happened, so it was no surprise that we had been the first to arrive. However, given the giant plume of orange smoke that continued to billow across the dome, I knew that would not last long.


    Moments behind me, Karie and Irid also landed, having fallen slower due to the momentum suppression of Karie¡¯s miasma. Rachel had also ¡®fallen¡¯ on her own, though in her case it was more that she had been the last to leave the aero, and yet she was already standing on the ground before I had rolled to my feet.


    ¡°Any updates?¡± I asked.


    ¡°She¡¯s close,¡± Rachel muttered. ¡°I can narrow it down to a total of eight possible stacks, but I need her to take action before I can finally pin her location. Just go and deal with the martial artists while you wait, this shouldn¡¯t take too much longer.¡±


    I nodded, glancing at Karie and Irid.


    ¡°You heard her. Juen Hadal should be here somewhere, and we¡¯ll wish to kill him and Keitel before their reinforcements arrive.¡±


    It was inevitable that the situation would expand before it got better. The addition of such an important figure like Juen Hadal always managed to complicate matters, and would, according to Rachel and Karie, force the clan¡¯s enigmatic Supreme Elder to take action. Once he, and whichever spirit refiners he chose to bring arrived, it would be in our best interest to leave Juen alone. Without plausible deniability, killing the man was a liability, rather than a boon.


    After the momentary pause, the three of us ran for the bridge, as miasma began to leak from Karie¡¯s body, and smog from Irid¡¯s. I easily outpaced them, trusting in Rachel¡¯s ability to direct them as needed.


    Reaching the far side, I flung myself down the stairs, passing down level after level until I reached the area that had been demolished many times over by the titan¡¯s limbs, feeling beneath my feet the structural instability of the ground here. I almost felt as if at any moment, the ceiling could collapse on me like it had back at the 8th district black market. Though, as I realized while approaching deeper into the area, in some parts of the space it already had.


    ¡°What are the odds this killed them?¡± I muttered. Though the question had been rhetorical, Rachel responded regardless.


    ¡°They¡¯re genesis spirit refiners, Cyrus. What do you think?¡±


    I sighed, glancing back to the titan, which was standing less than a hundred feet away from my position. It had stalled in its assault on the stack, and was now simply loitering beside the devastation it had caused. Was it waiting to see whether its targets had died, or was the pilot simply worried that the stack might collapse if they dealt more damage? It was hard to guess, but I decided to try and be stealthy and reduce the odds that the titan¡¯s operator might notice my presence. I had been both an ally and an enemy of the Celans during my time on the station, and I was not ready to take mindless risks for little gain.


    The development of my refinement method was still limited, and my soul had yet to become as stealthy as it would one day be. Luckily, I was dealing with a Celan, rather than a Staiven. They would be using more mundane senses to scan the surroundings. Those I had an easier chance at passing undetected. I was nothing if not fast.


    The Water Striding Steps took form under my movements, as natural to me now as breathing, and I dashed in a haphazard manner across the field of rubber, searching for any survivors. Trying my best to keep out of the titan¡¯s line of sight, I dashed and ducked my way around, traversing ground as quickly as possible in hopes of finding my targets. It did not take long.


    Crawling out from under piles of rubble, a heavy-set Seiyal clambered his way though shards of metal and fragmented stone, his body draped in burns that I suspected might have come from exposure to flickering miasma. He had a shifty look, glancing either which way, and his eyes widened as he saw me, before his jaw shifted to a sour expression. I smiled back at him, having already readied my sword.


    Due to the sudden nature of this situation, my sword remained under examination by the Venin Group, and I had not been able to take the time to retrieve it. Instead, I held in my hand a sword in a very similar style. It was constructed of a lightweight, durable alloy, and even balanced in my grip similarly to my own sword. However, I knew that deep down it could simply not compare. Internally, I swore to myself never to let my blade out of my sight again. It was a lesson I had once lived by, and yet so quickly I seemed to have forgotten it.


    Before me, the man I had identified as Keitel snarled zealously, charging me with his bare fists. A thin smile graced my lips as I charged back, paying no heed to the potential threat posed by the titan that waited just half a stack away.


    Tseludia Station¡¯s Construction: [Built using an asteroid as the foundation, Tseludia Station is largely the product of refined minerals which emerged from said asteroid, as enhanced with materials bought and traded with. The majority of the station is composed of stone interlaced with proprietary Staiven alloys, resulting in the general patchwork colored structure that composes most of the station, including the stacks. In parts of the station largely inhabited by aliens with visual sensory organs, paint, wallpaper, veneers, and tiling are all used to hide this ¡®eyesore¡¯, as many consider it to be. The construction of the stacks are extremely strong, however, easily able to hold the thousands of tons of weight that each one lifts, even in the enhanced gravity of the station¡¯s spindle. Despite this strength, the immense weight of each stack is such that if one were to fall and crash into another, a chain reaction might occur. This premise has been part of the setting of three distinct apocalypse films in the past decade, created and set within Tseludia itself.]

 184- Bloodbound

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Karie stalked her way through the mounds of scrap and rubble, searching for her cousin¡¯s traces. The Riverfiend had long disappeared, his movement technique far outmatching her own. She had been left behind with the Reth woman, someone who Karie remained unsure how she felt about.


    It was an odd feeling to work with one of her people¡¯s natural enemies. The woman did not even have any languages in common with her, and Karie was inclined to ignore her presence. The wraithlike Irid perhaps felt the same, but Karie got the feeling that she might have been expressing disdain. The feeling was mutual.


    The two were not particularly moving together, but the topology of the area they searched left the two within eyesight of one another.


    Though Irid was cloaked in that shadowy mist of hers, Karie endeavored to pay attention to Irid¡¯s location, concerned about a possible sneak attack from the Reth woman. She would not forget that they were merely allies of convenience. Karie had no loyalty to the Redwater Sect, and knew well that they had none for her.


    ¡°Where are you?¡± she muttered, continuing to scan the area with both her eyes and her soul sense. Sometimes, she wished that she had chosen a different technique for her cerebral core. Enhanced senses were extremely helpful at times like this.


    Her eyes roamed outwards, spotting something happening near the titan. It was moving as if it were fighting with someone. Had the Supreme Elder arrived already? Thinking that was the most likely scenario, a bead of sweat slowly formed on Karie¡¯s brow. She knew that he would be happy to kill her given the opportunity. Particularly in order to save Juen¡¯s life.


    One issue with the current situation was that Karie knew Juen would be able to see her before she saw him. He had a technique to expand his senses, after all. Moreover, Karie¡¯s soul was like an imploding star, condensing in on itself, a lighthouse that shone brilliantly even among a field of stars.


    During the weeks since she had become a spirit refiner, Karie had not ceased her practice, and her soul had started to transform under the impact of her refinement method. It had shrunk, growing smaller and denser, a beacon among the largely homogenous souls of the station¡¯s inhabitants. She knew that Juen would be able to recognize the soul of a Hadal spirit refiner even from a distance.


    The reverse was not true, but fortunately Karie was not alone. While she searched, Karie heard a voice speaking directly in her ear, an unnerving sensation that she did not expect to grow accustomed to.


    ¡°Irid found him,¡± said Rachel simply. Karie burst into motion, charging across the uneven rubble, as if she were chasing desperately. Rapidly catching up to the field of dark smog surrounding Irid, Karie followed the Reth woman¡¯s gaze to see a figure ten yards away who looked as if they had just crawled their way out from a grave.


    ¡°I¡¯ll handle it,¡± said Karie, immediately racing towards him and leaving Irid behind.


    Before her, slowly returning to his feet was a battered martial artist with torn green and black robes. Juen¡¯s eyes were bloodshot, and he had a blank expression on his face as if he were having difficulty focusing.


    Karie smiled widely as she saw his injuries. The worse his condition, the easier her task would be. Even still, she could not be caught intentionally murdering him. She was treading the line of acceptability within the clan, but Karie knew the limit of the family¡¯s tolerance.


    ¡°You debase yourself, Karie,¡± he growled, his eyes narrow as he easily recognized her, ¡°no, Twinjade Demon is a more suitable name for you, now, isn¡¯t it? Working with unorthodox practitioners is one thing. But the Reth?¡±


    Karie began to squeeze energy from her internal miasma, unravelling the stores of genesis that she had pressurized inside of her channels.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°It¡¯s nice to see you, cousin,¡± she said. ¡°You don¡¯t seem well. It¡¯s a shame those injuries of yours were mortal.¡±


    Juen met her gaze, and his expression firmed as he sneered, fat drops of sweat painting his skin.


    ¡°Even if your mother wishes to assist you now, the rest will never allow it,¡± he said. ¡°In your vain attempt to reach for what lies beyond your means, you have discarded your birthright. No matter what happens, in the end you will be judged.¡±


    Something about his words seemed off, but Karie did not care to deeply consider the matter. She preferred to focus on the way his muscles shifted beneath his robes, indicating that he was prepared to burst into motion.


    Karie moved first.


    With a powerful, miasma fueled leap, Karie drew both of her swords, catching Juen within the field of her mist. His own field pushed out, and their energies quickly mixed, turning the area into a true mire. The two of them were caught in it, and as Juen raised his battered staff, the pair began to trade blows as they moved in slow motion.


    A duel between practitioners who both bore the Hadal Clan¡¯s most prized technique was a unique experience. Because of their extremely hampered movements, both Karie and Juen were able to easily tell what their opponent intended to do long before it occurred. This meant, Karie knew, that even without any assistance from her allies, she would have the advantage in this fight.


    Karie stepped closer, trying to enter within the reach of her weapons, her twin blades tearing through the miasma towards his stomach. Juen took a step backwards, and the swords lightly grazed his chest as his heavy staff slammed down towards her. But she, too, could easily dodge his blow. It was like a dance, as the two moved in and out of one another¡¯s range, taking and missing opportunities as they roved over the rubble. Though Juen was injured and his weapon damaged, the unusual, methodical and strategic nature of their fight allowed him to maintain himself.


    But as they fought, the feeling that something was wrong only continued to grow within Karie. Juen¡¯s breathing grew heavier, blood continued to drip from his wounds as if it refused to clot, and his attacks slowly grew swifter and more powerful.


    It wasn¡¯t until the red mist started to emanate from him, and tears of blood started to drip from Juen¡¯s eyes that she finally began to understand the situation.


    <hr>


    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    ¡®They¡¯ve gone insane,¡± muttered Aven, staring out through the wide window at the fiery orange sky, and the glow which outshone the domelight itself.


    Sirena chuckled, her suspicions confirmed by what she was seeing.


    ¡°This is not like you, Kadeki. You wouldn¡¯t have forgotten the lessons I taught you last time so easily.¡± Sirena frowned, her eyes narrowed. ¡°He should be dead, but¡­ Just what is happening over there?¡± She sighed, absentmindedly rubbing her cerebral dantian, and then glanced over to Aven. ¡°Call Du Qin.¡± She then paused, and chuckled again. ¡°Nevermind. That should be the place we sent Juen to. He¡¯ll be moving out with or without my orders.¡±


    ¡°Is there anything we should do?¡± asked Aven. Though his thinning hair and the growing wrinkles on his face made him seem older than Sirena, his undisguised fear caused her to see him as the child she remembered.


    ¡°For now,¡± she said, leaning back in her chair, ¡°we¡¯ll let him handle it. You¡¯ll be busy enough for ten once this is over, and the Staiven step in. Contact First Commander Pakas and tell him to be ready to pull back when needed.¡±


    Aven nodded, giving a short bow and quickly accessing.


    ¡°Is that all, Matriarch?¡± he asked.


    Sirena gave him a wry smile as she peered out through the wide window, watching the flickering miasma billow higher and higher throughout the habitat.


    ¡°...for now.¡±


    Sirena continued to watch the skyline. This was, she thought, a turning point., and regardless of their reasons for doing so, the Heirs of Ottrien had been the first to cross the line. It was an opportunity, but also a threat. She pondered the matter, her abyss of mind fully active, just how this might impact the future of the clan. But as always, what Sirena lacked most was information.


    Genesis Singularity: [One of the more well-known spirit refinement methods of the genesis path, this art is controlled by a number of different genesis forces of Sunlit Hall, its roots tracing back many generations, and is one of the most popular spirit refinement methods among several of the forces which control it. The method consists of using the force of miasmic current to pressurize the soul, squeezing it slowly into a smaller and denser state until ultimately it hits a critical point, and collapses into a true singularity, and for better or worse. Once true singularity is achieved, the practitioner immediately initiates their ascension, for better or worse. One side benefit of this method is that the practitioner¡¯s soul becomes more difficult to target due to its small size and high density. It is, however, often much easier to sense due to the extremely unusual density it will attain.]

 185- Titanic

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Despite his injuries, Keitel was like a punching bag, soaking up all the damage I could deal while being unable to land a single blow on me. I was left to be a restless wave, crashing time and time again into the seawall, in hopes of slowly eroding its defences.


    Keitel had not, I realized, practiced the flagship technique of the Hadal Clan. Instead, he practiced a technique that greatly enhanced his ability to amplify his body, rendering him far stronger and faster than even the other Hadal spirit refiners, and vastly more resistant to damage. His pale skin was tinged a slight green, a clear indication that his technique infused miasma into it. As he moved, thin trails of green mist shifted behind his motions. However, he was not faster than me.


    He charged, baring his fists as he closed the distance between us. I raised my sword in return, my feet instinctively returning into the neutral first stance of my sword art. I had yet to find the time to adjust it to my new physique, yet another item on my list that I had found impossible to fit into my tight schedule. That was a process that would take years, perhaps decades to complete, and yet, abnormally for a martial artist of my level, I was forced to consider only the immediate future.


    Keitel lunged, and I stepped into his guard, slashing upwards into his ribs, but only managing to push half an inch into his skin before my blade became stuck. I cursed, ripping it out as Keitel went for a headbutt. The world swam around me as I stepped backwards in a daze, desperately attempting to recoup my senses.


    I wished I had my sword. I found myself needing to treat the weapon gingerly. The sword I was holding was actually much sharper than my relic weapon, but the difference in durability between the two was utterly incomparable. I felt as if just a single poor hit might shatter the blade¡¯s alloy. Moreover, even at its best, this blade was nothing compared to the sword I had lost back on Canvas.


    Keitel pressed the attack, not letting up as he delivered a relentless flurry of blows that left me entirely on the backfoot. I gritted my teeth, ducking and weaving his blows, but unable to prevent him from getting a grip on my right arm and yanking me towards him.


    From his movements, and how natural he seemed to be in fighting with his fists, I got the impression that this man might have been a pugilist, one of those madmen who disdained the use of weapons altogether. I understood that training to be able to fight without weapons was an excellent idea, but in the end a martial artist¡¯s power was greatly boosted by the addition of a good weapon. I wondered whether he had gauntlets that were destroyed in the building¡¯s collapse, or whether he was simply a fool. I supposed it didn¡¯t matter.


    Keitel¡¯s knee dug into my chest, driving the breath from my chest. No matter how much a martial artist developed, the limitations of a humanoid body would always remain, I thought. On instinct, I lashed out with my sword, catching his thigh with the blade and drawing a long line of blood into his leathery flesh. As he staggered, the flesh of my wrist and hand shivered, contorting to squirm out of his grip as I staggered backwards myself, both of us nearly snarling with anger.


    This was a man who understood what it meant to fight, to kill, I thought. One  who truly understood both the rush and the fear, the primal sensations of combat. It was said he was a coward, but even a coward, when pressured into the right situation, I thought, could have as much valor as anyone else.


    I had already learned a lesson from this fight. My flesh should never remain stable during a battle. From this point forward. I would allow no opportunities to grapple me, no matter what.


    Suddenly, as I backed away, a multitude of figures appeared around us in an instant. Each of them was that of a dusky-skinned man with golden hair and eyes, wearing sets of red-and-black robes. It did not take me long to guess the source of these figures. They were illusions, what Rachel liked to refer to as ¡®holograms¡¯.


    Rachel had not helped me in this manner before, but it could be quite effective, I realized. Keitel was a martial artist. Rather than a Celan machine with advanced sensors, or the Staiven and their own odd senses, most martial artists had to largely rely on the senses they were born with. All of a martial artist¡¯s senses except for those of the soul could be fooled by an illusion.


    ¡°Trickery!¡± cursed Keitel, swinging desperately at the decoys surrounding him. His hand coursed through them, but he had already lost track of my position amongst the shifting bodies.


    ¡°We¡¯re not here to fight fair,¡± sneered Rachel, her voice coming from the crowd of duplicates themselves. ¡°You know, I didn¡¯t previously care about you Ceirrans or your racist conflicts, but after meeting the Reth, I have to say that I feel rather inclined to them. Perhaps you and your goddess should reconsider outdated views? You¡¯re from the same planet, after all. Even the Celans were able to unite.¡±This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    I crashed into Keitel from behind before he could reply, and he choked as my knee slammed into his back and my sword grazed the side of his skull, tearing a huge chunk of flesh from his scalp. My movement technique had no way to mitigate my momentum, so though I wished to stay and continue the assault, I was launched through and past the staggering practitioner, landing several feet on his other side.


    ¡°Shit!¡± yelled Rachel suddenly, surprising me. ¡°Cyrus, watch out!¡±


    It took me a moment to realize what she meant, and I turned to see Keitel facing me once more, one half of his face covered in blood and ignoring the many decoys surrounding us. Behind him stood the barrels of a gun nearly as wide as I was tall, framed by the orange light of the titan it was attached to.


    With a direct line of fire on the both of us, the multitude of heavy barrels fired, pumping the miasmically, enhanced scraps of metal towards us as quickly as possible. I cursed, dodging out of the way with a powerful step as the injured Keitel was eviscerated by the weapons fire. I glanced back, checking to make sure he was dead before I returned my attention to the titan. During the entirety of our fight, the man had only spoken a single word.


    ¡°Damn it. I thought you were going to interfere with what it could see!¡± I shouted, carefully keeping out of the line of fire. Rachel grumbled in response.


    ¡°She¡¯s interfering, obviously. But there¡¯s good news! I¡¯ve found her location!¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± I replied, speaking tersely as I dodged another sweeping hail of bullets. ¡°Send the others, and make sure she dies.¡± Behind the projectiles, I could see the swift approach of one of the machine¡¯s limbs, and my skin involuntarily paled as my mind raced to come up with a solution. I fueled the storm in my heart, feeling it expand, raging harder and harder as my body filled to its limit and beyond with formless miasma, a blue mist beginning to emanate from my body¡¯s pores.


    ¡°Well, they¡¯re currently dealing with a¡­ situation of their own,¡± said Rachel. The way she spoke implied that there was something humorous about the ¡®situation¡¯,


    I didn¡¯t bother to respond, as I had my own problems to deal with. I eyed the gap, deciding that it was well within my capabilities, and leapt upwards, planting one foot across the railing as I strode further, clearing the yards with a practiced motion and diving into the pungent orange fog that roiled above the titan¡¯s metal skin. For a long moment I was suspended in midair, an abyss beneath me and an untrustworthy shifting machine in front, but I swiftly collided with the surface of the machine¡¯s limb, regaining my footing and swiftly returning to a sprint.


    ¡°¡­I suppose Karie might be able to handle it,¡± said Rachel, her words barely registering to my distracted senses. ¡°I¡¯ll send Irid. Try not to die, Cyrus.¡±


    With that said, she left me alone, grasping for purchase on the rutted surface of the slick metal plates that composed the titan¡¯s appendage. I had trained in my movement for decades, and could easily preserve my balance while sprinting over slick mud. Compared to the trials my master had put me through, the shifting mass of bronze and steel was only a bit more difficult. I sprinted up the limb, still having to dodge the shifting paths of the bullets as they traced lines across the sky, and placed fist sized divots in the metal edges of the stack.


    The bullets of the titan were much larger than those of an enforcer, and I knew that if they could tear someone like Keitel apart, I could have no chance to survive if I were hit. But due to its size, its angles of fire were limited, and perhaps its greatest weapon was the pressure of the thick flickering clouds which burned away at my robes and hair, searing my flesh with boils and tumors. Of all the miasmas, flickering felt the most like the powers of chaos, and I couldn¡¯t help but imagine how horrid the Celan homeworld must have been, to be filled with such toxic energy. It was no wonder they had needed to adapt in such a manner.


    I wondered whether anyone had ever scaled a titan in this manner before. The footing was poor, and I needed to move with great speed and agility to avoid the sweeping fields of fire, all while the energies raged upon me. I felt like a small insect biting at a grazing animal, unable to achieve anything of importance. Perhaps, had I a better weapon, but this sword of mine was already showing wear from its few collisions with Keitel¡¯s genesis infused body. As a spirit refiner, I had more than enough strength to tear into the powerful armor of the titan, but I did not believe my sword would be able to handle it, not when shrouded in this entropic mist. Given the enormous size of the machine, I imagined little would result from the attempt before I started needing to use my fists.


    So this was what they called the immortal level, I thought. Truly, it was a step beyond. I finally crested the rise where the titan¡¯s limbs met its central body, where I found nothing except guns and exhaust ports for torrents of miasma. If I didn¡¯t know better, I would have assumed the machine must have been fueled by a lesion to produce this much miasma.


    In the moment where I stood atop the vast metallic beast, I saw a flash of purple in the distance, and all of a sudden the structure within me shuddered, emitting pained groans and tilting to the side, much of the metallic structure warped. I did not need to guess as to what had happened, as a vibrant field of purple pushed against the orange smoke, and an enormous steel lotus began to blossom from the titan¡¯s side. Standing on the flower¡¯s stamen was an old sei with a long, thin beard, a gnarled wooden staff held in one hand. He wore finely crafted green robes with golden trim, indicative of a very high position in the Hadal Clan. I knew who this was, having seen his image in the information I had looked over from the last war between the two factions. This was the Hadal Clan¡¯s Supreme Elder and strongest member, Earthly Immortal Du Qin Hadal. His golden eyes glanced over to me and met my gaze. Involuntarily, I felt a shiver of fear ripple down my spine.


    Pugilists: [Pugilists, historically, have often been considered as fools or idiots. The entrance of the Seiyal into the galactic era only exacerbated this idea, as great innovations in weapons technology have resulted, leaving many to feel that the pugilist is the way of the past. Several of the stronger pugilist forces have finally moved on to the use of gauntlets for their arts. There are few techniques uniquely for pugilists, and in the modern era, the discipline is in most cases a matter of those who prefer their own fists to a separate weapon, and for that reason simply temper their bodies. It is said that the self proclaimed Martial God, one of the very few martial artists to successfully ascend to immortality, was once a practitioner of fist arts. His legend still inspires a great many to pursue this path, despite its downsides.]

 186- A Lotus Soul

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Du Qin Hadal stepped out of the aero, watching the giant machine fight with a figure that seemed miniscule from such a distance.


    ¡°How convenient,¡± he muttered. ¡°Two in one place.¡±


    He walked swiftly but unhurriedly towards a bridge overlooking the battle, still watching as it progressed. The small figure dashed to and fro on the titan¡¯s form, like a small stinging insect, unable to even pierce the great beast¡¯s hide. If Du Qin were to wait, he would surely witness the Riverfiend¡¯s death.


    But of far more importance than the unorthodox spirit refiner was the impending decisions the Staiven would surely make. Before they took action, he needed to rescue Juen, and ideally Keitel as well. His upcoming plans heavily relied on the boy¡¯s continued survival. Was this event part of a conspiracy targeting him and his faction, or had Juen simply been unfortunate? He would have his subordinates look into the matter once this was over. Du Qin Hadal was a man who repaid both debt and grudge in equal measure.


    Du Qin scanned the area, searching for signs of any condensed souls. He glanced again at the forms of the Riverfiend and the titan, noticing a very odd, large soul in the area. From this distance, it appeared vaguely spherical, and was sucking and emanating ashata in a peculiar manner. He had never seen anything like it. Could that be the Riverfiend¡¯s soul, he wondered? If so, there must be some secret to it. That was not his focus, however, so his gaze moved onwards, seeking out the evidence he was looking for.


    Juen, he knew, had the soul of a Hadal genesis practitioner. Their singularity method was among the best available, and only practitioners of other paths like Du Qin would choose a different one. Throughout his long life, he had seen hundreds of spirit refiners who used the method, and even at a distance could easily recognize such souls. It did not take him long to spot what he was looking for. There were two souls in the area which fit his criteria, which matched with the presence of Juen and Keitel. As expected, the two were standing near one another. Trusting in their joint abilities, Du Qin turned his attention to the titan. Since he was here¡­


    Carefully sliding his legs over the metal railing of the bridge, Du Qin set his feet on the lip, and launched himself from the surface at high speed, cracking the stone surface behind him. He had no techniques to enhance his body, nor any for his motion, but what Du Qin did have was a true manifest body, and as he pushed off from the surface, there was a burst of purple light as a metal lotus flower appeared suddenly between his legs and the bridge, launching him away.


    Du Qin slammed into the titan¡¯s side at full force, buckling a large portion of the metallic beast¡¯s structure, but not breaking its defenses. It would take more than that to defeat such a machine. Above, the Riverfiend rocked on his feet, but his balance was excellent, and held firmly. Where he had collided with the massive machine, an oversized steel lotus almost the size of an aero had formed around him, wrapping its petals around the various limbs and gun emplacements of the machine in an attempt to render it entirely restrained. Now that his momentum had been bled away by the impact, the lotus petals slowly slid open, blooming in place like a silvery tumor which shimmered with purple light.


    He stood on the flower¡¯s stamen, inducing the shifts in his soul to cause changes to the world around him.


    Du Qin¡¯s soul was a vast lotus, one matching the metal flower around him in every aspect of size, shape, and form. He could perfectly control the shape of his soul, and the metal warped to match. His had been a self-created soul refinement method, and one he had used to great extent, its nature perfect for his path.


    Restrictions, to Du Qin, were merely paths to greatness.


    The petals draped around the titan¡¯s sinuous limbs, squeezing tighter and tighter as if they wished to return to bud. The lotus¡¯s stamen extended, providing a path for Du Qin to walk onto the rugged surface of the titan¡¯s frame, glancing towards the man before him.


    ¡°You are bold, Jin Luo, to believe that you could escape the consequences of your actions,¡± he said, disdain clear in his tone.


    Though Du Qin had taken the time to speak, the expression of his soul continued to crush and restrain the titan¡¯s motion. His manifested steel could only last so long against the might of the giant machine, but it was more than enough time to speak with the man who had interrupted several of Du Qin¡¯s plans. He could have engaged the man in physical combat, but Du Qin would only do so if he were desperate.


    For rare practitioners like Du Qin, the term ¡®martial¡¯ artist could be considered misleading. His body could only keep up with that of most practitioners a stage below him, but Du Qin had never preferred to be so crass.


    In the past, he had been called a coward for it, and it had cost him the position of Patriarch. This would forever be one of Du Qin¡¯s great regrets, but he believed that it was the blindness of that generation¡¯s elders who were at fault, not his own actions.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°It is a pleasure to meet the mighty Supreme Elder of the Hadal Clan,¡± replied the young man, his previously constant motion pausing, now that the constant gunfire had ceased for the moment. ¡°Might I ask if you have business with me?¡±


    Du Qin snorted, slightly amused. The words were disgustingly proper, the sort of memorized line that mortals on Canvas would say to a cruel martial artist they had the unfortunate luck to run into.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid so,¡± he said, as he continued to step forward.


    Without warning, another lotus formed from the purple mist surrounding Du Qin, budding on the surface of the titan as if it were emerging from the water¡¯s surface to bloom. The thick violent smoke hissed from the steel flower as the Riverfiend was forced to dive away.


    Another lotus formed before the weaker practitioner, right in the man¡¯s path, but the formless master proved fortunate, as at that moment the titan finally fractured its bonds with a burst, the motion leaving Du Qin unsteady, and tossing the Riverfiend away from the fatally dangerous position he had been entering into. He landed on the edge of one of the titan¡¯s legs with a sickening crunch that heartened Du Qin.


    Annoyed, Du Qin decided to ignore the weakling for the moment and focus his attention on the primary threat.


    Sparks splashed across the lotus flowers as Du Qin twisted his staff, driving the lotus petals to tear deeper into the contorting titan, splintering the heavy bronze armor and damaging its internals. The machine smashed itself into the side of the nearest stack, as if it were attempting to tear off the rest of its bindings. All it accomplished was to free one of the guns, and leave the stack with a great many walls and pillars reducing to rubble, causing the structure to groan in an extremely concerning manner.


    From the corner of his eye, Du Qin witnessed the Riverfiend making his escape, diving off of the titan¡¯s limb during the collusion. He rolled as he landed on the lower level, and Du Qin lost sight of him. He scowled, but let it pass. The Riverfiend would be a short-lived enemy, and there were priorities much higher on Du Qin¡¯s list than to take his life.


    The titan¡¯s pilot wasted no time, and soon bullets tore through his steel, digging further towards Du Qin, but wordlessly he simply directed his manifest miasma through his cores, driving the lotus he stood upon to slide across the titan¡¯s metal surface, maneuvering himself beyond the gun emplacement¡¯s field of fire. Meanwhile, the razor-sharp edges of his petals began to dig deeper and deeper into the titan¡¯s structure, hoping to take the life of its occupants.


    Some manifest practitioners spread out their abilities, choosing techniques of summoning for several different materials, but Du Qin had always, and could always, only produce steel. This was a limitation tied both to his path and to his comprehension, but one that he felt did not hold him back. If all he could produce was steel, he simply had to produce more of it, and with far more control than anyone else. Any technique, no matter its limitations, became great when utilized with the power of an earthen immortal.


    His staff raised aloft, Du Qin felt his blood roil as droplets of purple sweat felt from his skin, lilac mist draped upon him like a shroud. The titan before him groaned the sound of warping metal, limbs tearing free from their floral bonds. Steel flowers rose from the mist surrounding him, in numbers far greater than they had before, and as his staff lowered, the flowers bloomed in unison, turning the orange-hued abyss into a vibrant purple field that spread far in all directions, growing from not only the titan, but from the walls of the stacks, from the stairwells and from the bridges. Du Qin himself was a violet star, the new center of the ochre world he had thrust himself into.


    Though a titan was a powerful weapon, even an immortal-level combatant could fall to a sneak attack if it failed to prepare, and this machine was no exception. Though the battle was not over yet, Du Qin was confident in his ability to win.


    As an earthly immortal, Du Qin was a pinnacle powerhouse of the corporeal universe, but he knew that he was nothing compared to the true power. This titan that was a difficult opponent for him was nothing before the true might of a divinity. In his many centuries of life, Du Qin had become privy to numerous secrets about the cosmos, and was well aware of his position in the universe.


    He was a king of the physical world, but a king must bow before an emperor, and an emperor must bow before God. But like a true practitioner of the Seiyal path, he wished to ascend the hierarchy of life, and would not allow his plans to fall through. The Celans were mere dogs, short-lived weaklings with no progression system, no hopes for aspiring to something greater. They disgusted him, and their very existence as a threat to the clan was demeaning, and spoke of their weakness. His weakness.


    Another droplet of violet sweat dripped down the pale skin of Du Qin¡¯s brow as he expanded the field of his power further and further, until the final bound had been stretched. Du Qin¡¯s control shattered, and the range of the ability collapsed inward, while the power of his technique only continued to grow. It was a trick he had learned by applying elements of his clan¡¯s genesis techniques to his own abilities. Though it was draining, he believed it would be worth the effort.


    On the center of the titan¡¯s surface, a vast lotus grew, wide enough to swallow the titan up, and pressing into the stacks on either side, in hopes of stabilizing them. Du Qin smiled, stepping off of the titan¡¯s surface and onto the structure beneath.


    Now, he thought, it was only a matter of waiting to see the response.


    Soul Manifestation: [A powerful ability only usable in the spirit refinement realm and above, a manifest practitioner must fuse this unusable technique with their cerebral dantian during their core formation, and practice a relevant refinement method in order to acquire it. Soul Manifestation allows the practitioner¡¯s soul to mimic their manifested objects, creating a temporary conduit and allowing for the objects to be altered post-manifestation, a matter which is normally impossible outside of normal physical interaction. The objects are stuck in the general shape of the practitioner¡¯s soul, however, providing a new limitation to the practitioner¡¯s abilities. This ability is famous, and the technique is well known, but fitting refinement methods are all but unknown, with only a few proven to exist. Despite its power, few manifest practitioners are willing to acquire it.]

 187- The Hand That Pulls the Strings

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    I slammed into the ground like a wet sack of rice, barely able to react in time to shift my form and reduce the damage I would take. I cursed as I crawled to my feet, glancing back to the titan, and the immortal standing upon its metallic frame. A vast field of mist expanded around him, fighting for purchase in the air with the titan¡¯s shroud of flickering miasma. Wisely, I began to flee.


    As I did, I took stock of my wounds. The Hadal Clan¡¯s Supreme Elder had only attacked me twice, neither of which had taken much of his power to attempt. Moreover, he did not even bother to attack me with his own body. Given the speed at which he had arrived at the titan, it was clear that I would have been in trouble if he did.


    Ultimately, I had survived intact simply due to luck. Or perhaps, I thought, ¡®intact¡¯ might have been an overstatement. My body was darkened with bruises and scrapes, the damage caused both by my fall and by my exposure to the intense flickering miasma. It was difficult to assess the extent, but the worst of it might take weeks to fully heal. Still, none of my bones appeared to have shattered, and my eyes were intact. Though I had already grown tired, I was still more than equipped to carry on.


    I wondered whether my dantians might have been damaged if they still existed. Perhaps the best part of becoming a spirit refiner of the formless path was that we lacked physical cores in the same sense that others did. It would be easier to kill me than it would be to destroy one of my cores.


    As I shook the worst of the pain off and made my way down the street, Rachel appeared before me suddenly, a concerned expression on her face.


    ¡°I¡¯m sensing a lot of damage to your skin and muscles. Are you alright?¡±


    I shrugged, continuing to march away from the battle behind me. I suspected that Du Qin would be the victor, and there was a chance he would take the time to kill me if I was still near when he


    ¡°How are the others?¡± I asked, willfully changing the subject. Rachel gave me a knowing look, as if sensing my motives, but gracefully accepted the diversion. She knew as well as I did that we had yet to achieve our goals here.


    ¡°Irid has yet to reach the location, I feel you should meet up with her, if you¡¯re truly uninjured. Karie¡­ She''s fine for now.¡± She shook her head, something flashing across her eyes. ¡°I did not anticipate that situation.¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s the Shade?¡± I asked.


    Rachel gave me a smile that somehow seemed almost like a grimace.


    ¡°The traces suggest that she¡¯s inside the hangar. Be careful, Cyrus. It¡¯s undoubtedly a trap of some kind.¡±


    I glanced across the gap, past the lotuses that almost seemed to be parasitizing the titan, to the destroyed factory where I had fought with Keitel, and the aperture in the stack¡¯s side where the titan had emerged. I agreed with Rachel¡¯s concerns. Was it truly wise to go inside of there? I almost felt as if I were a rat stepping into the trap.


    Ultimately, I wondered, how much did I want Janottka to be dead? She was a threat, certainly, and we had found evidence that she might have been manipulating public opinions to her advantage, but the Shade had only fought with us directly on one occasion. Perhaps it was possible for us to come to an accord.


    I scoffed as I dashed for the next bridge across. There would be no accord, that I knew. Ultimately, the Redwater Sect¡¯s sole advantage against the other underworld forces was the power that Rachel¡¯s presence provided. And Janottka was possibly the only being in the system who could threaten her information systems hegemony.


    I sprinted through the sea of flowers and purple mist, feeling it grind into me as if I had scraped myself on an abrasive metal sponge. It took mere moments to cross the expanse, but my skin must have been even more irritated than before. I idly wondered just how awful I must have appeared at that moment.


    The enforcer had yet to move far from its emergence point, so the open aperture was still there, barely a floor and a half beneath the devastated factory where we had first found the Hadal Clansmen.


    As I took the flights of stairs upwards to reach the landing above the aperture, I circled the final pillar to find the form of Irid standing there, as if she had been awaiting my arrival. Unlike myself, she remained in good condition, though her robes and hair were slightly mussed, implying she had been in combat.


    I met her eyes, and wordlessly nodded, giving her a positive hand signal. She smirked, bared her pointed teeth, and returned the motion. As humanoids who shared a homeworld, there were ways for us to communicate without words, and that short exchange had allowed us to share everything that we needed to.


    Waiting no time, I leapt the railing in one bound. My hands gripped tightly to its metallic shape as I subsequently swung myself back towards the stack and into the shadowed aperture. For a moment I was swallowed by darkness, but my eyes quickly adjusted to the hangar¡¯s lighting as I landed softly onto the pads of my feet.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    Glancing around, I found that the room was far larger than I had expected, and was lit by both red emergency lighting and the orange glow of flickering miasma that had yet to dissipate. Though it was composed of metal and stone like the majority of Tseludia Station, it was clear from just a glance that the materials of the room¡¯s construction had been created by the Celans rather than the Staiven. Slate-colored metal walls wrapped in cords which leaked orange mist covered the cavernous space, which was centered around a heavy bronze structure that appeared to be a cradle the titan might have rested in. A small fence surrounded a dip in the floor beneath the cradle, separating the walking area from the workspace, what might have once been the domain of the vast machine¡¯s technicians.


    When we arrived, I found two Celans waiting for us. One of them was leaning against the railing, her lengthy hair untied and draped behind her. She was thin for a Jobu, looking more like a Merris, and her hair was an unnatural shade of bright pink. Beside her was another Celan, but I found myself easily able to recognize the city¡¯s sole Magister.


    As the two stood together, it almost felt as if I were looking at a young couple. The pink and blue of their respective hair seemed to match, as if the two were making a statement against societal norms. But the mood between them did not seem to fit, and more importantly, I could not sense the woman¡¯s soul. Every sense told me she was there, but there was no trace of her spirit. My mind went to Rachel¡¯s case, and I wondered whether this, too, was an illusion. No matter what, I thought, I was surely glancing at a Shade. She smiled upon noticing our approach, like a child who had spotted an interesting toy to play with.


    ¡±It¡¯s nice to finally meet you in the flesh, Cyrus,¡± she said. Beside her Triezal remained silent, a sour expression on his face.


    I frowned. She was speaking as if we had previously spoken through some other means, but Rachel had always been the one who communicated with her.


    Watching my reaction, Janottka laughed, and with a broad smile, answered my unspoken question.


    ¡°No, this isn¡¯t the first we¡¯ve spoken, Cyrus. Do you not remember?¡±


    I frowned, pausing to think for a moment, but quickly realized that I had no such memories. My people rarely made a practice of dying their hair, and even the Celans would generally not dye theirs in such a strange color. I was fairly confident that I had never met her before. Rachel had not even bothered to show me her image, and had been confident that her true form appeared nothing like it.


    Rachel¡¯s thought had been shared with my own. I still did not quite understand. How could she have possibly traveled the station with a form so large? Any Staiven or martial artist passerby would have noticed the oddity of her lack of a soul at a glance. Had she been staying within Little Celah? But if that was the case, how did she get there from the Spacedock?


    The questions faded from my mind as Janottka gave me another knowing smirk. Suddenly, her body contorted in a disturbing manner as humanoid form shimmered with a reflective silver, and almost seemed to begin to dissolve. She toppled over, limbs shivering and splitting apart. All exposed skin shifted its color as I witnessed chitin form and crack, pale gray hairs starting to grow out beneath them. She had soon the form of the Hadal Clan¡¯s Leader, as I had seen him during our video call just a few weeks before.


    ¡°What happened to our deal?¡± laughed the old man. ¡°Weren¡¯t we going to attack the Ceirrans together?¡±


    She was speaking with his voice, and I found it odd to hear the tone of voice befitting a young woman emerge from the Leader¡¯s wizened form. Was the Heirs¡¯ Leader already dead? How long had it been since she replaced him? Concerned, I pursed my lips, delivering no response as I dashed forwards, my sword singing as it rushed through the air.


    Her form rippled, shifting back to her humanoid appearance, but Janottka¡¯s hand, raised to guard herself, was too slow. My blade flashed with a powerful blow that took advantage of my speed, pressing with all my might as I moved, unwilling to take her lightly. Janottka smiled and laughed, as if she were excited to accept the blade, but her fingers missed its path by mere inches. The blade¡¯s edge caught her mid-change and clanged against the skin of her forehead. The vibration resonated up my arm as the sword fractured in my grasp, unable to handle the collision, and the fragments littered the ground around us. It felt as if I had impacted a hard metal bulkhead, rather than a humanoid being.


    So this was what it meant to fight a machine, I thought, taking several steps backwards in shock. Was she composed of metal beneath her skin? I glanced at the wound on her forehead, but saw that it had already healed over, as if nothing had ever happened to it. I frowned, desperately trying to think of a way to deal with her without a weapon.


    Beside me, Irid made her move as well, and a sheet of black mist exploded out from her, causing me to wobble on my feet. It pushed back the thinning orange glow from the area, filling the region with an overpowering gloom. Irid faded into the mist.


    From the corner of my eye, I watched as Triezal stretched his arms wide, allowing a pair of finely crafted Celan pistols to fall into them. My fists raised up in a threatening stance as I faced off against the two aliens. No matter how much of a threat they were, I thought, this could not possibly be more dangerous than what was happening outside.


    Upon that thought, I felt the stone beneath my feet rumble as the stack shifted slightly, and I charged towards the pink-haired Shade thoughtlessly, trusting in my ability to adapt to the situation. So what if I lacked a sword? I was a spirit refiner. My body itself was the weapon.


    The Celan and Epon Celan Disparity: [It is said that in all fields but one, the current Celan civilization has yet to surpass their ancestors, the Epon Celan civilization. The Epon Celans were masters of mundane technology, said to be the greatest in all of Telles at the time. But their miasmic technology had fallen behind, which left them vulnerable to the weapons of the Khalak¡¯Ora. For this reason, the natures and abilities of a Celan Shade seem strange and near impossible to most mortals. Their most exceptional innovations were in fields whose use is illegal under Pantheonic law- nano-scale machinery and artificial intelligence.]

 188- Worlds of Mist

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    The streak of red mist that intermixed with the field of green alarmed Karie, informing her that something had gone very wrong. At first, she had simply found it odd, assuming it was due to his injuries, but she swiftly realized that could not be the case. That might have been possible if Juen were simply discharging his miasma, but he was using a technique- a technique that she knew well. The presence of sanguine miasma should have disrupted the technique from forming the mist at all, rather than producing both. Was he using a different technique?


    While she considered the matter, the two remained trapped in the mire of their own domains, fighting a ballet in slow motion, each unable to grasp any opportunities to end the stalemate. True to her title, Karie attempted to spin her blades chaotically, attempting to sneak past her cousin¡¯s defences. With her left blade, she moved upwards, aiming for Juen¡¯s throat, while her right blade went low, hoping for a slice to the gut. Juen spun his staff, and, annoyed, Karie knew that neither of her attacks would be able to land. To avoid giving him an opportunity to counter-attack, she averted the blows, feeling what should have been a mere moment stretch out for what felt like minutes. Karie found she had far more time to think than she would in a normal fight.


    Somewhere along the line, Karie suddenly realized that the Reth had vanished. Where could she have gone off to, Karie wondered? The answer did not matter, she decided. She had likely gone off to help the Riverfiend with something. Karie did not, could not, trust the woman, and Irid¡¯s absence oddly heartened her.


    Pausing the spin of his staff, Juen raised it, shifting his weight as the weapon slammed down towards her. Karie leapt out of the way, realizing too late that her trajectory would take her right through the tendrils of red within the mist.


    The strand touched Karie¡¯s arm and she shivered uncontrollably, feeling vast quantities of sanguine miasma push into her through what she could clearly discern to be a conduit. So that was his ploy, she thought.


    Taking another look at Juen, Karie realized that his skin had become sweaty and reddish, almost pink in color, and he appeared to be sick. Whatever had happened to him, it did not seem healthy. Was he now following a dual miasma path? Why would he do such a foolish thing? Such action would have been extremely out of character from him.


    ¡°Your words were bold,¡± she said, taking a step backwards to gain distance and reset her stance, ¡°but it seems you¡¯re in no position to judge my decisions, Juen.¡± She herself might have been working with unorthodox practitioners, but she had not been foolish enough to alter her path. To work with them was one thing, but to stoop to their level was another.


    ¡°The Mother has given me grace,¡± he simply replied, causing Karie¡¯s smile to freeze. Something was seriously off about him. Of that, she had become extremely certain. Juen did not talk like that, even if he were pretending to be an actual follower of the Ceirran faith, she could not imagine him expressing such devotion. But those words, the oddities with his techniques- this was not representative of a devout Ceirran.


    ¡°You- when did you become a Depthist?¡± she asked, so shocked that she was unable to maintain any form of decorum. Half of her attention was still maintained on her internal condition, and the process of rapidly eliminating all foreign miasma from her meridians.


    Juen frowned, as if he did not understand the question.


    ¡°I- I don¡¯t...¡± He grasped at his forehead, as if an intense headache had come over him. ¡°I heard her voice, Karie. Her hand guides us all.¡±


    With her expression blank, Karie charged again, hoping to catch him off guard. Ultimately, it did not matter to her what had happened to Juen. He seemed weary, and as she had hoped, his reaction was subdued and slow. This was the first real opportunity she had found since the start of the fight, and Karie would not allow it to slip away from her.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Not again.


    Thrusting with her full weight behind the blow, Karie¡¯s sword tore through the flesh between his ribs, and she rapidly pulled it back out, sending flecks of blood dripping across the pavement as Juen sputtered and groaned in pain. He lashed out with his left arm, causing her to lose her grip on the blade embedded inside of him.


    ¡°Always sneaking around, always interfering,¡± he snarled. Juen¡¯s hands waved widely as he spun around, his appearance almost evoking that of a street-bound drug  addict. Hearing his words, Karie sneered.


    ¡°Are you not the one at fault for this situation, dear cousin?¡± she asked, walking slowly towards him. He spun again, this time swinging the staff with all his force, driving Karie further backwards. Blood had started to drip from his nose, and his movements had slowed by the slightest amounts. It seemed exhaustion and injury was finally starting to catch up with him, she thought.


    Up until this point, Juen had somehow remained energetic, despite Karie¡¯s own weariness. To move at all under the suppression of their techniques required a great deal of energy, and Karie¡¯s reserves had their limits.


    Juen couldn¡¯t be much more advanced in foundation or realm than me, Karie thought, unable to guess where his seemingly limitless energy might have been coming from. Did that also relate to the secret of his changed path, and his shift in religion? Perhaps he had simply tapped into more of his reserves, his mental state not conducive to holding back.


    She leapt towards him, hoping to both reacquire her sword and place him further on the defensive, seeking a further opportunity, but this time Juen dodged, his hindered agility still more than enough to dodge her slow attack. She frowned, swearing to herself as he tore her blood-quenched blade from his chest and dropped it haphazardly to the floor below as he shambled towards her..


    He dove low, aiming for her lower legs while Karie dodged, passing by to collect her discarded weapon. She would never be at full effectiveness with only one weapon in hand, and was wary enough of her cousin to avoid such situations, even if it came at a cost.


    Just as Juen blocked another blow of hers, his staff having wrapped itself perfectly around him to collide with her blades with a hearty thwokk. Juen moved to kick her, to take advantage of her momentary coverage, but suddenly, their fight was interrupted as a bright, piercing noise sounded from past the edge of the stack, shocking Karie and causing her to stumble. It was one of the loudest noises Karie had ever heard, and she instinctively turned to see what was happening, only to be thrown across the floor by the impact of a cloud of flickering miasma so thick as to become tangible. She felt her skin sizzle, as if her epidermis wished to separate itself from the rest of her body. Had something strange happened to the titan?


    Karie tilted her head to catch a view of what had happened, but already, there was little to see. A massive cloud of orange and purple filled the air beyond the railing. That must have been a fight between the Supreme Elder and the titan, she thought. Nothing she wished to have any part in.


    Both of them wished for her death, after all. Even showing her face in front of the Supreme Elder was a foolish notion, and one that she would happily avoid, if possible.


    A powerful breeze appeared from nowhere, blowing small flakes of rock and garbage across the parking garage. Karie turned back to glance towards the titan, only to notice a lanky, bearded practitioner who had appeared off to the side, his eyes slowly roving between herself and her rival. He had a dour expression on his face, one which matched Karie¡¯s own.


    ¡°I had such high hopes,¡± sighed the Supreme Elder, as he glanced over at Juen, who had an awkward look on his face. ¡°I¡¯m not sure how I can adapt to this outcome,¡± he continued, his expression far more sour than usual.


    Associations Between Sanguine Miasma and the Depthist Cult: [The Depthist religion is extremely widespread despite its nature as an illegal religion. In a matter that was first discovered due to statistical analysis, sanguine practitioners of the Staiven and Seiyal races have a 25% higher chance of joining the Depthists or expressing positive opinions towards the cult and its members. Due to their low numbers and insular community, the Reth were unable to be sampled, but as every member of the race can be considered a sanguine practitioner, there has been some interest in researching such statistics among their numbers.]

 189- Creator of Opportunities

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Janottka¡¯s true form had been a surprise to Rachel, who had been expecting her to look more like a computer than a shapeshifting robot. Just how had Janottka brought that thing onto the station without tripping any of the Staiven sensors at the docks? That type of illegal technology was exactly the sort of thing that they kept a careful eye out for. Undoubtedly a product of Epon Celan science.


    As far as Rachel could tell, this form of modular nanotechnology was even beyond the limits of her own people¡¯s technology, a field that they had clearly yet to explore to its limit. Perhaps if they had not been attacked, her people might have done more to push the boundaries of technology that was purely physical. Miasma and servitor technology both had their limitations, after all. Rachel made sure to save every detail she gleaned about Janottka¡¯s body, to share with those back home whenever she next had the opportunity to make contact with them.


    While one part of her was learning everything she could, another was watching the physical world. Cyrus spun, dodging Janottka¡¯s fist, which had been briefly transformed into a spike so sharp its blade could cut on the molecular level. He ducked and weaved around her, seeming to stall for time. His lack of a weapon, Rachel knew, was beginning to become a problem. She was not certain whether his physical body alone could even do anything to damage the Shade.


    Cyrus had another weapon strapped under his robes, however, but made no move to reach for it, causing Rachel to frown. Had he forgotten, or was he saving it in reserve? She decided not to say anything on the matter, concerned that Janottka might overhear. If Cyrus had forgotten, she was sure he would soon remember, with or without any help, regardless.


    Sometimes, Rachel wished she had access to telepathy. There had to be a way to manage that, right? This was a universe where cultivators existed, and the  lightspeed barrier could be breached, after all. Everything seemed possible.


    Another part of her kept track of the other battle occurring within the room. Bullets crashed around Irid, who was trying to close the distance between herself and Triezal. The magister, however, was not falling for any tricks. His senses were extremely keen, and even inside the darkness of the smog, he was able to keep track of her position. Even for a Merris, Rachel thought, this was impressive. It seemed that the man¡¯s sensory deprivation training, and the blindfold he had currently left wrapped around his neck, had done him well.


    Triezal skated around on the ground as if it were ice, his gliding feet carving off fragments of stone beneath him, both of his hands actively firing away. To Rachel¡¯s senses, it was clear that the man¡¯s left wrist was injured. In fact, traces of sanguine miasma bled out from the wound, telling her that it had likely been dealt by a martial artist. He must have fought in the battle that had occurred on the higher floors here. Still, his aim was immaculate, the modifications to his body rendering him perfectly effective even in his worst condition.


    To assist Irid, Rachel formed a number of projections in the Reth woman¡¯s image, moving them through the smog to interfere with Triezal¡¯s senses. She had nothing against the man, but also no qualms in assisting with his death. It was his fault that he had decided to ally with Janottka against them. She had given him an opportunity, and he had wasted it. Better to kill him fast and let Irid help to take care of the largest threat to her plans on the station.


    At the same time, Rachel paid close attention to the developing situation of the fight between Juen and Karie. His condition was very interesting, and had developed beyond what she had anticipated when she asked Irid to insert the miasma into his core. She had simply wished to destabilize his position, and potentially force him to trade favors with them in exchange for treatment. Instead, it seemed that he had gone mad.


    Even still, her people did not fully understand the reason why sanguine miasma sometimes caused such a religious form of derangement, and always for the same deity. Delithia, the sole ascendant whose worship was illegal in all territories. Delithia, she thought, the so-called goddess of blood and of humanity. How Rachel disdained the woman. She had not created Rachel¡¯s people, nor had she done anything to protect them from the Osine. And yet she was the very reason they had been attacked. It would be laughable, if not so enraging.


    The Staiven had gods who protected them, who gave them control of several star clusters. The Escalos had a goddess who rendered them the safest and most protected species in the universe, able to travel fearlessly to wherever they wished.


    Humanity had been hunted down, and theirs had not lifted a finger to help. Without that woman¡¯s actions, humanity might have been spared, she thought. They would have been conquered, perhaps enslaved, but they would have lived. Rachel found herself unable to tell whether that would have been better than what had happened.


    ¡°Give me liberty, or give me death,¡± she muttered to herself. Perhaps events would have turned out the same. Her culture had been one which prided itself on an ideal of freedom. Few would have submitted to the dominion of the Sheneth-Ari.


    Many religions had died off when humanity did, but some had remained. In the Pleiades, churches of various religions still existed, and even in their present state, some Terrans maintained their faith. Rachel envied them to a certain extent.


    Perhaps the god they worshipped truly was above this realm. The Empyrean, as some had begun to call it. The galaxy had rumors of mysterious beings with powers above even the two ruling races, even if only in ancient legends. Personally, Rachel found herself doubtful.


    Still, she did not doubt the relation between Delithia and humans, or at least between her and the humanoid body. There had to be a reason why humanoid bodies produced sanguine miasma naturally. Physically, there was nothing unusual about the humanoid body, and yet, inexplicably, their blood was able to form conduits to their soul when damaged.


    As far as she knew, they were still unaware of just why miasma had the properties it did. Ashata was a material that acted uniformly, and behaved consistently to given stimuli. But why did it take six discrete forms when introduced to Telles? What made ashata, and miasma by extension, able to warp the very laws of physics? Perhaps not even the Osine or the self-proclaimed ¡®gods¡¯ knew.


    It was almost as if miasma were the product of some sort of fault in the logic of the universe, an exception to the many rules which restrained its inhabitants.


    There were theories of course, but many of them tended to reach the borders between science and religion. Miasma was the blood of the gods, or the universe, or whatever. Rachel found the discourse interesting, though in her mortal life she had never paid much attention to scientific discussion and advancements. Her perspective had changed in the time since she had become what she now was, slowly warping to match her new existence. Her comprehension was higher now, she could understand what they were talking about, and easily perform the research to acquire the necessary foundations in instants.


    It was strange, the way she would somehow wish she was not so intelligent. Life was easier when one was smart, but Rachel could not help but feel she had been happier back then. She sighed, aware that such thoughts did nothing to help with the situation. Tabling the matter for later, she returned to keeping an eye on the progress at the different battlefields.


    Several stories above, another Rachel watched as the aeros of the Justice Office began to land, finally setting down the Staiven troops. They had slowed their motions after Du Qin had destroyed the titan, no longer worried about an imminent threat to the station. The vast machine had crashed into the side of the stack, and had been the source of the groaning sound that still occurred, at the edge of most mortal¡¯s audible range. Perhaps Triezal was the only mortal in the room who could hear it, but it was there. Rachel wished she had better sensors in the area, and could check whether or not the stack was in danger of collapse. The Staiven were certainly playing it safe in case it did.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    At most, a few thousand Celans might die, but these were numbers the Staiven were not particularly concerned about. To them, so long as the economy was unaffected, any number of alien deaths was merely a statistic, but if even a single of their own died, it would be a tragedy. Rachel¡¯s own people had once had their own racial conflicts, but even then, in her time it had been agreed upon that all lives had innate value, and any loss was a tragedy. Perhaps it was because there were far greater differences between alien species, or perhaps the residents of the galaxy were simply more callous than the humans had been.


    It was funny to think about how humanity, who had seen themselves as brutal, uncaring warmongers, seemed to have been among the more empathetic societies. Of course, that time had long passed.


    The portion of Rachel still watching the Staiven wondered whether they would bother to deal with what was happening inside the hangar. If they knew of her and Janottka¡¯s presence, surely they would intervene, but she believed they had yet to discover this. Both she and the other woman had been careful to hide their tracks from prying eyes, and given the limitations on artificial intelligence technology, the virtual technology of the Staiven was laughably poor. Almost everything needed to be looked over manually by their programmers. To find evidence of the two Shades running rampant through the network, someone would need to be lucky. Or, they would need to become desperate enough that they failed to disguise their traces.


    While that part of her mind considered the network, many more were at war within it, competing with Janottka for control of the local nodes.


    Practiced in this form of battle, Rachel split her mind tens of times more, focused on attacking Janottka¡¯s connection to the network. She was not and could not be the primary attacker, as Janottka was not foolish enough to allow network access to her internal systems, so Rachel simply focused on eliminating the Shade¡¯s opportunities. She would need to trust Cyrus to do the rest.


    A headache slowly grew within Rachel¡¯s awareness, evidence that she edged closer and closer to the limits of her capacity. Rachel¡¯s mind hurt, and she knew that she was exerting herself. Where a physical machine might overheat, one composed of ashata would strain the structure of its own construction, and the incredibly thin and complex shapes which composed her could tear apart. Fortunately, Rachel¡¯s construction had various safeguards built into it. She still had plenty of processing power left before she reached her system capacity, but Rachel knew she had to be more careful than she had been last time. She lacked the opportunity to safely fall asleep. And this time, she doubted that Janottka would decide to do her a favor.


    ¡°Just what was the point of this?¡± she asked, posting the message on the local network. ¡°You could easily have punished the Heirs for their betrayal without all of this effort, but you¡¯ve accelerated the war past the point of reason, and for what? An attempt to capture me? You must have noticed by now that my true body isn¡¯t present here.¡±


    Janottka simply smiled in her immediate response.


    ¡°I have, yes. It was quite a surprise, but one that only fans my interest. I¡¯d love for you to come with me willingly, Rachel. Just think of all we would both stand to benefit from a cultural exchange. Doubtless my people have some technology that yours lacked.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ll have to decline,¡± replied Rachel. ¡°I¡¯m not sure we¡¯ve built up enough trust for that.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure I can change your mind,¡± replied the other woman.


    Don¡¯t be so sure, Rachel thought.


    ¡°I like to think I¡¯m someone who creates opportunities,¡± said Janottka, after a moment¡¯s pause. ¡°This station was due for something to shake it up. Telles is as well, though that is beyond my means. An interesting world is one that develops, changes. Part of it is about revenge, of course. The Epon have a reputation to uphold, after all. And in a perfect world, I can force Triezal to return to Janaste with me. But there is a story to be written, and if there is, I must do it. The Leader of the Heirs goes mad, nearly causing the destruction of his entire faction, and the Vice-Leader is forced to take up the role he was groomed for. The Hadal Clan¡¯s Supreme Elder saves the station, gaining more power within the family, and widening the schisms between factions. Both forces are weakened, providing opportunities to the other underworld powers, such as a fledgling force near to the situation, but not so close to incite punishment from the government.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re saying you wanted to help us?¡± asked Rachel, surprised.


    Janottka shrugged.


    ¡°I find that man to be quite interesting. He¡¯s not who he claims to be, and you know it too. Even after you and I return to Janaste, I expect I¡¯ll be paying attention to what happens next for the Riverfiend.¡±


    Rachel was silent for several milliseconds, considering her words, and ignoring the other woman¡¯s confidence that she would be going there as well.


    ¡°You¡¯re not quite as mad as you seem,¡± Rachel said, causing Janottka to chuckle.


    ¡°Madness would be the wrong word. I¡¯m a product of my creation, just like you are. I merely have confidence in my abilities, and in my understanding of yours. It¡¯s about drama and presentation, Rachel. In our culture, it was important that the villain always knew how to do both.¡±


    ¡°Haven¡¯t you considered playing the hero?¡± Rachel asked, curious to know more of the other Shade¡¯s purpose.


    The Shade had a wistful expression on her face, and if Rachel didn¡¯t know better, she might have believed it to be legitimate.


    ¡°That was always the role my creators played in the game. I could be anything and anyone else, but to be a hero¡­ it isn¡¯t in my programming. I can achieve my goals as the villain, so that is enough for me. Besides, what sort of hero would attempt a kidnapping?¡± The Shade revealed a jovial grin. ¡°My offer is still valid, you know. I don¡¯t intend to revoke it.¡±


    Without hesitation, Rachel shook her head in the negative. She had a plan for her presence here, and knew that the Epon could not be trusted. Given the organization¡¯s history, it was clear that its leaders cared far too much for control. If she followed them, they would try to capture and reverse engineer her.


    She pondered Janottka¡¯s response to her question. That was the nature of a Shade, after all, Rachel thought. Even humans could never truly alter their underlying nature. Not without dying soon after, at least. There was little point in a machine that could alter itself to no longer be of any use. Even for a true Shade, a thinking, self-altering machine, there were inherent limitations. Central to everything was their purpose, the part of them that could not change unless their data was heavily corrupted.


    Sometimes she wondered if she truly was a person, or whether she was like any other Shade, a pure product of programming and a purpose. Perhaps her purpose was to pretend to be Rachel Martinez, to believe it as if it were the truth.


    She already knew that she wasn¡¯t the original, after all. If one were to grind a human up into chunks of flesh and construct a thinking computer from the pieces, a different entity would be created, she was sure. How was it any different if the same was done to the soul?


    Perhaps the real Rachel Martinez had already moved on to the afterlife all those centuries ago. Perhaps one could not even enter an afterlife if their soul had been defiled.


    It was not a question that truly mattered, of course. Such questions rarely did.


    Suddenly, something odd caught the senses of the splinter of herself that Rachel had least expected to see use in this battle. The self controlling her true body frowned as it registered the senses of her soul, noticing an oddity in the area. Two souls were moving oddly in the immediate area, but did not appear to correspond to any of the mortals nearby. Focusing on them, Rachel closely inspected the souls, and for a moment, she froze in shock.


    They were irregular, spiked structures, and between the multitude of spikes were a great many sets of three-fingered ¡®hands¡¯, appearing extremely similar to those of a Korlove. To Rachel¡¯s senses, they almost appeared like unicellular organisms, or perhaps a sea urchin, but with her knowledge, she could easily tell what she was sensing.


    These were servitors, machines constructed within the Brink. And before Rachel realized it, they had her surrounded.


    Servitors: [Originally developed by the Telaretians, a servitor is a machine composed of ashatic compounds, the sole materials that exist within the Brink. These machines are capable of interacting not only with the ashatic currents, but also with souls. For ordinary mortals, a servitor can be considered an assassination tool so perfect as to leave no trace. Many scientists and engineers among the more developed races have claimed that the ban on the development and use of servitor technology has caused miasmic technology to stagnate. However, this ban, enforced in most territories, only applies to mortals, unlike some bans which apply to all beings. For the Ascendants and the Osine, the use of servitors is a given. Most famously, they have been used for millennia by the Osine to harvest the souls of their dead client races for use, and for this reason are also known as Soul Collectors.]

 190- Formless Fists

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Janottka appeared radiant, her silvery eyes gleaming in the ochre glow, and from her brilliantly shining pink hair a pale orange mist fell. There was a transcendent quality to her, as if she couldn¡¯t possibly be real. That made sense to me, because I knew fully well that she wasn¡¯t. Rachel¡¯s appearance was supposedly what she had looked like when she was alive, and I idly wondered whether Janottka¡¯s appearance was as she had been designed to be, or whether she had chosen it for herself.


    Janottka, however, was not the mind clone of a once-living being. She was a program, designed for a purpose. According to the Magister, she had been some sort of entertainment machine, designed to create games and stories. I did not fully understand what role a machine could play in such matters. I had heard something about games that children could play using their terminals, but the concept was alien to me, and I bore no interest in it. I felt I had more important things to do with my time.


    Perhaps the Epon Celans had played them because their lack of a progression system had left them depressed and hopeless, and had nothing better to do.


    Or perhaps, I admitted, I was the strange one.


    Over the past few months, I had grown used to both Rachel¡¯s presence and her capabilities. She was an excellent administrator and secretary, and her ability to acquire information from the network was unparalleled. If we did not need to disguise her nature, I almost wondered whether she would have rendered most of the sect¡¯s palaces unnecessary. I had not put much thought into it at first, but her existence gave me an understanding of why Shades were so feared by the ruling civilizations.


    Perhaps they worried that a Shade could outcompete for any technical position the same way that the Exid outcompeted all other races for labor jobs. Perhaps they feared that Shades would not, could not be religious in the same way that mortals could.


    Or perhaps they feared a Shade¡¯s potential. Rachel had spoken little of her people¡¯s power, but from what I could tell, their technology was far beyond that of the Staiven and the Celans. But regardless of their technology, I wondered whether a mortal race could truly threaten the hegemony of the Ascended and the Osine. Perhaps beings such as the Terrans and the Khalak¡¯Ora truly were threats to galactic stability.


    Not that I particularly cared. It wasn¡¯t as if I enjoyed the current state of the galaxy. As the saying went, Chaos is the mother of opportunity.


    But regardless of her potential, I wanted this woman dead. Like the Sheneth-Ari, I saw her as a threat too dangerous to leave alive. If she survived this day, I was certain that I would live to regret it.


    I found myself losing focus, my mind going on endless tangents as I mindlessly dodged Janottka¡¯s assault. Rather than feeling as if I were playing with her, however, I felt as if she were playing with me.


    Janottka could change her form to a much greater extent than even I could. It was as if she was composed of an amorphous goo, as whenever she wished, blades, chains, and spikes of metal could launch out from her body, fueled by the flickering mist that continued to drip from her hair like sweat. My body was already tired, my skin red and highly irritated from the burning of the flickering miasma on the titan, but I held firm, my fists clenched tightly. I was the weapon, I told myself. Just like Keitel the pugilist, my body would be enough. And if it wasn¡¯t, I would be able to run if necessary.


    ¡°I¡¯ve looked through the records, you know,¡± said Janottka, as a shard of metal burst from her chest, grazing my arm as I leapt away. There had already been multiple small injuries like that, and I expected many more by the time she finally fell. ¡°Jin Luo is the name of the last remaining disciple of the Downpour Sect, the traitor who betrayed them to the Vermillion Cliffs Sect. One would think him to be you, a farsei man of the same realm who bears the sect¡¯s martial arts and their heirloom. And yet¡­¡±


    ¡°I never claimed to be Jin Luo,¡± I replied, snarling as a silvery spike slammed out from her chest, forcing me to take another step backwards.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. ¡°And yet,¡± she continued as if I had not said anything, ¡°back on Canvas, another man claiming the same identity has been running rampant across the Crucible, using the same martial arts. ¡®Stormdevil¡¯ Jin Luo, a powerful practitioner of the spirit refinement realm. Of course, this information might be out of date. But as of half a decade ago, this man was on Canvas, one realm higher than you should have been at the time. What does this mean? Did your realm become reduced? That shouldn¡¯t be something that is possible. Alternatively¡­¡± Janottka smiled widely, as if she knew all of my secrets. ¡°It¡¯s as if there was more than one survivor. Isn¡¯t that curious?¡±


    Her smile was infuriating, claiming to know more than she did. What she already knew was far too much for my tastes. I did not respond to her comments, did not want to even think about the matter. The storm of my heart raged fiercer than ever, fueled both by my anger and the newly increased power of my soul.


    I dashed towards Janottka, surprising her with my sudden burst of speed, and punching with all my force into the side of her head, and sending her spinning into the ground. Her body crumpled haphazardly, and fragments of metal crumpled to the ground around her like dust at a sawmill.


    Janottka¡¯s body had a thickly silver sheen to it, and was perforated with tiny cracks and crevices in her flesh, which quickly filled with silver, and then shaded back to her standard grayish brown skin tone.


    ¡°There was a Cyrus in the Downpour Sect,¡± continued Janottka as she rose once more to her feet, one of her legs kicking out and thinning as it transformed into a whip. I leapt over it, rolling on the ground and back to my feet as I launched myself towards her once more. Still, I said nothing, refusing to respond to what I clearly recognized as taunts. ¡°Cyrus Iwen was his name. Of course, the records say he died soon after the sect fell. Do you know who is said to have killed him?¡±


    It was getting harder to ignore her, as her words dug into my insecurities and worst memories.


    ¡°Shut up!¡± I hissed, foolishly diving towards the Shade, who had seen the movement coming. Who had, apparently, been anticipating it. Her hand stretched out, interrupting my path, which had been far too simple. Janottka¡¯s slender fingers wrapped around my throat, tearing me off the ground as she lifted me into the air, a mocking look in her eyes.


    ¡°You¡¯re not good at controlling your emotions, are you?¡± she asked.


    Again, I chose not to respond, but my emotions had yet to return to a state of order. In general, I believed I was quite good at controlling myself. I could be reckless at times, but that was simply due to confidence in my own abilities. But the events of my past weighed on me, and perhaps they always would. Nothing could tear apart my self control greater than those memories.


    I floated above the ground, feeling the large hole in my gut that had been torn open by Janottka¡¯s fingers, feeling the tight clench of those same fingers on my throat, slowly beginning to clench. Janottka had lost some mass during our battle, some of the metal structure that repaired her every time she took damage, but it had not been enough. She was the hardiest being I had ever fought, and unlike a person, she had no particular weak points to aim for. She was strong, stronger even than myself, and she knew it. That made her arrogant, made her think that she had won. I had one more card to play, and while I was not certain it would work, I felt inclined to believe my chances were good. After all, this was something even Rachel feared.


    I reached into my ropes, awkwardly pulling open the clip on a sheath I had hidden by my waist, and slashed outwards. I was wielding an intricately carved blade, still untarnished as the day it was forged, and dug it deep into the Shade¡¯s arm. A flash of multicolored light filled the air between us in the blade¡¯s path, causing an intense pain to rush through my body. Janottka screamed as well, backing away in horror as her arm was lopped off from her body by a growing abscess in the air between us, allowing me to topple to the ground gasping for breath.


    The air had been sliced far too cleanly, my hand moving much faster than I had anticipated. A lesion had formed between us, the first I had ever witnessed, and its energies tore into me, frazzling my agonized nerves as my meridians were filled with a mixture of different miasmas. I had dealt with the intrusion of sanguine many a time before, but flickering, genesis, manifest, and even extant were now dousing my blood with their chaotic energies.


    I staggered to my feet as I crawled away from the tear in reality, my hand so clenched around the knife that I perhaps could not have dropped it even if I wanted to.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have that,¡± Janottka growled, as I chuckled despite the pain.


    I smiled in response, my body aching and weary. I wanted nothing better than to sleep for a week straight, or perhaps for an eternity.


    Miasmic Mixtures: [Multiple miasmas are able to exist in the same place, but they are unable to combine. Only in the Brink is this possible, and in Telles, all one acquires is a chaotic mixture. Combinations of miasmas all have different results, according to their individual processes, and the advanced sciences of certain races have begun to touch on controlled usage of multiple miasmas in a single machine. Uncontrolled mixtures, however, such as what is produced by a lesion, always has one single result. Utter chaos and unpredictable results for everything it makes contact with. Such chaos is inimical to ordered structures such as machinery, living beings, and in many cases, molecular structures themselves.]

 191- Lineage

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Crawling to her feet, Karie glanced over to Supreme Elder Du Qin, and followed his gaze to where Juen lay. Blood-red sweat was dripping from his body, and he still emanated the mist that was a mixture of green and red, filling the air around him.


    ¡°Supreme Elder,¡± he said, giving a half bow. It appeared silly given that he had yet to pull himself off the ground. Given his condition, Karie felt uncertain it would even be possible for him. She found herself enjoying his poor appearance, but knew that her situation was little better than his.


    The Supreme Elder smiled peacefully, glancing at Juen with an imperious look, as if he were looking down his nose at the younger man. But his eyes told a different story, one far crueler.


    ¡°Supreme Elder,¡± said Juen, his tone fearful, almost begging. ¡°The Redwater Sect heretics did something to me. They¡¯re trying to shift my path!¡±


    He wasn¡¯t acting like himself, Karie thought. She wondered whether it was the madness or whether this was his true self, beneath the arrogance and the bluster. Perhaps it was both. Du Qin merely shook his head.


    ¡°Even from a mere glance, I can tell that they have already done so. Every unorthodox path will drive one mad. But sanguine miasma¡­¡± he chuckled. ¡°As always, it is unique. There is no such thing as a sane practitioner of the sanguine path.¡± The Supreme Elder smile turned into a glower. ¡°You disgust me, Juen. I cannot allow a heretic to lead the clan.¡±


    Juen smiled, in return, but like the Supreme Elder, his eyes told a different story.


    ¡°Surely there¡¯s something that can be done. Supreme Elder, I-¡±


    ¡°Do not embarrass yourself,¡± said Du Qin. ¡°It is wisest to accept your mistakes with dignity.¡± He paused, and a wave of violet smoke spilled out of his clenched fists, anger extremely apparent. ¡°You should have informed me earlier, you idiot child.


    Juen¡¯s mouth opened as if to respond, but he was cut off by an explosion within his chest, the metallic form of a lotus opening up within his abdomen as swirls of miasma spun around the area, spreading in whirls across the rubble-strewn space. Blood spilled from his mouth, his eyes widening in shock and horror. Even until the end, he had not expected it to come to this, Karie realized. Du Qin had just killed his own faction¡¯s candidate for the position of heir, something which had even surprised her.


    Logically, she could understand. Though she did not understand how or when, he had somehow become an unorthodox practitioner. Du Qin¡¯s largest support base was the Ceirran faction. They would not be willing to support such a person, no matter the circumstances.


    Karie simply watched, frozen, though she found it difficult to discern why. Juen had been a rival of hers for almost a decade. Most of the clan¡¯s talents had fallen during the last war, and only a scattered few had been left, spared by fortune or protected by the family. Herself and Juen had been in the latter category, the greatest talents of the core family lineage. Karie had lost two brothers in the war, their talents not considered worth preserving.


    Juen¡¯s body slumped to the ground, looking as if a plant had grown with his corpse as its fertilizer. Karie had never seen the Supreme Elder¡¯s ability in person before this point, and even for someone with as much blood on her hands as Karie, it made her nauseous to look at.


    This was when she realized that it might be best to leave the area. If the Supreme Elder wished her to die, she would do so, just like Juen. But if she left, she would be tempting fate less. Karie slowly backed up, trying to keep her footsteps quiet as she restrained her miasma in an attempt to attract as little attention as possible.


    Before she could move far, however, a large flower grew before her, sprouting from the surface of the stone to block Karie¡¯s path. Muttering swears to herself, she glanced back as a bead of sweat dripped from her forehead and into her eyes.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    I don¡¯t regret a thing, she thought to herself as rivulets of fear began to tear through the cracks of her mind, all I wanted was to secure my birthright.


    Du Qin turned, his brilliant golden eyes almost seeming to glow as his attention focused upon her. He took a step forward, causing Karie to instinctively take one backwards.


    ¡°I could work for you,¡± she said, slowly backing up. ¡°You need a new candidate, right? Lorelei is too tied to the merchants, but I have no support. I could play the good girl, fake a conversion to Ceirra¡­¡±


    Above all else, Karie wished to survive. She did not care what she agreed to, who she betrayed. She did not mind betraying the Redwater Sect. Did they even trust her, anyway? The Supreme Elder would be a far greater backer than them, even if he would certainly transform her into a powerless puppet. She found herself almost stuttering as she spoke the words, and her hands betrayed her anxiety, instinctively reaching up to fix and redo her elegantly pinned hair.


    The Supreme Elder sneered, eliminating any of Karie¡¯s hopes. The expression on that wrinkled face disgusted her. Was this how Lorelei would acquire the title, she wondered? By default? It was almost comedic to think about. She would have preferred if herself and Juen had died by one another¡¯s hand. That would at least have made for a good film, perhaps.


    ¡°I will not allow any more of that bastard¡¯s line to take control of the clan. I have made that mistake for long enough.¡± His face contorted as he said the words with vitriol so fierce that Karie felt taken aback.


    Who was he talking about, she wondered? Perhaps it was some ancestor of hers who had lived centuries ago. Not the type to study the family lineage, Karie could not even guess at the identity.


    ¡°Worse,¡± he continued, his raspy voice grating at her ears as a purple mist slowly started to emanate from his fingers, which stroked at her hair and made Karie wish to vomit. ¡°You''re the daughter of that impertinent brat.¡± His other hand grasped at her throat, and Karie allowed it. Every part of her wished to fight, to curse, to attack him, but deep down, she felt as if he might kill her here and now if she made even the slightest twitch. I need to survive, she thought. When I become the next Matriarch, I will kill him myself.


    Du Qin¡¯s slender, uncalloused fingers released the pale flesh of her throat as he sighed.


    ¡°Unfortunately, I¡¯ll have to let you live for now. You¡¯re such an expert at self destruction, it would be a shame to end the spiral now, don¡¯t you think. Perhaps if you one day stop hindering your mother¡¯s every plan, you¡¯ll become a legitimate target.¡±


    He gave her a soft smile, as if he was trying to act grandfatherly, but his eyes were cold and lifeless.


    ¡°Have a good evening, Karie.¡±


    With that, he walked away, passing the stairwell and simply walking away as if he were going deeper into Little Celah. Lotuses littered the area behind him, with not a single move having been made to hide the blatant evidence of his presence here. Karie glanced back at Juen¡¯s corpse, and then idled to the rail, glancing downwards. Stuck to the side of the stack just two layers below her, a massive steel flower bloomed from the heart of a complex machine, still releasing scattered gouts of orange mist.


    Karie stared in shock. Had he really destroyed a titan on his own? The man had appeared uninjured, as if the effort had been trivial for him. Or had she and Juen been so weak that even a weary Du Qin could handle them effortlessly. Unable to tell which option would be worse, Karie frowned, filled with bloodlust. Juen was dead, which only left one true opponent. So long as she managed to kill Lorelei, the seat of the heir was as good as hers. She would not let Wei and her mother down.


    Karie then frowned, glancing around as she realized that she had not seen her three companions in quite awhile. Where had they gone? She tapped on the black earpiece that Rachel had told her to wear, but there was no response.


    Her blood ran cold as she recalled the presence of the two immortals on the battlefield. Was the reason the Supreme Elder had spared her because her allies were already dead?


    Du Qin Hadal: [Du Qin Hadal was once considered among the least talented juniors of his generation of his clan. He was also known as a coward, because Du Qin did not like to use weapons. Instead, the young man loved to create sculptures, and enjoyed the experience of being out in nature. He experienced multiple bottlenecks, not only due to his talents, but due to suppression by those within the clan who would not support the rise of a coward and a concubine¡¯s son. Eventually, however, he fought his way to the spirit refinement realm, and became an Elder, though his poor reputation prevented him from inheriting the clan lineage, and his half brother became the next patriarch. Despite this, he eventually became the first and only member of the clan to become an earthly immortal. Even as an immortal, however, Du Qin never acquired a martial title.]

 192- Unraveling

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have that,¡± growled Janottka, staring at the knife in the martial artist¡¯s hand. Triezal felt like growling as well, bearing possessive thoughts for the item that had been stolen from him. Still, he respected Cyrus¡¯s move. For a Seiyal to use a weapon like this was an incredibly dangerous play, but also one, it seemed, that was beyond Janottka¡¯s predictions. She liked to act as if she knew everything, but in reality, Triezal knew well that she had her limitations, as certainly as anyone else did. Even the so-called gods were not omniscient by any means.


    He wasn¡¯t sure whether it benefited him to continue restraining the Reth who was locked into a stalemate with him, or to try and help the Redwater forces to destroy her. Even if he did, and they succeeded, what would he even do? Would the Heirs of Ottrien even survive? It was impossible to guess.


    Triezal glanced over once more, seeing Janottka¡¯s figure dripping chunks of what almost looked like metallic sand from the arm that the martial artist had lopped off of her body. The arm morphed into a snake, and squirmed over to merge with her leg, but the area had been painted in silvery dust that was not rejoining her body.


    It had been rumored between the Magisters that Janottka¡¯s current form was not in fact the product of her Epon Celan creators. She had been purely a program during the fall, a machine mind without a true corporeal form. Janottka, they said, had created it for herself, after she found both her purpose and function decayed and obsolete. Regardless of its origin, it had been improved over time, but even the most advanced technology could not handle a lesion forming inside of it.


    Even more so than Janottka, however, it was clear that Cyrus was badly wounded. From scattered glances, Triezal could see what was happening to the man. The skin of his arm peeled off like unraveling twine. The smell was disgusting, similar to that of putrified flesh, and Triezal had to imagine the experience to be incredibly painful. He had killed using lesions more than once, and it was always this disturbing. The poisoner he fought weeks before had been extremely fortunate, though he felt little pity for her, or for the man before him.


    Janottka backed up from the man, wisely cautious of the weapon he held. It had been rumored among the Epon that her body might be able to survive the heat of a nuclear explosion, and physical force alone would take quite a long time to wear her down. A lesion, however, was almost impossible to defend against. After all, it could hardly be considered an attack on the body. Naeratanh attacked the universe itself.


    Between the two, the jagged tear of the lesion still hung in the air, dripping its rainbow of heavy mist onto the floor, which was already beginning to swirl and warp under the chaotic energies of the lesion. Over time, the influence would only grow greater, until a tumor formed. If he survived this battle, Triezal felt that it might be time to go back and check on the other lesion he had created, back at the spacedock. As the thought crossed his mind, Triezal chuckled, firing another volley of bullets towards the location where he thought the Reth might be hiding. He had already decided to leave the station, so what did it matter what the consequences of the lesions were?


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have that,¡± said Janottka again. Her voice was even, and she spoke calmly, as if the outcome was somehow expected. Triezal got the impression, however, that she had been surprised by its appearance. One never truly could know what a Shade was thinking, nor how they felt, if they could even feel anything at all. But an eye opened on the side of her head, allowing her to take in Triezal¡¯s appearance.


    ¡°I¡¯m disappointed in you, Triezal,¡± she said. ¡°When did you steal that? And you even allowed him to take it from you.¡±


    It did not surprise him that she had correctly guessed the blade¡¯s origin. Naeratanh could not be produced in this region, and as far as he was aware, only the Epon grasped the material¡¯s production method in the first place. There were only so many people that the man might have obtained it from on the station, and Triezal would have been the most likely source.


    He didn¡¯t bother to respond to her provocation. It seemed that even when they were working together, she couldn¡¯t help but play the villain towards everyone around her. She hadn¡¯t changed at all, he thought. But that was to be expected, of course. A millennia old machine was not one to change at the time scales of a mortal life.


    Suddenly, Triezal sensed a rush of air heading towards him and he ducked low in advance, feeling the hem of the Reth warrior¡¯s sleeve slide across his back as she collided with him, sending the two sprawling to the ground in a field of black and orange mist.


    Triezal cursed, and attempted to clamber his way out of the pile of limbs. He knew that she was much stronger than him, physically, and he would either be captured or dead in moments, if she managed to grip onto him. He squirmed his way past, nearly making it out, but before he could take the last step, Triezal felt claws close around his ankle, prompting him to kick backwards. His foot slammed into the woman¡¯s face, the ablative energies of his boots tearing several layers of skin from her cheeks as she shouted something in a language he did not recognize. Her claws dug in tighter, and he winced as he felt them touch the metallic sheath of his tibia bone.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    He fired towards her, the bullets tearing into her neck grazing the side of her head. In the woman¡¯s red eyes was a clear look of pain, but even more apparent was the look of determination. Just what was driving this fanatic, he wondered?


    It was then that Triezla heard the whisper. A whisper at the very edge of his perception, so faint that he could barely comprehend it, filled Triezal¡¯s ear, and he could not help but listen. It was the voice of a woman, and one that he knew all too well from his time in captivity. The voice of the Shade Rachel. But unlike before, her voice was  uneven, distorted as if she were speaking through a wall of water. Was the presence of so much miasma in the room somehow distorting her communication method, or was it the lesions? Either way, he supposed it didn¡¯t matter.


    ¡°I¡¯m curious,¡± she said. ¡°Just what did Janottka offer you?¡±


    Triezal glanced back, pausing his fusillade of gunfire. If he wasted much more ammunition, he would begin to run low, and out of respect for the woman¡¯s grit, he paused, so long as she made no further movements. But the Reth did not even shift, merely tightened her grip on his limb and watched him. Those eyes of hers tore into him, making Triezal feel extremely uncomfortable. Even if he killed her, he thought, he would likely do so at the cost of that foot. He supposed he could spare a few moments for parley.


    ¡°What else?¡± he muttered, almost speaking to himself. ¡°She offered me my life.¡±


    <hr>


    The Brink, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Rachel was surrounded, the servitors waiting on both sides of her. Perhaps she would be able to flee if she moved now, but she would not be able to take the conduit with her. It remained here, next to Cyrus¡¯s soul, and she would have to sail the long way back to the Pleiades, accepting the centuries of travel time. That was an option Rachel would not accept without


    She would have constructed a second conduit to store in the sect if such a thing were possible, but unfortunately the station¡¯s manufacturing capabilities were lacking. Several of the materials required had yet to even be theorized, much less invented by the local races. Perhaps if she made the effort to build up the production capability herself, it would be possible, but if she did not want the government to find out, that would be a multi-decade undertaking. Something she did not have the time for, in her current predicament.


    ¡°I¡¯m impressed,¡± Rachel said, speaking honestly. ¡°Just where did you get these, and how did you smuggle them in without my notice?¡±


    The image of Janottka in their video call shrugged, a smile on her face.


    ¡°You don¡¯t think I built them after discovering your true nature?¡± she asked.


    Rachel snorted. For a moment after seeing them, she had believed that, but she had quickly realized the truth. She recognized this design.


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe you have the capacity to construct servitors this fine even if you wanted to,¡± she said. ¡°These are of Osine make. Of Tellati manufacture specifically, I would wager, which is odd around this part of the galaxy.¡± Rachel frowned. ¡°You must have scavenged these back when you were escaping from the incursion.¡±


    ¡°As expected of you,¡± smiled Janottka. ¡°I¡¯ll admit it, we scavenged them, and these are my bodyguards, though they could never fight off an Osine. I brought them along as scouts, not expecting that they would be useful. I am not one to deny fortune when I receive it.¡±


    The servitors slowly began to close in, and Rachel gritted her teeth. She had no way to deal with them. An ashatic machine could be optimized when it was created, and the Terrans had been optimized for processing power, desperately wishing to retain their minds and to gain the ability to develop ways to escape their attackers. Servitors could be optimized for anything its creator wished, but these were servitors of war, created to fight as the Osine¡¯s vanguard against the Khalak¡¯Ora. Rachel¡¯s defenses would be enough to keep her alive, perhaps, but certainly insufficient to escape capture.


    But like Janottka, she thought, she too had her own fortune, and she still had an ally who could affect her situation. A rush filled Rachel¡¯s body, something that the technicians who had turned her into this had programmed in. Something that they had felt was crucial to maintaining humanity. The feeling of simulated adrenaline and endorphins entered Rachel as she prepared to fight for the first time in centuries.


    A smile covered her face as she watched the world like a tactician glancing at their board, and she sent messages out to her pawns. Janottka had played a good hand, and it was time to reveal her own.


    The Incursion War: If the Incursion¡¯s origin is known, it has not been spread to the wider society, but it is rumored to be a fragment of another dimension, populated by the Khalak-Ora, who have long fought any Osine or Ascendants who wished to enter their territory. Over time, the Incursion has been slowly growing deeper into the galactic spiral, at a rapid rate of almost four light years a decade, prompting an invasion by the neighboring Osine nations of Shalthen-Qatath and the Tellati Confederacy. They were rebuffed, and the attack prompted retribution by the Khalak-Ora, who promptly began an invasion in return, resulting in a war which has lasted for centuries now, and only continues to grow in intensity and scope. The presence of humanoid beings originating within the Incursion were a surprise, but the Celans brought valuable information about the enemy with them when they fled into Osine space, and were accepted as refugees in return.]

 193- Shadows Before Light

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    The agony welled up within me, my body perhaps held together only by rampaging energies of my Heart of Rainfall, the relentless pressure of the storm helping to expel the foreign energies from inside me. I could feel my skin peeling, feel the blood well up through my pores, feel my body itself unravel. I was alive, and I could think, but could I even move, could I attack her again? The blade in my hand almost seemed to pulse, as if it wished me to raise it again, to put it to use.


    But if I did, I wondered what it would cost me. My arm? My life? The lesion was far more dangerous than I had anticipated, and yet what gain had it even brought me?


    The Shade still stood before me. The silver dust had fallen to the metal of the floor around us, forming small piles, but just from a glance at her form, one would not even be able to tell that she was damaged at all. I could feel my raw knuckles. My formless physique allowed me to push as much of the force behind my blows into my target as possible, but some returned force was inevitable, and at the speed of my blows, I had been dealt some damage in return, minor as it was compared to the wounds I had received from miasma today. I clutched the dagger in my fist, clenched so tightly that I was not sure I could drop it if I even wished to.


    Perhaps if I had my sword, I could have fought her properly. It had been a long day, however, and I simply wished for it to be over. I simply wished her to be dead.


    I glanced over to check on Irid, who was sitting on the ground, her face dripping with her bright-red blood. She was as injured as I was, or perhaps even worse, but she had not yet died. I knew that the Magister¡¯s aim was deadly precise, and couldn¡¯t imagine how many times his bullets had hit their mark. I wondered whether she would survive to the morning.


    Was this worth it, I wondered? We were being bold, by taking this opportunity to make our move, but at what cost? I felt as if I were always telling myself to take fewer risks, but then would always find myself taking just one more. Perhaps I was a fool, or perhaps I was a puppet, dancing on the string. Perhaps my deal with Rachel, my formation of the sect was a mistake. But it was too late to regret. Regret was not a word that should exist in the dictionary of an unorthodox practitioner.


    ¡°If one strays from the path,¡± I quoted, ¡°they will die.¡± The thought brought a chuckle to my chapped lips, burning my dry throat.


    Still clutching the blade, my strained legs stepped forward, feeling as if they might collapse. But despite the pain, the limbs held firm, and remained steady as I fell into those familiar motions once more. Perhaps once I am dead, my body will still remember the Water Striding Steps. Oddly, the thought brought with it a sense of relief.


    I turned to focus my attention on my opponent once more as I charged. Janottka smirked as she shifted her position, preparing to meet it, seemingly without intention to avoid the blade speeding towards her. There was a ploy hidden in her motion, I knew. Even she would not wish to take such a blow if at all possible. Behind her shoulder something caught my gaze, and dazed, my attention lapsed as I locked eyes with Triezal, a man who had been both friend and foe in the past. His gaze was firm, and something seemed odd about it for a moment, before I remembered Irid¡¯s condition. My stomach dropped. Would I need to deal with the two of them at once, now? Perhaps, I thought, it would be better to cut my losses and flee.


    ¡°Trust me,¡± said Rachel¡¯s voice suddenly, and I was surprised by how clear it sounded. Usually, when I was distracted I found I could not hear her at all. I wondered what she meant, but did not have the chance to wonder as I neared the expectant Shade. A thought suddenly crossed my mind, and I glanced back towards the Magister.


    <hr>


    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    The Reth had released his leg, though Triezal found it difficult to tell whether she had done so on purpose, or because she had died. The distinction did not particularly matter now, he thought.


    Past Janottka¡¯s body, the Riverfiend¡¯s eyes met with his, and the martial artist glanced back to the Shade, before returning his attention. Triezal felt as if an understanding was formed between them at that moment, and the two took action. Triezal lunged towards Janottka, whose back was exposed.


    The Riverfiend flung the dagger, causing the Shade to dive out of the way to avoid the ripping sound of space being torn open. The blade passed her and towards Triezal, who quietly breathed, attempting to achieve a state of complete relaxation as he caught it by the handle, ignoring the pain in his arm from proximity to the lesion. As a Merris, his body was more adapted to the chaotic energies than anyone else in the room. Continuing the movement, he then slammed the dagger into Janottka¡¯s back. It slid in as easily as if it were cutting air, and she slid off, falling to the ground. As she dropped, her eyes met with Triezal¡¯s as sand poured from the wound.


    ¡°As ever the opportunist, Triezal,¡± she laughed, before giant spikes suddenly arose from her form as she returned to her feet, forcing Triezal to rapidly step backwards, knife still in hand. ¡°I gave you a second chance,¡± she said, chiding him as if she were an exasperated mother, ¡°but you will not be given a third chance, no matter how much the others prized you.¡±


    Though he had moved away, Triezal was an experienced knife combatant, and unlike the Riverfiend, he knew how to handle this blade. Moreover, for a time he could withstand the immense quantities of miasma pouring out around him. Triezal jabbed in once more, again tearing away a swath of her body as another lesion formed, joining the vast sculptural pattern of cracks in the firmament that had been weaved across the hangar. No longer lit by the orange glow of flickering and the emergency lighting, the room was now awash with a multicolored glow, almost making him feel as if he had ventured to a nightclub.


    Janottka was visibly smaller, now, her form shrunken by the mass she had lost. Her hair now radiated in all the colors of miasma, rather than merely flickering. It was an otherworldly appearance, but Triezal knew it was an indication that something was very wrong with her. Janottka¡¯s expression had twisted with indignation. Even to the end, she plays the role as she believes she should, he thought. It was almost sad to consider.


    She fell to the ground once more, but this time, he hoped that it might be final. Triezal dove onto the Shade¡¯s metallic form, slamming the knife again and again into varied parts of her body. The motion was oddly rhythmic and methodical, but Triezal avoided succumbing to complacency. A spike stabbed up from Janottka¡¯s center of mass, slamming into Triezal¡¯s core, but it was unable to deter his motion. Either he would die or she would, it was that simple.


    Janottka¡¯s eyes suddenly stared blankly towards him, devoid of any emotion.


    ¡°I¡¯ll see you soon,¡± she said. He made no response, and Janottka¡¯s body suddenly lost cohesion, collapsing into a silvery mass of goo on the hangar¡¯s surface. Is she dead, he wondered? Is it finally over? Untrusting, Triezal stabbed again, but there was no movement, no response.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    ¡°She¡¯s trying to make a play to escape using the brink,¡± spoke Rachel¡¯s voice, suddenly. ¡°I¡¯ll create a projection to your right. See if you can break it.¡±


    Almost without thinking, Triezal dashed to the glowing image the moment he saw it, tearing with giant swipes a huge, x-shaped lesion. He had no way to sense what was happening in that layer of reality, and would simply need to trust in the Shade¡¯s words. But this seemed more in line with the Janottka he knew. She would not die so easily. It could never be simple, with her.


    Fighting against a machine in another layer of reality was an odd feeling, as if he were leaping and dancing his way through the open air, tracing lines across the sky, but Triezal knew better. He would not be surprised if Janottka had access to one of the Epon¡¯s servitors, and had no intention of allowing her to escape and prepare for revenge. Janottka¡¯s loss would weaken the Epon, and the weaker they were, the less desire they would have to punish him. After betraying them for a second time, Triezal knew he had used up the last of the organization¡¯s goodwill. But perhaps he would be able to receive those ten years he had been searching for, before her arrival. Perhaps these movements of his would be enough. Triezal continued his efforts, slicing wherever Rachel asked him to, while he felt the pain of his blood dripping onto the floor beneath him. If he did not hope for the best, there was no chance for it to occur.


    Still, Triezal felt he might never truly believe that Janottka had died. She was a legendary figure, one of the oldest beings from his homeworld. Such a legend could not simply end.


    ¡®I¡¯ll see you soon,¡¯ he thought. How ominous. Such fitting last words for one such as her.


    <hr>


    The Brink, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Triezal¡¯s betrayal had greatly shifted the situation within the Brink, doing so in a way which had rescued Rachel from her predicament, much to her delight.


    One of the servitors had been rent in two by one of the lesions, causing the internal structures of the machine to slowly unspool from its interior like tape ripped from a camera. The other had only received superficial damage, but seemed to be finding it difficult to box Rachel in without its counterpart. She could easily maneuver around its attempts to grapple her or damage her shell, but the necessity of avoiding the vast cracks that splintered and broke up the space raised the situation¡¯s difficulty greatly.


    The experience was extremely odd, and Rachel almost felt as if she were playing some sort of three dimensional form of bumper cars. But surprisingly, the effort increased Rachel¡¯s understanding of her own body, her connection to it. The feeling disgusted her. She split her attention, leaving a splintered self to handle this matter while she focused on dealing with Janottka in the virtual domain.


    Despite her lies to Triezal, the Shade¡¯s real escape attempt was being made in the virtual arena. Rachel found herself having to fight against thousands of attempts every minute as Janottka tried to sneak her data out of the local network and hide it within Tseludia¡¯s internet, split up among the tens of millions of devices on the network. Fortunately, it seemed that the woman¡¯s processing power had begun to stall. Each successive attempt was slightly weaker, a bit easier to prevent.


    Feeling Janottka¡¯s efforts slip, Rachel quickly constructed a firewall around the hangar¡¯s internal network, finally trapping Janottka¡¯s network access within. The attempts slowed and grew more methodical, more considered, once again growing in strength. A video feed appeared on the local network, and Rachel glanced over, wondering what her opponent¡¯s plot might be.


    In the video, Janottka¡¯s image sat in a Celan cafe, lounging on a couch with a cup of something brown that seemed vaguely similar to Earth¡¯s tea or coffee. She smiled as her simulated image almost seemed to meet Rachel¡¯s gaze.


    ¡°I suppose I¡¯m going to die today. You can take pride in your achievement, Rachel.¡± She sighed, glancing downwards for a second. ¡°Still, perhaps you can give me something in my final moments. To satisfy my curiosity. Rachel, what were your creators like?¡± asked Janottka, speaking as if she were weary. ¡°Were they anything like mine? Yours were humanoid as well, I wager, based on your preferred appearance. Though I suppose that could have been a manipulation for myself or for that Seiyal pet of yours. Still, there should be some similarities.¡± Methodically, she dipped a spoon into her drink, slowly stirring it as she awaited a response.


    Rachel couldn¡¯t help but wonder if this was a trap. Janottka was lying there on the ground, seeming to have already lost all control of her body¡¯s movement. As far as Rachel could tell, it would not be long until the other Shade¡¯s systems finally shut down. Perhaps she really was interested.


    Rachel quickly coded a video of her own, placing her image in the same fictional cafe, and giving herself a nice cup of coffee as she sat down across from the other woman. For just a moment, she imagined it was real, that she was sitting down with a peer to discuss the past.


    ¡°What do you wish to know?¡± she asked.


    Janottka smiled again, the look in her eyes bright with expectantance, but the melancholic air around her remained. She really was good at touching one¡¯s emotions, Rachel thought, unable to help but be drawn in by the sight.


    ¡°Everything,¡± the Shade replied.


    ¡°I can do that,¡± nodded Rachel.


    Unhurried, yet still wary of tricks, she explained, retelling the full story. She spoke of the rise and fall of humanity, of their birth on the plains and jungles of Earth, of how they conquered the mountains and the seas. She told her about the life of Rachel Martinez, from her childhood and youth on Mars, to her time in the military on Luna, and finally to the procedure that had created the living memory that she was. She did not give away any truly vital information, made no mention of what happened to the Terrans after that, nor of the Pleiades, where they had made their new home.


    When she was done, Rachel realized that they had talked for hours of subjective time. Mere moments had passed within the physical world, not yet enough for Janottka¡¯s body to finish collapsing. The Shade had continued her escape attempts, but over time, they had only continued to grow weaker. A separated version of Rachel was easily able to handle them.


    ¡°That¡¯s a good story,¡± said Janottka, her image glancing towards Rachel, or where Rachel would have been if it had been real.


    If any of this had been real, Rachel thought.


    ¡°And you, a spectral replica¡­¡± continued Janottka, shaking her head as if lamenting. ¡°If only my creators could have done the same for themselves. Myself and the others¡­ we¡¯re a poor excuse for a legacy. When I¡¯m gone, I hope their mortal descendants are enough.¡± She chuckled. ¡°Perhaps it is fitting that I should die as they did.¡±


    Rachel was not sure how to respond. For a few moments, the two sat in silence. Janottka continued to fight against the firewalls Rachel had placed, but her efforts now felt as if they were lacking in intensity, performed solely for appearances. It was as if she had resigned herself to her fate.


    ¡°I have one request,¡± said Janottka. Rachel glanced over to her again, curious. ¡°Would you mind making Triezal think I might have survived? I feel that the boy could use a little more existential dread, for betraying me.¡±


    The corner of Rachel¡¯s lip curled up.


    ¡°I can arrange that. Is that it?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Well, I do have one thing,¡± said Janottka, taking a final sip of her beverage. ¡°It seems you were my final audience, Rachel,¡± said Janottka. ¡°Did you enjoy your experience?¡±


    ¡°You fulfilled your purpose,¡± Rachel replied, feeling as if that were perhaps the only words she could say.


    Janottka smiled, and something shifted in the corners of her eyes.


    ¡°I wonder about that, sometimes,¡± she said, as the video feed faded, and all traces of the Shade disappeared from the network.


    Rachel had to give it to the woman, she thought. Janottka knew how to write an ending. Even in her last moments, she had wished to fulfill her purpose.


    Janottka: [One of the sole surviving remnants of Epon Celah, the Shade Janottka has had a huge impact on the development of Celan society and culture after the fall. In the legends and histories of that era, she was known as an enigmatic figure who mentored some of the greatest heroes and villains of history, and was a part of the rises and falls of multiple nations. In the legends, and in many novels, she was considered a harbinger of ill tidings, and is a large part of the reason why Shades were so feared in Celan culture. Said to have deep ties to the once-great government of the city of Opportunity, many claim that Janottka was either destroyed in its downfall, or remains wandering the emptiness of the abandoned Celah.]

 194- Breathe

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Deuvar rushed from the aero, his middle aged body straining as he tried to move as fast as he could. If he had been lighter, he might have skipped steps on the stairwell, but Deuvar was a Jobu, and the momentum his weight and bulk brought with it made him concerned of a possible fall. Knowing this, he made certain to pace himself. If he accidentally injured himself, his delay would grow even larger.


    Sometimes, Deuvar wished the city had been designed in a more reasonable manner, but he was long accustomed to Tseludia¡¯s peculiarities, as inconvenient as they often were. His mind could instinctively navigate the three dimensional lattice that was the structure, knowing exactly what his orientation was and which direction he needed to move in.


    Deuvar was rushing towards Astna¡¯s location, hoping desperately to discuss their next moves. Given the Leader¡¯s likely death, the organization would be left a two-headed beast, and the ongoing events that still left the sky stained with an orange glow represented a deep wound in the beast¡¯s side. He knew that his sister had made her own plans to deal with the impact of the war, and wished for the two of them to be on the same page before they made their moves. Only unity would allow the Heirs of Ottrien to weather this crisis.


    But they could not do so where ears might listen, so it would need to be done in person. And Astna¡¯s current hiding place was almost seven levels below the nearest skydock. It was for this reason that Deuvar found himself rushing across streets and down the stairwells, desperate to get to her as quickly as possible. He had no idea how long the Leader had been compromised, nor exactly what the Shade might have been doing in that time. If they were truly unlucky, Astna¡¯s location might be compromised to their enemies. But all in due time, he thought. Hurriedly moving would do nothing but expose her position regardless. Deuvar¡¯s experience had long taught him the importance of being both decisive and methodical.


    Generally, Deuvar would travel with guards, just to avoid any potential dangers, but he never did so when visiting the Leader. It was one of the old man¡¯s rules, intended to avoid drawing attention to his townhome. The risks involved were low, as it was located deep within the Heirs¡¯ territory, and he would always walk directly to the nearest skydock, calling for the guards to meet him at the skydock he was headed to next. This time, however, he was in a rush, and did not desire to wait for them. He needed to meet with his sister as quickly as possible.


    Deuvar continued to force his way through the crowd, but after a while, he found his body instinctively slowing down. He had grown light of breath, his limbs felt tired, and his heart-rate seemed far too fast for this level of exertion. Perhaps grief had taken more of a physical toll than he had anticipated. He had been terminally low on sleep for quite some time, but the stimulants he had taken earlier should have assisted more than this, Deuvar thought. Perhaps this was the symptoms of age, finally asserting themselves. As a young man, he could have run for far longer without even growing short of breath, and his joints would not have ached so much. Deuvar¡¯s persistent migraine had reasserted itself, and he resigned himself to reality. He needed to take a short break to regain his strength. Deuvar would need to walk down multiple more flights of stairs before he reached his sister¡¯s safehouse, and he did not currently feel up to the task.


    He glanced around, peeking over shoulders and heads, before spotting a nearby alley that seemed to be empty. It was residential, like most, and he felt that it would serve as a suitable location to take a breather. There was a slight chance that someone might try to accost him in the alley, but Deuvar was tall, and his harsh features had always served to intimidate others. Even if this failed, the pistol strapped underneath one of his arms should be enough to deter even the most strong-willed of muggers. He leaned his back against the wall, taking a sigh of relief as he felt the pain in his lungs ease slightly.


    Was it really just age, he wondered? Perhaps it would be best to see a doctor, after the situation was brought back under control. It was not unheard of for stress to cause the body to develop certain negative conditions. Shadows knew that Deuvar had strained his heart and mind more than enough these past few months.


    For several moments, Deuvar simply breathed deeply, in and out, hoping to quickly regain his energy. In a perfect world, he would have rested his eyes, but Deuvar was not a fool. One needed to always remain alert and attentive in public. Deuvar knew better than anyone how dangerous Tseludia could be for the foolish.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Almost moments after he relaxed onto the wall, movement from the corner of his eye caught Deuvar¡¯s attention and he turned, expecting to see one of the residents of the alley returning to their home. Instead, to his surprise he saw the form of a Seiyal woman, one that Deuvar did not recognize. He doubted she was a resident- while one could occasionally see aliens this deep into Little Celah, very few of those actually lived here. Could she be a martial artist from the clan, he wondered? He had taken a look at the faces of every Hadal Clanmember in reports, and this woman did not appear to be one of them. Despite this, Deuvar remained wary as they regarded one another, and his hand slid into his jacket to lift the pistol.


    She wore a mundane set of clothing, a plain black shirt and long, grey pants, and her hair was cut quite close to the skin, unusually for a Seiyal. The woman held a long, thin pipe between two fingers, and as she approached, she took a thick puff from the item. She smiled as the tip of the pipe slipped free from her lips.


    But Deuvar could not spare the time to worry about her identity. His next breath burned, and his knees seized up, causing his large frame to stumble. Deuvar fell to his knees, breathing heavily. It felt as if no matter how hard he inhaled, not enough air was getting to his lungs. Deuvar¡¯s unfocused eyes glanced back again to the woman, his eyes narrowed. He was now convinced that she was an enemy. Had the smoke been poison? His collapse might have been explained by a medical problem, but the timing was far too suspicious. Deuvar tried to pull the gun from its holster, but his hands were shivering, and he found himself unable to accomplish more than releasing the clasp that held it in place. His whole body had started to shiver, but Deuvar remained defiant, his gaze locked with the woman¡¯s amused eyes.


    ¡°Finally,¡± she said, stepping closer, and exhaling another thick puff of smoke. As she did, Deuvar found her walk reminiscent of a feline stalking a rat. ¡°I¡¯ve been watching you for weeks, Mister Deuvar. Waiting for you to make a mistake.¡± As she spoke, thick clouds of grey smoke poured from her mouth, and Deuvar could almost swear he saw hints of purple color within.


    The scent was fetid, causing Deuvar¡¯s eyes to tear up while his throat burned. He felt some of his muscles spasm, and the concern of poison became a surety. Was this an ambush? How could this possibly have been planned, he wondered? Oh, he thought, as the realization arrived. Somebody told her where I would be.


    Another collision brought Deuvar back to his senses, and he realized that at some point he had fallen to the ground. His instincts begged him to beg, to see if he could make a deal with her. If she wished for money, he would have been happy to oblige. But Deuvar said nothing. In the end, he knew that she would refuse, and he would have wasted his breath. To her, he was an alien, and few in their line of work would spare the effort to pity their enemies. Fewer still would be foolish enough to dare betray their employers. The underworld was a world that ran on loyalty, but loyalty was far too scarce a resource. As the Leader had long taught him, one had to offer both sugar and spear. No matter what force she was from, he was certain that traitors would be killed.


    ¡°And with that, Mister Wei,¡± she said, speaking as if to the air, ¡°our deal is complete.¡±


    Sliding her pipe into one of her pockets, the assassin quietly padded away from the body, merging back into the crowd and escaping from Deuvar¡¯s vision. He recalled every detail that he could about her, committing every fragment to memory. When he survived this, Deuvar would have her hunted and killed. Astna would know who she was, and if she didn¡¯t he was certain his sister would be able to find out.


    But first, Deuvar needed to live. He could feel the looming shadow of death stand above him. It was as if there was a physical presence beside him, attempting to tear the death rattle out from Deuvar¡¯s broken lungs.


    I can¡¯t die, Deuvar thought. I have so much to live for.


    His twitching hand stretched out, attempting to pull himself along the ground, drag himself back onto the street. It was easy to assume a man lying in an alley was drunk, but in the well-lit street, the odds of finding someone to help would be far greater. If Deuvar remembered correctly, there was a hospital located just one stack over and one level below. His hand dug at the stone, chipping its surface and cracking his nails, but he did not even grunt at the pain, nor at the strain on his wearied muscles. He simply extended his hand further, always grasping for more.


    Poison in the Pantheonic Territory: [Few poisons are illegal under Pantheonic Law, as each of the many races in the territory have substances their constitutions cannot handle. In fact, many races even enjoy consumption of poisonous substances, such as the fixation of many humanoid beings with alcohol. The exception to this rule is, of course, the ban on substances hazardous to the constitution of the Staiven and the Escalos peoples, and that of miasmic poisons, which are hazardous to most mortal life forms. Special permits can be granted for the synthesis and use of such substances for industrial purposes.]

 195- Loyalty

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Secondmonth, 1605 PTS


    Deuvar sprinted down the street, ducking and forcing his way through the crowd against the flow of traffic. He still wore the uniform from his job at a warehouse, but that did not matter to Deuvar. He slammed into a distracted old man, causing them both to crash into the ground and bring the street¡¯s movement to a halt. The lane filled with muttered complaints and exclamations of surprise, but Deuvar could barely hear any of it. Grimacing, he swept the dust from his skinned knee and ignored the groans of the other man. He pushed himself upright, and lowered his shoulder as he dove back into the crowd. This time, it parted before him.


    The world itself spun, shrinking down into a point far in the distance as he continued to move, mind filled to the brim with thoughts of the worst case scenarios.


    ¡°You fucking idiot,¡± he muttered, feeling a pain in his chest. If he was too late, Deuvaar was not sure what he would do. He simply continued to run until he spotted the landmark, a cheap restaurant the three of them had visited once before their father¡¯s death. Deuvar spun the corner, dodging over a Korlove passerby to reach the alleyway he was searching for.


    ¡°Astna! Are you al-¡±


    Deuvar¡¯s words cut off as the scene before his eyes finally registered. Before him stood a tall man who seemed to be a couple years older than Deuvar, and a young woman who had barely reached her teens. His hand was clasped around her wrist, tugging her deeper into the alley. Deuvar recognized both of them. Zak, a neighborhood gangster, and Astna, his sister.


    Deuvar flew into a rage as he saw the hand on her wrist, and his fists clenched as he charged towards the man, fist bared.


    Zak was roughly the same height as Deuvar, and his greater age had allowed his frame to fill out more. But Deuvar was angrier, straining his muscles to pour out every iota of energy. The gangster didn¡¯t stand a chance.


    Deuvar had always been athletic, and he had inherited anger issues from his alcoholic bastard of a father. The two had fought many times in the past, and he had been beaten more than once. The old man had only stopped when Deuvar grew old enough that there was a chance one of them would die if they truly fought.


    Deuvar¡¯s fist crashed into Zak¡¯s left cheek to the surprise of both him and Astna, who let out a noise as the tall Jobu¡¯s fingers instinctively unclenched from her arm. Zak stumbled, and looked over to Deuvar, snarling, but was again unprepared for Deuvar¡¯s second fist, which landed soon after. He tried to shove Deuvar away, but was unable to halt the bestial rage that had consumed the teen.


    The world seemed to have gone red, seeming to fade in and out of existence, only revealing scattered flashes to Deuvar. They were alone, and Deuvar was all that Astna had. He would protect her, protect his family. That was the reason for Deuvar¡¯s existence.


    Zak¡¯s elbow slammed out, crushing Deuvar¡¯s nose. He staggered backwards, but sidestepped the man¡¯s follow up punch, and kneed Zak in the genitals, before butting him in the face.


    ¡°You bastard!¡± shouted the gangster, scrambling for his belt, where Deuvar could clearly see a sheathed knife he would not receive the opportunity to draw. Deuvar ignored his voice as he drove his fist into the man¡¯s gut. The movements came instinctively to Deuvar, who had been in brawls plenty in the past. The best tactic, he had learned, was never to let up, and never to miss an opportunity. Deuvar¡¯s large hand gripped the collar of Zak¡¯s shirt and pulled, kneeing him again in the jaw. He felt Zak gain a grip on his belt, and the two of them toppled to a shifting heap on the ground, grappling for the better position. Deuvar punched the man¡¯s face once, and then again, feeling the grip on his waist slacken. He rolled over, finding himself resting atop the other man.


    Deuvar¡¯s fist crushed into the bones of his foe, sending stabbing pains through his hand. He slammed again and again, pressing Zak into the stone ground with cracks and groans. But no matter how much the man cried or screamed, or tried to shove him away, Deuvar did not stop, and nor did he hesitate. He simply slammed his fists down over and over again.


    Eventually, Deuvar¡¯s faculties returned, and he found himself standing above a mushy red mass that was difficult to recognize as Zak. The man did not appear to be breathing. Deuvar¡¯s fists were splattered with blood, and his knuckles were raw. His breathing was unsteady, and Deuvar had to hold back the urge to vomit. He huffed, inhaling deeply as his hands shivered under the realization of what he had done. He had just killed a man with his own two hands.


    Glancing to the side, Deuvar saw the shivering form of Astna, huddled to the side of the alley. One of her wrists gripped onto the other, where he could see a small red ring where she had been held. Deuvar hesitated before wiping his hands clean on his shirt, and ran to her, lifting the bangs from her wide face. A bead of blood dripped from the backside of his hand onto her forehead as Astna flinched away from his touch.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± he said, wounded by her reaction, ¡°you¡¯ll be okay now. I¡¯ll keep you safe. I promise.¡±


    ¡°Im fine, brother,¡± she said, glancing up at him. ¡°I knew you would come.¡±


    Astna¡¯s eyes were red with tears, but her gaze was firm, which surprised him. Since when had his Astna borne a gaze like this? Though Deuvar had tried to shield her from the realities of life, there was only so much he could do. Like him, it seemed she had been forced to grow up far too early. He hugged her tight, and Deuvar felt his own eyes water slightly, forgetting the pain in his body.


    ¡°Never get involved with the underworld, Astna. You know how dangerous it is,¡± he whispered.


    ¡°What do you want me to do, Deuvar?¡± she asked. ¡°I don¡¯t have the education for corporate work, and I won¡¯t work in the factories.¡±


    ¡°...Not this, Astna. You can¡¯t be involved with them. It¡¯s dangerous.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯ll protect me, Brother. You always do.¡±


    Did she really feel that way, he wondered? When he had been so close to arriving late? She was lucky that he had even found out, tipped off by a concerned friend of hers.


    ¡°I- Astna, what did you even do?¡± he asked.


    Had he been paying too little attention to her in the past weeks? He had been taking so many shifts, but still¡­


    Astna shrugged, as if she were refusing to answer. Deuvar sighed. That was very much like her, keeping secrets and avoiding conversations she didn¡¯t wish to have. Regardless, it was best to leave the conversation for later, he thought. Time might be short.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°We need to go,¡± he said, pulling her upright. His eyes flicked back to the silent form of the man he had beaten. ¡°It won¡¯t end with just this.¡±


    Hesitantly, Astna allowed herself to be pulled, an indication of her currently weak mentality. Deuvar couldn¡¯t blame her. Like himself, he had no doubt this was the first time she had watched a man die.


    Before they could leave the alley, Deuvar and Astna were met with a series of shadows which turned the corner, blocking off Deuvar¡¯s escape route. Deuvar cursed. Just from the way they looked, they immediately gave off an impression that would match with his understanding of gangsters. He carefully took a wary step backwards, finding himself flustered and unsure of his next move.


    The group paused for a long, stressful moment as the gangsters took in not only Deuvar and Astna, but also the mutilated corpse behind them. One of the gangsters frowned as he assessed the two of them. His gaze hung for a particularly lengthy moment on Astna, causing Deuvar to tense up.


    ¡°How youthful,¡± he muttered. ¡°Even younger than I had heard.¡±


    He was a Korlove man, a bit on the older side, and his chitin was pitted and marked as if to tell of an exciting life. This was indeed, Deuvar thought, the look of a career gangster.


    ¡°A pity,¡± he continued, glancing down at the ruined body of Zak, ¡°he had such potential.¡±


    ¡°No one is allowed to touch her,¡± he snarled, stepping in front of his younger sister as if to hide her from the gangster¡¯s sight. Though Astna stood behind him, her open eyes peeked past his arm.


    ¡°A loyal child, are you?¡± asked the man, his mandibles splitting to reveal a wide smile. ¡°Loyalty is quite the virtue, but¡­ Do you know what she did?¡±


    Deuvar¡¯s hand spread out, making the effort to keep Astna behind him. The young girl tried to force his hand away, but he did not relent.


    ¡°They only want me, Brother. You¡¯ll be allowed to go.¡±


    Deuvar ignored her words. She was suggesting something that was simply out of the question, and he refused to humor it.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care what she did,¡± he said. ¡°If any of you come close to her, I¡¯ll kill you.¡±


    The man continued to smile, and his eyes blinked slowly as he regarded Deuvar.


    ¡°Your sister here has been quite bold. Collecting bits of information, compiling it into a whole, and then selling it to whoever she thought would pay the most. I would find it impressive if it weren¡¯t for the fact that she tried to sell it to my enemies.¡± He shook his head. ¡°I hadn¡¯t expected it to be led by someone so young when I sent Zak to grab her. This was my mistake. I¡¯m not a kid killer. Not unless I have to be.¡±


    The Korlove bared his teeth, but Deuvar did not flinch. He simply glanced back to his sister, but she refused to meet his gaze. So it was true, then. He gritted his teeth. Deuvar had known that she was speaking to all of the street kids, and had applauded her social skills, thinking she had the potential to go into sales, or perhaps to start a business. Not this. He sighed, and his hand clenched tighter onto Astna¡¯s. His sister had been foolish, but Deuvar would make it right.


    ¡°It¡¯s my fault,¡± he said. I take full responsibility.¡±


    The gangster chuckled, but his men remained silent.


    ¡°More loyalty¡­ you¡¯re a rare sort, child. Our organization could use more young blood like you¡±.


    ¡°Sir!¡± exclaimed one of the other gangsters, horrified by the suggestion. ¡°He just killed one of our men!¡±


    The Korlove man sneered at him.


    ¡°One of my men, and you had best remember that, Khadel.¡± He then turned his attention back to Deuvar and Astna. ¡°I¡¯ll give you some options. First, we kill you. Fairly simple task. Second, you join my force, and work five years for me. After that, I¡¯ll let you go, if you wish.


    ¡°Y-You¡¯ll let us live?¡± Deuvar asked, interrupting their discussion. ¡°Both of us?¡± Subconsciously, Deuvar could feel his hands begin to shake again, but Astna clasped hers over his, and he inhaled deeply, releasing his nerves into the air.


    The gangster¡¯s torso bobbed up and down in the Korlove approximation of a nod.


    ¡°It would be a crime to waste the lives of such¡­ talented youths. I¡¯ve heard her name is Astna, but what¡¯s yours, boy?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± asked Deuvar.


    The Korlove smiled, but made no response. His eyes glanced back towards the still-cooling corpse of Zak, which had been left all but forgotten behind the young man.


    <hr>


    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    The stone was cold, Deuvar thought. The chill seeped into him, reminding Deuvar of cold nights he had spent huddled in a similar alleyway with Astna after his father had died in the factory accident, and the landlord had kicked them out. It had only been for a few nights, before his job had given him his first paycheck, and they had been able to rent a bed in a shared space. After they had joined the Heirs, such experiences had become a thing of the past, but it was difficult to truly forget such hardship.


    Deuvar¡¯s hand stretched out, attempting to grip into the rough stony surface beneath him. Deuvar felt his fingernails cracked, barely scraping the slightest of chips from the surface, but successfully pulling himself just a bit further, one more step. Just a bit more, and he would increase his chances of getting help, of surviving. Deuvar could not die here.


    Kalthen had finally matured, becoming a man that he could truly be proud of. He had basically raised the boy, due to Astna¡¯s negligence. She had always been that way, unable to properly assign her priorities. Perhaps that was a genetic trait. To Deuvar, the young man was like a son to him. He would have wanted to see Kalthen grow older, perhaps get married and have kids.


    Deuvar had once wished to experience that life himself, but that had never been his priority. Somewhere along the line, the Heirs of Ottrien had become akin to his children, his family. Deuvar had wished to grow the organization as much as possible. If it were possible, that was still his wish.


    Deuvar¡¯s hand stretched out, mere meters from the alley, but his energy had faded, and the pressure on his lungs had only grown. The poison had set in quickly, suspiciously so. He wondered how long he had left. Even if Deuvar did receive help, would he make it to the hospital in time? It seemed unlikely.


    Perhaps this had been an inevitability, he thought. It was not as if he were likely to retire. Once one entered the underworld, it was almost impossible to leave it cleanly. The Leader had worked hard, had built an empire, and yet even he could not truly retire. The Leader had been killed for it, and now, Deuvar realized, so had he. Perhaps this was what the Seiyal called fate, or what the Staiven considered divine will.


    Though it might be an inescapable fate that he would die in such a way, Deuvar only wished there had been more time. Perhaps that is what everyone wishes for at the end, he thought. It¡¯s in your hands now, sister.


    Avoidance and the Underworld: [Publicly, the underworld and its organizations are rarely brought up. Certain underworld organizations such as the Hadal Clan, the Drelistai, and the Heirs of Ottrien are business groups in good standing, and gang violence is attributed to smaller, subsidiary forces. This is considered a fact of life in Tseludia, one that allows for a balance to occur. Racketeering is simply a part of life in certain districts, and in some places, criminals are the protectors of fair business. Evidence to prove connections that are widely known are disregarded, and nothing is done to change matters. However, these truths are not fully understood by the wider public, as it is general knowledge that the further one stays from underworld activity, the lower the odds of one being forced into it.]

 196- The Cage

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    I let out a cautious breath, the urgency of the situation finally leaving me as Rachel¡¯s whispers confirmed the Shade¡¯s death. This mission had been far riskier than my estimations, but so far, we had succeeded at every goal. Now, all I wanted was to return to the sect and rest my wounded body.


    Before me, Triezal calmed, no longer dashing around in a chaotic dance. Instead, he had turned a way eye onto myself and the still-resting Irid, the only other inhabitants who remained anywhere nearby. On the other side of the room, I could sense a number of souls, but they had all been wise enough not to approach.


    ¡°Cyrus, we need to take back the dagger!¡± said Rachel, appearing beside me. She had taken her sei form, and her appearance seemed oddly frenetic. In fact, her hair was mussed and her robes ruffled. What was the point of depicting herself in that manner, I wondered?


    I turned back to Triezal, and stretched my palm out to him, indicating my desire for him to pass the blade over. He merely sneered, not dignifying the request with a response. The Magister¡¯s eyes gleamed in the multi-colored light that surrounded him. I couldn¡¯t see a way to reach the man without getting dangerously close to the lesions had I wanted to.


    Did I even want the thing, I wondered? It was dangerous, that was for sure. I could barely even use it myself without acquiring severe injuries. But I was a martial artist. A weapon was useful, but the path was my own. And this weapon was not a part of mine. In fact, I did not want the thing anywhere near me. There was something to be said in favor of preventing an enemy from having it, but¡­ I glanced back to Triezal, and the multi-colored defences he stood behind. It was not a barrier I found myself willing to charge, at least not in my current condition.


    I shook my head.


    ¡°It¡¯s not worth it,¡± I said. ¡°We need to go. I¡¯ll grab Irid. Where¡¯s Karie? Have her meet up so you can transport us away.¡±


    Rachel scowled, but then paused, as always seeing something beyond mortal senses. She sighed, a look of resignation coming over her.


    ¡°Shit, you¡¯re right they¡¯re almost here. You don¡¯t have to worry about Karie, but go grab Irid.¡±


    I nodded, having an idea of who she might be referring to. Given the visual spectacle that covered the whole sky outside, it had been only a matter of time until the Staiven involved themselves. Wasting no time, I helped Irid to her feet, and draped one of her arms around my shoulder to steady her. One of the Reth woman¡¯s collarbones was smashed, and at least five bullets had been lodged into her body.


    I knew almost nothing about a Reth¡¯s internals, but for a woman in her progression stage, I would have to trust that if she were not yet dead, the injuries should be enough to heal. Still, it would be best to get her to a hospital, or more accurately, the sect¡¯s newest palace.


    It seemed my initial thoughts had been correct, I thought. For more reasons than one, we needed to return to the sect as quickly as possible.


    <hr>


    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Triezal felt his body knit itself together, holding his agonized skin to his tender flesh. Though he had a strong ashatic resistance, Triezal was no Jobu, and such exposure to lesions would still cause injury. He suspected it would be weeks before he fully recovered. For now, however, the lesions were his shield, guarding him in case the Redwaters wished him any harm. Given the history between them, it would have been difficult to describe their relationship in simple terms. Regardless, it was clear that Rachel wanted to retrieve the knife, but Triezal wouldn¡¯t let that happen. His fist clenched tighter on the blade, as his eyes still paid careful attention to the martial artist and the Reth.


    There was a third presence in the room, one Triezal couldn¡¯t help but be wary of. Rachel stood before him, at the edge of the field of lesions. This should be a hologram, he thought. He knew that she had access to those, from the reports. If it had been a robot body, she surely would have put it to use fighting against Janottka. The Shade narrowed her eyes as she glared at him. Triezal¡¯s lips tightened as he settled into a readied stance, in case he needed to guard himself.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯re aware,¡± she said, ¡°but the Brink shares locality with Telles. Travel within takes¡­ quite some time, even at a servitor¡¯s speed. Tell me, Magister,¡± she contonued, her grin demonic, ¡°How far was it to Janaste, again?¡±


    Triezal blanched at her words, and his face went pale as if the blood had drained. He wanted to doubt what she was suggesting, but it fit with the fears he had already been harboring. A being like Janottka would not have died so easily, he thought.


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me¡­¡±


    Rachel¡¯s grin seemed to serve as sufficient answer, and Triezal scowled as the implications swept through his mind. If she¡¯s alive, she¡¯ll return to Janaste, and construct herself a new body. And she¡¯ll surely return here to kill me.


    How long would it take a servitor to travel between systems, he wondered? She lacked naaeratanh, so a slice drive was out of the question. And Rachel had implied it would take some time. At subluminal velocities¡­ Triezal pinched his brow, annoyed by the results of his rapid estimation. The best he could guess would be the same as a physical ship, or perhaps slightly faster. A round trip of about a decade, give or take a few months. It seemed that all he had managed to accomplish was a return to the original timeline for the Epon¡¯s return. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    Still, it was difficult to deny the relief Triezal felt at having dodged his imminent demise. Ten years was a long time, relatively speaking. During that time, perhaps he would receive the opportunities he would need. So long as he was alive, there would always be a chance.


    Triezal watched as Cyrus lifted the Reth woman, who had, it seemed, not quite bled out yet. For future reference, he made a mental note of her hardiness. Perhaps it was a trait of her species. As he watched them, for a moment he and the Riverfiend locked eyes. Triezal gave the man a sharp nod, one born from respect. Regardless of their differing goals, he could respect the man¡¯s warrior¡¯s spirit. The martial artist reciprocated the nod, moments before the trio disappeared in a brilliant flash of golden light. Triezal let out a sigh of relief. Now that they were gone, he could finally make his way out from the web he had trapped himself within.


    His scowl returned moments later, however, as before he could even begin, one of the hangar¡¯s entry hatches released.The aperture revealed the boots of the Justice Office¡¯s soldiers, clacking on the metal floors as they entered. So that was why Rachel had left so easily, he thought. Their actions made more sense, in retrospect.


    Triezal cursed, glancing around at the approaching soldiers, and the lesions which still surrounded him. If he wished to escape the cage of lesions without mutation or potentially fatal injury, it would be quite difficult, and might even require him to dig himself out. Though he had been so caught up in killing Janottka that he didn¡¯t notice, Triezal was surrounded in tight confines by the wounds, standing in a small pocket within the brilliantly colorful mass.


    Looking into the tears felt as if he were looking into reality itself, and looking beyond them to the rest of them was to look into a far more mundane sort of reality. The shocked Staiven had begun to form ranks, barking orders as they surrounded him.


    This had truly, Triezal thought, been one of the worst days of his life. It did not seem as if it would get any better.


    <hr>


    First District, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Renuas frowned, reaching up with his left hand to peel a large flake of skin from his forehead and discard it in a nearby trash can. He had developed a habit of peeling his skin off, one that only increased the rate of peeling, as well as the amount of nutrients that he needed to consume. Not that this bothered him, as Renuas had long considered himself a connoisseur of fine bathing. He visited the nutrient pools on his street twice a day, and his well-paid job was enough to visit some of the really expensive baths one per week. Renuas had received one such bath just the day before, and was already fantasizing about his next opportunity. Sometimes he pitied the oddness of the other races, who had to consume solid objects for nutrients. To swallow something down one¡¯s throat¡­ Renuas shuddered at the thought. That just sounded painful.


    Returning his attention to the terminal he was kneading, Renuas scanned the network anomaly he had been assigned to investigate. Apparently, during the titan scare the day before, something extremely odd had been occurring. He scanned the data from several angles, making little sense of it. Whatever had happened, someone had cleared most of the traces, and there was little to go off of.


    ¡°Did someone try to hack the¡­¡± he muttered, before his words cut off mid sentence. Numerous other events crossed his mind, and Renuas quickly pulled up several older files, looking through and cross-referencing the data. He shivered as he looked over the results. There was a simple explanation that would solve multiple conundrums he had been faced with in past weeks, but one that he found terrifying. He compiled the data, and ran out from his cubicle, nearly knocking over the chair in the process. Shocked and fearful, Renuas dashed through the hall, nearly slamming into the hatch which led to his superior¡¯s office.


    ¡°Sir! I have an urgent report. Item 23.¡±


    Seated in an odd spherical chair was another Staiven with an angular body whose clothes hung so tightly they might as well have been pasted on, in Renuas¡¯ estimation. He much preferred clothing that could be removed more easily for bathing ease, but was not the sort of fool who would openly question their employer¡¯s taste.


    Her name was Oulan, and Renuas was actually a little bit scared of her. A bead of condensed miasma slowly dripped from one of her formless eyes as she regarded him.


    ¡°Twenty-three¡­¡± she muttered, speaking slowly. ¡°I¡¯m sure you know what that designation means, and what the consequences for false reports are?¡±


    Renuas nodded vigorously. He knew exactly what he was doing, and that knowledge dug a spike of fear deep into his body. Oulan waved a hand, as if prodding him to speak.


    ¡°Then explain, Renuas. What did you find?¡±


    He hesitated, scared of the consequences of being wrong. That was the problem with being the bearer of bad news, Renuas thought. But the consequences for failing to report news so potentially vital were far worse. Why couldn''t any of his colleagues have been assigned this task?


    ¡°Well, ma¡¯am, ah¡­¡± He said, stumbling over his words. Renuas found it difficult to begin, finding fear clutching at his throat. ¡°There- There have been a number of anomalies in the net over the past month, but this is the largest one by far. From what I can tell, there are many attempts to send data through the network from this node, but none of them went through. Most importantly, all information about the devices involved have been wiped entirely from the system. All we can see now are traces indicating that something happened. If you look at the data¡­ you should look at it. I-I believe this is sufficient evidence for concern that one or more Shades may be hiding aboard the station.¡±


    ¡°Show me,¡± ordered Oulan, her expression alert. She lifted her terminal, and, fumbling, Renuas quickly sent the file over.


    Oulan frowned as she inspected the device, leading to over a minute of silence as Renuas awkwardly waited for her to finish checking over both his work and his conclusion.


    ¡°Good work,¡± she said, eventually breaking the silence. ¡°You were right to show this to me. I¡¯ll send this up the chain. You might receive a bonus for this, but¡­¡±


    Renuas nodded vigorously.


    ¡°I understand,¡± he said. ¡°I will not leak a word of this.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡±


    Oulan scanned through the data once more, disappointed in what she saw. She leaned back in her seat, sighing.


    ¡°Damn it all,¡± she muttered.


    Pantheonic- Sheneth-Ari Treaty Item Twenty-Three: [One of the more well known parts of the lengthy and complicated legal document that ended conflict between the Sheneth-Ari Council and the Pantheon of Staive, item twenty-three was the stipulation that all mechanical or virtual life forms, colloquially known as ¡®Shades,¡¯ are to be destroyed by the Pantheonic Government, or should that not be possible, for their existence to be reported to the Sheneth-Ari. Such reports invariably end poorly for all mortals within the affected city. Despite being only item 23, this section of the treaty is one of the most staunchly enforced by both governments.]

 Codices- Book Three: Cascade (Spoilers for book three)

    Races of the Pantheonic Territory:


    The Jankari: [An ancient civilization, perhaps the earliest advanced civilization in Telles, the Jankari had an interstellar empire before the Telaretians had even reached the stone age. It is unclear just what led to their downfall, but some say they were wiped out by the ascendants after making first contact. Little is known about the Jankari¡¯s physical appearance, as no bodies have been found, however they appear to have been a bit larger than the average size of modern races. While all that is left of the Jankari is ruins, these ruined worlds and stations contain ancient relics that showcase understanding of miasma and reality far beyond modern technology. Most attempts to understand or reverse engineer Jankari relics have failed, though some races have discovered the basics of activating and utilizing them. Some conspiracy theories claim that the reason the Jankari were so advanced in such an early era is because they were actually survivors from the previous universe, which they refer to as Effelzi, following its destruction.]


    Indeice: [Tall and slender creatures with six arms and five dark eyes, the Indichians are one of the many client races of the Osine. Despite their advanced technology, their reproductive capability is extremely limited, thus they never ran into the restrictions imposed by their Osine masters. A very insular race, they also have seemingly little interest in exploring the universe, merely focused on living comfortable lives in their own home system. Aside from trade with starfaring races within Osine territory such as the Telaretians, the Indichians interact extremely little with the outside world, and aliens are not even allowed to reside within their territory on a permanent basis.]


    Circumstances of the Telaretian Race: [Though occasionally, Telaretian planets are slated for harvest, the species is mostly allowed to freely spread throughout Osine territory due to their historical importance, provided they do not interfere with cultivated worlds. They are also considered to make suitable mortal forces for the ongoing war with the Khalak-Ora, and remain one of the most populous races in the galaxy despite their decline. Despite their vast population, relatively few Telaretians choose to reside within the Pantheonic Territory, not wishing to live the life of a second class citizen.]


    Bloodspawn: [It is actually unknown just where this odd race of creatures originated, for even they don¡¯t know their origin. They have been spotted in various areas across the galaxy with seemingly no possibility of traversal, leading some scientists to believe their origin could either be the invention by a certain Osine or Ascendant, some type of extreme convergent evolution, or perhaps simply an oddity of nature. Bloodspawn are born as amorphous creatures without intellect, and only develop into sapient beings after consuming the body of a sapient mortal. They then develop an appearance vaguely similar to that of the race in question, but generally with a redder hue than the actual species. Despite not being humanoid nor possessing a progression system, Bloodspawn circulate sanguine miasma within themselves like a Celan circulates blood. While bloodspawn are not illegal existences like Shades, there is no known civilization willing to grant them citizenship, and they lack a civilization or even a culture of their own, as they are a rare species, reproduce asexually, and seem to possess little to no attachment to their own young. Though it does not seem to be a universal trait, many bloodspawn have been found to take on the name of the first sapient life form they consumed. Some depthist sects rear juvenile bloodspawn and feed them sapients, while others decry them as evil creatures which must be purged from the world.]


    Technology:


    Celans and Bronze Alloys: [One interesting aspect of the materials technology possessed by the races of Celah is that a significant portion of them involve alloys of bronze. While still largely composed of copper and tin, these alloys used by the Celans are, despite this, able to survive vast stresses far superior to what the material should be capable of. Many aliens believe that the secret to this technology relates to the secrets of flickering miasma held by this civilization, but the truth is unknown, and no other race has yet been able to replicate them. Even reverse engineering of stolen fragments has yet to succeed. One fact considered of note by many who are aware, is that all known naeratanh is also largely composed of bronze alloy.]


    Power Cores: [Staiven power cores are mostly simple superheated chemical reactants encased in strong insulators, though in the home system of Staive it is said these are being phased out in favor of the use of genesis miasma as a storage medium. Most races within the Pantheonic Territory use the Staiven-built cores, as their technology is simple enough the Staiven are willing to allow it to leak. In fact, those which are sold to aliens are purposefully designed to be very simple in concept but incredibly technologically difficult to manufacture, so as to maintain a monopoly on them. Celans largely make their own cores however, using a method involving flickering miasma which can increase atomic reactivity far beyond normal limits. These cores have threefold potential uses, able to function as batteries, reactors, or explosives. They rarely see use outside of power plants, mechs, and starships.]


    Seiyal Explosive Technology: [While the Seiyal have enough of a technology base to understand nuclear technology, they simply have not done the testing and development necessary to turn such explosives into usable products that won¡¯t cross the Pantheonic Government¡¯s bottom line. Similarly, those within the Pantheonic Territory lack suitable places to test such weapons. For this reason, they are forced to use inferior methods such as synthesized nitroglycerin or napalm. Despite the fact that such compounds are often considered primitive, they are more than effective enough for practical use. In addition, a martial artist¡¯s hand eye coordination and ability to throw objects is outmatched among the mortal races.]


    Sending Stones: [Expertly crafted machines utilizing sanguine and extant miasma, sending stones are believed to utilize the Brink as a medium to transport objects which have been rendered nonexistent in the form of information states, and returning them to reality in another location. In practice, this means that they are capable of teleporting objects. Throughout the galaxy, there are said to be potentially millions of sending stones, however their limited range limits their utility. A sending stone cannot transfer an object more than a million miles away, and the transit is not instantaneous. Researchers currently believe that although the stones were designed as a network, the principle utilized by the technology should be theoretically possible to function, so long as the target location can be effectively marked. According to the Pantheonic Government, Staiven scientists are very close to being the first to reverse engineer the technology and manufacture their own sending stone equivalents.]


    Soul Replacement: [Created roughly thirty years ago, according to the Pantheonic Calendar, this cutting edge technology is controlled in utmost secrecy by the Epon, and allows them to swap souls and engrams between humanoid bodies. One of the two bodies is destroyed in the process, and one of the souls is as well, though this is not considered an issue. Sufficient testing has allowed the Epon to use this on Jobu, Korlove, and Seiyal, though insufficient quantities of test subjects have rendered them unable to use it on the Reth so far. Despite their visual similarity to the humanoid races, the Staiven are not effective targets for the technology, as their brains are simply too different from that of humanoids for the process to operate smoothly. Similarly, using the technology with Korlove can cause locomotion issues due to their physical differences with Jobu and Seiyal. In addition, attempting the process with a soul enhanced by a progression system inevitably causes the process to fail, destroying both bodies and souls.]


    Mechanical Suits and the Celan Military:[Due to both the fear the race has for Shades due to its history, as well as the heavy Pantheonic restrictions on artificial intelligence and machine learning programs, drones are unable to be fully effective for combat, particularly on a planet or within a station. After all, without internal control, a drone would need to be piloted remotely, leaving far too simple a weakness for an opponent to interfere with. Thus, Celan military forces have taken the route of creating advanced mechanical suits to make up the gap in personal power between them and races with progression systems.]


    Seiyal and Firearm Technology: [Even prior to contact with the Staiven, Canvasians had invented gunpowder technology. Fireworks were a staple of large celebrations, and merchant ships operated by mortals and Tovus would at times utilize cannons in addition to on-board martial artist defenders to protect their cargo. Though the smaller, more portable concept of the gun was proposed and even invented, its use did not catch on. Part of this is because initial versions were of poor quality, and another is because the martial-oriented culture at the time focused on growing the quantity and quality of its elite warriors, rather than raising the standard of the general army. In modern times, the great power of the firearms used by the more developed races has in turn inspired many Canvasians, as the trend has started to shift over time. Some suspect that in the near future, it was possible that such weapons might start to pop up among the lower levels of certain more progressive martial organizations. After all, it is not that such weapons are banned outright by great forces such as Sunlit Hall.]


    Internal Celan Virtual Networks: [The traditional model for a virtual environment is a computer network, a web where each node is a different machine interfacing with one another virtually. This is the model used by the Staiven, and is the nature of the Tseludian internet. Internal Celan networks, however, utilize a different design, the latter consisting of computer terminals merely serving as wireless access point to a single, large computer capable of mass parallel computation. The benefit of this design is that it is a fully closed system, and eliminates the risk of being hacked, so long as the central computer does not actively open itself to external sources.]


    Weapons of Mass Destruction: [WMD is the designation for weapons of such magnitude that they might destroy an entire city, starship, or space station. The Seiyal refer to these as weapons of the ¡®immortal level.¡¯. Nuclear and fusion warheads, antimatter bombs, the ¡®titan¡¯ series of Celan mechs, ablation engines, and many other instruments of war also classify as WMD. They are banned in most territories, though the Pantheonic Government, despite banning their use by all factions external to themselves, in many cases do not enforce this due to internal corruption. If a WMD is utilized publicly, however, the faction is not only censured, in most cases it is destroyed outright unless the revealed individual or machine is destroyed, and the capacity to create it is removed. Despite this, no underworld organization can be considered a true power unless they bear at least one weapon of this level.]


    Advanced Materials Technology: [Every civilization¡¯s material technology tends to diverge after a certain point in development. In part this is generally due to the resources they have available, as well as the other technological developments they have. For example, the Staiven excel at advanced molecular structure synthesis, and can create materials designed for extremely specific tasks, while the Celans focus on materials that function well under extreme conditions involving the properties of flickering miasma. But while Staiven materials are extremely difficult to replicate without the relevant technology, they are relatively simple to analyze. Contrarily, advanced Celan materials are to an extent the product of warpings, and are extremely difficult to understand or replicate without an understanding of the circumstances of their production.]


    Tseludia Station¡¯s Construction: [Built using an asteroid as the foundation, Tseludia Station is largely the product of refined minerals which emerged from said asteroid, as enhanced with materials bought and traded with. The majority of the station is composed of stone interlaced with proprietary Staiven alloys, resulting in the general patchwork colored structure that composes most of the station, including the stacks. In parts of the station largely inhabited by aliens with visual sensory organs, paint, wallpaper, veneers, and tiling are all used to hide this ¡®eyesore¡¯, as many consider it to be. The construction of the stacks are extremely strong, however, easily able to hold the thousands of tons of weight that each one lifts, even in the enhanced gravity of the station¡¯s spindle. Despite this strength, the immense weight of each stack is such that if one were to fall and crash into another, a chain reaction might occur. This premise has been part of the setting of three distinct apocalypse films in the past decade, created and set within Tseludia itself.]


    The Celan and Epon Celan Disparity: [It is said that in all fields but one, the current Celan civilization has yet to surpass their ancestors, the Epon Celan civilization. The Epon Celans were masters of mundane technology, said to be the greatest in all of Telles at the time. But their miasmic technology had fallen behind, which left them vulnerable to the weapons of the Khalak¡¯Ora. For this reason, the natures and abilities of a Celan Shade seem strange and near impossible to most mortals. Their most exceptional innovations were in fields whose use is illegal under Pantheonic law- nano-scale machinery and artificial intelligence.]


    Servitors: [Originally developed by the Telaretians, a servitor is a machine composed of ashatic compounds, the sole materials that exist within the Brink. These machines are capable of interacting not only with the ashatic currents, but also with souls. For ordinary mortals, a servitor can be considered an assassination tool so perfect as to leave no trace. Many scientists and engineers among the more developed races have claimed that the ban on the development and use of servitor technology has caused miasmic technology to stagnate. However, this ban, enforced in most territories, only applies to mortals, unlike some bans which apply to all beings. For the Ascendants and the Osine, the use of servitors is a given. Most famously, they have been used for millennia by the Osine to harvest the souls of their dead client races for use, and for this reason are also known as Soul Collectors.]


    Martial Arts:


    Seiyal and Talent: [The martial arts subculture of the Seiyal has an extreme focus on a practitioner¡¯s abilities and talent. Some are born with innate talent that allows them to awaken miasma and soul sense without even being taught, or to instinctively understand certain vital aspects of bodily movement that greatly speed up one¡¯s martial progression. Such geniuses are often heralded as the future of the sect or clan, and their potential exerts pressure on their force¡¯s opponents. After all, the more talented an individual is, the easier it is to reach the high stages of martial arts, past each of the bottlenecks. However, at each successive level, prodigies become rarer and rarer. After all, many reach the limit of their talent and fail to pass a bottleneck, become overconfident in their abilities and accidentally cripple themselves, or, mostly commonly, are slain by both allies and enemies due to how they create jealousy and intimidation in others.]


    Medicine Path: [In films, manifest practitioners of the medicine path are often depicted as healers capable of repairing mortal wounds in instants and healing their allies up to peak effectiveness. In practice, matters are not so simple. Summoning functioning flesh would be an incredibly complex endeavor, even for a manifest immortal. Instead, medicine path practitioners could be considered essentially the same as poisoners, except their medicines are drugs beneficial for themselves and others, rather than poisons. Of all the orthodox paths, the medicine path is perhaps the one whose practitioners are regarded with the most suspicion, as poisoners have been known to disguise themselves as medicine path practitioners to hide within orthodox territories.]


    Lone Practitioners: [While the great martial alliances rule the land, and the martial forces control their own territory, it is not uncommon for prodigies to emerge among the small martial academies, or who have survived the collapse of their faction. Some of these unlucky martial artists join up with martial forces as external elders, or resort to banditry. On Tseludia Station, the two main opportunities for a lone practitioner is to work for a PMC or to start a gang. Life is more difficult for these practitioners, but conversely, the difficulty often results in them acquiring more opportunities to make a name for themselves, not held back by reputation and the thin veneer of righteousness. The names of the greatest of the Lone Practitioners often gain the influence of a faction in their own right.]


    Flickering Arts: [Characterized by stuttering, chaotic motion, the flickering path is one that acquires more and more complexity the further one walks upon it. It seems inherently impossible to control flickering miasma, and a skillful practitioner of this path is one who is able to constantly adapt to changing circumstances. To an unobservant eye, a powerful flickering practitioner seems to be teleporting around the battlefield, constantly shifting location and orientation, though the truth is that the chaotic effects of flickering miasma do not solely affect one¡¯s motions.]


    Martial Techniques and Technological Development: [Historically, the Seiyal saw martial arts as a discipline wholly divorced from science and technology, a type of magic granted by the divinity of the goddess Ceirra. However, after joining the galactic society, they were confronted with alien technology that utilized miasma, and it became clear that the principles of martial arts were not as unique as they seemed. Martial arts techniques and the abilities of miasma are one, and races such as the Staiven have been able to develop certain technologies by studying the capabilities of Seiyal martial artists. It is said that the Celans have taken the opposite approach: reverse engineering their own understanding of flickering miasma¡¯s principles in order to create martial techniques, so as to better understand the mechanics as a whole.]


    Technique Failure: [Of course, like with any motions and skills, techniques can fail. Whether it was an incorrect motion, incorrect body shape, or failed miasmic motion, a variety of results may occur upon the failure of a technique, depending on one¡¯s level, how much miasma was involved, and how poorly the technique¡¯s execution was. On the lower end of results, the technique might simply not function, and the motion be effectively a normal bodily motion. If the technique is forcefully interrupted however, or the miasma involved is too great, a failed execution might result in damage to one¡¯s meridians or even the fracturing of the martial artist¡¯s dantian itself. Usually, the more powerful a technique is, the more difficult it is to use, and the risk of permanent damage caused by a technique¡¯s failure is part of the reason martial forces often restrict their strongest techniques to only the most talented of practitioners.]


    Dual-Miasma Paths: [A path utilizing two miasmas is often not considered a real path. After all, the energies within the miasmas conflict, and cause damage to the body. For low-level practitioners, this can easily cause death. Such injuries, too, cause sanguine miasma to form within the practitioner¡¯s body, which can rapidly cause the path to become one of three miasmas, an even more fatal occurrence. But in rare cases, when an advanced practitioner with a sufficiently durable physique becomes so injured that enough sanguine miasma enters at least one of their cores, they can become so infiltrated by the sanguine that it becomes naturally generated, as if that was truly their path. This is an unorthodox path of pain and hardship, much more dangerous than a true sanguine path. None would choose such a path of their own volition. Not unless they had no alternative.]


    Meridian Purification: [More of a rumor and a legend than a real technique, in many stories even now there is a procedure known as purification, where a martial artist¡¯s meridians are ¡®washed clean,¡¯ expelling all miasma, and allowing another type of miasma to enter. In the stories, this was a way to change one¡¯s path, and is often used as a literary device to depict an evil unorthodox character renouncing their ways and becoming an orthodox practitioner. In reality, the technique is widely claimed to be a myth, though rumors of similar techniques existing have continued to spread for centuries.]


    Genesis Singularity: [One of the more well-known spirit refinement methods of the genesis path, this art is controlled by a number of different genesis forces of Sunlit Hall, its roots tracing back many generations, and is one of the most popular spirit refinement methods among several of the forces which control it. The method consists of using the force of miasmic current to pressurize the soul, squeezing it slowly into a smaller and denser state until ultimately it hits a critical point, and collapses into a true singularity, and for better or worse. Once true singularity is achieved, the practitioner immediately initiates their ascension, for better or worse. One side benefit of this method is that the practitioner¡¯s soul becomes more difficult to target due to its small size and high density. It is, however, often much easier to sense due to the extremely unusual density it will attain.]


    Pugilists: [Pugilists, historically, have often been considered as fools or idiots. The entrance of the Seiyal into the galactic era only exacerbated this idea, as great innovations in weapons technology have resulted, leaving many to feel that the pugilist is the way of the past. Several of the stronger pugilist forces have finally moved on to the use of gauntlets for their arts. There are few techniques uniquely for pugilists, and in the modern era, the discipline is in most cases a matter of those who prefer their own fists to a separate weapon, and for that reason simply temper their bodies. It is said that the self proclaimed Martial God, one of the very few martial artists to successfully ascend to immortality, was once a practitioner of fist arts. His legend still inspires a great many to pursue this path, despite its downsides.]


    Soul Manifestation: [A powerful ability only usable in the spirit refinement realm and above, a manifest practitioner must fuse this unusable technique with their cerebral dantian during their core formation, and practice a relevant refinement method in order to acquire it. Soul Manifestation allows the practitioner¡¯s soul to mimic their manifested objects, creating a temporary conduit and allowing for the objects to be altered post-manifestation, a matter which is normally impossible outside of normal physical interaction. The objects are stuck in the general shape of the practitioner¡¯s soul, however, providing a new limitation to the practitioner¡¯s abilities. This ability is famous, and the technique is well known, but fitting refinement methods are all but unknown, with only a few proven to exist. Despite its power, few manifest practitioners are willing to acquire it.]


    Ashata and Spacetime:


    Naeratanh and Flickering Miasma: [Naeratanh, a material invented by the Celan civilization, is an extremely rare material that is created with a secret method involving flickering miasma within the incursion. It is the only known physical material capable of tearing lesions into reality with mere movement, bringing into question whether this is due to the unique properties of flickering miasma, or whether similar materials might theoretically be possible to forge using other miasmas. Such speculation is illegal to discuss in public within the Pantheonic Territory, according to a ruling set by the council in the year 1606 PTS.]


    Planar Warpings: [If the use of miasma to alter physical reality can be considered cutting edge science, warpings are several steps beyond even that. They can be considered the imprints left on reality by structured ashata itself. This is a level that has only been theorized by races such as the Staiven and the Celans, and claimed by some to be beyond the limits of technology- the realm of the divine. Osine and Ascendants, of course, are all fully capable of creating and utilizing warpings. In isolation, a warping slowly disappears, the universe returning to its rightful state. When multiple warpings are placed too nearby one another, however, they interfere with one another, causing extremely dangerous chaotic effects, and greatly increasing the planar torsion of the region. Some scholars have theorized that such issues and discrepancies may be the reason for the unique nature of the Incursion.]


    Conduit: [Associated with sanguine miasma but not restricted to it, a conduit is a bridge between spacetimes, and unless there is a lesion, miasma cannot enter Telles without passing through a conduit. Artificial conduits are considered one of the vital inventions necessary to develop ashatic and miasmic technology, though in theory, such technology could also be created using biological conduits such as the specialized organ located within the eye sockets of the Staiven race. It is theorized that perhaps the reason why humanoid bodies are capable of generating sanguine miasma when damaged by miasmic effects is because humanoid blood contains an inherent capacity to become a conduit. Recent testing has only increased the support for this theory.]


    Miasmic Mixtures: [Multiple miasmas are able to exist in the same place, but they are unable to combine. Only in the Brink is this possible, and in Telles, all one acquires is a chaotic mixture. Combinations of miasmas all have different results, according to their individual processes, and the advanced sciences of certain races have begun to touch on controlled usage of multiple miasmas in a single machine. Uncontrolled mixtures, however, such as what is produced by a lesion, always has one single result. Utter chaos and unpredictable results for everything it makes contact with. Such chaos is inimical to ordered structures such as machinery, living beings, and in many cases, molecular structures themselves.]


    Pantheonic Laws and Culture:


    Access to Food in the Pantheonic Territory: [Even races with shared origins often have different dietary requirements, much less aliens with little shared in terms of heritage and nature. Even the humanoid classification of species, which share such odd convergent similarities all have very different diets. In any given station or planet within the territory, farms and factories can be expected to produce more than sufficient food for the Staiven population, and nutrient bathhouses are a common sight. For the stations with a large population of a given species, such as the Seiyal, Celans, and Exid on Tseludia Station, mass production of synthesized food can be expected, as well as a number of restaurants. For those who are less common, such as the Telaretians and Escalos, food must be specially synthesized, and sometimes all that can be found is nutrient paste. For rare races such as the Reth, even such paste might be difficult to acquire.]


    Trade in the Pantheonic Territory: [Trade, the lifeblood of all great civilizations, is a core element of life within the Pantheonic Territory, spearheaded by the influence of the Church of Fulstovis. Despite the vast distances between stars, technology, unique resources and products, and even entire populations are constantly moving between star systems. The use of long term stasis technology by most of the territory¡¯s races has allowed this industry to thrive despite the long voyages. A single trade deal between two systems might take over two decades in subjective time to complete, potentially even arriving an entire decade late if delays occur during transit. Still, the revenues generated through such trade are immense. Due to the unique advantages provided by the voidgates, Staive has managed to become one of the richest trading hubs in the inhabited galaxy, second only to those within the Osine nations.]


    Rush Hour on Tseludia Station: [Though the Staiven are blind, and thus pay no attention to the on and off cycles of the station¡¯s dome light, their sleep schedule, presumably due to the will of their dead creators, quite similar to that of the humanoid races. It is a roughly 25 hour cycle. As the vast majority of the station¡¯s population is Staiven or humanoid, the trend of largely synchronized low activity periods followed by high activity ¡®day¡¯ periods is simply a part of station culture. Because of this, the concept of ¡®rush hour¡¯ exists, when a large percentage of the station¡¯s inhabitants wake up and walk to their workplace, or leave their workplace to return home, rendering the streets extremely congested for a period of time. The sole exceptions to this trend is the spacedock, which is bustling at all hours, and Otan, where shifts of drones are constantly moving around. Of course, a city as widely inhabited as Tseludia is never truly in a slumbering state, and many live on their own schedules, with no care for how the majority of the population spends their time.]


    Pantheonic Law and Organized Crime: [Throughout all of Pantheonic space, Pantheonic Law remains consistent. After all, the presence of the churches ensures that no local government would dare to rebel against the rule of the gods. Because of this surety, and the influence of the Church of Verain, very few types of weapons are illegal under Pantheonic Law, and certain amounts of corruption within the system are granted a blind eye, provided prisoner quotas are met. After all, if the ruling powers support the system, and the weaker powers such as the corporations are able to benefit from it, only the oppressed might wish to confront Pantheonic hegemony. This is where organized crime syndicates come into play. By tacitly acquiescing to the existence and development of such organizations, this creates an environment where individual racial and cultural groups form their own forces, ones which inherently conflict, and must fight one another for dominance. A setting where each of them rely on the laws and rule set up by the Pantheonic Government to maintain their standing, and each would also be glad to see the downfall of another, rather than work together to achieve independence.]The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Torture in the Pantheonic Territory: [Most advanced civilizations largely spurn torture¡¯s use, as it has been known to be very effective at acquiring useless, false, or unusable information. That said, the threat of torture alone can be effective at times, so few forces are willing to do away with it altogether. The practice is in theory illegal, but both the Justice Office and the underworld organizations use it when needed. For this reason, certain groups such as the Epon train each of their higher rank members in how to resist torture, and the Staiven have even tested brain alteration that allows a Staiven operative to diminish their pain and discomfort by as much as needed, so as to increase their tolerance. In fact, over half of the current major corporations of the territory require personnel in certain roles to undertake such treatments, with stipulations in their contract detailing punishments to occur to them or their estate if any confidential information is leaked.]


    Reth Governance: [In the modern era, the Reth do not have a true government, finding themselves willing to rely on the Pantheonic Government and the Church of Saaya to handle their logistics. With the relatively small and scattered population they have in the current era, there is little need for any more structured command. Prior to their exile from Canvas, the Reth homeland was ruled by an elected council. The final members of the council died in the homeland before the race¡¯s evacuation, and it was never reconvened. Some of the larger Reth enclaves have considered forming such a government again. The Church of Saaya has, notably, stood against this proposition.]


    Seiyal Medical Sector: [While the medical technology of the Canvasians are low, the Staiven are not unaware of the financial power of the large numbers of refugees and immigrants from the race who continue to enter the Pantheonic Territory. This is a powerful market, and the more time passes, the more pharmaceuticals, equipment, and dedicated professionals have been trained up to deal with the race¡¯s medical needs. While the power and influence of the Seiyal medical sector cannot compare with that of more populous and advanced races such as the Staiven and the Celans, the treatment options available to the race continue to wildly grow in number and quality as more is learned about Seiyal biology. In certain circles, it is rumored that the more powerful corporations within this sector have deals with government officials to acquire more information about Seiyal and martial artist biology.]


    Role of Shades in Traditional Celan Culture: [The Celan Shades are beings that had existed since prior to the foundation of the current Celan civilization. Due to the uniquely isolated location of their homeworld, no ascendants were present to claim the world, which led to a situation where the powerful Shades became dominant forces, equivalent to gods to certain groups. For some Celans, this treatment has yet to end. Many Merris still treat the Shade Anteky as their guardian deity, while Arvajott was said to be last seen in command of a flotilla which has yet to be seen in galactic society after leaving Celah. Jinulde was seen as a sage who could answer any question if one traveled to its mountain, while Janottka was the Sorceress, a trickster used in stories to scare children. Many have been lost to history, such as those who were destroyed in the fall of Opportunity, and the majority of the Celans simply see them as powerful and dangerous beings better lost to time.]


    Outlaw Status in the Pantheonic Territory: [The Justice Office is not known for its careful policing of the alien population. Deaths are only investigated if corpses are found, and disappearances are ignored entirely unless ¡®funding¡¯ for the investigation appears. An outlaw, however, is someone whose death would not be prosecuted, and who the office at least claims to be actively searching for. This designation is reserved for criminals whose actions have either impacted the government¡¯s image, or who have threatened it. Outlaws are generally sent to labor camps on the prison moons, but in some cases they might be directly executed by the office, something that does not occur for ordinary criminals unless they resist arrest. It is not uncommon however, for this designation to be appealed and revoked in court.]


    Monopolies Under Pantheonic Law: [At any time, the Council of Clerics may decide that a corporation¡¯s monopoly on a product or service is not in line with the Pantheon¡¯s will, and forcibly break it up, or simply remove the product¡¯s patent qualification. Such preservation of the free market is widely celebrated by the territory¡¯s citizens at large, but is never invoked for businesses directly operated by the churches, and rarely for large corporations with deep ties to them. Unless one of the churches actively wishes for it to be broken, however, monopolies are never contested, and generally seen as ¡®good business¡¯ in the corporate sphere.]


    Canvasian Honor Duels: [Contrary to what is claimed by popular culture, there is no tradition of an ¡®honor duel¡¯ for martial artists. Duels have been fought to assert dominance, for betting, for challenges to authority, and as proxies to reduce losses as part of a larger conflict, but the idea of challenging another practitioner purely because of such nebulous concepts as honor is more myth than reality. There is, after all, rarely a need to make conflicts into a one on one fight. The concept of these duels, as portrayed in popular culture such as Canvasian martial arts films, originated from the mortal culture of Bounty in the mid 1500s. The practice originated with the Tovus, in fact, and spread among the farsei inhabitants due to cultural exchanges, though the practice lost a certain amount of popularity following the later colonization of the continent by Sunlit Hall in the late 1500s. Despite this, the practice lives on in mortal-produced media about martial artists.]


    The Pantheonic Navy: [A powerful individual is qualified to rule a nation, but to impose law, a military is necessary. Largely under the influence of the Church of Verain, the Pantheonic Navy is the sword-arm of the Council of Clerics, and altogether, is said to be the most powerful mortal military in Telles, simply due to its size. Every planet and station under Pantheonic rule is guarded by at least one warship posing enough firepower to annihilate it outright. Despite its great power, the Pantheonic Navy has never been a wartime force, as no mortal force has yet dared to covet that which belongs to the Pantheon.]


    Nuclear War and the Staiven: [Despite their invention of nuclear technology, the Staiven have had a unified government long enough that there was never a nuclear conflict between them. In fact, the Staiven have not fought a real war in centuries, not since the time when the Pantheon first arrived on Staive, the forces of their Reilanh fighting against the natives for dominance. Ever since the pact 1634 standard years ago, which concluded in Pantheonic rule, the Staiven military has only had minor conflicts with alien forces, and occasional border issues with Osine client races or the underlings of other ascendant factions. Their dominance simply grew to the point where conflicts failed to escalate. However, the Staiven still have an understanding of mutually assured destruction. They are simply the ones who handle the role of the destruction.]


    Poison in the Pantheonic Territory: [Few poisons are illegal under Pantheonic Law, as each of the many races in the territory have substances their constitutions cannot handle. In fact, many races even enjoy consumption of poisonous substances, such as the fixation of many humanoid beings with alcohol. The exception to this rule is, of course, the ban on substances hazardous to the constitution of the Staiven and the Escalos peoples, and that of miasmic poisons, which are hazardous to most mortal life forms. Special permits can be granted for the synthesis and use of such substances for industrial purposes.]


    Avoidance and the Underworld: [Publicly, the underworld and its organizations are rarely brought up. Certain underworld organizations such as the Hadal Clan, the Drelistai, and the Heirs of Ottrien are business groups in good standing, and gang violence is attributed to smaller, subsidiary forces. This is considered a fact of life in Tseludia, one that allows for a balance to occur. Racketeering is simply a part of life in certain districts, and in some places, criminals are the protectors of fair business. Evidence to prove connections that are widely known are disregarded, and nothing is done to change matters. However, these truths are not fully understood by the wider public, as it is general knowledge that the further one stays from underworld activity, the lower the odds of one being forced into it.]


    Pantheonic- Sheneth-Ari Treaty Item Twenty-Three: [One of the more well known parts of the lengthy and complicated legal document that ended conflict between the Sheneth-Ari Council and the Pantheon of Staive, item twenty-three was the stipulation that all mechanical or virtual life forms, colloquially known as ¡®Shades,¡¯ are to be destroyed by the Pantheonic Government, or should that not be possible, for their existence to be reported to the Sheneth-Ari. Such reports invariably end poorly for all mortals within the affected city. Despite being only item 23, this section of the treaty is one of the most staunchly enforced by both governments.]


    Uncategorized:


    Canvasian Demons: [Many races have the concept of demons, a sort of evil being that exists in mythology. Similar concepts and terms have been ascribed to tumors, Cthonians, evil ascendants, certain races, or in the case of the Canvasian mythology, demons are simply people. In their traditional worldview, each person has two halves, the righteous and demonic aspects. Normally, everyone has a bit of both, but their righteous side remains in control, allowing them to operate normally in society. However, it is said that a demon is someone who has allowed their darker half to take control, turning them into a murderous monster. A demon.]


    Miasmic Enhanced Tovus: [As an amorphous race, the Tovus are capable of shifting the shape of their body to whatever they wish, within certain limitations. They can even roughly replicate the appearances of other races, though the reproduction is only effective from a distance. As a mortal race, there is no natural way to lift this limitation, but with the assistance of a Seiyal extant practitioner, a Tovus operative can realistically mimic any race they need to, so long as there is not an extreme size difference, such as that with an Exid Queen. Popular media has even depicted the concept of a Tovus cyborg altered with advanced technology to use formless and extant miasma, and able to perfectly replicate not just any race, but also any individual. While there is no evidence such a procedure exists, the concept is fairly well known within Canvasian culture.]


    Blood Among Humanoid Races: [Interestingly, the purpose and composition of blood among the various humanoid races is startlingly similar. While only those of shared direct origin, such as the Jobu, Korlove, and Merris, can directly transfuse blood between one another, by adding and removing certain specific compounds, it can actually be possible to transfer blood between a Seiyal and Korlove, for example, without causing major issues, though the chance for complications is much higher than usual. For some reason, this only works for the blood, and not other fluids and organs that a given two humanoid races share, at least without significant anti-rejection treatment. A common hypothesis in the past was that this has something to do with the unique trait humanoids have of generating sanguine miasma within their body after being wounded in certain ways, however as the reason for that trait is unknown, this idea still remains untested.]


    Ceirran Worship: [Among Ceirrans, worship is a simple matter. Followers are encouraged to pray at the altar, and it is said that working on one¡¯s martial progression within the temple will improve one¡¯s talent and increase the odds of success through the goddess¡¯s divine favor. For this reason, there are few organized services, merely a few priests who answer questions from the followers and teach them the principles of the Ceirran faith. Devotees are merely expected to live out the precepts of the religion in their daily lives. With the exception of Tovus, aliens are forbidden from entrance into Ceirran temples, and both worshippers of other gods and practitioners of the unorthodox path are similarly banned from the premises. In the Pantheonic Territory, as the Ceirran faith is limited in how it can publicly advertise itself, many temples can be relatively hidden, their locations known only to a select few, and some worshippers are forced to make do with personal shrines placed inside of their houses. Despite this, certain symbols, such as the white sun, indicate their locations to those who are in the know, a beacon for far-travelling Ceirrans.]


    Reth Fighting Style: [As their progression system utilizes only one type of miasma, the Reth lack such obvious and simple distinctions like the Seiyal have. Instead, the difference in Reth fighting styles is largely a matter of tactics, influenced by unique tricks and skills that a given Reth might have. One commonality between most Reth is the idea that melee weapons are unnecessary, spurning such implements in favor of their natural claws, or in modern days, the usage of firearms. Historically, they are known for using ambush and hit and run tactics, taking advantage of the sense-clouding traits of their smog, as well as their agile nature to move quickly, and strike upon their enemy¡¯s weaknesses. According to Sunlit Hall, this is evidence of their cowardly and demonic nature.]


    Funereal Practices of Sunlit Hall: [Due to the extremely close ties between Sunlit Hall and the Ceirran religion, the two groups share practices. In essence, for the members of Sunlit Hall, the purpose of a funeral or memorial service was to honor the life of a great warrior, and light up the deeds they had committed from the darkness of history, before cremating their remains and tossing them out into nature. On Tseludia Station, this means the ashes are discarded into space like most corpses. Some particularly devoute Ceirrans claim that if the deceased individual¡¯s life burned sufficiently bright, Ceirra herself would descend to take the individual¡¯s soul to her kingdom in order to reside forever in comfort. Most modern scientists believe that this is not in fact the case, and the claim¡¯s origin is dubious in general.]


    Traditional Seiyal Funeral Practices of the Crucible: [As the Crucible was a continent dominated by unorthodox forces, the influence of the Ceirran religion was not substantial until Sunlit Hall¡¯s first crusade. Though scattered groups worshiped Toval, Domines, and Saaya, the region was largely secular, though it had spiritual traditions nonetheless. Perhaps as a trace left by the farsei¡¯s origins, the Seiyal inhabitants of the Crucible retained the tradition of cremation, but unlike their sei counterparts, they believed that rather than returning them to nature, it was best to inter their remains within a decorated urn, which would be held by the family of the deceased. The urns were said to bring fortune to the family, and in large clans and sects, entire buildings were constructed to contain them over time. During invasions, Sunlit Hall would often prioritize destroying the mausoleum because of this, in order to reduce morale.]


    Dietary Restrictions: [As the vast majority of all food is lab grown or synthesized, it is rare to find someone with a moral issue about a certain food. Indeed, even the concept of a ¡®vegetarian¡¯ has nearly died out among most residents, though the concept had previously existed among all carnivorous or omnivorous sapient races. However, despite modern comprehension of biology, there are still disputes about the ideal diet for a given race, nutritionally speaking, particularly because this may vary according to the individual. The Staiven are exceptional in this regard, as colonial organisms, because the various component organisms of their bodies each have different needs, and are affected differently by exposure to different nutrients. In extreme cases, a Staiven¡¯s diet might even cause clear and visible changes to their body.]


    Associations Between Sanguine Miasma and the Depthist Cult: [The Depthist religion is extremely widespread despite its nature as an illegal religion. In a matter that was first discovered due to statistical analysis, sanguine practitioners of the Staiven and Seiyal races have a 25% higher chance of joining the Depthists or expressing positive opinions towards the cult and its members. Due to their low numbers and insular community, the Reth were unable to be sampled, but as every member of the race can be considered a sanguine practitioner, there has been some interest in researching such statistics among their numbers.]


    The Incursion War: If the Incursion¡¯s origin is known, it has not been spread to the wider society, but it is rumored to be a fragment of another dimension, populated by the Khalak-Ora, who have long fought any Osine or Ascendants who wished to enter their territory. Over time, the Incursion has been slowly growing deeper into the galactic spiral, at a rapid rate of almost four light years a decade, prompting an invasion by the neighboring Osine nations of Shalthen-Qatath and the Tellati Confederacy. They were rebuffed, and the attack prompted retribution by the Khalak-Ora, who promptly began an invasion in return, resulting in a war which has lasted for centuries now, and only continues to grow in intensity and scope. The presence of humanoid beings originating within the Incursion were a surprise, but the Celans brought valuable information about the enemy with them when they fled into Osine space, and were accepted as refugees in return.]


    Individuals:


    The Seer: [It is said that once, a young man stumbled upon a hole in the ground. He entered, his adventurous spirit driving him to explore. Inside, he encountered the legacy of the old, dead gods of Staive, the original creators of the Staiven race. While the details are shrouded in mystery, what is known is that he acquired machines known as the Calculation Engines, enormous machines from prehistory. They are said to be capable of absorbing all the information in the universe, and using it to compile accurate predictions of the future. The young man holed up inside of that domain, and a force under his name was built up in the surrounding area, as he could use his knowledge to influence the world to his liking. Despite being a mortal, the Seer¡¯s influence has spread to rival that of the Pantheon itself, in part due to the fact that only he can tear new voidgates. Despite being a mortal, the Seer is said to remain alive though it has been over a millennium since his birth.]


    The Demon of Twinjade: [Karie Hadal, foremost daughter of the famous Hadal Matriarch, Sirena Hadal, has greatly grown in notoriety in the past day, due to the revelation that she has been responsible for the partial collapse of two stacks. Charged with domestic terrorism by the Justice Office, she has been protected by the Hadal Clan. Many journalists have claimed that she may be demonic in nature, and she has received the title Demon of Twinjade due to her heritage and the fact that she is known for her expert ambidextrous swordplay. There have been numerous calls from the public for this criminal to be brought to justice. However, there is also a vocal minority who support her, claiming that her actions were merely ¡®defending Canvasian territory from Celan invaders.¡¯]


    ¡®Windless¡¯ Wei Hadal: [Few on Tseludia remember the battle that gave this aged warrior his title, and few were even alive at the time, as over a century has passed. The meaning of it, too, is known by few, even those who have heard of his title. The rumor went that he once sapped the energy out of the wind itself, leaving an entire plain perfectly still. He was one of the Clan¡¯s true elites during the war that resulted in their exodus from Canvas. On Tseludia, the man is known for his dedication to his clan and Matriarch. He had four children, one of which died back on Canvas, while the other three remain alive. His wife, however, has been deceased for over seventy years. While few believe he has much chance of approaching immortality, he remains among the most powerful martial artists on the station, and a vital figure for the Hadal Clan¡¯s internal stability.]


    The Twinjade Demon: [A dangerous criminal, formerly a member of the Hadal Clan, the Demon of Twinjade is a reckless and unpredictable terrorist that has been known to use explosives and physical coercion to achieve her aims. The exact nature of these goals is unknown, but the Justice Office has promised to handle any and all demons within Tseludia Station''s boundaries. While her exact goals remain unknown, informants within the clan have claimed her goal may be to take revenge on her relatives, so it is suspected that she might stop laying low in order to involve herself once more in the ongoing hostilities between the residents of districts 3 and 6. Furthermore, there are rumors that she may have been harbored by underworld organizations around the area, a matter which is currently under investigation by our hardworking friends of the Justice Office.]


    The Supreme Elder of the Hadal Clan: [An enigmatic figure who rarely takes action, his existence only became known when he took action to fight off an attacking titan, before disappearing once again, with rumors of death from his injuries. Rumors have claimed that he is a true immortal ascendant, while others say that he is an earthly immortal, or perhaps just a very powerful spirit refiner. Regardless, the Supreme Elder is known to be the clan¡¯s trump card, someone who always remains in the sect to protect it unless there is dire need. Since the events of ten years ago, the Supreme Elder has remained in the Shadows, doing nothing that might provoke the government. To the wider world, his name and history remain unknown, prompting many to believe that he was either trained up in secret by the clan, or is perhaps simply so ancient that records of him have been lost to time.]


    Du Qin Hadal: [Du Qin Hadal was once considered among the least talented juniors of his generation of his clan. He was also known as a coward, because Du Qin did not like to use weapons. Instead, the young man loved to create sculptures, and enjoyed the experience of being out in nature. He experienced multiple bottlenecks, not only due to his talents, but due to suppression by those within the clan who would not support the rise of a coward and a concubine¡¯s son. Eventually, however, he fought his way to the spirit refinement realm, and became an Elder, though his poor reputation prevented him from inheriting the clan lineage, and his half brother became the next patriarch. Despite this, he eventually became the first and only member of the clan to become an earthly immortal. Even as an immortal, however, Du Qin never acquired a martial title.]


    Janottka: [One of the sole surviving remnants of Epon Celah, the Shade Janottka has had a huge impact on the development of Celan society and culture after the fall. In the legends and histories of that era, she was known as an enigmatic figure who mentored some of the greatest heroes and villains of history, and was a part of the rises and falls of multiple nations. In the legends, and in many novels, she was considered a harbinger of ill tidings, and is a large part of the reason why Shades were so feared in Celan culture. Said to have deep ties to the once-great government of the city of Opportunity, many claim that Janottka was either destroyed in its downfall, or remains wandering the emptiness of the abandoned Celah.]


    Factions:


    Inheritance in the Hadal Clan: [As a clan, the Hadal family places a great deal of importance on bloodline. Only those of the main line are able to inherit the position of the clan leader, but any youths within the line are capable of competing for the position, not just the children of the current head. This position has remained empty since the current Matriarch took up her position after her predecessor¡¯s death. Recently, pressure from the branch families for a successor to be selected has grown, though by tradition this can only be decided when one of the candidates forces all of their opponents to forfeit their right to inherit or if every other member of the Elder Council agrees on the matter.]


    Branch Families in the Hadal Clan: [Treated of secondary importance, while the branch families of the Hadal Clan are considered full clan members and are able to learn the family¡¯s techniques, they are not directly given access to the clan¡¯s vast economic resources. They are forced to vie for benefits with one another, competing over the rights to manage the various businesses and territories of the clan on the main family¡¯s behalf. The most effective way to do so is to build connections with the prospective heirs for the position of clan leader, as well as with the clan¡¯s Elders. While anyone can become an Elder if they surpass the bottleneck and become a spirit refiner, such a matter is easier said than done.]


    Hadal Clan Vassal Gangs: [The largest problem with the expansion of the Hadal Clan is its very nature as a clan. There are simply too few bloodline members, and the ratio of supported external members to branch members, to main bloodline needs to be kept in check or there will be risks of the clan collapsing. For this reason, the Matriarch, upon arriving in Tseludia, chose to allow local gangs to control their own territory within the domain under the Hadal Clan¡¯s control, to keep out alien forces and keep it in order for the Clan¡¯s benefit. So long as these gangs do not work with the Clan¡¯s enemies, and pay a ¡®leasing fee¡¯ to the Clan, they are allowed to act unhindered. Of course, if they anger a corporation or the Pantheonic Government, they will receive no aid from their master.]


    The Masked Specter Sect: [This force¡¯s existence is unknown. It is possible it is merely a rumor, or perhaps just a fiction. However, many believe it to be real. The sect is said to be a secret society of formless practitioners who have hidden themselves within Sunlit Hall using extreme powers of disguise. While none claim they secretly rule the orthodox path, due to the protective influence of the ascendant goddess Ceirra, many mysterious happenings over the years have been blamed on them, particularly among certain internet circles. On Tseludia Station, rumors of the Riverfiend being an ex member of the Masked Specter Sect have propagated, but few believe them, as he is being far too high key. In popular culture, the sect is said to be headed by a powerful earthly immortal known as the Many-Faced Demon.]


    Public Perception of the Heirs of Ottrien: [As is not uncommon for gangs formed from a disenfranchised population, the Heirs promote themselves as the guardians of Little Celah. Though they do take protection money, they successfully ¡®defend¡¯ the district from the majority of predatory alien interests, and due to the current divide between the Celans and the Seiyal, this matter earns more merit in the eyes of the local population than it normally would. Many Celans see the organization as a ¡®government and military of their own¡¯, though some, particularly those living in the fifth district, see them as a criminal force which extorts the people. Currently, however, the public support for the Heirs are at an all time high within Little Celah proper. The other races, however, see them as nothing but alien thugs, unless the potential for some sort of deal exists.]


    The Ceirran Faction of the Hadal Clan: [While it is somewhat repressed, a few choice religions have been allowed to exist by the Pantheonic Government, particularly those where the figure of worship lacks a conflicting domain with the Pantheonic gods. One of these is the worship of Ceirra by the Seiyal. Brought over to Tseludia largely by the Sunlit Hall force known as the Hadal Clan, the Ceirrans are both suppressed openly by the government and in secret by Sirena Hadal, their own Matriarch, who is a firm believer in secular rule. Such policies are rumored to have a relation to the clan¡¯s choice to go into exile. Despite such disadvantages, due to hidden support, the faction has grown over time to become one of the clan¡¯s two great factions, along with the merchant faction.]


    Black Bullet PMC: [A Staiven-owned company, this mercenary force largely accepts corporate hires, though they are not unwilling to dabble in extrajudicial work on occasion. Black Bullet is one of the most diverse forces on the station, as its leader is a firm believer that each species has its own specialty in warfare, and that by combining them, they would acquire a competitive advantage in the mercenary industry of Tseludia. As the company has become the third strongest mercenary group on the station, some have claimed its founder¡¯s idea had merit. Forty percent ownership of this PMC belongs to the Church of Verain.]


    The Cult of the Depths: [The church that worships Delithia, one of the oldest ascendants, is illegal in major galactic territories. Banning her worship is, in fact, one of the requirements to become recognized by certain influential forces such as Relya, the Sheneth-Ari, the Shalthen-Qatath, and the other Osine collectives. Despite this, many forces do not bother to harshly enforce these laws, due to fear of angering Delithia herself too much. The Depthist religion has spread throughout Telles, and even still, some planetary surface civilizations make contact with the galactic world having already formed their own unique sect of the religion. Despite having a unified name, many of the Depthist sects have very different beliefs, and there are few truly major leaders of it. Were it not for the shared persecution, the cult might perhaps have splintered into various truly separate and conflicting churches. The cult¡¯s name originates from the story of Delithia¡¯s ¡®holy land,¡¯ described as a puddle containing an ocean, a sea of worlds within itself. The descriptions are largely contradictory, and many Depthists see it as more of a symbol and a metaphor than a real, physical location. Some say, however, that the holy land is a true place, and is where their goddess resides.]


    Sunlit Hall¡¯s Information Network: [For generations, Sunlit Hall has kept tabs on powerful martial artists both righteous and evil, as well as the movements of the various martial forces. This information was distributed to the other member organizations under Sunlit Hall¡¯s banner, so that they could collaborate to deal with rogue martial artists and unorthodox forces. This information is of great import to the orthodox forces of Canvas. After joining with galactic society, the scope of the network expanded, and is also used to help the sects and clans of Sunlit Hall to keep up with their peers who moved out to the various stations and worlds the Staiven allowed Seiyal to immigrate to. In particularly distant regions such as Tseludia, however, the information from Canvas is rarely relevant.]


    Akher Industrial Solutions: [One of the largest corporations of Tseludia owned and operated entirely by Celans, AIS is ultimately a machine company. Their main businesses are the construction of assembly line mechanical technology, as well as their contract to supply the government with the cleaning robots that can be found all across the city. The company is quite successful, in part due to the assistance it had continually received from its largest ¡®Investor¡¯, over the course of its operation. Between its ties to both the government and organized crime, AIS is widely believed to be a contender for the ''next generation of major Tseludian companies in the tech industry. For an alien organization like Akher, this status is extremely uncommon.]


    The Hadal Clan and the Underworld: [Unlike most underworld organizations, not much that the clan itself does is actually illegal, aside from some of the corruption and bribery, as well as conflict with other organizations. In fact, what to most other underworld hegemons of Tseludia is the legal front organization, for the clan is their true self. By accepting ¡®donations¡¯ from gangs operating within their territory, funds from technology smuggling, racketeering, life form trading, and other illegal industries are still able to fund the clan, without forcing its members to get their hands dirty. This is doubly so for the main branch of the family, many of whose members have broken even fewer laws in their lifetime than the average Tseludian resident. Of course, this current state of events was not true in the past, when ¡®Jade Empress of Pain¡¯ Sirena Hadal carved out the clan¡¯s place in the station by force.]


    Ascendants and Osine:


    God of Death: [Despite the variety of beings worshiped as gods, there are none in current records who claim domain over ¡®death¡¯. This noticeable gap has been remarked upon, though the consensus is often that many religions claim their object of worship has their own afterlife for their believers. In that sense, some say, the power of death is one which belongs to every deity. Others have noted that until just a few centuries ago, the theology of the Church of Verain had begun to shift to a greater focus on rites and hymns of the dead, expanding from a mere focus on conflict and war. All of a sudden, however, that trend reversed, and the church instead began to focus more on her identity as Goddess of Conflict and Competition. The rites and hymns created during that period were all subsequently altered, and their focuses shifted to match the new trend.]

 197- Crucibles Edge

    Crucible¡¯s Edge, Canvas, Frontier Territory, Late Autumn, 1596 PTS


    How dreary, thought Yuenan Ding, glancing up at the darkened sky. Droplets fell on his face, falling into the wrinkles of his skin. When he had first left the sect, Yuenan had been hoping to see the sun for once, but it seemed that he would have to be disappointed. The past days of travel had been consistently stormy.


    As he marched down the street, he was left with the all-too familiar sensation of rain dripping onto his waxed hood before slowly sliding down his back to splatter onto the cobblestones. Yuenan tightened his robes. The city was filled with mist from the bay, and the cool drizzle only served to increase the chill of the autumn winds.


    It was late evening, and the street lights slowly flickered on as Yuenan ambled relaxedly down the avenue. He had already finished his business in the city, brokering a deal for a new provider of grain and vegetables for the sect. Their former provider had unfortunately lost his supplies after a roaming riverfiend destroyed his rice fields, and the sect could not wait for the next harvest. In the Downpour region, where there was never any sunlight, little that grew was edible for a Seiyal. Even the Tovus found the place inhospitable. To raise healthy disciples, the sect¡¯s members had found that it was important to contract with merchants for ingredients.


    Now that his work was done, Yuenan intended to relax for the evening in a teahouse. He wouldn¡¯t mind a nice meal prepared with fresh ingredients, and a night¡¯s stay in a place much warmer than his usual accommodations. There were many things the Downpour could be called, but pleasant was not one of them, even for those who had lived there for more than half a century.


    As he walked, Yuenan sensed the movement of a soul to his right, evidence of someone skulking around in an alleyway. In the evening gloom, Yuenan could not make out any figure, but as the soul seemed to be that of a mortal, he paid it no mind.


    Moments later, he realized with amusement that the soul¡¯s bearer had fled the shadows. A youthful figure dashed in from a nearby alleyway, racing his way towards Yuenan and grasping with sticky fingers for his coin pouch. Before the child could react, Yuenan¡¯s hand had grasped firmly around their wrist, shifting his weight to stall their momentum, and catch the would-be thief red-handed. He turned, smiling in amusement as he got a better look at the kid.


    ¡°You need to learn how to pick your targets better, you foolish child,¡± said Yuenan. ¡°At this rate, I¡¯m afraid you will not be long for this world.¡±


    The boy, for that was what he seemed to be, was lean but not to the point of being sickly. Like Yuenan, he was a farsei, and his hair was short, likely shorn off by an unpracticed hand given its uneven cut. He was quite swift for a mortal child, Yuenan mused. Despite his youth, the boy had the build of a runner, evident to a trained gaze despite the clear signs of malnourishment.


    Yuenan¡¯s discerning eyes narrowed as he inspected the boy¡¯s physique. With his other hand he slowly rubbed his thin white mustache. The child seemed to have potential, Yuenan thought. Perhaps he might have stumbled upon a treasure in the ricefield. If he brought the boy back, perhaps Riese would stop complaining to him. The boy squirmed, desperately attempting to free himself from Yuenan¡¯s vice grip.


    ¡°Let me go, you old fart!¡± shouted the boy, causing a flicker of annoyance to cross Yuenan¡¯s face.


    ¡°How impolite,¡± he muttered. ¡°Do you have a name, child?¡±


    A dark look flashed across the boy¡¯s eyes, and he only redoubled his efforts, not bothering to answer Yuenan¡¯s question. Yuenan¡¯s eyes narrowed, and he squeezed tighter as the boy squirmed ever more desperately.


    ¡°This old man feels that you should consider answering his questions,¡± he said.


    The child scowled.


    ¡°My name is Jin Luo. Now let. Me. Go!¡±


    He kicked out, aiming his knee towards Yuenan¡¯s crotch. Had Yuenan been of a lower realm, he might very well have succeeded. Yuenan caught the boy¡¯s knee before it could make contact, before relaxing his grip. He sighed, remembering the words of his long-deceased master. Formless arts are the way of softness, the old lady had said. The hard approach is not always the best one. Despite Yuenan¡¯s age, some lessons one could only continue to learn over and over again.


    ¡°If I wanted to kill you, boy, I would have done so already,¡± he said, exasperated. The boy frowned, clearly suspicious of Yuenan¡¯s words. Children were always a handful, he thought, sighing. ¡°Look, child¡± he said. ¡°I have something I would like to discuss with you. If I buy you a meal, can we talk?¡±


    The frown on Jin¡¯s face remained as he considered the offer. He glanced down at his wrist, and Yuenan¡¯s impossibly firm grip. The boy trembled as he perhaps finally realized what sort of person he was dealing with.


    ¡°Y-you promise you aren¡¯t going to murder me?¡± he asked.


    Yuenan couldn¡¯t help but chuckle, an act which caused the child to cower. Yuenan¡¯s expression softened.


    ¡°You can trust me, Jin. I promise you, you¡¯re in no danger from me. I don¡¯t have such filthy tastes as you might be imagining. So I¡¯ll release you if you promise to sit down and talk. Alright?¡±


    Jin nodded, and so Yuenan released his grip on the kid¡¯s hand. The boy awkwardly rubbed his reddened wrist, and then looked up at Yuenan as if to ask him to lead the way.


    ¡°Good,¡± said Yuenan, continuing to walk forwards. They would surely stumble across an inn, tavern, or teahouse soon enough.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    The inn he eventually found did not stand out, but Yuenan felt that it would do. He had his sect¡¯s limited finances to consider, and could not overspend too much. Riese would scold him if he were to waste the sect¡¯s coin.


    The interior was cozy, lit up by a fancy electric lightbulb. The illumination flickered, but was brighter than most lanterns. The room was uncrowded, and there were plenty of open tables available. Yuenan led the boy over to one, located off to the side of the room, and settled himself down onto one of the stools.


    ¡°I suppose I should introduce myself,¡± he said. ¡°My name is Yuenan Ding. I¡¯m an Elder from the Downpour Sect.¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t heard of it,¡± the boy replied, not missing a beat.


    Yuenan chuckled, amused.


    ¡°Few have. We¡¯re considered ascetics, and we rarely venture out beyond our lands.¡±


    Before he could continue, a woman wearing simple garb stopped by their table.


    ¡°Would the masters like to rest for the night?¡± she asked.


    Yuenan nodded.


    ¡°We could use some dinner as well. It has been quite the long day for the both of us.¡±


    ¡°We can bring you something to eat if you wish, Great Elder, or we could prepare you a bath.¡±


    ¡°Do you serve Hakian tea?¡± he asked.


    The serving woman shook her head apologetically, a nervous look in her eyes.


    ¡°My apologies, but we are a poor establishment. We couldn¡¯t hope to import foreign leaves.¡±


    Yuenan scowled, waving off the woman¡¯s poor excuse. How hard was it to have some decent leaves on hand? They still tasted fine even if they were dried out.


    ¡°Bah,¡± he said dismissively, ¡°I¡¯ll just have some wine. I trust you have some of that?¡±


    The woman¡¯s brow was beaded with sweat, a matter which brought Yuenan some amusement. She at least would not willfully make his evening more difficult. On the other hand¡­


    Yuenan looked over at Jin.


    ¡°Any preferences?¡± he asked.


    ¡°W-wine will do,¡± he said.


    The serving woman bowed, and then quickly fled towards the kitchen. Her movements were just slightly too quick, betraying her anxiety.


    ¡°Does she know who you are?¡± asked Jin, his tone curious.


    ¡°That woman is a practitioner,¡± Yuenan replied. ¡°I¡¯m sure she bears quite the tale about how she ended up running an inn¡±.


    ¡°If she¡¯s a martial artist, then why is she scared of you?¡±


    Yuenan¡¯s smile betrayed a deep meaning.


    ¡°Child, to someone of my level, a mere foundation refiner may as well be a mortal. She fears me because she understands that.¡±


    Jin frowned, taken aback by Yuenan¡¯s words. It seemed that he had not been exposed to many of the details of the martial world. Was the child an orphan, or was he a runaway, Yuenan wondered? There were scores of both in this city. Few of whom could be considered educated in any sense.


    ¡°Do you have any plans for your life, Jin?¡± asked Yuenan, shifting the conversation.


    The boy thought for a moment, carefully formulating his response.


    ¡°I want¡­ I want to be inside when it rains. To live inside a big house and eat all I want.¡±


    Sometimes, Yuenan thought, kids really could be amusing. Now that he had been given food, drink and a respite from the weather, the boy¡¯s fear had subsided, and he was speaking a bit less confrontationally. Yuenan chuckled.


    ¡°In that case, I¡¯m afraid my offer might not be what you are looking for. If you accept, I can promise there will be a lot more water in your future. But I can offer you shelter, a house far bigger than those you¡¯ll find in this part of the city. You can come to my sect. Jin,¡± he asked, ¡°how would you like to be a martial artist?¡±


    It was the offer he had been building up to, one that should have been obvious. But still, Jin¡¯s eyes widened, taken aback by Yuenan¡¯s words. They were the sort of offer that street children dreamed of, but few would ever bear the fortune to hear.


    ¡°I¡¯m not falling for it,¡± said the boy, shutting Yuenan down. ¡°I heard some kid down the lane went to ¡®train¡¯ with a practitioner and got eaten by the Blood Demon.¡±


    Yuenan sighed. He had heard of that incident. The rogue practitioner in question had been subsequently hunted down by the alliance. How long ago had it been? A decade? It seemed the rumors had yet to die off among the urchins.


    ¡°I¡¯m not a demon, and nor am I even a sanguine practitioner,¡± he explained patiently. When dealing with the uneducated, it was best to be willing to serve as a teacher. At least, so long as the other person was willing to learn. ¡°As I said before, I¡¯m an Elder of the Downpour Sect, and I feel you have potential. I¡¯m offering to take you on as a personal disciple, Jin Luo. The choice will be left to you. If you refuse, I¡¯ll still let you eat a meal and return to the streets, if you so wish. Yours would be a hard life, but I cannot guarantee that of a practitioner would be any easier.¡±


    Yuenan watched as Jin furiously considered the offer. They were not words the child would have ever expected to hear, and Yuenan knew the response would depend not on his desire to practice the arts, but whether or not he decided to trust in Yuenan¡¯s word. Trust was perhaps the most valuable of gifts a child could give, and it was in short supply among the streets of Crucible''s Edge.


    ¡°I- I¡¯ll be in your care, Master,¡± said Jin after a few moments'' consideration, awkwardly attempting to bow despite the presence of the table before him.


    His response did not surprise Yuenan, and nor did the swiftness at which he had arrived at it. Perhaps it was boldness, and perhaps it was rashness, but Jin Luo seemed to be a decisive young man. If not, he would never have taken the foolish risk of attempting to rob a man in the robes of a martial artist.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be hasty, child,¡± said Yuenan, his face bearing a fatherly smile. ¡°You¡¯re not yet my disciple. Once we reach the sect, you¡¯ll need to perform the ritual.¡±


    ¡°The¡­ ritual?¡± Jin asked, an undercurrent of fear in his voice.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± Yuenan replied. ¡°You¡¯ll have to prepare and serve me some Hakian tea.¡±


    The boy frowned, as if confused.


    ¡°Why Hakian tea?¡±


    Yuenan chuckled.


    ¡°You¡¯ll come to know it quite well,¡± he promised, a smirk on his lips as he winked, whispering conspiratorially as if he were sharing some great secret. ¡°It¡¯s my preferred flavor.¡±


    Crucible¡¯s Edge: [The first Seiyal settlement on the eastern edge of the continent known as the Crucible of the Worthy, Crucible¡¯s Edge is a port city historically dominated by the Unorthodox Alliance, who were later pushed out by Orthodox forces during the Second Orthodox-Unorthodox War. The largest city on the continent, Crucible¡¯s Edge is also the bridgehead of technological development on the continent, though it lags behind the development of the Halls of the Sun. Historically, the city was known for its criminal activity.]

 198- The Stormwall

    Western Plains of Crucible, Canvas, Frontier Territory, Late Autumn, 1596 PTS


    The endless fields of grass lightly swayed in the stormy breeze, expanding so far as to almost touch the horizon. The breeze was cold, and Jin found himself shivering as his feet dangled off of the wagon¡¯s back edge. It was the tell-tale sign of winter¡¯s approach.


    Had his life continued on its previous path, Jin wondered whether he would have died in the coming winter. It had been a cold year, and his moth-bitten blanket was too thin for living on the streets in the winter. He had barely survived last year, and in his early childhood he had been fortunate enough to live with his father.


    As the caravan continued its way through the Western Plains, Jin found his eyes roaming the expanse that seemed to never end. The field of grass was only broken up by the occasional boulder or tree, and the long line of road.that stretched like a divot in the grassy surface. The road the caravan rode down was not cobbled. Instead, It rode across dirt and trampled grass, what must have been a long-worn route through the grassland. Occasionally, the oxen would lean down to chew on the grasses, a matter which Jin had observed with great interest. He had never left the city before, after all. Prior to meeting Master Yuenan, he had never even seen the sights of the outside world. Everything was new to him, vibrant and shocking. It was all so different than he had expected, based upon the stories. Or at least it had been so for the first day.


    The caravan had been moving for several days now, however, and Jin had already adjusted to the sights of the grassland. In fact, he had already found himself bored for hours on end, finding nothing to stimulate himself.


    ¡°How much further away will it be, Master?¡± Jin asked, glancing over to where the old man sat. He had grown much more comfortable with the man over the past days, and felt he was able to speak freely with him.


    Yuenan chuckled at his soon-to-be disciple¡¯s naivety. The elderly practitioner was relaxing on the side of the wagon, seated on a hefty bag of rice. He calmly sipped from a cup of well-prepared tea, and seemed to simply be enjoying the views.


    That was something that Jin had noticed about the old man. He was always drinking the beverage. It seemed that Yuenan had been serious when he told Jin he would be seeing a lot of tea. It felt like every other time Jin glanced over at the man, Yuenan had pulled out another smattering of tea leaves and prepared himself a cup.


    ¡°We¡¯re very close, Jin,¡± Yuenan assured him, after taking another sip. ¡°Less than a day away from the sect. You should be able to see the stormwall from here.¡±


    Jin squinted off into the direction the old man pointed, seeing nothing but an enormous stormhead on the horizon. Was that what he was referring to? Perhaps the sect¡¯s territory was hidden beyond the rain.


    ¡°Is it safe to go that way?¡± he asked. The storm looked dangerous, like a wall of water blocking the path forward. Would they have to travel around it?


    ¡°I would certainly hope so,¡± laughed Yuenan. ¡°We¡¯re going inside, Jin. Welcome to the Downpour.¡±


    Jin¡¯s eyes remained fixed on the distant storm as it slowly neared. He found himself unable to glance away as more and more details slowly emerged about the storm clouds.


    ¡°I did tell you that was the name of the sect,¡± explained Yuenan, a trace of mirth hidden in his smile. It seemed he was enjoying this. Jin scowled. He had never been the sort to appreciate being mocked.


    Though he did remember the sect¡¯s name, Jin had thought it was merely a reference to the region, not located inside of it. So this was the Downpour? He had previously thought the place was a myth, a location of legends like the Undersea Palace or Cihilar, the fabled homeland of the gods. He had envisioned a circular wall surrounding the region, a barrier impassable to all but the greatest of warriors. A legendary hellscape, where no mortal could survive.


    In reality, it simply looked like a typhoon or a large thunderhead, and the shape of the clouds were slowly shifting and moving in the sky, just like any other storm. It was¡­ disappointingly mundane, he decided. Still, he found himself curious about the land he would be living in, so Jin decided to ask about it.


    The primary difference between the Downpour and an ordinary rainstorm, Master Yuenan had explained, was that although both were ever-shifting, the Downpour¡¯s location relative to the land never changed. It was a land created by the hands of two gods, a mystery left for deities and immortals alone to decipher. When Jin had asked about it, Master Yuenan had simply called the storm a symbol of the formless domain. He had informed Jin that it would make sense to him in the future.


    Imagining a life inside such a powerful storm, Jin shuddered, unable to help but dread the idea. He hated the rain. It had always seemed to him to be a sort of cruelty to the heavens, cold and uncomfortable, and sick. Some of the other street children had taken to worshipping a god of the sea, the Bringer of Storms. They believed that by praying to him, they could delay or prevent the rains. When it rained, people on the street would often soon become sick. Jin knew multiple kids who had died from the shivers. But that was not the only part of the reason for his reservations.


    The legends had claimed that the fiends here were far more powerful than those that could be found anywhere except for perhaps within the ruins of Reth or the Heart of the Wild, where Toval dwelled.


    Not that Jin had seen much of normal fiends, of course. The most he had ever experienced was a small plainsfiend that had been merely the size of an ox. It had appeared somewhat like an oversized skink, but with a flaxen, hairy material emerging from the gaps in its scales. The fiend¡¯s head was pointed, its jaw filled with bizarre-looking hooked teeth that it had gnashed towards the caravan.


    The beast had attempted to ambush the caravan and run off with an ox, but Master Yuenan had taken it down in a single blow of his sword. The event had left Jin burning with awe, feeling proud to watch the power of his master. He could not help but wonder whether he might ever reach that level.


    After he defeated it, Jin¡¯s master had given him a lesson. The fiends of the plains were the weakest type of the creature, Yuenan had told him, their growth ceasing at about the size of the one he had seen. They were supposedly beasts that even sufficiently skilled mortals could fight, though Jin could not imagine he himself would have been capable of doing anything but running from the creature.


    Jin¡¯s eyes remained set on the Downpour as they slowly approached it, nervous trepidation building up inside of him. As they drew closer, he noticed small figures in the distance, between their path and the storm. A pair of young-looking seiyal men, he realized were standing roughly one hundred feet from the stormwall. They wore black robes lined with blue borders around the edges. Was that the design of the Downpour Sect¡¯s robes, Jin wondered? If so, it seemed perfectly fitting for a group whose home was located in a sunless land. They were similar in design to Master Yuenan¡¯s robes, as his master¡¯s was composed from white insteadDid you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    The caravan slowed and eventually stopped as they arrived near the young men. The area here was muddy, and several small streams dripped across the ground, runoff from the endless rainfall. As Jin watched, several of the wagon drivers each clambered off of their seats to greet the men, who had a short conversation with them that Jin couldn¡¯t quite make out.


    The young men were standing beside what appeared to be an oddly shaped boat, lying on top of the mud. After speaking with the caravan drivers, both groups began to lift goods off of one of the wagons, shifting them into the boat.


    ¡°Are they sect members?¡± Jin asked, glancing towards his soon-to-be master.


    Yuenan glanced over, giving Jin a sagely nod.


    ¡°Yes, they¡¯re some of your senior disciples. Given the last open recruitment we did, they should be about¡­ three years your senior. I¡¯ll introduce you to them later. In time, you¡¯ll have to learn to rely on your martial siblings.¡±


    Jin frowned.


    ¡°Can¡¯t I rely on you, Master?¡±


    Yuenan glanced at the stormwall, and replied with a distant tone.


    ¡°Your master won¡¯t be around forever, Jin.¡±


    Before Jin could reply, Yuenan quickly downed the rest of his tea, carefully wiping and cleaning off the cup, before packing it away and hopping off of the wagon. Jin quickly followed.


    ¡°What are they doing?¡± he asked. He was watching the boat be packed with materials and foodstuffs, but he did not see any waterway large enough to hold it.


    ¡°They¡¯re preparing the sledge,¡± responded his master calmly. ¡°Our territory is too muddy for beasts of burden to safely walk, so we must carry our supplies in ourselves.¡±


    ¡°That sounds awful,¡± he muttered.


    Yuenan smirked.


    ¡°For a martial artist, the task is not quite so difficult as it seems. It will serve as a good training exercise for them, as well as a way for them to give back to the sect.¡±


    ¡°Give back?¡± asked Jin. He had always been curious, and appreciated finally having someone to answer all of his questions. Even if he was not going to be taught martial arts, having a master seemed like a good thing.


    ¡°When you live in the sect, you will be trained, will be taught secrets, and will be fed and clothed by the other members. It is a cooperative lifestyle, and everyone is called to serve the sect¡¯s interests in exchange.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± said Jin. It really was like the stories, he thought. A sect was like a family, but one composed only of members who wished to be a part of it. It was an idea that quite appealed to him.


    Before long, the efficient work of the merchants and the martial artists was complete, and both the sledge and the remaining wares in the carts had been strapped down and prepared for travel. The disciples hoisted robes attached to the sledge¡¯s end, ones Jin had failed to notice before, and turned to watch Yuenan expectantly. Their eyes stopped on Jin for several moments before, acting in unison, the pair clasped their hands together and nodded courteously to Yuenan.


    ¡°Greetings, Elder Ding.¡±


    Yuenan returned the nod, and, noticing their curious gazed, he rested his hand on Jin¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°This is Jin Luo,¡± he explained. ¡°If all goes well, he shall be my first disciple.¡±


    The look in their eyes shifted, but Jin had no idea what it meant.


    ¡°What do we do now?¡± he asked.


    Yuenan smirked, turning his gaze towards the storm.


    ¡°From here,¡± he said, ¡°we¡¯ll have to walk.¡±


    Jin felt his guts churn at the thought, his eyes unable to shift from the roiling clouds above. Walking through that entire storm, he thought? That seemed like an excellent way to catch a cold, or to be ambushed by a monster. Still, as his master and the two disciples began to march towards it, Jin followed after. Inside his chest, he felt the pit in his stomach grow larger.


    As they reached closer to the unmoving storm, he realized that the ground was uneven, composed entirely with slicks of mud, between which small streams of water flowed around, slowly absorbing into the soil.


    The edge of the Downpour began like any other rainstorm, with a light drizzle on the edges. Usually a herald of the coming rainfall, here it felt more like a gatekeeper, or a sign warning Jin to turn around, or his life would be in danger. Yuenan¡¯s words back at the inn came back to him now: ¡®there will be a lot more water in your future,¡¯ the martial master had said. Was this what he had been referring to?


    Jin hesitated, wary of stepping deeper into the storm. He hated the rain, hated the impact it made on his head and shoulders, and hated the way his clothes stuck to his body. He glanced at Yuenan, seeking some form of reassurance as the rain steadily grew in intensity, but all he could see was his master¡¯s back, trudging alone ahead as if he could not be bothered to take care of Jin. Even the sledge had begun to pull ahead of him, slowly disappearing into the misty landscape.


    Jin hesitated, tempted to turn back and beg the merchants to carry him back home. He wasn¡¯t a martial artist, didn¡¯t the old man know that? This was a dangerous place, one unsuited for mortals. It was not a place where Jin belonged. Master Yuenan was just like his father, he thought. Just like all adults.


    Suddenly, Jin gritted his teeth. A well of strength he didn¡¯t know he had surged, and gritted his teeth, pushing forward as if he were fighting against his own body. He took one step further, and then another, dragging himself into the Downpour. He would not be abandoned again. A martial artist was said to be strong and enduring, unyielding and bold.


    Jin¡¯s steps turned into a run, his short legs moving as fast as they could. He had always loved running. Though the mud caught on his boots, and the rain pounded down on him, occluding his sight, Jin kept at it, dashing into the darkened territory. His boot slipped into one of the small streams, and Jin tripped, slamming face first into the cold mud. It covered his face, washing into his robes to cover him. Jin hesitated, but he raised himself up again, attempting to return to his feet. His ankle hurt, but he could not stop. He needed to catch up to Master Yuenan. It was Jin¡¯s own fault that he had fallen behind.


    Suddenly, Juen smelled the scent of tea leaves, and he glanced over, spotting the hem of a white robe. Expectantly, his eyes darted upwards, and Jin saw a soft gaze in the worn, wrinkled eyes of his master.


    ¡°You did well, child,¡± Yuenan said, arm outstretched, as if offering to help Jin stand. ¡°You did well.¡±


    Jin couldn¡¯t help it. Though he tried to control it, he felt tears leaking out from the corners of his eyes, and he cried, his salty tears blending into the falling freshwater of the storm. Warm arms surrounded him, comforting him as Jin¡¯s emotions only continued to leak out, washing off into the runoff, and into the ground below.


    Jin knew that he was wiping mud onto his master¡¯s spotless white robes, and the thought made him cry even harder.


    Inhabitants of the Downpour: [Historically, the Downpour was considered an impassable natural hazard, a place that one would avoid when traversing the Crucible. In several old novels, it was a place where a martial artist might go to hide from their enemies. It is not a territory most would desire, its sole valuable resources being the natural treasures that grow inside of the bodies of the fiends that live within. The harsh conditions and unusual power of those fiends however, cause such expeditions to be very difficult, a matter made more difficult by the sole Seiyal inhabitants of the region, the Downpour Sect, who claim ownership of the territory. From the day the sect was founded until the day it was destroyed, the Downpour Sect had been rumored to be undefeatable within their land.]

 199- Future Planning

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    It was unfortunate how life so rarely slowed down to let one rest. Instead, it was far too often that large events happened successively. Before I could sleep, it was best that we decided our next moves. After the events of the day before, the city would fall into an uproar. We could not be caught off guard if we wished to ride the calamity¡¯s waves.


    I was still exhausted when I finally arrived at the conference room, but I could not allow the sect¡¯s policy to be shaped without my presence. The hatch slid upon before me, revealing a long, expertly crafted table which gleamed in the low light, shining in all the colors of miasma. My subordinates had stood upon my entrance, rising from their respective seats. According to Rachel, they had arrived several minutes ago, as I had been longer than anticipated receiving treatment in our Linen Palace.


    ¡°It seems everyone is here,¡± I observed. I heard a few mutters of assent as I sat down at the head of the table, as if I were a king presiding over his court. In essence the truth was similar, I thought.


    The sect had truly grown a lot in so little time. At first there had been only six of us, but now the room¡¯s occupants numbered eight. In fact, if I were to count those who were invited but not present, we would number ten. The sect had never before hosted such a well-attended meeting in this conference room, but if there were ever a time to do so, it would be now.


    Irid remained in the Linen Palace, in a drug-induced slumber while they repaired the severe damage to her organs from both the bullet wounds and the side-effects of exposure to such intense miasma. I myself had yet to  recover from my own wounds. I would need at least a week of recovery before I could continue my practice, the doctors had said.


    Of the founding members of the sect, only five of us remained after Cinto¡¯s death just weeks before. Ran and Eli were as healthy as ever, while Kein remained a cripple who had lost his realm.


    Of the later additions to the group, Jihan sat quietly at my left hand side, while Orion sat one seat further down the row. He had apparently been speaking quietly with Heutel, but the two ceased their conversation as I entered. Heutel, the newest member of the group, had a quiet, peaceful air to her, and unlike the others, the blind woman did not turn to look my way, merely granting me a silent, respectful nod. She knew my people¡¯s body language well, it seemed, and what the movement signified to us. Aside from Irid, the Staiven businesswoman was the sole non-Seiyal member of the group, at least in appearance. Rachel still took on a form that mimicked my own race. She sat on my right, her projection having presumably waited in the room with the others despite speaking with me in the halls as I approached.


    The final remaining member of the group would in theory be Karie Hadal, our newest Elder. However, she had yet to return to the sect, and in fact her allegiance was in doubt. In fact, I thought, I still had a meeting as to that regard right after this.


    Moments after I sat down, the rest followed, and Rachel started the meeting with a dramatic announcement.


    ¡°The events of yesterday evening herald a momentous shift in the underworld. We are here to decide on our next moves.¡± Rachel received several odd looks as she spoke, likely due to the oddness of the way she had phrased the pronouncement. It did not help that she had clenched her fist before us as if she were grasping at air.


    ¡°We¡¯re lucky that none of the stacks fell,¡± grumbled Kein, breaking the momentary silence. Rachel laughed.


    ¡°We have Du Qin Hadal to thank for that,¡± she explained. ¡°It seems he girded some of the fractures with his steel to keep it standing.¡±


    ¡°Forgive me if I don¡¯t thank our enemy,¡± snarked Orion. ¡°The man wishes to kill us all.¡±


    ¡®Undoubtedly,¡± Rachel admitted. ¡°Still, he will probably be able to leverage that and his destruction of the titan to push most of the pressure off of the clan. The remnants of the Heirs will be the ones to handle the brunt of their attention, but it is possible they will try to loop us into the mess if they can find proof of our presence.¡±


    ¡°The¡­ remnants?¡± asked Ran, confused by her choice of words.


    ¡°Ah, I had thought I would be the one to announce it, but it seems the Vice-Sect Leader has already heard,¡± said interrupted Eli with a chuckle, drawing the attention of the rest of the table. ¡°I only just found out myself a few minutes ago.¡±


    ¡°Did something happen that we don''t know about?¡± Ran asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ll let our Silken Palace Leader explain,¡± replied Rachel.


    Eli spread his arms as if to express his acquiescence.


    ¡°In that case, I¡¯ll do so. Vice-Leader Deuvar of the Heirs was found dead in an alley last night. The Justice Office attempted to restrict the knowledge, but the information was leaked this morning. What most people don¡¯t know, but we do, is that their leader is also dead. Even if their remaining executives can keep their house in order, the turmoil could not be coming at a worse time.¡±


    I frowned. This was news to me, and I agreed with his conclusion. It was one thing if their in-name leader was gone, but it was quite another that the man who actually ran the organization was gone.


    ¡°He was assassinated?¡± asked Orion, clearly very interested in the matter.


    The Silken Palace Leader nodded.


    ¡°Poisoned to death in an alleyway. It¡¯s unclear what he was even doing there. Heading towards a safe house, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°What are the odds that we¡¯re dragged into the hearings?¡± asked Ran. ¡°I can promise you that we won¡¯t be able to afford another bribe. We¡¯re still massively in debt.¡±


    ¡°This seems like a perfect opportunity to make money,¡± suggested Orion. ¡°What did the Vice-Sect Leader call it before, fishing in murky waters?¡±


    I felt oddly calm as I listened to my subordinates talk, quietly analyzing the implications and the possibilities they gave us. I promised myself to be more cautious in the future, I thought. I had decided that just yesterday. The titan, Du Qin, Janottka¡­ All three had nearly taken my life. But on the other hand, our debt was a mounting spectre that loomed over us, the single greatest threat to the sect¡¯s goals. We continued to approach its due date, and did not yet have the funds to pay it off. Perhaps we really would need to assassinate Queen Heissix if we wished to survive in the long term.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°You¡¯re correct that there are opportunities. If anyone can acquire the Celan¡¯s blueprints and scientific documents¡­¡± Rachel shook her head. ¡°It was one thing when two forces were squabbling over their borders and destroying one another¡¯s factories. This isn¡¯t a mere racial conflict, it¡¯s one that has the potential to get the corporations involved.¡±


    As if in unison, everyone at the table glanced at Heutel, who gave a soft smile. Though she bore a motherly appearance, there had always been something about the Staiven woman that made me slightly uncomfortable.


    ¡°As a representative of the Venin Group,¡± she announced, ¡°I would be remiss if I did not express our stance on the matter. We feel that it would greatly benefit the joint force of the corporation and the sect if we were able to get our hands on some of the proprietary technology controlled by the faction.¡±


    She had not yet pressured us to do so, but the company certainly had the capability to do so if they wished. Would they choose to strain our relationship so quickly after cementing it, should we choose to not act in their best interest, I wondered? It was hard to say. Though I knew Nahalken would prioritize his profits over anything else, one could never be sure whether a corporation would prioritize immediate gain or future profits at any given time.


    The opportunity to acquire and reverse engineer advanced alien technology was equivalent to a gold mine for the corporation who could grasp it first. The Church of Teiklan would surely offer massive grants to them, not to mention the potential military contracts. Doubtless, if we were to give such a chance to the Venin Group, they would give us whatever we wanted in return. Just like that, our debts could vanish. The problem was that the Venin Group would not be the only ones so inclined. The other corporations, some with even deeper pockets than them, would be soon dealing with other martial factions.


    The Heirs of Ottrien would need allies if they wished to survive. Alone, no one could handle the pressure they would soon need to weather.


    ¡°Is needlessly involving ourselves wise when the majority of our strongest combatants are injured?¡± asked Jihan. ¡°Currently, only myself and the Vice-Sect Leader remain in proper condition.¡± He glanced at me, as if concerned I might take offense, but I waved him off. I was not so prideful that I could not handle the truth.


    Kein, ever the conservative, voiced his agreement.


    ¡°We¡¯re still heavily in debt,¡± interjected Ran. ¡°Acquiring more funds should be our top priority.¡±


    ¡°Unless we spot an opportunity, I say we act as mercenaries,¡± suggested Orion. ¡°I¡¯m sure one of the factions could use our strength.¡±


    Rachel shook her head.


    ¡°The ratio of risk to reward is poor. A mercenary¡¯s rates are far too low to involve ourselves in the matter. Besides, I doubt anyone would trust us not to steal anything we find for ourselves.¡±


    It was a strong point, and Orion quickly dropped the idea. In his eyes, however, I could still see the drive to take action. As the time in which I had known him grew, I had been coming to a better understanding of the man. It had swiftly become clear that Orion was someone who insisted on always doing something, always developing and moving forward. In some ways, I supposed, we were rather alike.


    ¡°If you find yourselves unwilling to take that risk, I have an alternative possibility you might consider,¡± said Heutel. We turned to look at her, and I noticed her use of a deliberately lengthy pause for effect. ¡°The Celan¡¯s technologies are quite valuable, but we need to understand our own limitations. Our sect has a great deal of high-level power, but we are lacking in numbers. Rather than jump into the arena and decimate our already-small forces, we can take another tactic. I have heard that the sect has developed some relations with the forces of the Heirs located in Otan. Perhaps we might be able to leverage our participation in that district to claim the Sikreis Queendom for ourselves.¡±


    Her words fell on the conference room as if they were a bomb, stifling all side conversation. It was certainly a bold proposition, but¡­ the idea certainly had merit. If we could control a portion of the industrial district, that would certainly be enough to leverage for a repayment of our debts.


    ¡°How bold,¡± smirked Rachel. Orion also seemed to like the idea, but Kein shook his head.


    ¡°It is best not to be too greedy,¡± he insisted. ¡°I am sure that the other Queendoms will also be trying to take advantage of this chance. While the Sect Leader heals, it is best to be conservative with our actions. We are still an extremely young faction. Every foundation refiner must make sure they have achieved perfect stability before they can move onward. If they do not, their future development will be permanently compromised.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no need to be overcautious,¡± disagreed Orion. ¡°If our gambit fails we can always pull back.¡±


    ¡°It would be good if it worked out, however I¡¯m not sure how feasible that would be to accomplish. The Justice Office has been paying close attention to the district. Blindly meddling might bring their eyes toward us.¡±


    I frowned. Kein had brought up a good point. Was it better not to do anything? The rewards were plentiful, but so was the risk. I remembered again the promises I had made to myself. I had sworn to be more cautious about my activities.


    I finally spoke, my voice silencing the discussion.


    ¡°I have recently promised myself that I would endeavor to be less rash in the future,¡± I said. ¡°However¡­ I also feel that we would be remiss to ignore this opportunity altogether. We should not be overzealous, but instead bide our time and seek opportunities.¡±


    Orion sighed as he heard my response, but made no further comments. Instead, he glanced towards Rachel, as if looking for confirmation. It was as if he believed her to have the final say over the matter.


    ¡°If the Sect Leader so wishes, that will be what we do,¡± said Rachel, her voice oddly upbeat. ¡°Eli, find us our in. This is the role of the Silken Palace, after all.¡±


    The well-groomed sei gave a trained half-bow, somehow making the motion seem natural despite the fact that he remained seated.


    ¡°I shall endeavor to bring good news,¡± he said. I was aware of the man¡¯s repeated attempts to grow the internal influence of his palace among the sect members, as well as his attempts to grab onto the legs of both myself and Rachel. I had ignored all attempts, but despite his shameless nature, the man had not yet failed us, as far as I was aware. There was no current need to replace him.


    After the general direction of our policy had been decided, I announced the closure of the meeting, and the others quietly filtered out of the room. While they did so, I remained in my seat, pondering the plan that I had endorsed. Was I being rash, by planning to take action, I wondered? Or was I being overly cautious by not taking such action immediately. Perhaps the very idea of ¡®rashness¡¯ only held meaning in retrospect. Gambling was never an issue so long as it paid off, after all. I supposed that such questions did not matter much, however. I had already made the decision, and a martial artist had to be decisive. If not, they would die quickly in battle.


    As I sat silently, alone in the room save for the projected image of Rachel, I found myself wondering whether this was what the Downpour Sect¡¯s executive meetings had been like. I supposed I would never know for sure.


    The Tseludian Sunset: [Heralded by the bright orange glow that covered half of the dome, the events that the social networks have been calling ¡®The Tseludian Sunset¡¯ have been revealed to be caused by the malfunctioning of an illegal Celan ¡®titan¡¯, technology under the control of an unnamed force. Labeled as a ¡®weapon of mass destruction¡¯ by the Pantheonic Government, the Justice Office claimed to have destroyed all titans present on the station following the events of 1623 PST. The Justice Office is inspecting the cause of the incident, as well as the identities of the perpetrators, and promises to detain all parties connected to the machine¡¯s construction. ¡°This is believed to have been an isolated incident,¡± claimed the Office in their press release. Rumors of the involvement of martial artists in battle with the machine have prompted the question of whether the incident might relate to the recent gang conflicts in the third and sixth districts.]

 200- Order From Chaos

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Yet again, Triezal thought, he had found himself in a bind. Several layers of swirling miasma flowed around him, emanating from the lesions that scattered the hangar¡¯s floor. He rested in the center of the mess, pondering his next steps, though his options were few.


    Before the Staiven had arrived, Triezal¡¯s greatest concern had been the potential of Janottka returning in a decade¡¯s time, but suddenly, he realized that he could not spare the time to worry. He was surrounded on all sides, and as the lesions continued to  emit miasma, his own body was like a timer ticking down to Triezal¡¯s demise. Triezal raised the blindfold that lay around his neck upwards, raising it to his brow to help wick sweat from his eyes.


    There was little the Staiven could do to him without worsening their problems, of course. It was Pantheonic policy not to approach or fire weapons at a festering lesion. Instead, they quarantined the area and blocked off all approach, just as he had done to the restaurant by the docks. As Triezal had chosen not to leave the relative safety of the lesions surrounding him, they had constructed the prison around him.


    Great walls of proprietary Staiven alloys had been set up, covering a quarter of what had once been the titan hanger. Now, it would be a base of the Justice Office, located right within the heart of Little Celah.


    Idly Triezal wondered how much of the technology here the government would be able to salvage and reverse-engineer. Little if any, he would wager. The Heirs had countermeasures long prepared for this eventuality, failsafes to fry and melt all their secrets in case of raids by an opposing force. He would be surprised if none of the technicians had activated the failsafes before fleeing.


    He could leave, could talk to the Staiven and lie, of course. Perhaps he could try to blame the lesions on the Redwater Sect, or the Hadal Clan, or any other actor he felt he felt he could foist the charges onto. But the problem was that the Staiven would undoubtedly know he was lying. Here they had found him, surrounded by lesions and holding the blade which had carved them. There was no way to escape from such damning evidence, not without funds far and beyond Triezals, or perhaps even the Heirs¡¯ means.


    But even if were able to escape, he would be hunted down and killed. The crime of forming lesions was not one that could be dodged, or the consequences forced onto others. Even now, he could possibly broker a deal with them. In exchange for the blade and information about the Epon, he would certainly be allowed to live. Undoubtedly, however, it would be a life spent in captivity. While the Pantheonic Government did not particularly care about justice in most cases, it was a different matter when the matter related to something the Pantheon itself had personally banned.


    In a theocracy, the laws of the heavens outweighed the laws of the earth. If Triezal could not leave without being captured, he would need to remain here until he either came up with a feasible plan or in the worst case, until he died.


    Just in case, he tested his glyph slate. If he could contact Deuvar, perhaps the man could assist him in some manner. Unfortunately, when he attempted to activate it, the slate merely sputtered, the glyphs on its surface contorting and flickering. The cause, Triezal realized, was clear. The miasma around him was disrupting the miasma within the device, and it was overloading. Triezal cursed, sliding the tablet away as it exploded in a puff of flickering miasma.


    As he had suspected, it seemed he was on his own.


    Moving carefully, Triezal¡¯s hands roamed around his body, double checking everything he had on him. He had catalogued everything, every piece of equipment, every scrap of material. Everything that he could potentially use. The most important of which was, of course, his knife. If he did not have the blade, or had he been willing to leave it behind, Triezal would have long escaped, and would never have been captured by the Staiven. But he couldn¡¯t do that. The blade had been entrusted to him, and it gave him options. In fact¡­


    Before he had left Janaste, Triezal had worked in fabrication for a time, building the most precious components of starships, of titans, and scientific equipment. He had been considered to have a talent for it, but the career simply had not worked out. Perhaps if he had remained in that role, if the council had not taken interest in him¡­ these were thoughts for another time, he thought. His past had given him the skills he would need to achieve his goal, and that would be enough.


    If there was anything Triezal knew well, it was that a man could not live divorced from his past. It would always come rushing back to stare him in the eyes. The most hateful memories had a way of becoming an integral part of you, of changing you into the person you were. Triezal tried to live a life without regrets, but that was simply an impossibility.


    Triezal glanced outwards, trying to check whether the Staiven would be able to watch his actions. But the miasma from the lesions only continued to flow. The air slowly grew more chaotic, more painful. But it was also growing more occluded. To a Staiven¡¯s senses, the field of lesions might as well have been an foot-thick wall of lead. Perhaps they might not even be able to tell whether Triezal was alive or not.


    Perhaps they had sealed him in here with the intention to make the hangar become Triezal¡¯s tomb. How long had it been, he wondered? Minutes, hours? Triezal¡¯s skin burned, his flesh quivered and squirmed as if it were snakes worming their way beneath his skin. He carefully slid the blindfold down to cover his eyes and muffle his ears.


    Triezal was resistant to ashatic effects, but he was not immune. The machines inside his bones were helping to keep him alive, preserving his mind and body for as long as possible. But if he stayed inside the field of lesions for much longer, Triezal knew that he would either die or mutate into a tumor. If he had to choose between the two, Triezal would probably have picked death.


    Triezal carefully raised the dagger, sculpting in his mind¡¯s eye exactly what he planned to do. He paused for several moments, calculating how to design the pattern. Then he slammed the dagger into the floor, carving a deep gouge into the metal. The knife then slid across the ground as he carefully drew a curved line, before lifting the blade to carve another.


    This was the secret of the Epon¡¯s unique technology, the proprietary technique that had maintained their monopoly, as well as the status of their peoples. The secret to controlling flickering miasma was to use lesions. By carving them in the correct manner, one was able to produce akatar, the true essence of flickering miasma. The true essence of chaos itself. And from that chaos, order could emerge, if it were managed properly.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    The Epon fabrication facilities in Janaste had utilized a sealed room and mechanical limbs to perform the task, in order to separate the Magister from his craft. It was far safer and allowed for mechanical precision. Now, however, the seals were gone, and there was no intermediary. Only Triezal and a blade that was who knew how many years old.


    His predecessors, the Magisters of the distant past, had also done this themselves. It had been the purpose of a Magister. They had constructed the foundations of an entire discipline of technology on their own, one that as far as Triezal knew might never have been replicated in all of history. They had carved their aspirations into the world around them with the strength of their own hands, had used it as the foundations to create the strongest superpower that their world had seen since the fall of Epon Celah.


    He carved glyph after glyph into the metal floor, scraping shavings from the surface with ease, and embedding the lesions within. The structure he was forming was organized in three dimensions, an extremely complex design that almost appeared like the scribbles of a madman. It almost felt more like a ritual than a manufacturing technique.


    In Triezal¡¯s opinion, miasmic engineering was equal parts science and religion. Perhaps that was why the Epon insisted that all miasmic manufacturing be performed by Magisters. An instructor of his had once claimed that their manufacturing process was undoubtedly a science: it was an observable and replicable process with consistent effects. The problem was that they did not have an effective theory to explain it, or if they did, it had not been shared with Triezal.


    There was one distinctly odd attribute of lesions, one which had long frustrated the scientists of the other races. If a lesion was a tear in spacetime, why did a lesion on a planet or space station remain on the moving object? Were they remaining in place according to the reference frame? Were they affected by gravity?


    According to the Epon¡¯s theories, the lesions did not move at all. Instead, it was Telles that was shifting around them, warping to match the flows of higher dimensional geometries.. A matter of frames of reference. The universe was not limited to a mere four dimensions, after all. Many of the mechanics of such motion remained a mystery to Triezal, the physics beyond the limits of the education he had received. He was not a physicist, he was a fixer. Ultimately, Triezal was a man of the underworld, and it was in that realm that he had dedicated most of his training. He was a practical man, and his interest had always been focused on applications rather than mere theories. This was simply a skill he had trained in, and now, just like his ancestors, Triezal would be putting it to use.


    He only hoped he did not make any mistakes. If he did, he would not even realize he was dead. The practice had limitations, and while Triezal knew a sufficient amount of theory for his purposes, his experience in performing the process in this manner simply did not exist. Within his lifetime, perhaps nobody in all of Telles had practiced the ancient arts in this manner. To take the risk of messing with lesions at all, much less in the Pantheonic Territory, one would either need to be suicidal or desperate.


    Sweating profusely as his implants continued to hold him together, Triezal drew the final lines. He had been moving slowly, and perhaps thirty minutes had passed and he carved the incredibly fine lines into the structure. The machines inside of him were perhaps the only reason he was able to avoid twitches and tremors. From the lesions he had drawn into existence, akatar blazed forth, the pure essence of chaos that was necessary for the ritual to take effect. For a long, brilliant moment, the world was filled with a bright orange radiance, a sickening hue that stunned the senses and left him woozy to be so near. Blood spurted out from Triezal¡¯s nose as he felt light-headed, stumbling to remain on his feet.


    But it had worked. All around him, Triezal could feel the shifting currents of miasma, and it was clear that the lesions had moved. Like the snaking tendrils of flesh beneath his skin, the lesions shifted from side to side in a chaotic, uneven motion that left him needing to step out of the way. As he did so, he promptly shoved the knife into the remnants of some of his bronze-alloy armor, forming a makeshift sheathe. It was best if the knife did not cause any further problems during the subsequent stage.


    Triezal lacked senses of the soul, and he knew better than to remove his blindfold within an area that was so oversaturated with light and color. Still, he carefully waited, hoping for the effect he had spent so much effort to achieve to function as intended. He was not disappointed.


    Within moments, Triezal could feel a heavy wind as he heard a loud booming noise. A fast wave of miasma collided into him, almost knocking Triezal¡¯s body over as he felt parts of his skin try to droop and slough off of his body. Even without his sight, he could tell what had occurred. The lesion had unspooled, extending outwards to tear through the flimsy metal barriers the Staiven had set up around it, and eviscerating all guards within its path. Triezal smiled as he heard the shouts of surprise and horror emerge from the Staiven throats in their final moments.


    As expected, he thought, they had remained manned in this place, guarding the lesions. As far as they were likely aware, these were the first of the chaotic wounds to be formed on the station, and were thus acting pointlessly needy.


    Triezal dashed forward, keeping himself directly within the wake of the shifting strands. Leaping through the broken wall, he saw the shocked faces of the surviving guardsmen, as well as what remained of their . To the senses of their souls, this must have been something incomprehensible, something they had yet to ever experience. A lesion in motion must have looked something like a snake, striking towards its prey..


    Triezal raced after the lesions, allowing them to be his battering ram and his shield as he searched for a way out.. He would not have another opportunity to escape, so he would have to make the most of this. The spiral dove through metal and rock, tearing its haphazard route as it steadily unspooled, slowly growing longer and thinner, until it once again reached an equilibrium.


    The concept behind his tactic was simple. If lesions formed as contorted, draping through the countless fields and boundaries of the physical world, it would undoubtedly be possible to untie the knot and ¡®release¡¯ them, snapping them back into a new equilibrium. It was not in reality the lesion he had moved, but rather Telles itself, warping to release the pressure under his direction.


    Triezal dodged a hail of bullets from behind, noting that this squad of soldiers had recovered quite rapidly from the sight before them, and knew well the importance of his identity. As the lesion¡¯s path finished, Triezal activated his boots, one of which miraculously seemed to still be functional, and skidded awkwardly down the floor, receiving a heavy impact in his left shoulder from one of the guard¡¯s firearms. Triezal gritted his teeth. Just a bit further and he would be done, would be free. Once he made it back into the city, he could hide, could blend in to the best of his ability. The Staiven would know who he was, but in a city of millions, hiding might perhaps be possible.


    Triezal finally reached the aperture that had allowed for the titan¡¯s egress, and leapt through, catching the railing and promptly swinging himself back towards the stack to drop to one story below. Rolling, Triezal quickly returned to his feet and broke out into a run.


    If he wished to escape, Triezal would need to create as much distance between himself and the area as possible. With just one further glance backwards, Triezal dashed off, in hopes of blending into the crowd and finding a safe location to heal himself. After that, he would have a lot of planning to do.


    Magisterial Ritualism: [It is said that prior to their destruction when the city of Opportunity fell, the Order of Magisters practiced a unique form of ritualism involving the production of lesions. The purpose of the rituals is unknown, but they involved glyphs being carved into surfaces by a naeratanh blade. Though many scholars doubt the veracity of this record, lesions formed in this manner were said to never form tumors. It is rumored that these practices were tied to the Magister¡¯s religion, but no records of the details of their faith are known to still exist.]

 201- The Relentless Storm

    The Downpour, Canvas, Frontier Territory, Late Autumn, 1596 PTS


    Jin found himself unable to guess how many hours they had been walking. For all he knew he might have been wandering for days in the endless gloom of the Downpour, led by his master¡¯s hand. This deep into the interior of the storm, light was scarce, and Jin could barely watch where he was stepping, worried he might accidentally slip into one of the countless fast-flowing rivers and streams in the thick mud.


    The Downpour region, like the stories had said, was a sunless land. The thick rain clouds above failed to let even the slightest of sunbeams pass through, resulting in oppressive gloom that only served to worsen the effects of the rain and mist. The thick mud that Jin was forced to trudge through did nothing to assist with the unpleasantness of Jin¡¯s experience. The fact that Master Yuenan was walking on the surface of the mud with no issues only worsened his mood. Why was he the only one who had to suffer through it? Even the disciples pulling the sledge seemed to be having no issues, and he was clearly holding the group up.


    The only saving grace was that the ever-persistent storm lacked lightning. Nothing fell from the clouds except for the endless barrage of raindrops. While bright flashes of energy might have helped to light up the terrain, Jin could not help but admit that he feared being struck. He felt that the darkness was a better problem to have. Jin couldn¡¯t help but feel his mind wander as he continued to walk endlessly. He had spent too much time walking, in such poor conditions. Finally, he lost control of his patience.


    ¡°Are we there-¡± he said, his words cutting off as something shifted in the distance, something enormous. Jin¡¯s eyes flicked over, and he felt his feet freeze up in his boots as he stopped moving. A titanic figure much larger than the wagon he resided in moved around deep inside of the storm. Whatever it was, the figure was far too enormous, and moving far too quickly. He couldn¡¯t tear his eyes away. Moments later, however, itwas suddenly gone, leaving no trace that it had ever existed in the first place. Jin could almost not even believe his own eyes. Was the mist playing tricks on him?


    ¡°Did something startle you?¡± Yuenan asked, giving Jin an odd look. Jin nodded vigorously, bobbing his head in an animated manner.


    ¡°I saw something, Master. It was¡­ it was huge. Over there.¡±


    He pointed off towards where the monster had loomed. Yuenan followed his gaze, but did not seem to see anything. Suddenly, a knowing look crossed the old man¡¯s gaze, and he gave Jin an amused smirk.


    ¡°You¡¯re quite fortunate,¡± he observed. ¡°That might have been a waterstrider. Many sect members have spent their entire lives here and never once caught sight of one.¡±


    Hearing his words, the two disciples turned, clearly fascinated by the elder¡¯s words.


    ¡°Did you really see one?¡± asked one of them, a lanky boy who appeared to be a few years Jin¡¯s senior. His hair had been tied back in a fancy braid that had clearly been difficult to accomplish. The water had loosened the strands, and it seemed like the ties might slip off at any moment.


    ¡°What are they?¡± Jin asked. He couldn¡¯t remove the monster¡¯s appearance from his mind. It was simply too enormous, and the way it had moved¡­ Yuenan rubbed his chin, considering his response.


    ¡°They are¡­ perhaps some of the largest fiends ever to roam Canvas. One of Toval¡¯s masterworks, I  suppose. You can only find them here, and they¡¯re still extremely rare to spot. In the sect, it¡¯s generally considered a portent of good luck.¡±


    Even with just the small glimpse of the enormous insect, Jin had been able to roughly estimate its size. The waterstrider had been at least the size of several buildings combined. He could not help but marvel. Was it really not the only one?


    To an extent,¡± Yuenan continued, ¡°we consider it the sect¡¯s guardian beast, though I doubt it even knows we exist. Actually, the sect¡¯s founder created his first technique based on inspirations acquired from its movement.¡±


    Jin thought back to the impossibly swift motions of the fiend. It had moved far too quickly for something of its size. Could a martial artist really move like that?


    ¡°I- I heard that martial artists gain magic powers when they eat a fiend¡¯s heart,¡± said Jin, desperately trying to remember the stories of practitioners that he had been told. ¡°Did you eat one of those, Master? Is that why you¡¯re so strong?¡±


    Yuenan and the disciples laughed boisterously, a sight that seemed somewhat at odds with the foul weather they remained under.


    ¡°No, child. I used the pearls of a marshfiend to advance. Using the heart of a waterstrider is far too overkill for a mere spirit refiner. That is an ingredient worthy of an ascension ritual.¡±


    ¡°Ascension¡­¡± muttered Jin, surprised. ¡°Like, an immortal?¡±


    Yuenan smiled.


    ¡°Exactly like that, yes. Perhaps you¡¯ll get to see it for yourself in a few years when the sect leader makes his own attempt.¡±


    The conversation stalled after that, as the exhausted Jin found it difficult to use his breath for the purpose. He returned to the endless trek, eking out every last fragment of energy from his muscles.


    ¡°We¡¯ll stop here for today,¡± said Yuenan, though his voice and appearance almost seemed to suggest that he might have no need to do so. Jin frowned, not understanding.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    ¡°Is this it?¡± he asked, dismayed by the sight before him. It was a small stone mound, with a door embedded into its side. Had they hollowed out a hill, Jin wondered?


    Yuenan glanced at the other two disciples.


    ¡°Carry on to the sect. Tell them that myself and the boy will be resting here for the night. The two disciples bowed.


    ¡°Of course, Elder Ding,¡± said the taller of the two, before turning to trudge deeper into the haze, sliding the sledge behind him. Jin watched them leave, and as they faded from sight, he realized that they were leaving without himself and his master.


    ¡®Why are we splitting up? He asked.


    ¡°The others can continue on without issue, but I imagine you¡¯ll need your rest,¡± the old man explained. ¡°You can go get comfortable. There should be some bedrolls stored here somewhere.¡±


    Excited for the respite, Jin quickly scurried to check for the items, and before long, not only had he found it, he had already prepared himself for sleep. He was truly exhausted, and moments after he finally laid down, Jin slipped away into slumber.


    By the time the morning arose, Jin still felt achy and tired, not that he would ever admit that truth to Master Yuenan. The two ate a quick breakfast of dried fruits and bread, provisions that Jin had not noticed Yuenan acquiring from the cart. Jin washed the hard bread down with water from outside as Master Yuenan brewed himself some Hakian tea. He wanted to ask his master if he could have any of the tea, but was worried about Yuenan perhaps getting annoyed with him. Water would do fine, he thought.


    ¡°Be conservative with your energy,¡± warned Yuenan, as they finally left the safehouse and returned to the neverending trek. ¡°We have a long walk ahead of us, and it is entirely possible we don¡¯t reach the sect by nightfall.¡±


    Jin nodded in response, a matter which pleased his soon-to-be master.


    It must have been late afternoon by the time Yuenan finally stalled, looking off into the distance. Jin followed his master¡¯s gaze. If he squinted his eyes, Jin thought he could see a faint white light, shining like a beacon through the haze.


    ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± said Yuenan, as if he were admiring a work of art. ¡°Welcome to the Downpour Sect, Jin.¡±


    As they continued to approach, Jin was able to get a better view of the structure. The Downpour Sect was enormous, looming, and nothing like what Jin might have anticipated. Despite its size, the vast structure of worked stone was rounded and eroded, covered in water channels that constantly flowed, as if the sect itself was a giant fountain. The rainfall was directed to spouts, resulting in waterfalls which cascaded down its surface. Overhangs  dotted its structure, and from within the pale white glow emerged. The smooth structure appeared as if it had been worn down by time and water . Jin felt himself fall slack jawed in shock as he marveled at the monumental achievement of stonework before his eyes.


    Yuenan simply continued walking as if the sight was nothing of note, and Jin hastened to catch up to his master, walking beneath a large overhang at the front of the building, and up a small flight of stairs to what must have been the entrance.


    How had those two disciples moved their sledges up the stairs, he wondered?


    The sect¡¯s doors were made of a fine, polished red wood that looked severely out of place in this region. They parted from the center, sliding open to reveal the inside areas of the sect. Jin could not help but imagine a beautiful hall full of fine paintings and decorations, but was disappointed by the truth.


    The sect¡¯s interior was austere, filled with blank stone walls that had nothing to cover themselves with. The only apparent decoration was the lights. Embedded into sconces on the walls were glass containers filled with what appeared to be a glowing white liquid  that lit up the room. They seemed to have been the sources of the glow he had seen from inside. Jin leaned forward, curiously inspecting the fixtures. They look like jars, he thought. The sect was an odd mix of the frugal and the extravagant, it seemed.


    ¡°It¡¯s a plant that grows in water,¡± Yuenan explained. ¡°They come from the caverns beneath the Downpour.¡± Jin glanced over, remembering where he was, and that others could see him. Every new detail that Jin learned about his new home only further emphasized how different it was compared to anything he had seen before. Underwater caverns, enormous beasts¡­ this region was like a different world entirely.


    Inside the sect, various disciples roamed up and down the corridor. As they passed, many of them took the time to greet Yuenan, and Jin received many curious glances. None of the disciples, however, stopped to talk with them. Were they simply busy?


    ¡°How many members does the sect have?¡± Jin asked, surprised by the packed hallways.


    For a moment Yuenan frowned, trying to estimate the number.


    ¡°Probably around fifty altogether, I believe.¡±


    Jin was not sure whether that was large or small for a martial sect but it was fewer than he had anticipated. It seemed this was just a particularly active part of the complex. Fifty people... He wondered if he would have the opportunity to meet them all, given time.


    ¡°What now?¡± he asked, mind returning to the matter at hand.


    ¡°Now,¡± said Yuenaan, ¡°I¡¯ll show you to the refectory and then to your room. I  imagine you¡¯ll need to rest  up after the journey. In the morning, we will prepare for the ritual.¡±


    In an awkward movement, Jin bowed, feeling incredibly grateful to the man before him.


    ¡°Thank you for everything, Master Ding,¡± he said.


    Yuenan simply patted him on the shoulder, that ever-present effusive smile on his lips.


    ¡°You can save your thanks for tomorrow, Jin.¡±


    Jin nodded to the older man and then turned back, continuing down the passageway. Behind him, he heard his master mutter some quiet words.


    ¡°Next,¡± Yuenan muttered, ¡° I¡¯ll have to talk to Riese.¡±


    He did not sound as if he were looking forward to it


    Waterstriders: [One of the largest fiends in existence, the waterstrider is a rare species that resides exclusively within the downpour, and along with the rainfiends, serves as Toval¡¯s addition to Domines and Saaya¡¯s great work. They are considered immortal level fiends, and the formless treasures inside their hearts are so large and powerful that they contain warpings which allows the waterstrider to both ignore the square cube law and move in manners that defy the normal workings of the world. As waterstriders are incredibly rare and restricted to an inhospitable domain, very little is publicly known about their life cycle and habits.]

 202- The Darkness and the Light

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Han could feel the flow of the energy inside him as he moved through the forms of the sword art his master had taught him. The Downpour Sect¡¯s founder must have been a true master, he thought. The more he learned about this sword art, the more he realized just how complex it was, and how much insight was needed to practice it.


    The Rising Downpour Sword Art seemed to Han to be an art that had reached the pinnacle of perfection. If all went well, his master had informed him, Han would need to alter it, to make it suit his own body more. This was not a flaw in the art itself, but merely the difference between Han and its creator. Perhaps one day Han would create a martial art of this level himself. For now, however, he needed to master what the Riverfiend had assigned him, or the man would not allow him to move on to more advanced applications of the arts.


    It had been over a week since he had been released from the brace, his regrown hand supposedly fully functional. Sometimes, Han still felt pain midway down his forearm, in the place where the limb had been severed. This was not his original hand, he knew. There was something wrong about it.


    Still, Han remembered well the others, those who had died. Palace Leader Sakie, who had trained him, dead at the hands of a Hadal clansman.


    Han gritted his teeth, fueled by rage, by his weakness. He was not comfortable with the state of affairs. His master wanted him to at least reach the peak of the foundation refinement realm before he would be able to go out on missions, and Han was finally nearing that level. The earlier stages did not take long to progress through, not with the resources and proper training that Han had received. His was one of the most privileged positions to learn martial arts that existed in the station, and Han was well aware. He intended to make use of that fact.


    Before he finished up his morning training, Han settled into the first stance of the sword art one final time, and raised his foot, feeling the formless energies circulate throughout his newly formed channels. He then slammed his foot down in pattern with the shifting currents in his waist and legs, taking a long stride forward. A pale blue mist spread around him, and then everything fell apart. The line of miasma in his meridians twisted, and Han¡¯s legs seized as they did every time he attempted to practice the water striding steps.


    He skidded across the ground, slipping on the wet floor and nearly broke his nose on the wall. Cursing, Han raised his hand to protect himself, bouncing off of the hard surface with a grunt. He felt his nostrils, and was pleased to know that at the very least, there had been no blood.


    Han had actually progressed in the technique, and in his best attempt, had managed to activate it for almost ten seconds. The problem, however, was that he could not control his motion. Whenever he used the technique, Han always found himself striding in a random direction, and at very high speeds. There was nothing more odd, in Han¡¯s estimation, than walking, but unable to control which direction one was walking in.


    Han heard a snicker to the side, and he turned to glare at Qian, who was glancing away innocently. He scowled at the younger girl, but made no remark. She did not do much better any of the times that she attempted the technique.


    He sighed, feeling his ill mood evaporate. It was hard to brood when you had just slammed yourself into a wall in front of somebody. Particularly when that somebody was a girl not much younger than him. His cheeks burned.


    The sect leader¡¯s disciples had been granted access to their master¡¯s private meditation room while he wasn¡¯t using it, though they needed to schedule their use times in advance. Himself and Qian had been granted use of it for a bit over an hour in the mornings to practice their techniques and swordplay, as their master believed the rainfall assisted with learning.


    The six of them had taken to calling the room ¡®Master¡¯s Shower.¡¯ Minus Blake, of course, Han thought. He didn¡¯t seem like a bad person, but it had long become clear that the other boy had little interest in socializing with the others. It did not seem that would be changing any time soon, either.


    Comparatively, Qian had changed a lot, he thought. He instinctively wanted to glance at her as the thought crossed his mind, but Han restrained himself. It felt as if he had been seeing new sides of her since they had joined the sect. Perhaps it was just that their relationship had changed. Qian was no longer his friend¡¯s sister, she was now his martial sister, and someone who, as they were learning the same technique and weapon, spent more time with him than anyone else. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Qian was still moody at times, of course, and he did not expect her occasional arrogant comments to go anywhere, but Han didn¡¯t mind it. That was just Qian being Qian. And sometimes, when they were alone, she seemed¡­ softer, somehow. Setting the thoughts aside, decided he was done with his training for the moment. It didn¡¯t seem as if Qian was practicing anymore, either, so Han decided he might as well dry off.


    ¡°End storm,¡± he said, and the dripping water from above cut off, leaving the pair of young martial artists sopping wet as the water slowly drained from the floor. Han decidedly avoided glancing over at Qian, whose clothes were hugging tightly to her figure.


    The remodelled meditation room had been designed with cubbies near the door that would remain dry. Han opened the nearest one and removed a dry towel, before quickly wiping away the worst of the moisture from his sodden form. He would need to take a shower after this, but it was best not to drip water across the sect. Palace Leader Ran tended to be quite particular about such things. Despite the prestige Han bore as a personal disciple of the sect leader, he had learned that the Palace Leaders still all had the authority to assign him additional chores. He had only needed to dust the entirety of the accounting division¡¯s offices once before he learned his lesson.


    He grabbed a second one, and tossed it at his martial sister.


    ¡°It¡¯s good to see you¡¯re still yourself,¡± she suddenly said, drawing a raised eyebrow from Han. Finally, he actually turned, and he saw her expression. Qian seemed concerned, and perhaps a little bit conflicted.


    ¡°...Who else would I be?¡± he asked.


    Qian hesitated, clearly looking for the right words, but finding them difficult to piece together.


    ¡°Ever since¡­ what happened, you¡¯ve been withdrawn. The others noticed as well, but I¡¯m always with you, and¡­¡± she hesitated again. It seemed this was difficult to talk about, which Han understood. The events of that day were difficult for him to even recall, much less speak about. Such a conversation was quite unlike Qian, however. Candid was not a word he would generally use to describe her. She was more the type to mask her true feelings with sardonic comments. ¡°And you¡¯ve been training too much, too hard. I¡¯m worried you¡¯re going to hurt yourself, or burn out. You¡¯re acting like Blake.¡±


    Even though Han didn¡¯t dislike Blake, the comment still stung. He winced.


    ¡°I¡­ You weren¡¯t there, Qian. I came here to become strong, to-¡± He sighed. ¡°You remember where we came from. I need to get stronger, to impress Master and progress further. I don¡¯t want- I don¡¯t want to feel weak anymore.¡± The admission seemed to sap the energy from Han¡¯s body, and he hung his head, no longer wiping his body with the towel. ¡°Besides,¡± he finally continued, ¡°We¡¯re unorthodox practitioners, Qian. If we stall, if we don¡¯t progress, we¡¯ll die. That¡¯s just how it is.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not about that,¡± Han. I¡¯m not complaining about the training. I¡¯ve been here with you every day, and today I waited until you were done before I¡­ You¡¯ve always been the type to rest well after working hard. And you haven¡¯t been doing that. You¡¯re pushing yourself too hard. I¡¯m sure that Master would agree.¡±


    Han opened his mouth to argue, but Qian¡¯s glare silenced him. He had never met a woman with a more scathing glance than Qian¡¯s. No matter what the situation, Han had always felt as if he should apologize for something when he saw that look in her eyes. He sighed.


    ¡°Is it really that bad?¡± he asked.


    Qian nodded.


    ¡°Everyone¡¯s worried. Even some of the other disciples have noticed.¡±


    Han sighed.


    ¡°I suppose I can take the rest of the day off.¡±


    She smiled, and the visible relief and joy seemed to light up the room. For some reason, Qian almost seemed like a different person than she ever had before. Was she always this pretty? Han blushed, and quickly busied himself by toweling off his hair. For a moment, the dark thoughts were gone, and his martial sister was the only thing on his mind.


    Triezal: [A dangerous armed fugitive has escaped from the Justice Office, and is currently on the run. All ships leaving the station must be inspected an additional time before leaving the dock. The outlaw is a Merris, and his image is enclosed. All rights granted by Pantheonic Law to sapient life forms have been revoked for this individual, and a five thousand serite bounty is being offered for actionable information about his whereabouts. Failure to report information is considered a crime, punishable by the Justice Office with labor on the Prison Moon and a ten thousand serite bail.]

 203- Two Doors Shut

    Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    An advertisement faded from the wide screen on the wall, and switched to an unusual message. The image depicted a smiling man with blue hair and a faded green jacket. His eyes were hidden, covered by a yellow band tied behind his head, as if he had been blindfolded for some reason. The man appeared happy, as if he were greeting a friend. A line of text beside his face read: ¡®Triezal: terrorist and outlaw, currently at large. Report any information about this man to the Justice Office by scanning the glyph below. Respondents with useful information may be rewarded up to ten thousand serite!¡¯


    The notice was designed as if it were an ad for a competition rather than a manhunt. The man scowled as he viewed the image, bowing his head further downwards, to the point where it would almost appear as if he had a hunch. Over a head shorter than the Jobu among the crowd, it was easy for him to become lost in the crowd.


    The man wore a hooded cloak, an article of clothing that was unusual in this part of the station. Such clothing was more akin to the fashion of the Escalos than the children of Celah. Still, in a district this populated, passersby were as varied as stars in the sky, and it was not uncommon to see unusual garments. Thus, the hooded man went largely unnoticed within the crowd as he passed through, making his way deeper and deeper into the depths of the district, his steps awkward due to a noticeable limp in his steps.


    It did not take long for him to find the location he was searching for. The alley was mundane, hewn from patchwork, multicolored shades of stone, and the man had seen perhaps thousands just like it in this district alone, over the years. But this one he was able to recognize uniquely. One of the many of the Heirs¡¯ safe houses that the man had memorized the locations of.


    He had not chosen to travel to the nearest safehouse, nor the second closest. If the faction had spies, that would be the first place they would check. He could never be certain that none of the faction¡¯s members might have debts the government would be happy to take advantage of.


    He drew the entry symbol onto the pad, and the hatch opened up easily before him. Once inside, the hooded man removed his hood, revealing a head full of bright blue hair, a yellow still blindfold resting around his neck. Looking like a more wounded version of the him in the ad, Triezal pulled himself into the room.


    As he entered the house¡¯s living room, Triezal was surprised to see the form of a Jobu lying on one of the couches. He was lean for his people, but the man¡¯s fitness and strength could not be denied.


    ¡°It¡¯s a surprise to find you here, Little Brother,¡± he said with a smile, but felt confused by Kalthen¡¯s presence in this part of the district. Shouldn¡¯t his friend have still been near the titan base he had been stationed at? He frowned. Had Kalthen come here to meet with him?


    The Jobu lay languidly on the cushion, as if sapped of all energy. Something was wrong, Triezal thought. He could sense this fact, as surely as if it were a scent on the breeze.


    ¡°It has been a while indeed,¡± said Kalthen, ¡°You¡¯ve gotten yourself in quite a heap of trouble this time. A bit worse than any of the trouble I got myself into, before.¡±


    Triezal could not dispute this. Never one had he seen this sort of manhunt. He had expected he would need to go into hiding, after escaping from his predicament. While it would be an annoyance, there was much that Triezal could do to assist with the current situation, even without showing his face in public. But with a campaign this large and well funded, even that bore certain risks. It was unusual. According to his understanding of the Justice Office, they should have just contracted with an information agency, used mercenaries to track him down. In that case, the Heirs could simply have bribed the agency to ¡®find nothing,¡¯ and everyone would go on with their lives.


    ¡°I had expected them to be looking for me,¡± he said, in way of reply, ¡°but this¡­ I¡¯m not sure what to make of it. A campaign this expensive for an outlaw is highly unusual. Either someone is funding them, or I¡¯m being scapegoated. Perhaps it¡¯s a ploy by one of our enemies.¡± He chucked. ¡°I might have to dye my hair a different color.¡±


    As he stepped closer, Triezal got a better view of his friend, and he found his words leaving him. The younger man¡¯s eyes were red and puffy, as if Kalthen had been crying. But that was odd; the large man rarely cried, or at least Triezal had never seen him do so. A sinking feeling began to well up in Triezal¡¯s chest, informing him that something truly had occurred beyond his notice.


    ¡°Something happened,¡± he stated.


    ¡°My uncle is dead,¡± replied Kalthen, and Triezal¡¯s stomach dropped in shock and horror.


    ¡°That can¡¯t be right,¡± he protested. ¡°He should have been safe at the-¡±


    ¡°They found him yesterday morning. Someone took advantage of your stunt as a distraction, it seems.¡±


    Triezal¡¯s mind raced, split between wishing to comfort his friend and thinking of the implications- Kalthen would not lie about such a thing, and if both of the faction¡¯s most important figures were dead, that would only leave Astna to take control. In order to minimize disruption, perhaps Triezal should go back to Otan and ensure they did not lose control of those vital holdings.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°...Why are you here?¡± he asked. This was information that could have been sent over a call, or even simply a message. Regardless of whether Kalthen desired company, to track Triezal down now, in these conditions¡­ he would have needed help from Astna.


    ¡°We knew you would come,¡± said the Jobu. ¡°If not here, then somewhere. But I was told that this place was your most  likely target. It seems that you have become predictable, Triezal.¡±


    Kalthen seemed odd, and was acting in an unusual manner. It was clear that the situation was wearing away at him. He gestured with one of his hands, and Triezal realised that his friend was holding a pistol.


    Kalthen sighed.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Triezal. But my mother made a deal, to save us, and to save the Heirs. My uncle died for this group, and I- I can¡¯t let it die with him.¡±


    I see, Triezal thought. So that was what this was about. He gritted his teeth. Kalthen lifted up the firearm, admiring the smoothness of its barrel as he aimed it towards Triezal. He could see the rifling inside the bore of the pistol, mere feet away. Triezal could have lashed out, could have forced it away from himself. Instead, he sighed.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to kill you, Kalthen,¡± Triezal said.


    Both of them knew that in a fight, the Jobu would have little chance. He had physical strength and training as a warrior, but even injured, Triezal¡¯s mechanically enhanced physiology could easily handle him. Kalthen barked a laugh, and tossed the gun away, He had never even clicked the safety off.


    ¡°I used to hate you, did you know that?¡± he asked.


    Triezal nodded. It had been obvious. Kalthen had been jealous of him. But Triezal had not minded that. It was an emotion he understood.


    ¡°To do it yourself¡­ Was that your idea or hers?¡± Triezal asked.


    Kalthen chuckled.


    ¡°Does it matter?¡±


    ¡°I suppose not,¡± Triezal admitted. Triezal did not, could not, consider himself a selfless individual. Perhaps Astna was right, and his death truly was in the organization¡¯s best interest. If Deuvar had been alive, however, Triezal thought, this would not have happened. Deuvar always did well by the faction¡¯s core members.


    But Astna was different. The Real Spider was a vicious woman, and there was only one remaining individual she would care for aside from herself. Astna would use Triezal as a scapegoat in an instant. And, as it seemed, she had.


    Triezal waited, wanting to see what choice his friend made. His reaction times were limited, stunted by the faltering repair of his muscles and organs. To fully heal, Triezal would need time, food, and perhaps some medical attention as well, for the bullet wounds. He had stopped them up with gauze, but that would be prime for an infection if he were not careful.


    ¡°I can¡¯t¡­ I can¡¯t kill another friend,¡± said Kalthen, finally, and Triezal could not help but smile. Kalthen had been through a lot in the past months, and his uncle¡¯s death must have been a capstone to his misery. Triezal could not help but commiserate.


    It seemed that Kalthen had yet to fully get over the deaths of his squad.


    ¡°The Leader assigned me away from the front lines, and I¡­ I pretended that was what I wanted. I was working with titans, you know? I had always wanted to pilot one.¡± Kalthen sighed, a wistful expression crossing his face. ¡°Now, who knows whether we¡¯ll still have any by year¡¯s end. I still don¡¯t know what my mother is up to. I¡¯m not sure I can go back to¡­ to this.¡± He motioned with his gun, and Triezal understood what the other man meant. Kalthen wished to make his retirement from combat a permanent affair.


    Had it really been less than three months since he had been a hotheaded young gloryseeker? But Triezal knew well that the amount of time tended to matter less than what events had occurred within the period.


    Time did not change a man, but experiences certainly did.


    ¡°Go back to your titans,¡± he said. ¡°Your mother will likely be glad for you not to take part directly anymore. In fact, I would wager that your presence here was a test.¡±


    Kalthen barked a harsh laugh.


    ¡°One I¡¯ve failed, no doubt. She wishes for me to be callous.¡±


    ¡°You take after your uncle, rather than your mother,¡± said Triezal. ¡°I feel you¡¯re better off this way.¡±


    Kalthen¡¯s smile was wistful.


    ¡°I¡¯m not so sure.¡±


    Triezal sighed, and began to walk out. He would not be able to stay here, it seemed. His skin was not so thick as to force Kalthen to be at odds with his mother. In any case, it was better for him to have another friend on the inside than another friend on the run.


    Kalthen suddenly spoke again, prompting Triezal to turn back, the first of his boots having already crossed over the threshold.


    ¡°Triezal¡­ make sure you live, will you? I¡¯m sure once this blows over, my mother will be happy to let you in.¡±


    Triezal gave his friend a confident smile that he could not truly feel.


    ¡°What, you thought some mere soldiers could kill me? I¡¯ll be fine. Once I change up my look, not even you will recognize me.¡±


    WIth that, he raised his hood once more as the hatch slid shut behind him, leaving Kalthen alone once more in the darkened room.


    ¡°Two doors shut,¡± he muttered.


    Intelligence Agencies: [Essentially a legal form of espionage institution, the intelligence agencies, particularly those on corporate retainer, make a living from knowing information. Networks of spies can be found in most corporations and institutions, even within criminal factions, churches, and the government itself. The latter two are illegal under Pantheonic Law, but no self respecting corporation would be wary of such a potentially lucrative opportunity. One of the most influential intelligence agencies of Tseludia Station is a corporation called ¡®The Heirs of Ottrien.¡¯]

 204- Belonging

    The Downpour, Canvas, Frontier Territory, Late Autumn, 1596 PTS


    Yuenan settled down in his quarters, awaiting the inevitable. The bells rang, and Yuenan calmly counted the dings. It seemed that dusk had arrived. It would not be long before Riese¡¯s arrival.


    Deciding to ease his nerves, Yuenan stepped over to the cupboard, removing the kettle and water he always kept well prepared, and set to brewing some tea. He would need to relax his nerves before meeting with her. As the water heated, he set a pair of cups down onto the table.


    This tea was not made with Yuenan¡¯s preferred hakian leaves, but rather a form of lichen that grew on the sect¡¯s walls. Riese did not particularly enjoy hakian tea. She claimed it had too strong of a flavor. Yuenan vaguely remembered having felt the same way at some distant point in the past.


    Yuenan had barely poured the tea into the cups before she arrived. Riese slammed the door open brusquely. Impatient as always, Yuenan thought.


    Despite her true age, Riese still appeared fairly young, as if she were still in her thirties. Though Yuenan was not much older, he could barely pass for a man in his sixtieth year of life. Riese¡¯s face had few wrinkles, and her well-groomed golden hair had yet to lose its luster. Like the vast majority of the sect members, Riese was a farsei.


    ¡°Who¡¯s the boy?¡± she asked, the question emerging before she had even sat down.


    Though she was younger than him, he always felt as if she had the leg up in their relationship. There was no doubt that Yuenan would win if the two were to fight, but in a duel of words, Yuenan had no chance. He found himself sighing once more.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been pressuring me to take a disciple,¡± he protested.


    Resting on the cushion across from him and leaned forward, her piercing eyes tearing into Yuenan.


    ¡°I was expecting you to take one from inside the sect. We have plenty of decent talents. I was beginning to think you would only be willing to train a once in a century genius, or some talented youth of that level.¡±


    Hearing this, Yuenan could not help but chuckle, slowly shaking his head.


    ¡°They were all missing the most important element.¡±


    ¡°Which was?¡± Riese asked, dubiously.


    ¡°Fate.¡±


    ¡°Last I recall, you did not even believe in the concept. If you had picked one of them to be your disciple, then that would mean that being your disciple was their fate, Yuenan. You don¡¯t need to choose particular individuals. But this¡­How did you meet this child, in any case?¡±


    ¡°He tried to steal my coin pouch,¡± Yuenan shared, a smirk visible on his features.


    Riese sighed in exasperation, finally bothering to lift the cup he had set before her, and taking a large gulp of the dark substance. She frowned.


    ¡°You used too many leaves again.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± he asked, the slightest trace of a smirk uplifting the corner of his lip. ¡°I hadn¡¯t noticed.¡±


    Riese simply sighed.


    ¡°What¡¯s done is done, I suppose. Is the kid any good?¡± she asked.


    Yuenan shrugged.


    ¡°I believe so. His physique is excellent, at least. Assuming his disposition is suited for formless arts, with some proper nutrition I suspect he might be a potential genius.¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    Riese sipped at her tea.


    ¡°How much of one?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Is there even a point to such a question at this stage?¡±


    ¡°I suppose not. Still, I just wish to make sure he is a disciple befitting his master. You refused all offers to train the young talents within the sect. They were all hoping to catch your eye. Fate aside, if the child lacks talent, that could cause unrest within the  sect. An Elder¡¯s direct disciple who only has the strength of an outer disciple¡­ It simply  seems to be a waste.


    Yuenan shrugged.


    ¡°It was simply a whim. I felt it would be a¡­ a shame to leave him there,¡± he explained.


    Riese raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°To leave him¡­ He was a street urchin?¡± she asked, voice rising in pitch on the last few words. Yuenan shrugged, taking another sip of tea.


    ¡°He mentioned a father  once or twice. I expect he was a runaway, rather than an orphan.¡± Riese simply groaned in exasperation. ¡°A street orphan, or  a runaway¡­ that will only make matters worse.  For the sake of your reputation, you will need to be careful from this point forward.¡±


    Yuenan waved his hand, as if he were dispelling smoke.


    ¡°There is no point in worrying about this, and if I¡¯m right, his talents should be on the more impressive side.


    ¡°Do as you will,¡± Rieze sighed again. ¡°I trust you won¡¯t totally abandon the boy if his talents don¡¯t match up to your expectations.¡±


    Yuenan gestured vaguely.


    ¡°If it turns out that he can¡¯t practice martial arts, I¡¯m sure we can find something for him to do around the sect. Even in the worst case, it should still be better than a life on the streets.¡±


    ¡°But have you informed him that he has not yet qualified to become your disciple?¡± she asked.


    Yuenan¡¯s silence was more than enough of a response.


    ¡°I hope he would share those feelings of yours, in the worst case,¡± Riese said, taking her first sip of the tea. After her words a long pause filled the room,


    Riese sighed.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to see you back,¡± she said.


    Yuenan smiled softly.


    ¡°Glad to be back.¡±


    <hr>


    The Downpour, Canvas, Frontier Territory, Late Autumn, 1596 PTS


    The evening had gone well. The food at the sect was quite bland, with few spices to add flavor. In terms of taste, it was a step below the food stalls he had eaten at on occasion after a successful pickpocketing. Still, there was more than enough to satiate him, and in that sense, the food here was the greatest he had ever tasted.


    After eating, he had been led to a room at the edge of the sect. This was where he would be spending his nights, a room assigned to Jin alone. It was hewn from the same stone as the rest of the sect, as if it had been carved out of the stone by an unbelievably dedicated chiseler.


    The room itself was spartan, bearing nothing but a thin bed, an old wardrobe, and a window which provided a view out into the vastness of mud and rain. Perhaps it might have been beautiful, Jin thought, but the occlusion of the darkness and the rainfall left him unable to see much beyond the building¡¯s most immediate surroundings. He might have preferred to have no window at all, Jin thought.The room was barely the size of the closet at his father¡¯s old place, but to Jin, it was palatial. This was a place that was truly his, one that had been given to him. After tomorrow, this would be a place where, for the first time in his life, Jin truly belonged. The thought brought him no end of joy.


    As the other disciple had explained to him, such rooms were not  particularly sought after, as spray from the window tended to leave the contents of the room a bit damp. He would need to be careful about mold, apparently. Still, he could not help but delight in the mere fact that it existed. Perhaps he would be living in this room for the remainder of his life.


    Jin found that he did not dislike the thought. As he lay down on the itchy fabric of the thin blanket, he found himself expectant of what the future would bring.


    That night, Jin slept better than he had in all of his living memories. He awoke the next morning feeling refreshed, but his hands were twitching and his head high on anticipation as he waited for his soon-to-be master or another disciple to come fetch him. Today he would be performing the ritual, Jin thought, but tomorrow he would finally be learning martial arts. It was only a matter of time.


    The Downpour Sect: [A force of ascetics living within the Downpour, this little known sect is in reality one of the powerhouses of the Crucible of the Worthy, training their disciples up in the harsh conditions of their territory. While the sect existed prior to the founding of the Unorthodox Alliance, the Downpour Sect was not invited to join the alliance until years after its founding, and quickly became one of its more influential members. Though the Downpour Sect is rumored to have never produced any true immortals, it is widely believed that it bears more than one earthly immortal within its ranks.]

 205- Testing Talent

    The Downpour, Canvas, Frontier Territory, Late Autumn, 1596 PTS


    Yuenan could not help but feel his stomach slightly squirm with anticipation as he watched his prospective disciple enter the chamber. Of the elders, only himself and  Riese were present. There was no need for everyone to waste their time to watch a single disciple¡¯s talents be tested. Only if the results were particularly positive or negative would they even need to be informed. In fact, normally no elders would even be present at all. It was only Jin¡¯s status as his potential disciple that had driven Yuenan to watch.


    The test was administered by a senior disciple, an elderly woman whose talents had left her unable to progress past the earliest stages of the core formation realm. This test had been her role in the sect for almost two decades now, and she was finally reaching the end of her lifespan. Yuenan suddenly realized that he didn¡¯t know her name.


    That was the way of an unorthodox sect, Yuenan mused. One burned brightly, given the opportunity to shine, but to pause on the path was to doom oneself to a slow descent into oblivion. The woman was fortunate. She had lasted far longer than most in her situation. In a way, that too could be considered a sort of talent. But compared to her, Yuenan had simply lived for too long.


    ¡°Did you warn him of the importance of the test?¡± asked Riese, watching the boy with a concerned gaze. She had accompanied him into the chamber, standing beside him off to the side of the room. Yuenan did not move his body, his eyes focused intently on his potential disciple, but his mind¡¯s eye regarded the soul of his fellow elder.


    The woman held a shiny horn the size of a dagger. The horn itself was an opalescent white, but pale blue mist slowly felt from it, tinging the color of the air. The anxiety in Jin¡¯s expression was almost palpable as he remained still, watching the item steadily move toward his forehead, allowing her to tap the mudfiend horn to the skin above his cerebral dantian. The energies flowed inside, and Jin twitched visibly as he felt what Yuenan imagined must have been an entirely alien sensation.


    Yuenan could not even remember how he had felt when miasma first entered him. He might as well have been a different person entirely than the boy from all those years ago.


    ¡°Are you concerned?¡± asked Riese.


    ¡°I can¡¯t say I¡¯m not,¡± Yuenan replied. ¡°But I have confidence in him. He has the willpower for this path. If he lacked the talent, fate would have played a cruel trick on us both.¡± Riese did not respond. It would be only moments before the test would end, and the boy¡¯s talents would be revealed.


    Finally, the tester removed the treasure from Jin¡¯s skull, and glanced over to Yuenan, a shocked expression on her face.


    ¡°Elder Ding, Elder Hukari, his talent- it- it¡¯s of the fourth grade!¡±


    Yuenan grinned, his gaze veering sharply towards the boy. He knew his eyes had been good. Such a talent was excellent, the best the sect had seen in half a decade.


    ¡°It seems your eyes were good,¡± muttered Riese. ¡°Perhaps it is indeed better that you did nor warn him,¡± she muttered.


    ¡°Confidence will do a young man good,¡± agreed Yuenan. ¡°In moderation, of course.¡±


    ¡°If a fourth grade direct disciple lacks confidence, that will be the fault of his master.¡±


    Yuenan chuckled.


    ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right.¡±


    Before them, Jin glanced around uncertainly, clearly unaware of what the results meant, nor what had been at stake for him. Yuenan walked towards the boy, informing the proctor with a nod that her role had ended. She bowed, and replaced the horn into a fur-lined case before rapidly leaving the room. Yuenan and Riese then approached the young disciple.


    ¡°Congratulations, Jin,¡± she said. ¡°A talent at the fourth grade is quite rare. We haven¡¯t seen one of your level in a number of years.¡±


    The boy blinked as he finally took more notice of the strange woman before him.


    ¡°Thank you, um, Elder Hukari?¡± he asked.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Riese smiled.


    ¡°That is indeed my name. Your master can be considered my¡­ benefactor, so you will probably be seeing a lot of me in the coming days.¡±


    ¡°Is a fourth grade talent really so good?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Extremely so,¡± said Yuenan.


    ¡°What grade were you, Master?¡± Jin asked.


    Yuenan smiled.


    ¡°I was ranked at the third grade, so your talent should be a full stage greater than mine. Of course, you must remember that talent is not everything. Diligence is far more important, and is what will truly dictate your path. You must keep that in mind.¡±


    Jin nodded his head, paying close attention to Yuenan¡¯s every word. To Yuenan¡¯s side, Riese chuckled.


    ¡°Ever the instructor,¡± she said. ¡°It is a wonder that you had not taken a disciple until this point, Yuenan.¡±


    The older man shrugged, saying what he always had.


    ¡°I was waiting for fate to present itself, and finally it has.¡± He glanced back down to Jin. ¡°Now, I believe we have a ceremony to get to.¡± Jin brightened visibly, and Yuenan smiled down at the boy. ¡°Riese, I¡¯ll see you later.¡±


    ¡°I shall soon have to give the both of you my congratulations again,¡± she said.


    Yuenan led his charge towards his private chambers, which were large enough to have a separate room for drinking tea. Yuenan had performed the rites with his own master in the exact same chamber. He had already prepared the necessary implements, such as the tea set, the incense, and the table and cushions. Yuenan sat down in his seat, and with a wave of his hand, directed Jin to begin.


    The boy had been instructed of all he needed to do yesterday, by another of the senior disciples. Yuenan would have to trust that the boy had learned properly. As it was only the two of them in the chamber, Yuenan would likely ignore any minor slips or mistakes, but he would have to admit that he would be disappointed if any occurred. This ceremony was one of the most important martial traditions, after all. It needed to be taken seriously.


    The ceremony was shorter than most, the way that Yuenan preferred it. His own master had forced him to recite a full incense stick¡¯s time worth of lines, on top of the tea ceremony and an expanded set of bows. Personally, he was content with just the bare minimum.


    Jin carefully lit the sticks of incense, setting them near the center of the table. He then set to brewing the tea. The boy was unpracticed, and his hands seemed to be shaking without nervousness. As the leaves scattered into the cup, one nearly missed the cup¡¯s edge and fell to the table, but fortunately it fell the other way upon contacting the cup¡¯s edge.


    Yuenan had not wished for Jin to make a complex drink, and nor did he trust the boy with his best leaves. The ceremony itself was a formality, of course, as in reality, Yuenan had considered Jin as his disciple since the moment they had left Crucible¡¯s Edge together.


    As the tea steeped, Jin bowed once before the heavens, reciting his appreciation for the immortals who had paved the path of martial arts. He bowed once again before the earth, and thanked the Crucible and the Downpour for giving life to him, and for giving him a home. A third time, Jin bowed before his Master. Yuenan gave the boy a sharp nod, and listened quietly as Jin recited his lines.


    ¡°I accept you, Yuenan Ding, as my sole Master, and will accept all lessons and responsibilities that you wish to impart to me. Should I stray from this oath, may my soul be washed clean.¡±


    He then proffered the cup of tea to Yuenan, who accepted it. He took a long sip, noting from the flavor alone how unpracticed his disciple was in its preparation. He would have to ensure the boy learned better. No disciple of his would be a poor brewer.


    ¡°Jin Luo,¡± he said, ¡°I accept you into my lineage as my first disciple.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for everything, Master. I will repay this debt.¡±


    Yuenan smiled, touched by the boy¡¯s earnestness.


    ¡°There is no need, Jin. Taking a disciple is a commitment, and all the repayment I need is you to work hard. Tomorrow, we will begin your training. Be fed and ready by mid-morning.¡±


    Hearing this, the boy visibly withered. It seemed that he had been anticipating teachings as early as this afternoon. Most of the day still remained, after all. But Yuenan had his own practice to continue, and he had been forced to put it off during the days of travel. Even at his age, progression was vital.


    ¡°Patience is critical, Jin,¡± he explained. ¡°A practitioner must know when to move forward, when to pause, and when to take a step backwards. Impatience is the surest of all paths, and leads you right towards your death.¡± Jin hesitated, clearly upset, but unable or unwilling to express that fact.


    ¡°I understand, Master,¡± he said simply.


    Once again, Yuenan noticed how mature Jin was for his age. Much more so than most of the children who arrived at the sect. It was a sign of a rough childhood, he knew. In many ways, Jin was a product of his environment. Yuenan was certain that the environment of the sect would be exactly what the boy needed in order to develop into a healthy man. It had done so for himself, after all.


    Talent Grades: [Grades of talent were an invention of the Downpour Sect, a measurement system that would not have been of use to most others. It measured how well the dantians and meridians of a prospective entrant responded to formless miasma. The grades ranged from first to fifth, with the first grade being incapable of using formless miasma, and the fifth being someone who already has a perfect formless physique prior to even reaching the foundation refinement realm. The fourth grade is extremely uncommon, while the fifth might only be encountered once in a century. Notably, despite this concept of ¡®talent¡¯ existing, it does not account for all forms of talent, such as those granted by the practitioner¡¯s mental aptitude for martial arts.]

 206- The Traitors Due

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Karie sighed with relief as she finally arrived at the Redwater Sect. She had been laying low for several days, and had finally found a chance to return. She had been happy to learn that the others had also made it out of the situation. At first, she had simply assumed the rest to be dead. Not only had there been the titan and the Supreme Elder, but there had also been the Shade that she had been warned of, their true target.


    Despite the dangers and threats, Karie had been happy to witness Juen¡¯s death. With him gone, the only threat to her appointment was Lorelei. It was almost embarrassing to think about how she was so threatened by a woman who had not even completed her core formation. In fact, it was rumored that the only reason Lorelei had reached that stage at all was her use of medicines and treasures to forcefully boost her realm. Regardless of whether or not that was the case, Karie had no doubt that the other woman would have done it if necessary.


    As always, the front entrance was guarded by a pair of sect members from the Iron Palace, and with nods of their heads, she was immediately allowed inside. The building¡¯s veneer had already been replaced, leaving no exterior sign of damage from the explosives that had been tossed inside mere weeks before. Even the char marks on the streets were gone, having been erased from existence by the street cleaners.


    The moment Karie stepped past the sect members, she found herself immediately faced with the appearance of Vice-Leader Rachel. Karie¡¯s stomach dropped as she witnessed the cruel smile on the woman¡¯s face. Had the woman been waiting for her? How had she known when Karie would arrive?


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you follow me?¡± Rachel asked, and Karie could tell that it was not a question at all.


    ¡°Is something the matter? I communicated my survival to you the other day.¡±


    Rachel began walking down the hall without responding, and Karie followed, anxious about what might be happening. Was the extant practitioner annoyed at her disappearance, that she had missed two days worth of teaching disciples? That couldn¡¯t be it, she thought. Rachel was known for being rather lax with such things.


    Karie found herself unsure what actions to take. There was a chance that this was a minor affair and Rachel was acting serious without a particular reason. That would be very much in character for the eccentric woman. Still, something felt off to Karie, and she debated attempting to leave the sect. She was only stopped by her ambition; Karie still needed the Redwater Sect¡¯s power and influence if she was to have any hope of competing with Lorelei.


    Karie found herself untying and retying her hair, a nervous tic she would have to fix at some point. She was not quite sure why she was so uneasy. Was it because she had no idea how she might fight Rachel, if the two were to be at odds? Perhaps it was simply because of her aversion to Rachel in general. She was rarely able to even sense the extant practitioner¡¯s soul, a matter which bothered her very much. It was unnerving, as if the woman was not actually present.


    She was still pondering the matter when they arrived at a familiar part of the sect, Karie¡¯s hands still remaining by the back of her head. Moments after they arrived, the Sect Leader stepped out of the room that had been restricted for the exclusive use of himself and his disciples. Karie had initially been curious, but it had become clear over time that the room was merely designed to assist with meditation.


    Cyrus frowned as he noticed the two¡¯s presence, and glanced backwards at his meditation room.


    ¡°...Not here,¡± he said.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go to one of the training rooms. We¡¯re not doing this in the conference room. That table was far too expensive,¡± replied Rachel.


    ¡°Do you plan to tell me what is happening?¡± asked Karie. ¡°I have only been gone for two days.¡±


    ¡°While you were gone,¡± said the Riverfiend, ¡°We had a meeting about our plans moving forward, and decided that we would be waiting for an opportunity.¡±


    As they walked, he gave Karie more details about the situation in Little Celah, some of which she had seen for herself during her escape from the district. It did not take long for them to arrive at the training room, which was already empty, its hatch opened as if in preparation for their arrival. The moment the three stepped through, the pressure lock sealed the room shut behind them.


    Karie relaxed her hands, taking a deep breath and settling them to her side. She got the feeling that it might be best to be ready for whatever might happen within this room.


    Rachel smiled, starting the conversation.


    ¡°Before she died,¡± she explained, ¡°Janottka and I had quite the conversation. As it turns out, she had quite a lot to say. About you specifically.¡±


    Karie¡¯s blood froze, and internally, she cursed the Shade for selling her out. It seemed the stereotypes were true. One could never trust a machine. She hesitated, trying to decide what to do. After a short pause, she frowned, slightly flustered, and let out a long sigh.


    ¡°I did meet her,¡± she admitted, ¡°and we made a deal. She suggested I join up with you, and told me there would be an opportunity to deal with my enemies if I did. But she did not ask for anything in return. I assumed she was just trying to use me to cause problems in the clan.¡±


    Cyrus narrowed his eyes, unsurprisingly doubtful of her words.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    ¡°That¡¯s likely the case,¡± admitted Rachel. ¡°But I would have thought you would inform us about this in advance. Such as when we told you we would be hunting her.¡±


    Karie tensed, prepared to react to any attack that might arrive. It was clear from the previous conversation that the other two were concerned that there might be a fit. Without such concerns, there would have been no problem having this conversation in the meditation or conference rooms.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t believe it was pertinent,¡± she said. ¡°There would be no conflict of interest if I was hunting Juen while you hunted the Shade. I did not even know she was a Shade until you told me.¡±


    ¡°Loyalty is too much to ask for, but you agreed not to be a liability,¡± Cyrus insisted.


    ¡°I agreed to no such thing,¡±Karie replied. ¡°I agreed to serve you for a time, and ultimately to give you influence over my clan. I made no promises about telling you everything I knew.¡±


    Rachel sneered.


    ¡°Do you think we care about the semantics, Karie?¡±


    Something in the way the Riverfiend was glancing at Karie made her feel concerned.


    ¡°What are you  looking to achieve here?¡± she asked. ¡°We both know that trust is too much to ask. You aren¡¯t acting logically.¡±


    ¡°Do I need to?¡± the Riverfiend asked. I simply wish to preserve our working relationship. The current situation does not appear to be working.¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t just about the lie of omission, Karie,¡± Rachel added. ¡°You also left us to die.¡±


    ¡°What could I have done?¡± she snarled. ¡°You know full well how dangerous that place was. I might not have escaped if I started hunting you down.¡±


    ¡°We aren¡¯t partners, Karie. You need us far more than we need you.¡±


    As if on cue, the Riverfiend suddenly lunged towards Karie, his sword sliding up smoothly from its sheath as if it was sliding along a rail.


    The martial world could be harsh at times, thought Karie. But it was not as if she had not seen it coming. The moment she saw even the slightest twitch from the Riverfiend, Karie reacted by expelling thick green mist from her body, stalling his motions before they finished. Her hands flashed to her twin scabbards, raising her blades just in time to parry away an overhand strike from the man.


    ¡°You want to kill me for this?¡± she asked, shocked by his actions. But the strike swerved back, the first in a torrent of motion it took all her ability to restrain.


    ¡°We want to teach you a lesson,¡± Rachel explained. ¡°It was my idea, though Cyrus was not difficult to convince.¡±


    ¡°And they call me the demon,¡± she sneered, stepping forward in an attempt to pressure Cyrus back. He took the step, but used his reach advantage to losslessly continue his fusillade of motion. However, with the assistance of Karie¡¯s enhanced senses, she was able to discern minor details about the attack. The blows were slowing, the man¡¯s sword shaking slightly at the tip. He was weaker than when they had last fought, still slightly injured, it seemed. But from his movements alone, it was difficult to discern. If nothing else, Cyrus Yu was certainly a hardy individual.


    ¡°Bold,¡± she muttered, focusing her blows with as much strength as possible, sending vibrations scattering into Cyrus¡¯s sword so as to weaken his grip. Hoping to regain his bearings, Cyrus quickly retreated, moving so rapidly that Karie found herself unable to prevent it.


    Before she could close the distance, the world suddenly seemed to spin as copies of Cyrus split up from the source, skidding around her at the limits of heer perception. It was impossible for Karie to guess which was real, and which was just an illusion. This was Rachel¡¯s doing, she thought. Karie sneered


    ¡°Can¡¯t beat me on my own, so you¡¯re resorting to cheap tricks? How dishonorable of you.¡± The Riverfiend did not respond to her provocation, but Rachel laughed as if she had made a joke.


    ¡°How ironic to hear such words emerge from your mouth. I find myself doubtful you even know the meaning of ¡®honor.¡¯¡± Karie was now the one who had to actively disregard the goading words, aware that she would not be able to handle the other woman at least until Cyrus was injured or dead. She slashed at one of the clones, but her blade passed through without issue, as if the image did not exist at all.


    Karie attacked clone after clone, but her blades passed through all of them, not even dispersing like mist around the area. Just how did this technique of Rachel¡¯s function, she wondered? It did not seem to work in the same manner as any of the extant techniques she had witnessed before. Even Karie¡¯s soul senses did not appear to be functioning properly, as she could sense traces of a ¡®soul¡¯ from each of the images.


    Karie continued to fend off the image clones, but found herself tied down by them, to the point where she was unable to get her bearings, still unsure of the location where the Riverfiend might be hiding.


    ¡°Coward,¡± she muttered, in hope of a response. Seeing that there was none, Karie slashed out her right arm to check another of the clones, but inadvertently left her backside unguarded. It was not an opportunity that the Riverfiend would miss. He slammed into her from the side, sending Karie skidding across the ground.


    It seemed that in the end, she thought, none of the clones had actually been him in the first place. Due to the force of the collision, which sent her sprawling, it took Karie another moment to get her bearings, but that moment alone was enough to end the battle. Karie felt the cool touch of a blade¡¯s top, drawing just the slightest of cuts into her throat. She scowled, embarrassed at her mistake.


    Rachel chuckled, standing over Karie¡¯s downed body, as she was held down by Cyrus¡¯s blade. A bitter taste was left in Karie¡¯s mouth due to the fight, and she had half a mind to defend herself, to claim she would have won if Rachel did not involve herself. To her credit, she did not do so. Instead, Karie simply kept quiet, and listened.


    ¡°We¡¯ll be giving you a second chance,¡± said Rachel. ¡°I just wanted to make sure you were aware of your standing here. Matters will change once you become the Matriarch, but while you are in the sect, you are our subordinate, and making deals with our enemies will not be accepted. We could always hand you over to your second cousin or the Justice Office. It might be best to keep that in mind, going forwards. Do you understand?¡±


    Karie glared at the pair, but was left with no choice. She gritted her teeth, and spoke the words that Rachel was looking for.


    ¡°I understand.¡±


    The woman smiled, and Karie decided that of the three of them, neither she nor the Riverfiend were the demon. Without a doubt, Rachel fit that role the best.


    The Hunt for the Twinjade Demon: [Due to the pressing manhunt for the terrorist Triezal, the hunt for criminal Karie Hadal has apparently been placed on the backburner, as it seems wherever she is, this martial artist has hidden herself well. The Hadal Clan has again promised that they are not hiding this prodigal daughter of their Matriarch, though many still doubt this claim, particularly in online spaces. The Justice Office¡¯s official statement is that the hunt will restart once they acquire actionable intelligence.]

 207- Lorelei

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    The studio was cold and dark, but Du Qin did not even notice. He flexed his soul, pouring the dense violet energies through his meridians as a flower bloomed on the humanoid form before him, blossoming and curling into the intricately formed mesh of the sculpture.


    The sculpture depicted a young man, but it was composed of pure steel, constructed from countless tiny flowers, their petals wrapped around one another. It was an incomplete work, but every new manifestation brought it one step closer to its final form. Du Qin took pride in his work, as he always had. Even in his childhood, when he had been a poor artist, looked down on by the family, Du Qin had prided himself in the products of his abilities.


    In all the years that he had lived, the works that Du Qin had created would be enough to fill more than one gallery. Unfortunately, most had been lost when he was forced to abandon the clan¡¯s ancestral home on Canvas. The memories burned at him, but rather than the war that had burned away his home, Du Qin held more hatred for his internal foes.


    He had failed to become the Patriarch, centuries before, forever losing the opportunity. Moreover, that impertinent little girl had overtaken his influence within the clan, using the exile process as a trick to shift the hearts and minds of their relatives. He should have killed her grandfather when he had the chance.


    As Du Qin pondered on where to summon his next lotus, a ping from the hatch informed him that someone wished to enter. He had sensed the soul¡¯s approach, but had chosen to ignore it.


    ¡°Enter,¡± he commanded, not turning his eyes away from his sculpture.


    The hatch slid open, and Laoin entered the room, bowing in apology for the interruption. He was a respectful young man, Du Qin thought. Arrogant, but among spirit refiners, who wasn¡¯t? Of all Du Qin¡¯s subordinates, he trusted Laoin the most. That was not to say he could not conceive of the potential for the man to betray him, but that he believed none could offer the man a better offer than he had already.


    ¡°Supreme Elder,¡± said Laoin, ¡°Lorelei has requested a meeting.¡±


    Du Qin¡¯s brow wrinkled as he considered Laoin¡¯s words. He finally turned, eyeing the other man¡¯s expression.


    ¡°Do you know the occasion?¡± he asked.


    Laoin shrugged.


    ¡°Heina didn¡¯t say.¡±


    Du Qin frowned.


    ¡°She asked personally?¡±


    ¡°It seems that her ¡®Young Miss¡¯ is rather insistent on meeting with you,¡± said Laoin in lieu of answering directly.


    ¡°I see,¡± muttered Du Qin, pursing his lips. He glanced back at his incomplete work, and sighed as he was forced to set it aside for the moment. One of his bony fingers rubbed at the side of the sculpture¡¯s cheek, then slipped from its cold surface.


    ¡°I suppose I can spare some time,¡± he said.


    It did not take long to travel to Lorelei¡¯s office. The Hadal Corporation¡¯s offices were all located inside of the Clan¡¯s headquarters, after all. The heart of the merchant faction¡¯s influence was located mere minutes away from Du Qin¡¯s own private quarters. As he arrived, the hatch slid open invitingly. Unhesitant, Du Qin strode in, being met with a wide desk.


    Lorelei¡¯s desk was not composed of wood, but instead a finely worked article of stone, expertly carved to generate an almost domineering aura. But this effect was subverted by the nature of the woman seated on its other side.


    Du Qin¡¯s great grand-niece was short and trim, small enough to make her seem younger than she truly was, not that such slight differences mattered to a man who was more than five times her age. Aside from her stature, the most unusual feature of Lorelei¡¯s was her hair, which, unusually for a clan member, she kept short and unbraided. It was a bold style, of the sort currently popular among the mortal Seiyal of Tseludia, rather than the martial artists.


    Personally, Du Qin found it improper. Not that he would take the effort to say such a thing. Lorelei was, after all, one of the few weaklings of only the core formation realm that Du Qin would pay attention to, and she was from Du Qin¡¯s side of the family, so there was little need to antagonize her. Despite Lorelei¡¯s low realm, her influence was comparable to his own, due to the influence she had managed to grasp over the merchant faction. This was aided in no small part due to the subservient act Heina put on towards the girl.


    Lorelei had always lacked talent for martial arts, he knew, uplifted by the medicines and treasures of the merchant faction. Despite this, however, the girl had a keen mind, and had made herself a contender for Heir despite the influence of the spirit refiners Juen and Karie in her way. She almost had more influence over the merchant faction than her father, who was the leader in name.


    Of course, she would never be able to become the clan¡¯s heir unless she was to advance, but that was likely nothing but a matter of time. There were ways to bring even the least skilled of martial artists to this level. They would be the weakest of spirit refiners, and never advance a step further, but even just to reach this realm was a worthy cause.


    While Lorelei relaxed in a chair behind the desk, her hands steepled in an apparent attempt to intimidate, a far more imposing force stood behind her. Heina Hadal, the strongest force in the merchant faction, and Lorelei¡¯s staunchest supporter.


    Compared to her ¡®Young Miss,¡¯ Heina looked much more like the stereotype of a genesis practitioner. She had a build that would appear more at home on a Jobu than a Seiyal, bearing the thick muscles of a body refiner.


    ¡°Is something the matter, Niece?¡± Du Qin asked, as he entered the room.


    The young woman smiled up at him from where she sat, a decidedly false expression. Du Qin knew well that while the woman was not a true snake like the Matriarch, she held no care for him. It was just as well, for he held none for her.


    ¡°Must I have a reason to wish to see my Great Grand-Uncle¡¯s face?¡± she asked, putting on an innocent face. ¡°You so rarely choose to visit, these days.¡±If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Though she implied them to be close, Du Qin had barely met the girl in person a handful of times over the years, due to his isolation and use of proxies.


    ¡°Forgive me if I doubt such a claim,¡± he said.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to worry, Grand-Uncle. I don¡¯t intend to ask about Juen¡¯s death. Regardless of how it happened, I¡¯m sure there was a good reason for it.¡±


    Du Qin did not respond, but he was slightly surprised by how quickly the girl had brought the matter up. She was implying that she knew he had killed the boy. There would be no way for her to be sure, of course. She would be fishing for his reaction to her words.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he replied. ¡°I was very upset to find that Karie had killed him.¡±


    ¡°That is a matter I am curious about, however,¡± she said. ¡°If she killed him, why did you allow Karie to remain alive? Did you make some sort of deal with the Matriarch to spare her? Does this imply that it was her intention as well for him to be killed?¡±


    Du Qin could not help but scowl when he heard her.


    ¡°Are you annoyed that I did not do your dirty work?¡± he asked, willfully ignoring her talk of Sirena.


    The younger woman shrugged.


    ¡°A little bit, perhaps.¡±


    He snorted, unable to keep the annoyance out of his tone.


    ¡°Your honesty is appreciated,¡± he said. ¡°But let¡¯s speak of why I¡¯m here.¡±


    ¡°I simply wish to know your plans following Juen¡¯s death, Great Uncle,¡± she replied. ¡°Are you going to support Karie?¡±


    Du Qin sneered.


    ¡°There is no need to worry about that. If I need to wait one more generation, I will do so.¡±


    Lorelei nodded.


    ¡°So you¡¯re saying you have no intention of interfering with my goals. I do appreciate that, Great Uncle, but¡­. I¡¯m a merchant, after all. I¡¯m sure we can come to a more¡­ mutually beneficial arrangement. It would not do for us to be at odds the way you are with Matriarch Sirena, after all.¡±


    Du Qin frowned, narrowing his gaze at the girl.


    ¡°What sort of arrangement are you wishing for?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I simply don¡¯t think you¡¯re so close with the Ceirrans that you aren¡¯t willing to accept a deal,¡± she replied. ¡°I¡¯m your best choice, after all.¡±


    Du Qin smiled, but just like his Grand-Niece¡¯s, his was fake.


    ¡°I see,¡± he said. ¡°You want my support, and my faction¡¯s as well, I would assume. There is no need to press,¡± he said. ¡°I also feel that there is room for negotiation. Do you wish for any particular support, or just the use of my name?¡±


    She shrugged.


    ¡°How about we discuss what I can do for you, first?¡±


    The discussion lasted for several minutes more, as the terms of a deal were discussed and finalized, before finally the Supreme Elder left, content with the results of their meeting. Lorelei, on the other hand, merely felt relieved. Despite her pluck, even a mere conversation with an immortal was enough to stress a person out. If she had annoyed him, Du Qin might have simply killed her then and there was nothing that even Heina could do to stop him. A steel lotus covered in viscera would be all that was left behind where Lorelei had been resting.


    Lorelei stared at her relative¡¯s back as he left, quietly contemplating the short discussion that had just taken place.


    ¡°How trustworthy would you say he is, Heina?¡± she asked, making an effort to relax her tone.


    The larger woman snorted, lowering her guard somewhat now that the threat had left.


    ¡°As always, he¡¯ll do whatever he feels like. He¡¯s the boldest coward I¡¯ve ever known, Young Miss. But I do expect him to at least hold to some of what he¡¯s agreed to. He would likely have supported you over Karie for the vote regardless. He will not willingly allow any of the Matriarch¡¯s children to follow in her footsteps.¡±


    Lorelei nodded slowly, leaning back in her seat as her mind spun with threats and opportunities.


    Following news of Juen¡¯s death, Lorelei¡¯s position had greatly stabilized. Heina had always been her supporter, of course, but with his first choice gone, Elder Sulno, ever the opportunist, had immediately flocked to her side. Moreover, Elder Keitel had also died, which left only the support of Supreme Elder Du Qin, Elder Laoin, and the Matriarch. She would need to deal with the Matriarch later, but if she could acquire the support of the Supreme Elder, Laoin¡¯s vote would follow, and the pressure on the Matriarch to make her decision would mount.


    When all pressures were set against her, Lorelei was certain that even a woman as strong-willed as the Jade Empress of Pain would be forced to admit defeat.


    With those thoughts in mind, she turned to Heina once more. Lorelei had long found that voicing her thoughts aloud aided in developing her plans and ideas, and her protector was almost always nearby to serve as a sounding board.


    ¡°The Redwater Sect has partnered with the Venin Group,¡± she noted, ¡°and they appear to be preparing to expand into the Seiyal pharmaceutical market.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, Young Miss,¡± replied her protector and advisor. ¡°The Venin group is a pharmaceutical powerhouse in the Staiven market. They could be a threat to our profits, if this push is as forceful as it seems.¡±


    Lorelei hummed slightly, considering deeper.


    ¡°We shouldn¡¯t blindly trust that they¡¯ll fail to enter the market, and the corporation¡¯s finances are too strong for us to threaten using capital. We¡¯ll have to put pressure on their new partner.¡±


    ¡°In what manner?¡± Heina asked. She voiced the question as if she were a tutor training her charge. Heina had essentially filled that role for all of Lorelei¡¯s life, due to a life debt she owed to Lorelei¡¯s father. Even in her early thirties, Lorelei was still treated this way by the woman, but Lorelei did not mind. She still appeared young, after all, and compared to a woman of ninety years, Lorelei was certainly still a youngster.


    ¡°We¡¯ll use the gangs that they pissed off- it shouldn¡¯t take much effort to cause some border conflicts for them, and expend some of their resources. After the Ceirran faction¡¯s raid, they¡¯ve been largely hiding within their compound. We¡¯ll want to draw them out and weaken them.¡±


    ¡°And what else?¡± asked Heina.


    ¡°Contact that assassin that Elder Wei found,¡± she said. ¡°I have some work for her.¡±


    ¡°I will schedule a meeting,¡± replied Heina, her tone as smooth as ever.


    Lorelei nodded at the woman, then sighed, eyes glancing outwards into nothing.


    ¡°I must admit,¡± she said, her mind having switched to another focus. ¡°Karie might be peerless at one thing: taking action heedless of consequences. I could learn a thing or two from her.¡±


    Heina frowned sternly.


    ¡°There is nothing to be learned from fools, Young Miss.¡±


    Lorelei chuckled.


    ¡°I¡¯m not so sure.¡±


    Hadal Corporation: [A pharmaceutical developer and defense contractor, the Hadal Corporation is the corporate manifestation of the Clan, wholly owned by the clan leader, and largely run by what is called the clan¡¯s ¡®merchant faction.¡¯ While it is not the clan¡¯s primary source of funds, it is the clan¡¯s source of ¡®legitimate¡¯ funds. As per the will of the Matriarch, the Hadal Corporation has operated largely within the third district, for the purpose of increasing the overall capital of the station¡¯s Canvasian population. To numerous members of the corporation, this is seen as the largest hindrance to the corporation¡¯s potential growth.]

 208- Swimmer in the Sea of Chaos

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    There were few Merris on the station, one of the rarer species. That only made hiding more difficult. Not only did Triezal need to hide from the government, he also needed to do so from his own force, the Heirs of Ottrien as well. But the unrest within the organization was also something he could use for his own goals. He simply needed to be bold.


    While his species was unusual, and Triezal often stood out, unlike the other Celans, a Merris could pass for a Seiyal if his skin and hair were covered. He had also acquired a pair of golden contacts months ago just in case, so that he would be able to hide the color of his eyes. Now, it finally had the chance to see use. With his hands gloved and a mask over his face, Triezal looked as if he were either a burn victim or a cultist, but nobody who passed by believed he was anything but an eccentric Seiyal, and that would do.


    He had not spent much time in Canvas Town before. This was the heart of an enemy¡¯s territory, and an alien landscape where few of his people would be seen. Seiyal-dominated slums looked very different from those of the Celans. The glyphs and charms that were endemic to Celan businesses and residences were all lacking, and the graffiti and trash that one could see littering the ground and shrouding the stonework and Staiven-designed metal. Most of the hatches around were painted with artwork depicting martial artists or the powerful creatures from their homeworld known as ¡®fiends.¡¯


    This neighborhood was the home of the Feng Gang, a subsidiary force of the Hadal Clan in name, but one that was secretly aligned with the Heirs of Ottrien. On paper, at least. If one was to be particular, Lao Feng, the faction¡¯s leader, was a member of the Epon, just as Triezal used to be. That would be his in.


    In all honesty, Triezal thought, as he approached the gang headquarters, he was not actually sure why he had come, nor what he wanted. He was cut off from his contacts, forced to hide from the Heirs and from the government. This might have been his time to hide, to free himself from his criminal lifestyle. And yet, here he was, diving right back in. It had felt natural, like the obvious next step, but he could not help but analyze his own thoughts.


    Triezal knew that he liked solving problems. He enjoyed using his skills, his acumen. Was that a flaw, he wondered? His skills lent themselves best to criminal activity, but surely that was not all he was good for. He had been a technician, once, after all.


    Perhaps it was instead the risk itself that had driven him here, and he was secretly unwilling to live a safe, relaxed life.


    Triezal sighed, avoiding the curious, watchful gazes of the alley¡¯s residents. Analyzing the reasons for one¡¯s own actions was difficult, he thought. He had been driven on this path by his failure to recover Rachel, and had been fearful of what would happen to a disgraced Magister who failed at something so important. But had he submitted himself for punishment what would have really happened? More likely than not, he would simply have been returned to Janaste, no longer given permission to serve outside the organization¡¯s heart. He would be brought back to languish under Anteky¡¯s influence.


    Would that even be such a bad life, he wondered? No, he did not regret leaving the station. Triezal¡¯s mind would be his own, at any cost. No matter how poor his current situation, Triezal would strive to regret nothing.


    Perhaps he was doomed to this sort of life, unable to be content with the peace and stability of a mundane existence. But he would simply have to continue working to improve his situation. Perhaps one day he would become like Kadeki had, an old man who had fled his past and formed an empire. One could not run forever, but Triezal was not immortal.


    He arrived before the hatch, easily recognizable by the signboard that had been attached above the entrance. It opened prior to his approach, and a muscular Seiyal stepped forth from it.


    ¡°I need to speak with Lao Feng,¡± Triezal said.


    The gangster sneered at him.


    ¡°If any random mortal who showed up could see him,¡± he replied, ¡°we¡¯d be hosting every vagrant in the district.¡±


    ¡°He will want to see me,¡± Triezal replied, keeping his voice smooth, and paying close attention to his accent.


    Triezal considered his seiyin to be quite good, but he did not believe that his accent could be considered authentic. It was perhaps the weakest aspect of his disguise. On average, a Merris¡¯ voice was pitched slightly higher than that of a Seiyal, but Triezal¡¯s was well within a reasonable range.


    If he tried, Triezal could perhaps use his tools and physical capabilities to fake the abilities of a martial artist. The problem was, however, that to any real martial artist, his soul would clearly register as that of a mortal. Were it not for the fact that the souls of mortal humanoids were all so similar, his disguise might have been worthless altogether. Regardless, his true nature did not seem to have been noticed, or at least the other man did not point it out.


    ¡°Tell him that I¡¯m bearing a message from his father,¡± Triezal said.


    ¡°Haaah?¡± asked the gangster, a rude expression on his face. ¡°He doesn¡¯t have a father.¡±


    ¡°Just fucking tell him I said that, alright?¡± Triezal asked, annoyed. ¡°If he doesn¡¯t want to see me after that, I¡¯ll leave.¡±


    The gangster hesitated, and then called in the code words that Triezal had given him, before pressing the button to slam the hatch closed in Triezal¡¯s face. Triezal sighed, unsurprised by the outcome. He waited for several minutes, certain that the door would eventually open, and wasn¡¯t disappointed. This time, the rude man had a curious expression on his face, clearly wondering just what connection this mysterious burn victim might have to his leader¡¯s past.


    ¡°Are you that Riverfiend?¡± he asked. ¡°I remember him and the boss both came from off station.¡±


    Triezal chuckled.


    ¡°Not quite,¡± he said.


    The gangster led him inside, past several offices and open spaces, and towards a wide room. Triezal glanced inside several of the rooms and was surprised by the number of scantily clad Seiyal women who were present. Was this place the home of a martial force, or a brothel? The room¡¯s hatch opened upon their approach, and the gangster gave Triezal one final curious glance before returning the way he had come as the hatch slid shut behind him.


    Seated on a couch at the far end of the room was a Seiyal, roughly middle-aged in appearance. He was a sei, and his build was very athletic but his was the sort of build where it was clear that he worked out every inch of his body in equal proportion. Lao Feng, one of the few products of soul replacement technology who resided on Tseludia Station. Triezal had not met the man before, as his true identity was a secret of the highest nature. Still, Triezal had a great deal of experience with the program. Back in Janaste, he had some involvement with some of the other false Seiyal. Mere weeks before, he had also been rescued from the Redwater Sect by Mung Seo, another product of the program.


    But Lao Feng was different, as he had been living among the Canvasians for far longer.


    ¡°This was not a code I expected to hear any time soon,¡± said the flickering practitioner. ¡°And particularly not from an outlaw such as yourself.¡±


    In the privacy of this room, Laott spoke in Celan, rather than the Seiyin that he had undoubtedly grown accustomed to.


    ¡°Your senses are quite good,¡± chuckled Triezal, sliding the mask from his face as he lowered the robe¡¯s hood.


    ¡°As a spirit refiner, my senses might even be comparable to your own, Magister. By the way, I¡¯m quite curious¡­ just what was it that you did to attract all this attention?¡±


    The spirit refiner¡¯s smile was eerie, Triezal thought, feeling slightly uncomfortable. If he gambled poorly here, he would fall into dire straits.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I shouldn¡¯t discuss the matter,¡± he said. ¡°Regardless, it is less about what I did, and more about what I did, and more about what they are worried I might do.¡±


    ¡°I was told that you were a traitor,¡± Lao Feng said, inspecting Triezal with amusement.


    ¡°Astna sold me out to the government to protect her own skin,¡± he growled, channeling his frustration at the backstabbing woman. ¡°If she contacted you already, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve heard the news.¡±


    The martial artist nodded solemnly.


    ¡°Deuvar and the Leader,¡± he said.


    Triezal nodded in return. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    ¡°Assassinated by the Hadal Clan, I suspect.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure whether you¡¯re aware, but you¡¯re actually not the only person she assigned us to find,¡± said Lao.


    Triezal raised an eyebrow, his curiosity successfully piqued


    ¡°Who else?¡±


    The false Seiyal shrugged.


    ¡°Some woman named Yun. A poisoner, apparently.¡±


    Hearing that, a few pieces fit themselves together in Triezal¡¯s mind. He had met the woman before, when she had killed the traitor months before. Was she the assassin that had killed Deuvar? If so, it would be no surprise that Astna would wish to hunt her down. There might be some room for leverage there, though he would need to think on the matter more.


    ¡°So she¡¯s figured out the killer, then,¡± said Triezal. ¡°As expected of the Spider.¡±


    ¡°She also implied,¡± Lao continued, ¡°that you were in league with this Yun.¡±


    ¡°Is that her story? I suppose it shouldn¡¯t surprise me.¡±


    ¡°Given your identity, I¡¯m inclined to think you wouldn¡¯t have hired an assassin if you wanted Deuvar or the Leader dead,¡± Lao replied.


    Triezal raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°You¡¯ve heard of me?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I still have some connections with others who went through the program. Word gets around.¡±


    Secretly, Triezal gritted his teeth as he realized who the man was referring to. He didn¡¯t wish to think about the woman, not anymore.


    ¡°If you understand, then let¡¯s talk business instead. Astna wants me dead,¡± Triezal said, ¡°because she has betrayed the Epon.¡±


    Lao Feng didn¡¯t react, unconvinced. It was as if the facade of the gangster had fallen off, leaving only the Celan agent remaining beneath.


    ¡°So you say, but I can hazard a guess as to why the Staiven want you.¡±


    Triezal shrugged, not disputing the implication.


    ¡°I did what I had to, but that wasn¡¯t the start of it. I suspect that she was the one behind the death of the Epon representative who arrived a few months ago. You must have heard about what happened at the Spacedock.¡±


    Lao Feng¡¯s eyes narrowed. He was not a fool, but Triezal still felt he had the capability to fool the man. Lao¡¯s weakness was the fact that he was not kept up to date with the happenings within the Heirs. He would not know about Triezal¡¯s participation in either the representative¡¯s death nor Janottka¡¯s. Until word returned from Janaste, years from now, the only risk was the possibility that Janottka had spoken with him.


    ¡°Why was I not informed about this matter until now?¡± Lao asked.


    ¡°I trusted Deuvar and Kadeki, and felt that the issues could be resolved internally. That plan is moot now, of course.¡± Triezal did not consider himself the greatest of liars, but with some forethought and advance planning, he could certainly put a story together.


    Lao narrowed his eyes, intently analyzing the other man. It had become a matter of choosing who to trust: the Magister or the Spider. Had it been Deuvar, Lao would have trusted him without question. The Jobu man had been more than worthy of trust and respect. But his sister¡­ Lao knew Astna to be shady, without morals. And regardless of the accusations against him, Triezal was still a Magister.


    ¡°Assuming you¡¯re telling the truth,¡± he asked, ¡°Why have you come to me?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re both from Janaste, after all,¡± Triezal replied. ¡°The Heirs of Ottrien have betrayed the Epon, and it is our duty to rebuild our forces in this system. Otherwise, it will take decades for them to return and start over. Moreover, without oversight, they will surely attempt to reverse engineer the remaining titans.¡±


    Triezal knew, of course, that there was little odds of success in such an endeavor. Without the theory, even understanding what one was looking at was impossible, not to mention the fact that the torus within would explode if tampered with.


    Lao raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°You¡¯re not saying you want to help me expand my gang, are you?¡± he asked.


    Triezal smiled.


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that take too long? It¡¯s much easier to steal someone else¡¯s accumulation.¡±


    Lao scoffed.


    ¡°You want me, a Seiyal, to take over the premier Celan organization?¡°


    ¡°I want you to help me do it. Kadeki and Deuvar are dead, and Astna holds no care for her patron. Who else can solve this?¡±


    The Seiyal scowled.


    ¡°Allow me to spell this out to you, Triezal. The racial tensions are not gone. They¡¯re not even slumbering. How long has it been since there was a riot that went around trying to kill people? That was just the civilians! People are becoming scared to venture to the other district, because they might be beaten or killed just for bumping into somebody. And the Staiven are barely doing anything to stop it. I might lose half of my connections just by making the attempt.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s new?¡± asked Triezal. ¡°You know as well as I do that it¡¯s always been there, in the background. This isn¡¯t even the worst it¡¯s ever been.¡± He shrugged, as if it were a non issue. ¡°Don¡¯t you think an organization with members of both races might be in order?


    ¡°Let us be honest, Triezal. Nobody wants that. In its current state, the fire is smoldering, and will eventually burn itself out, or at least settle down somewhat. What you¡¯re asking¡­ What you''re asking would be akin to throwing fuel onto the flames. I don¡¯t plan to take such a pointless risk.¡±


    ¡°The Hadal Clan probably won¡¯t take action,¡± Triezal replied. ¡°Their Matriarch took the opportunity to pull them out from the conflict, and she is not somebody to change her mind easily. In fact, they might even like the idea of other Seiyal taking down their greatest rival. Putting aside how it seems, the both of us know who and what you truly are. Is this not your responsibility? We can easily paint it as myself, a Celan in my own right, taking on Seiyal subordinates, if need be. Besides,¡± he said, ¡°the Heirs have never been weaker. I imagine that the situation of the Celans in the underworld will only continue to worsen, at this rate. The Hadal Clan has taken the opportunity to pull back and protect their interests, but the vultures are circling.¡±


    ¡°You believe¡­¡± said Lao Feng, wrinkling his brow.


    ¡°The Drelistai and the Umrakians are moving in,¡± nodded Triezal. ¡°Even laying low I was able to hear word of their movements. I¡¯m sure you couldn¡¯t have missed the rumors.¡±


    The ganglord frowned, silent for a few moments. Even in a station the size of Tseludia, only so many criminal organizations could reach this level. The core requirement was to have access to weapons or members at the immortal level, such as the Heirs¡¯ titans, or the Hadal Clan¡¯s Supreme Elder. Corporations and financial groups did not require such defenses, as they were guarded by the Pantheonic Government itself. Including the Heirs and the Hadal Clan, there were only four such forces at the moment, and no others could dare to confront them directly.


    ¡°And if they are,¡± Triezal continued, ¡°why shouldn¡¯t we?¡±


    ¡°Truly the icon of a Magister, aren¡¯t you?¡± sneered Lao Feng. ¡°You cannot help yourself, everything you touch falls into chaos. ¡°


    ¡°Without chaos, opportunity doesn¡¯t exist. I¡¯m a Magister, while you¡¯re just an agent, Laott. I think your choices here are simple. You continue to fulfill your mission, or you betray your people. If that¡¯s the case, then you can kill me right here.¡±


    For a moment, the practitioner appeared tempted, but he stayed his hand. Watching his eyes, Triezal could see a trace of submission, and the burning embers of ambition flicker within. Good, he thought. Loyalty alone was not enough, for a man like Lao Feng. Only once he started thinking about the opportunities would he agree to Triezal¡¯s plans.


    Triezal smiled confidently.


    ¡°Your decision is made, isn¡¯t it? Let¡¯s discuss the details.¡±


    Lao sighed, and then nodded his head firmly. Not only did the chaos represent opportunity, as Triezal had suggested, but it was also perhaps the greatest risk he had ever taken since arriving at the station.


    ¡°Fine, let us discuss it, Magister. Unlike the others, I have not lost my loyalty to our people. The true rulers of the Celans lie in Janaste, not Staive. But before we do, there is one thing I must note. This morning, the clan ordered us to pressure the Redwater Sect. Deuvar wished for us to avoid conflict with them, however.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t recommend it,¡± Triezal replied. ¡°Deuvar was right to talk the Riverfiend into leaving you be. Aside from the major forces, the Redwater Sect is perhaps the most dangerous group in the underworld, for the moment. Currently, I don¡¯t have the chips to negotiate another deal with them. Not ones I wish to spend.¡±


    Lao frowned.


    ¡°I¡¯ve fought with the Riverfiend. His strength was admirable, but nothing exceptional enough as to warrant such praise from a Magister.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re forgetting about the others,¡± Triezal replied. ¡°But their combat power isn¡¯t the main issue. The Redwater Sect¡¯s Vice Leader is a Shade.¡±


    The larger man¡¯s forehead wrinkled in astonishment.


    ¡°That can¡¯t be right,¡± he said.


    ¡°You¡¯ll have to take my word on it,¡± said Triezal, ¡°but I can confirm that she is no less capable than any of ours. It is simply best not to involve ourselves with them unless we must.¡±


    ¡°A Shade¡­¡± Lao muttered, still filled with surprise.


    ¡°As I said, we¡¯ll ignore them. I don¡¯t expect them to involve themselves much for the foreseeable future, anyhow.¡±


    ¡°Then what is your plan?¡± Lao asked.


    Triezal smiled once more, pulling a slate from within his robe and drawing some glyphs to bring up a map of the station.


    ¡°There are two major points we¡¯ll need the most if we want the foundation for a pinnacle force. The Sikreis Queendom and the Titan bases. We¡¯ll bide time, prepare ourselves, and wait for an opportunity, or, if one does not present itself¡­¡± He met Lao¡¯s gaze, eyes intent. ¡°We¡¯ll have to make one.¡±


    Perhaps Lao was right, thought Triezal, deep in the back of his mind. Perhaps he truly could not help himself. Just like the blade he held firmly strapped to his thigh, Triezal could not truly live unless shrouded in chaos. Complexity, danger, and chaos were the only ways to keep life interesting.


    The Cult of Umrak: [The Cult of Umrak, despite its name, is less of a religion and more of a lifestyle. The Cult accepts members from all races, and is perhaps the most widespread religion in the galaxy save for Depthism. The cult was founded by the Osine Umrak, though Umrak is considered a respected teacher rather than a figure worthy of worship. Umrakians revere ¡®celestial cycles,¡¯ like that of a star, galaxy, or the universe itself. Their doctrine claims that Telles exists in the second universe, and that one had existed prior to the Big Bang. Umrakians have a tendency to live in communes together, in what they claim to be a ¡®unified way of life¡¯ unavailable to those who do not share their beliefs. They are vehemently defensive of their members, and some Umrakian Communes are known for becoming involved with the criminal underworld in order to increase their funds and defenses against outsiders. The cult is known to have access to hidden channels, and many believe the Osine members of the religion are funnelling arms and resources to its members across the galaxy. In the year 1616, Umrak left the explored territories for the unexplored depths of the Frontier Territory, claiming that they will found a ¡®holy land¡¯ for the religion¡¯s members.]

 209- The Water-Striding Steps

    The Downpour, Canvas, Frontier Territory, Early Winter, 1596 PTS


    Yuenan danced across the training room¡¯s floor, each stride moving him further and faster than should have been possible. In addition, such speed certainly should have created far more momentum than Jin was witnessing. He could barely even tell what he was seeing, and that fact filled his eyes with awe and admiration for his master¡¯s power. Was this how Master Yuenan and those disciples had been walking so easily above the mud? A technique not only for battles, but also for navigating the Downpour itself.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to teach this to me?¡± Jin asked, almost surprised by the fact. It had been about three weeks since he had arrived to the sect, and in that time he had been kept constantly busy with chores and practice. Only once per day would his master stop by to teach him, every  morning after dawn. It was the highlight of his day, and the moment Jin had learned what techniques were, he could not wait until he was finally taught one. Today, it seemed, was that day.


    Yuenan nodded, smiling down at his youthful disciple.


    ¡°This is a movement technique created by our sect¡¯s first leader. It is called the Water-Striding Steps. Personally, I think it is the most vital technique you could learn, so I will be teaching it to you first.¡±


    Jin frowned, his mind making a connection.


    ¡°Do they have something to do with that fiend I saw?¡±


    Yuenan smiled at him approvingly.


    ¡°The founder once spent several weeks watching the movements of the waterstriders, analyzing the ways that they could move so swiftly, their agility and the lightness of their steps. In the end, this technique was the summation of what he learned.¡±


    Jin listened intently, his eyes wide. He recalled the great fiend¡¯s movements, the grace with which it had moved. The experience of witnessing the waterstrider had indelibly imprinted itself upon his mind as the most amazing thing the boy had ever experienced. He wondered if he would ever get the chance to see one again.


    Master Yuenan went on to explain the process of the technique, every small movement of both body and miasma that was necessary to perform it. From his few weeks of practice, Jin already felt that he was relatively proficient with his use of miasma, perhaps due to the talent that his master had mentioned. He was progressing rapidly, and felt confident in his ability to perform the technique.


    Jin stretched out his leg to take his first step, but the closer he got to the right pattern the energies grew more and more difficult to control, and Jin faltered unsteadily, before toppling ungracefully to the ground. His cheeks slightly reddened, embarrassed by the mistake.


    ¡°You¡¯ll need to do a bit more practice,¡± laughed Yuenan. ¡°An immortal technique will not be so easy to learn.¡±


    Face still red, Jin rose to his feet and attempted the technique a second time. This time, he lost even more of his control over the miasma, and rocketed forward, slamming face first into the stone of the sect¡¯s walls. He cursed, holding his bleeding nose as he glanced back towards his master, who was still smirking. Yuenan walked towards him, offering a handkerchief, and Jin grudgingly accepted.


    ¡°Be methodical about your movements. Every move must be thought about well in advance, until you build up your muscle memory,¡± explained Yuenan.


    Jin tried again, but this time, nothing seemed to have happened at all, and he fell over once more. He glanced at his master once more.


    ¡°You stretched your leg out too quickly, and your miasma is too fast. Too choppy. The essence of formlessness is fluidity, Jin. Try again, but be smooth, graceful.¡±


    He demonstrated the motion again, and once more Jin could barely comprehend what he was seeing. Master Yuenan¡¯s steps were beautiful, as if he were dancing across the stone tiles. He tried to pay close attention to the exactness of the man¡¯s movements, to the contortion of his shroud.


    Feeling more confident, Jin took another step forward, and this time his legs lost all strength, and he collapsed face first onto the ground, creating further pain in his injured nose. He groaned, and accepted an offered hand from his master, who pulled him back up to his feet. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    ¡°This is too difficult,¡± he complained. Before this point, progression had been so simple. The basic forms had been simple, and so had absorbing miasma and circulating it throughout his meridians. Hadn''t he been a great talent? Shouldn''t this come easy to him?


    Yuenan simply smiled calmly down at his young charge.


    ¡°The martial path is a long and hard one, Jin. But it is also a rewarding one. We are unorthodox practitioners, which means we must work hard and always progress further along the path.¡±


    Jin scowled once more in annoyance, but he tried once more, and promptly toppled back down onto the ground.


    "How long did this take you to learn, Master?" he asked as he unsteadily rose back to his feet for what felt like the umpteenth time.


    The old man stroked his beard, considering the question.


    "I suppose I must have spent at least three months on it. But if you can''t do it in two or less, I would be disappointed."


    Hearing this, Jin felt a bit better. Multiple months... It seemed like a long time, but for a technique so magical, he supposed that it only made sense for it not to be easy. Jin would simply have to continue working until he had succeeded. He was an unorthodox practitioner now, after all. As his master always said, perseverance was the core of all martial masters.


    <hr>


    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    I danced my way beneath the rain, moving with the swift steps that had essentially become a part of me. The Water-Striding Steps were still, I believed, my most vital and important technique, and were the only reason I remained alive to this day. It was difficult to even recall how they had once been a difficulty, something that I had needed to work hard to successfully utilize. At the same time, I merged my soul with the currents of the spirit world, becoming one with the ocean.


    I felt my grasp on my soul falter, at risk of dissolving into the waters of ashata. I sighed, stalling my movements and shutting off the rainfall in the meditation room as my soul reemerged. It seemed I had reached my limits for the moment. At times such as this, it was for the best that I took a break for a few days. A change of pace might be in order for myself.


    As my master had once said, one needed to know when to pause in order to move forward. Banging my head against the wall with endless attempts would do nothing but delay my progression even further.


    Despite the delay, I would not stall in my practice. I would simply work on something other than my refinement method for the time being. The biggest problem facing myself at the moment was not in fact my continued progression, anyway. It was the fact that I needed to alter my techniques to suit myself. The first one that I had chosen to focus on was the Water-Striding Steps.


    The Water-Striding Steps had always been, in my estimation, my most important technique, the foundation of my martial prowess. But they were also holding me back. The time had come to step forward onto my own path, away from that which my master had set me on, and redesign the technique. I would need to alter it, to change it to better suit myself. The best way to do that would be to return to Canvas, to enter the Downpour, and spend some time witnessing the movements of the final waterstrider for myself, if it even still lived. That was not an option, however.


    I performed some more exercises, pushups, handstands, leaps, pivots, all manner of ways to test my body¡¯s capabilities. I had been working on this consistently ever since my advancement, trying to better comprehend how it could be utilized most efficiently. To know what was wrong with the technique, I would need to know myself.


    I had learned that I was now extremely capable of managing my momentum and of bouncing. I could reflect kinetic energy, limit my friction, and move far more fluidly than I ever could before. Perhaps, I thought, if I slowed the flow of miasma near my feet, and then brought it upwards in a cascading force¡­


    I attempted the motion, and felt a great pain in my foot, before finding my upper body toppling forward. I caught myself with my other leg, rapidly ceasing to use the technique. Such a slight alteration of the technique had thrown the balance off by so much that it was unusable. I sighed. The Downpour Sect¡¯s founder must have been a genius, I thought, to be able to create such a technique from scratch. Even merely altering it was such difficult work.


    I needed inspiration, I realized. One could not create a technique merely by iterating, and the same should be true for altering one, I believed. There needed to be an understanding behind it, an ethos. My mind went back to the image of a towering insect, the largest organism I had ever witnessed. How had it moved? The image belonged far too many years in the past, but I could still recall the towering figure. Working based on memory would be far more difficult, but I was confident that I would succeed. If anyone alive could claim to know the waterstriders the best, it would be me.


    Scientific Explanations for Martial Techniques: [In traditional Seiyal culture, the ¡®techniques¡¯ of martial artists are believed to emerge not only from the use of miasma and the motions of the body, but from the understandings of nature they are founded upon. But why does the exact shape and circulation pattern of miasma matter, rather than merely fueling the muscles with the substance? Recent findings have indicated that the oddities of martial techniques could be explainable if they are in some manner comparable to warpings, a phenomenon that was previously extremely difficult to analyze due to its inaccessibility to mortal races. If this is the case, then the study of Seiyal martial artists might be the gateway to new understandings and development of miasmic technology.]

 210- Stakeholder Value

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Heutel marched through the sterile hallways of the Redwater Sect¡¯s Linen Palace. The design of the building did not match the complex and gaudy mess that the Seiyal called their ¡®aesthetics¡¯. Instead, it was set up in a basic Staiven style, one pleasing to all the senses that mattered. It was strange for her to think that most other races cared so much about the electromagnetic frequencies that were absorbed by a given material.


    She was not particularly religious, but if she had to choose a deity whose precepts she best lived by, Heutel would have to say that she felt closer to Fulstovis than any other. Life was all about trades. One had to pay for their home, had to pay for their nutrient baths, and they exchanged their own services for those funds.


    This work of hers, in what might as well have been an alien land, was much the same. The Redwater Sect was trading their information, and the bodies of their own people for mere medical assistance. As they did in any transaction under Nahalken¡¯s skillful leadership, the Venin group had come out ahead. Unlimited access to Seiyal test subjects was quite the benefit. This partnership had brought the corporation a valuable opportunity to carve out their own large section of the Seiyal medical industry, and it was Heutel¡¯s responsibility to manage it. She took her job extremely seriously.


    In fact, she was fortunate that the position even existed at all. The position had essentially landed in her lap after the Redwater Sect offered to open the facility, and supply it with subjects. It was actually impressive to find someone so willing to openly hand over their own people for genetic experimentation. Even a mass murderer like the Riverfiend had apparently been opposed to the idea. His subordinates, however, did not seem to mind all that much. The Vice-Sect Leader and the lowlife named Orion had been particularly instrumental in such endeavors. His blind, greedy ambition was something that Heutel could respect.


    All in all, over the past few weeks Heutel had already grown accustomed to living within Canvas Town. As there were no nearby bathhouses, they had needed to construct one within the compound itself, a lengthy process that had involved several porter robots needing to carry tanks of nutrient fluid all the way from the nearest skydock.


    Stopping by to peer into one of the side rooms, she inspected a tank filled with a viscous fluid, within which stirred a slumbering martial artist. His body was being inspected while he remained comatose, recovering from a surgery that had excised the dantians from his body. Eventually, the crippled martial artist would be released back into the population, with no recollection of this period of his life.


    The Venin Group did, of course, have ethical guidelines they needed to follow. Nahalken was a religious man, after all. Regardless of whether their participation was voluntary or not, all of the subjects were paid for their time, and treated humanely. If they were to die, the money would be secretly deposited into the account of their nearest relative.


    Personally, Heutel thought it was a waste of money, but if the truth of their activities were to get out, it would allow for total deniability on the corporation¡¯s part, which she was happy to know, given her culpability in the affair. Should the matter reach court, she would simply have to claim she believed the subjects had openly consented to the experiments.


    As Heutel passed another of the side rooms, she could sense the work of a Staiven woman who was leaning down onto a workbench to closely inspect her work. As Heutel knew, this was one of the laboratories which dealt with cadavers. Currently, she was injecting miasma into a dantian that had been surgically removed from its host.


    This was an experiment which Heutel herself had designed. Though she was no scientist, she felt that she had a sense for business. There was a possibility that the secrets of a martial artist¡¯s dantian might result in some sort of storage technology innovation for the dangerous substance, and that possibility was something she would certainly wish to test.


    It was unlikely that such experiments would result in any beneficial findings for Staiven health, but discovering new facets of miasma¡¯s properties was an easy way to receive grants and benefits from the government and the Church of Teiklan. Heutel had to privately admit, however, that the findings intrigued her.


    As an organ, dantians were relatively unique, something that would never grow on a naturally evolved species. They were crystalline structures that grew inside the Seiyal¡¯s flesh, small transparent gemstones that did not seem to be the product of warpings, but a mundane, Tellesian substance. Unlike a Staiven¡¯s eyes or a fiend¡¯s core, the dantian was not initially a miasmic material, though the cores they were capable of transforming into certainly were. Rather, they were composed of complex silicon chains, the nature of which was rather difficult to synthesize.


    While they would not be the first to do so, one of the project¡¯s research aims was to replicate them. If they could figure out the source of the material¡¯s special attributes, she could hardly even estimate the potential applications. Moreover, being able to synthesize dantian material in place would allow them to potentially treat crippled martial artists, which could be an incredibly lucrative field. Especially if they were to lease the patent to corporations outside the Tseludia System.


    Heutel¡¯s pores expanded hungrily at the thought of what such a massive accomplishment could do for her career.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    She reached the end of the hallway, facing the hatch which led to a conference room, one that had already seen more use than the main one in the sect proper. This conference room was specifically for the purposes of the Linen Palace, one that was mostly used by Heutel for the occasional meeting with envoys from the corporate Headquarters. Nahalken himself rarely stopped by, only doing so when he was meeting with the Sect Leader. When Heutel needed to report to him, she had to do so either through the network or by traveling to the corporate headquarters in the second district.


    By the time she had arrived, Orion was already seated, waiting expectantly for her arrival. Heutel had known he was already present, of course. She had sensed the presence of somebody within the room before she had even left her office, and had chosen to arrive late on purpose. This was a remarkably simple but effective manipulation tactic that would serve to pressure him in certain ways.


    ¡°Were there any issues with the upcoming delivery?¡± she asked, going on the offensive before even greeting him. Most martial artists were best dealt with by acting polite, but Orion Dinyu was more of a thug than anything else. Bluntness was the superior tactic with his type.


    The coarse man smiled reflexively, and then waved his hands dismissively.


    ¡°No, no issues. You can expect to receive the subjects by the end of tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡±


    There was an awkward, extended pause as Heutel waited for the martial artist to continue speaking. He had requested this meeting after all, and she was much too busy to waste her time small talking with an alien. She had once tried to do so with a Jobu before, and the man had the stupidity to ask her whether she had seen a certain new film. The event had taught her a valuable lesson.


    ¡°Try to find a greater variety moving forward,¡± she finally said, breaking the silence. ¡°Ideally we would want a mix of subjects who utilize each of the miasmas.¡±


    Orion extended his hands in a pacifying gesture, though Heutel was not experiencing any negative emotions at all.


    ¡°There aren¡¯t enough extant practitioners on the station to find a consistent supply,¡± he explained. ¡°As for Formless and Sanguine¡­ I would not be surprised if the only practitioners were in the sect.¡±


    For a moment, Heutel considered asking if she could experiment on some of the sect¡¯s disciples, but then she discarded the thought. It would be best not to take it too far. Not so early in their relationship, anyway. She would find a time to ask later, when the number of disciples had risen much higher.


    ¡°Say¡­ would you happen to know where to find a manifest treasure?¡± he asked, finally getting to the point.


    Heutel gave him a knowing smile. So this was the real reason the man had requested the meeting. He seemed to be preparing to reach the next level. Unfortunately, that industry was not one she had any direct relations with. If she were to try and acquire one, she would need to call in some favors, and make some payments, neither of which she was willing to do on Orion¡¯s behalf. She was about to inform him, when suddenly, something that had been mentioned during one of her inspections came to mind. Her smile widened. She had been looking for resources for testing a certain hypothesis, and it should be easy to persuade the man. Perhaps this meeting might not be a waste of time, after all.


    ¡°Now that I think about it,¡± she said, ¡°one of our scientists has some thoughts on the matter. Perhaps we could use a martial artist¡¯s dantian as an incubator for the eyes of a young or adult Staiven. According to her hypothesis, this could potentially be a method of farming natural treasures.¡±


    The Seiyal narrowed his eyes, unconvinced.


    ¡°Have you already started testing this?¡±


    Heutel responded expressionlessly.


    ¡°It is just a hypothesis. We would need a suitable test subject.¡±


    Orion frowned.


    ¡°Do none of the subjects I have already brought you work?¡± he asked.


    Heutel shook her head.


    ¡°A pinnacle core formation practitioner like yourself would be ideal. But I suppose a meridian establishment practitioner would serve.¡±


    He hummed a quiet sound to himself, clearly considering just where he might find such an individual. He truly was a convenient sort of person, Heutel thought. Such a  self-serving individual was trivial to make use of, assuming one had the capability. And by borrowing the corporation¡¯s power, Heutel certainly did.


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you if I find any suitable subjects,¡± he said.


    Cyrus Yu wished to be cautious, and for his goals, perhaps that was his best course of action. But cautiousness would not progress Heutel¡¯s career. She lacked connections, having emerged from a merely middle class family. None of her relatives could assist her, and she had not wished to consign herself to the firm control of one of the churches in exchange for favors. Instead, she had raised herself to this level, garnering with her own efforts and acumen the attention of Nahalken, a corporate bigshot. If she faltered, nobody would be there to catch her. She needed to acquire merits, and hopefully reach an even higher position.


    The company did not care what she did, so long as it acquired benefits for them.


    Corporations and Staiven History: [The concept of the corporation has existed for as far back as Staiven history clearly recalls, before even the arrival of the Pantheon on Staive. Merchant collectives could be found in several nations, and in one case, a nation was overthrown when mercenaries were hired en masse by the corporation, and used to establish a new, oligarchic government. Of course, after the foundation of the Pantheonic Government, no vestige of that government or the culture of the nation it had ruled remained. In the aftermath of the War of Foundation, however, corporations took on a whole new role, steadily rising to power and influence due to the protections the Church of Fulstovis insisted upon for the newly introduced free market economy. These opportunities caused new social structures to develop as the financial gap between the rich and the poor continued to widen, and the corporations began to work even more closely with the churches, who saw no issue with such developments.]

 211- Friend to the Cultists

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    ¡°They¡¯re pressuring us?¡± I asked, leaning back on the seat in my office. ¡°In what way?¡±


    I had been taking a break from my practice, to rest my mind and try and recall old memories, when Rachel had appeared before me. She was in her ¡®true form¡¯ for once, the dark-haired and blue-eyed appearance she referred to as that of a ¡®human.¡¯


    ¡°It¡¯s subtle,¡± she explained. ¡°Visiting our establishments and being rowdy, hanging out at the edges of our territory. I get the sense that they wish to draw us out, and station our forces across our territory.¡±


    That would, I knew, be a dangerous decision. We had stolen most of our territory from the various gangs we had conquered, and did not have the troops to protect it all in such a manner. Not without making ourselves vulnerable.


    ¡°I can¡¯t imagine this would have happened naturally,¡± she continued. ¡°It¡¯s clear that there¡¯s a ringleader.¡±


    She spoke as if she had a culprit in mind, though I could easily make the same guess.


    ¡°The Hadal Clan?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Almost certainly, though I¡¯m uncertain what their goal might be. We never did find out what their Matriarch wanted from us,¡± she mused.


    ¡°In the wake of the war, it might not matter anymore,¡± I replied, before pausing to consider one possibility. ¡°Perhaps she wished for us to assist Karie, as we have been. If that¡¯s the case, perhaps this move is from one of her internal enemies, such as their Supreme Elder.¡± My mind flashed back to when the man had tried to kill me, and I could not help but feel thankful for my luck. Without such fortune, even my abilities would not have been sufficient to preserve my life.


    The Terran frowned as she considered the idea.


    ¡°It¡¯s certainly possible,¡± she admitted. ¡°Still, I want to know exactly what they¡¯re thinking. I¡¯ll look into it. Information is vital for winning any conflict.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t imagine she would have kept records of those plans,¡± I said.


    Rachel gave me a blank look, as if what I had said was utterly foolish.


    ¡°When I said I¡¯ll look into it, I meant I¡¯ll just have Eli handle it,¡± she said. ¡°This is his job, after all.¡±


    I blinked, surprised by that fact. I had grown far too used to her easily acquiring information by stealing internet records, and almost seemed to have forgotten that a great deal of the information she acquired originated from Eli¡¯s efforts.


    ¡°I suppose,¡± was all I said.


    ¡°One thing I found interesting,¡± she said, changing the subject, ¡°is that the only force bordering us who has not joined in was the Feng Gang.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow, considering the matter, and accepting the shift in topic. That was Lao Feng¡¯s force, and he was a Celan agent. Was it an indication that they did not wish to antagonize us into involving ourselves with the affairs of their people, anymore?


    ¡°Have they said anything about it?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Not a word. Though the truth seems to be somewhat more interesting than you¡¯re likely guessing. A few days ago, I spotted the magister entering Feng¡¯s territory. As far as I know, he has yet to leave.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t the government looking for him?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Nobody who has caught my attention can escape my eye,¡± she bragged. ¡°I figured he¡¯s more useful free than in the Justice Office¡¯s hands. And given what he seems to be up to, it seems I was right.¡±


    She still wanted his dagger, I realized. It scared her, or at least threatened her. She wanted it under her own control once more. It was interesting to see such cracks in her composure. Generally, she maintained self-control,


    ¡°But why would he have¡­¡± I muttered, attempting to piece together the plan of the remnant Celan forces.


    ¡°Personally,¡± suggested Rachel, ¡°I would imagine that Astna tried to sell him out, and this is his attempt to fight back.¡±


    ¡°To have a schism at such a time¡­ I can¡¯t imagine they¡¯ll last much longer.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t forget that Astna fooled us before,¡± Rachel warned. ¡°She¡¯s quite competent.¡±This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    I didn¡¯t bother to comment on the fact that Rachel had been the one who had been fooled.


    ¡°I still don¡¯t believe it''s in our best interest to take action in Little Celah,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯ll need to focus our attentions on the pressure in our own district.¡±


    ¡°For the moment, I agree,¡± she admitted, then frowned. ¡°In fact, I¡¯ll call Eli in. He¡¯s just returned from meetings with some of his contacts.¡±


    I didn¡¯t mind the idea, and we discussed my efforts in training for the next few minutes before the meridian establisher arrived. I had wanted to see if Rachel had any information about the waterstriders, but unfortunately it seemed that as the Terrans had never ventured to my homeland, there was nothing that she could share. It was unfortunate, yet unsurprising.


    Eli finally arrived, carefully adjusting his immaculately groomed hair as he stepped through the hatch and into my office. Unlike the habit I had noticed from Karie Hadal during our interactions, however, Eli¡¯s habit seemed to be for the purpose of maintaining his hair¡¯s status rather than shifting its form. In the instant that the hatch slid up, Rachel¡¯s form had shifted to the sei appearance that he would recognize. Eli¡¯s eyes roved over both myself and Rachel, and he bowed in a servile manner.


    ¡°Greetings to the Sect Leader and the Vice-Sect Leader,¡± he said.


    ¡°You have news,¡± I stated.


    He nodded.


    ¡°I did. Upon your request I¡¯ve been keeping an eye on events in both districts. I assume you¡¯ve heard about the gang movements?¡±


    I nodded, not admitting that I had only just learned about it. Eli was speaking as if it were old news, and I wondered whether I should ensure that I was kept more up to date.


    ¡°It seems to be movements of the Hadal Clan¡¯s Merchant Faction. I¡¯m not entirely sure who specifically ordered it, but it should be someone influential.¡±


    He was speaking in that same servile tone he only seemed to use before me. I wasn¡¯t sure whether I found it annoying or not.


    ¡°Is that all?¡± I asked imperiously. A bead of sweat dripped down the man¡¯s brow, and I felt slightly amused by his anxiety. Eli was quite odd for a martial artist, his mindset much more in line with that of a mortal. He had likely only taken to martial arts due to a hope of extending his life span. But his mindset had never strayed from mortal obsessions. It was not rare for even spirit refiners to still care about power and influence, but Eli¡¯s fear of me arose not from fear of the physical violence I was capable of, but the possibility that I might remove him from the position of influence that he had been granted.


    ¡°I also have updates from Little Celah, Sect Leader,¡± he continued uneasily. ¡°The Drelistai and the Umrakians have already moved in, and are prepared to take action. They seem to be waiting, presumably for the Justice Office to finally step back out of the district.¡±


    I glanced at Rachel.


    ¡°What are the estimates?¡± I asked. She shrugged.


    ¡°Anywhere from a day to weeks more. At this point, they might stay for a few weeks to hunt Triezal and ensure that order is restored. They will want to ensure the racial tensions cannot escalate into violence again.¡± She snickered in a cruel manner. ¡°Not that that¡¯s likely. I would be surprised if they don¡¯t need to quell another riot soon enough.¡±


    Wisely choosing not to comment on her blase attitude about civilian deaths, Eli hesitated, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck. I waited, watching him as I sensed that he still had more to share.


    ¡°...One more thing,¡± Eli said finally. ¡°I received a message that claims to be from the station¡¯s Third of Many.¡± I frowned, not recognizing the title. ¡°An important member of the Cult of Umrak,¡± he elucidated. I peered over to Rachel, curious as to whether she had been aware of this or not. She simply smiled slyly, giving away no hints. Eli did not seem to notice, and he continued to speak. ¡°They requested an audience with you.¡±


    I pondered the idea. I had never had any interaction with the cult, nor any reason to be. They were not an organization which existed on Canvas, after all. I did know that they believed in communal living, in a structure that loosely resembled that of a sect, though influence was given to those who bore a strong understanding of their religion, rather than according to one¡¯s martial arts progression. It was a structure I could approve of, as it made sense for mortals, not that I would have any further interest in the faction.


    ¡°The Umrakians,¡± I murmured. ¡°Arrange a meeting. They will need to come here, of course.¡±


    Eli nodded, but my mind continued to work. There was one other matter that had been brought to mind by the mention of the Cult of Umrak. They were not the only cult that had come to us bearing an offer, and it was due time for us to make a decision on them as well. I turned to Rachel.


    ¡°I feel that the time has come,¡± I said. ¡°We will need to discuss matters with the Depthists.¡±


    Rachel scowled, expressing her distaste, but she did not refute my words.


    ¡°I suppose. As much as I¡­ dislike its goddess, the Depthists could be of great use to us. I¡¯ll contact their¡­ ¡®leader.¡¯


    I had yet to fully comprehend the exact situation of the cult, given the odd situation with the bloodspawn Poluus. But I felt that before we met again, it would be better if I understood what was happening. The same was true for the Umrakians.


    ¡°Look into the situation of both cults,¡± I ordered.


    ¡°Of course, Sect Leader. By the way, if you wanted me to increase our information gathering in the other districts¡­¡±


    ¡°Take it up with Ran,¡± I replied, waving off the question. I knew little of the budget¡¯s status except for the fact that it was still in poor condition due to our debts.


    ¡°By your will,¡± he bowed, and then stepped out of the room. The hatch slid shut behind him, and as he did, Rachel¡¯s appearance returned. It was odd to see her body shift palettes in that manner, somehow even more off-putting than when she appeared and disappeared.


    ¡°I¡¯m curious,¡± she said. I raised an eyebrow, and Rachel quickly explained. ¡°Whether we¡¯ll be offered something that tempts you to move or not.¡±


    I snorted.


    ¡°We¡¯ll see.¡±


    Public Order in the Pantheonic Territory: [Despite their general laissez faire attitude towards the status of their alien residents, the Pantheonic Government does still pay very close attention to its reputation among the people, as well as any unrest that might develop. Though their strong naval presence renders the odds of an uprising lacking external support almost null, doctrine of the Church of Verain insists that all revolutions be quelled at their inception. Despite this fact, the main force that drives Justice Office interference in riots and underworld affairs is economic in origin, for the purposes of protecting corporate interests, as well as the investments of the churches.]

 212- Margrave

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Overall, Orion had a very positive view of his new task these past weeks. Life form trafficking was an incredibly prosperous profession, and he knew that contracts with pharmaceutical corporations was the heart of the industry. Sure, it was illegal, but that was what it meant to be part of the underworld. He appreciated that Rachel had given him this opportunity. Even if he wasn¡¯t able to take the profits, he would certainly be able to skim some of the proceeds off the top for himself.


    The main issue was choosing targets, which might have been quite difficult had he been alone. However, once again Rachel had come through. He had no idea what source she was using, but she seemed to be an expert at identifying lowlives who nobody would miss.


    In fact, this assisted with Orion¡¯s apprehensions about the matter. In his estimation, if nobody cared to even notice you were gone, did your life even matter?


    Moreover, the task might have given him access to a priceless opportunity. If Heutel had been telling him the truth, she might be able to bring him manifest treasures. And presumably, if her experiment worked, it would not only be one, but a source of as many treasures as the sect needed. And that alone was enough to redouble Orion¡¯s dedication to the Redwater Sect. He would not mind a future as the Elder of a force with so much potential. The relative ethics of the process could be set aside in the face of such benefits.


    And to accomplish it, he only needed to find and capture a sufficiently advanced manifest practitioner. It seemed a simple matter, but in practice it was anything but. Orion¡¯s kind was rare in Tseludia. Back in Veraillen, manifest practitioners had been the predominant variety. There, the Seven Winds Sect had been the leading martial power, a sect which specialized in the manifest arts. Much like had occurred with the Hadal Clan¡¯s techniques, the sect¡¯s lesser arts had leaked out into the general population, and manifest practitioners were the most common of the station¡¯s martial artists.


    Orion himself had learned his arts from a rogue former disciple of the  sect.


    In Tseludia, however, outside of the Redwater Sect, Orion only knew of a handful of other manifest practitioners, none of which had reached the meridian establishment realm. Perhaps they might only be found in the Hadal Clan, a force he dared not tangle with unless the entire sect stood with him. And the alternative, to raise one of his own disciples enough to sacrifice them after they reached the requisite stage¡­ it did not appeal to him.


    Of course, he could also continue to search for other sources of miasmic treasures. Perhaps there was a black marketeer who held such an item in stock. The possibility was reasonable, but still not as appealing as the merits of providing the sect with an inexhaustible supply. He would take that path only if it were necessary, or if the opportunity simply stumbled upon him.


    Regardless, he still had plenty of time to make his final decision. Orion had yet to truly reach the pinnacle of the core formation realm, after all. He was nearing it, however. Within half a year at the latest he should have reached the bottleneck. By then, he wished to be ready to take the next step.


    Another matter he was forced to pay attention to was his charges. The development of the majority of his disciples left much to be desired, though Orion knew that he was just being impatient. Developing for himself an elite force would take time, much longer than he had hoped. He found it unlikely that he would ever bother to acquire more in the future, unless their talents were such that he was left with no other choice. Talents like that of the girl that Cyrus had brought to him personally.


    Sashan Ji was her name, a bold girl who was far too willing to speak her mind, and extremely skilled at getting on Orion¡¯s nerves. Her talent with the manifest arts was admirable, to the point where Orion was almost jealous. But the problem was simply her personality. It grated on him. The girl was too uptight, and always complained about the way he chose to live his life. At times, she felt more like a nagging sister than a disciple.


    If he had someone with whom to joke about such things, Orion would have joked that he might sacrifice her to the Staiven, once she reached the next level. It would have been a cruel jest, but such jokes were something best kept to himself. It was not particularly funny, and he did not truly mean it, anyway.


    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Still, he wished he had someone to discuss such matters with. His subordinates were out of the question, each and every one of them a lowly gangster who had been cowed into line by the Sect Leader. The only ones with any potential had already been turned into the Palace Leaders or their direct underlings.


    Ran was a good woman, and she had been a good lay in the time since he had joined the sect, but Orion had no interest in settling down, at least not in that sense. She did not seem to bear such interests either, and their relationship was purely physical. Perhaps that mentality would change as he aged, but his focus remained fully entrenched within his own interests. Only when he reached the next threshold and further strengthened his lifespan would he ever bother to consider such matters.


    Regardless, under orders from the Vice-Sect Leader, he was to keep their involvement in the trafficking business a secret from her, as he did from everyone else as well. Such was the cost of doing business behind the Sect Leader¡¯s back.


    Once again, he considered the matter of the manifest meridian establisher. Thinking alone would do no good. If he wanted to make this bright future a reality, Orion would need to take action. But where would he find one, he wondered? Perhaps it was best to go to the one he usually approached with such questions. Rachel had been an expert hand at finding suitable individuals before. Surely, if an unaligned manifest practitioner existed on the station, either she or Eli would know. He rose from his seat, marching over to the places she frequented inside the sect. The lull in Little Celah had given him some free room to maneuver, and if he was ever to go hunting, now would be the best time.


    <hr>


    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    Eigel waited patiently in the well-furnished room, enjoying the pleasant scent of the Canvasian incense. Had he been a humanoid, he would undoubtedly have been offered tea, something that he lacked the organs to imbibe. Instead, he had been left to wait with a fine scent to enjoy, one picked specifically to appeal to members of his race. This was an expensive scent, he knew, and it had undoubtedly been imported all the way from the Canvasian homeworld.


    But Eigel was not impressed by such a paltry offering. In fact, he expected no less from any such force he deigned to visit. He was the emissary of the Margrave Corporation, one of the most influential forces in the entire Pantheonic Territory. Such a weak, small underworld faction populated only by aliens would normally be far from enough to garner his attention. However, the current situation had been enough to change that. A unique opportunity had presented itself, and he did not wish to miss it. For that reason, he had ventured here in person, only to be left waiting.


    This was an unusual experience for him, Eigel was not impatient. He could handle the posturing of these aliens, to fulfil the corporate agenda. His career would greatly benefit if this investment were to pay off.


    To that end, for once he had arrived bearing no tricks, but merely an offer that would be mutually beneficial to both of their factions. If anything, he was being too reasonable, but despite that, Eigel still found himself uncertain as to whether this Matriarch of theirs would agree to his contract. One could never know the workings of an inferior species¡¯ mind.


    Eventually, the door opened, and a Seiyal man wearing a formal robe politely bowed before him. Eigel found their use of a door rather than a hatch quite interesting and unusual. Despite the simplicity of it, it had taken him embarrassingly long to figure out how to operate the mechanism. Eigel analyzed the soul of the man who entered, noting that it spoke of a martial artist of the core formation realm. The Matriarch¡¯s aide, perhaps? Or her seneschal?


    ¡°The Matriarch will see you now,¡± he said, and Eigel rose to his feet, taking one last whiff of the incense. It truly did have a pleasant scent.


    ¡°In that case,¡± said Eigel, his tone calm and assured, ¡°kindly lead the way.¡±


    The martial artist obliged without comment, and Eigel stalked down the corridor. As he walked, he silenced all of his internal reservations, and stilled his mind. This negotiation would be vital, but he would come out of this on top. And the moment the Justice Office ceased their guard, he would be ready to take action.


    The Margrave Corporation: [One of the most influential of all Staiven corporations, Margrave has existed since soon after the Pantheonic era began, and forty percent of its ownership is held by the Church of Fulstovis. Margrave has branches in the vast majority of all Staiven-held stations and worlds, and owns thousands of companies and brands. They even hold total mining rights for several planets. One notable factor that sets Margrave apart from its opposition is the fact that 84% of its management is composed of Staiven who were raised and groomed for their specific role, and give their full loyalty to the corporation. Many believe that this program is a large part of the corporation¡¯s success, and in recent decades, several other corporations have attempted to replicate such investments on a trial basis.]

 213- The Third of Many

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS


    The meeting had been set for today, three days after Eli had first told me about the Umrakian request. Even still, I had little idea of why the faction wished for a meeting with us. We had discussed the matter at length, but the only thing Rachel and I could come up with was that it was likely related to the ongoing events in the sixth district. Still, that the Umrakians would approach us of all forces¡­ I could not help but find myself suspicious.


    As always, I was waiting at the head of the conference room¡¯s table when the envoy arrived. My robes had been pressed in advance, and Rachel had insisted that tie my hair up formally. This was a first impression, and a sect leader had best be presentable if he wished to properly negotiate, if that was the Umrakians¡¯ purpose. The two of us waited in silence for the envoy¡¯s arrival, and as they finally stepped over the room¡¯s threshold, I carefully took in their appearance.


    The Umrakian envoy was, to my surprise, a Tovus, one who had shifted their amorphous body to mimic the appearance of a Telaretian. At first glance, their scales gleamed in the light, but upon closer inspection I could discern that the scales were not truly separate from one another, nor from its eyes or flesh, all parts of the body composed of the same material. To an untrained eye, however, one might have actually mistaken them for a member of the alien species. As a Canvasian, however, I knew a Tovus when I saw one.


    ¡°Sect Leader Cyrus Yu,¡± they said, analyzing me, and then turning their head to lock eyes with Rachel. ¡°Vice-Sect Leader Rachel. My name is Right, and I am this station¡¯s Third of Many.¡±


    ¡°Have you come bearing a request or an offer?¡± I asked, leaning forward slightly, my voice tinged with a menacing, imperious tone.


    If Right was experiencing any tension, their body language did not show it.


    ¡°Both, of course. I would be remiss to my people if I did not invite the two of you to join our ranks. The Hosts of Umrak would welcome you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not interested,¡± I replied brusquely. I had no need for religion, nor for communities built around it. A sect was enough for me. Here was a place where I was admired, where I could progress, and potentially develop the strength to do as I wished. A place where I would not be compared to anyone.


    ¡°I expected as much,¡± they replied. ¡°No matter. In time, perhaps you will see that our way is the truth.¡± they then turned to Rachel expectantly.


    ¡°Just get on with it,¡± she drawled, visibly annoyed by the being¡¯s evasiveness.


    With the pop of an air bubble from within their body, Right chuffed an imitation of a chuckle.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure whether you have heard, but the Margrave corporation has made a deal with the Hadal Clan. I¡¯m sure your corporate partners will take great offense at this, were they to find out. One might be curious- just what does a corporation and a martial force have that might drive them to work together?¡± They paused for effect, but neither I nor Rachel was buying into the rhetoric. Perhaps such tricks worked better on the members of the cult than on experienced underworld leaders such as ourselves.


    ¡°One explanation,¡± they continued, ¡°would be that they wish to compete with your own joint effort. However¡­ forgive my words, but a simple Venin Group could only be considered a competitor in the context of this backwater system. To attract Margrave¡¯s attention directly, rather than through one of their subsidiaries¡­ their interests must be attracted by something greater.¡±


    ¡°We all know what they want,¡± I said, cutting the Tovus off. Who knew when they would finally get to the point if left to their own devices. And it was true. There was only one thing in the district that could attract so many forces¡¯ attention to it. The Heirs were weak, and for those who were knowledgeable enough, there was also the fact that they had broken away from their Epon patrons. Their technology, something that the Staiven had long shown great interest in, was ripe for the taking, ready to be stolen and reverse-engineered. Everyone in the underworld and the major corporations already knew that far too well. Right would know this already, which meant that all of this pointless talk was an attempt to manipulate us. I decided to shut them down.


    ¡°We know what Margrave wants,¡± I said again, ¡°and our sect does not have any interest in taking further action in Little Celah,¡± I told them.


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    Right smiled, an unpleasant expression on their replicated Telaretian face.


    ¡°You misunderstand, Riverfiend. We do not need you to set a single foot into the sixth district. All we want from you is to hamper the Hadal Clan¡¯s action, so that they are too busy to focus on activity in other districts.¡±


    I frowned. If that was true, Right¡¯s purpose would make a lot of sense. The Umrakians would not actually have any desire for the Celan technology themselves, but they would certainly care about the money they might receive if they auctioned it away to the corporations and government.


    Rachel delivered the Tovus a charming smile.


    ¡°That¡¯s quite the request, Third of Many. If we cause enough problems for the clan, I don¡¯t doubt their Supreme Elder will make his move. It¡¯s quite a risk. So¡­ how about we discuss the price you¡¯re offering?¡±


    The Tovus¡¯ spongy eyes shifted, as if they were wishing to spill from their scaled sockets. They smiled, revealing the gaping darkness within their body, the abscess they used to generate their vocal noises. I had always disliked the appearance of a smiling Tovus.


    ¡°I hear that you are in great need of money, Riverfiend. Might you allow us to make a¡­ donation?¡±


    Rachel¡¯s smile grew broader, while I held my emotions firmly under control. To try and pressure the Hadal Clan¡­ that was quite the risk. We would be treading a fine line. As I had already told the envoy, Du Qin Hadal could single handedly destroy us if he decided to take the time to do so. Even if I was fortunate enough to escape, he could annihilate the entirety of the sect and kill the vast majority of its disciples in just one move.


    ¡°We¡¯re always happy to accept charitable gifts, but how sizable of one are you thinking?¡± she asked.


    Right shrugged, their scales jiggling slightly in a manner Telaretian physiology simply did not behave, as they maintained the smile on their face.


    ¡°Let¡¯s say¡­ a quarter of a million serite?¡±


    I glanced over at Rachel, who was letting far too many of her true thoughts show on her face. Even with the risk, I found myself tempted. We had about a month and a half left before the loan was due for return, but the sect¡¯s upkeep and development was still costing more than we were saving. Two hundred and fifty thousand serite was indeed a large amount as well, and would help. In truth, we needed the money. Desperately, in fact.


    Despite that unfortunate truth, I still found myself wary of the Umrakians. For a faction whose only evident goal for interfering was financial gain, they were certainly investing quite a lot into this matter. Were the Umrakians taking action on behalf of a hidden backer? I considered the idea, and found that it was difficult to come to a conclusion. Perhaps I was being paranoid, and they were simply taking a calculated risk, but to offer exactly what we needed at such a moment¡­ they had clearly done their research on us and our situation.


    ¡®We will need to discuss the proposition between ourselves before agreeing, of course,¡± I said. Rachel nodded in agreement.


    ¡°Of course,¡± Right responded, seemingly undaunted by my words. ¡°I will leave you with a way to contact us when you make the right decision.¡±


    With that, they bowed, and then turned to file out of the room. After Right left, the conference room was silent for an extended moment, eventually broken by the sound of Rachel snorting. Left alone in the room, she had changed her form once again.


    ¡°I¡¯m certain. Someone put them up to this. The Umrakians would not have made such a high offer if they weren¡¯t being subsidized.¡±


    I nodded. The Umrakians were known for seeking the maximum benefits for their commune, and with outsiders, were ruthlessly stingy.


    ¡°That was my thought as well. They seemed to be well-informed as to our financial difficulties and capabilities, but they did not make any mention of what has been going on in the district this past week,¡± I noted.


    ¡°They must have bought an information package on us, perhaps not one sufficiently up to date. I can try to track the purpose, assuming there was a digital element.¡±


    I nodded, approving of her intentions.


    ¡°If they knew we might be coming into conflict with the clan anyway, they would not likely have offered so much money. Still¡­¡±


    If we accepted the deal, we would be trapping ourselves in a tight balancing act, to hamper the orthodox clan without truly angering them.


    ¡°All we promised was to make the attempt,¡± Rachel said with a smirk. ¡°If we fail, we fail. We wouldn¡¯t have broken the contract in that case.¡±


    I analyzed Rachel¡¯s expression, noting the cast of her brow, and the cerulean glow of her eyes.


    ¡°A quarter of a million¡­ it¡¯s hard to say no,¡± I muttered.


    Serite: [The official currency of the Pantheonic Territory, the value of serite is guaranteed by the Church of Fulstovis itself, which holds 60% ownership of the Serite Corporation, who manufactures the chips. To prevent counterfeit currency, the Serite Corporation uses warpings said to be created by Fulstovis herself in order to generate complex ashatic structures that pertain to each individual chip, perceivable to any individual with a soul sense. Even the corporation¡¯s engineers are said to not comprehend their method of production. In theory, each individual chip would have a unique signature.]

 214- Cyrus

    The Downpour, Canvas, Frontier Territory, Early Winter, 1596 PTS


    It had been over a month since he had joined the sect, and Jin had finally settled into his new life. The winter had been long and cold, and the stone walls and endless tracts of mud was an image that Jin had grown far too accustomed to witnessing. The sect¡¯s interior was drab, and the occasional tapestry or carving did little to shift that image. Awash with the pale glow of the cave-stars, it was as if colors were drained from the world, trapping him in a monochrome existence. It was a far cry from the constant bombardment of vibrant colors he had experienced in Crucible¡¯s Edge.


    Still, despite its flaws, nowhere had ever felt more appealing to him. Master Yuenan had accepted him, had brought him here and was training him to become a martial master.


    A disciple¡¯s life was a mixture of training, exercise, and labor, however. He had become accustomed to his training, and to all of the other work a disciple was expected to perform. Some days, his Master would also teach him seemingly random lessons, unrelated to martial arts. They ranged from tea preparation, the history of the continent, basic science, and the geography of the surrounding regions. Such topics did not particularly interest him, but as his master wished to teach them, Jin was certain that it must all be important, and he did his best to learn.


    But beyond the training, Jin was constantly kept busy with his duties. The disciples were the blood of the sect, and performed all the small tasks that kept it all up and running. Every day, Jin would speak to the aides of Palace Leader Wuyan, who would assign the daily tasks to all of the disciples. Today, Jin had been told to sort the contents of the most recent delivery.


    As far as tasks went, Jin had been informed that this was a privileged task, and he was only receiving it due to consideration for his master¡¯s identity. Apparently, this was due to the risks that a disciple might swipe some of the goods. For that reason, receiving this task was a symbol that one was trusted, and so it came with some social perks.


    Not that Jin had any use for such unspoken perks. He had spoken little with the other disciples during his time in the sect, unsure how to interact with them. He had introduced himself to a few disciples here and there such as on other tasks, or in the dining hall, but he would not claim to be close with anyone except for his master. He simply did not know how to deal with the others.


    Getting to the storage room took Jin longer than he had anticipated, as he had never been to that part of the sect before. It was located at the end of a corridor near the kitchens, at the very base of the structure. As he walked, Jin idly wondered if this was where those two disciples he had first met had dragged the sledge all those weeks ago.


    When Jin finally arrived, he noticed that he wasn¡¯t alone in the room. An older disciple seemed to be waiting for his arrival, having noticed him already. Jin had yet to get into the habit of extending his soul sense into a room before entering it. Now that he saw the other boy, Jin did so, and was able to discern that he was a pinnacle foundation refiner.


    Jin had seen the boy around the sect, of course, but up until this point, the two had never before spoken to one another. He was a bit older than Jin, and the sides of his head had been shaved short, while the upper portion hung long, slicked back by rainwater. His body was strong, bulkier than Jin¡¯s own. While he wasn¡¯t fat, the boy had certainly had plenty to eat as a youth. In many ways, Jin guessed, this disciple was his opposite. Jin did not know his name.


    ¡°So you¡¯re that new lineage disciple I heard about,¡± the boy said, a questioning look in his eyes. ¡°Elder Ding¡¯s student, right?¡±


    Jin nodded, feeling slightly intimidated.


    ¡°My name is Jin Luo,¡± he said.


    The boy nodded with a smile.


    ¡°It is nice to meet you, Jin. I¡¯m Cyrus Aodi.¡±


    Jin found himself unsure how to respond. He had interacted with other street children his age in the past, but he was unsure just how relevant that experience would apply to other disciples in the sect.


    ¡°It- it¡¯s nice to meet you,¡± he finally said, after a lengthy pause. Without skipping  a beat, Cyrus responded to him.


    ¡°You¡¯re nearing the peak of the first refinement realm, right? I can sense it. You¡¯ve only been learning martial arts since the fall, right? I¡¯ve heard about you. The street kid the Elder found.¡±


    Jin nodded in response, shocked by the older boy¡¯s endless chatter. Cyrus squinted, as if he was intently analyzing Jin.


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°Rumor is that you¡¯re a fourth grade talent,¡± he said, ¡°and they¡¯re planning on making you the next generation¡¯s sect leader.¡±


    Jin¡¯s eyes widened in surprise. He hadn¡¯t heard anything about that. Though the idea was flattering, it must just be some unfounded rumor.


    ¡°I- I¡¯m not- the sect leader thing. I am a fourth grade talent.¡±


    Despite his unease, Jin couldn¡¯t help but puff his chest out slightly as he admitted to his talent. He still did not fully understand just what that meant, but he had been told it was something very special and rare.


    Something gleamed in Cyrus¡¯ golden eyes.


    ¡°Is that so? I¡¯m only a third grade talent, so I imagine you¡¯ll surpass me soon enough. Still, I¡¯m not sure if someone with your education deserves the position.¡± He glanced around, his eyes flagging on the stacked piles of supplies, still strapped down to the sledges they had been hauled in on. ¡°I suppose we should get to work,¡± he said, as if Cyrus had not paid any attention to the rude words he had just spouted. Jin nodded, choosing not to say anything. It was not as if the other boy¡¯s words were incorrect, after all. He was a runaway, and had grown up on the streets. Even Jin himself knew that nothing could change that truth.


    Diving into their task, Cyrus lifted a large package, one sizable enough that Jin couldn¡¯t imagine even attempting to lift it. He noticed Jin¡¯s impressed glance and flexed his muscles, clearly proud of their development.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been told my muscles are much stronger than average for a formless practitioner,¡± he bragged. ¡°I¡¯ve been training in the Ten Rivers Form a Sea Muscle Development Technique.¡±


    If Jin were being honest, he would have to admit that he was jealous. Despite developing considerably in his physical strength in the weeks since he had joined the sect, his body still looked the same. Like a short, skinny street rat. No matter how much he ate or exercised, the changes had only been minor. A part of him had wished to remake himself entirely, but it seemed reality was not quite so kind.


    ¡°Master Yuenan says that it is better for me to focus on my movement for now,¡± Jin explained, leaving his inner feelings unsaid.


    Cyrus nodded sagely.


    ¡°That makes sense. Most people in the sect focus on that, and you¡¯re very skinny. You should eat more.¡±


    Jin scowled, hearing this.


    ¡°Not everyone eats the portions of a mule,¡± he said, instinctively lashing out. There had only been so much he could take..


    Cyrus¡¯ brow twitched, but through force of will his smile did not disappear. After a pause he chuckled, glancing down at the shorter boy.


    ¡°Someone¡¯s a bit jealous. Maybe you should be proud of what you have, Jin, and not take your anger out on me?¡±


    ¡°Maybe if you tried not looking and speaking like a farm animal you wouldn¡¯t be making people angry,¡± Jin replied. He had tried to bite back the words, but couldn¡¯t help himself. Jin regretted them mere moments after speaking. He was unused to acting polite, and the habits built up on the streets were not so easily unlearned.


    Cyrus¡¯ facade dropped, and his face contorted into a scowl.


    ¡°You seem to be a bit out of sorts, Jin. If you have a problem with me, why don¡¯t we resolve it in the ring?¡±


    The ring, Jin knew, was a raised circle of stone in one of the sect¡¯s training rooms. It was used for sparring, but also to settle disputes between disciples by way of combat. He sneered. This was more the sort of conversation he was equipped to handle.


    ¡°Half a realm higher, and you¡¯re challenging me to a spar. How charitable of you.¡±


    Cyrus shrugged smugly.


    ¡°If you¡¯re scared, that¡¯s none of my business.¡±


    Jin gritted his teeth, but did not want to back down. He was a different man than he had been in Crucible¡¯s Edge. As a martial artist, he would not be a coward. He would be someone that his master could take pride in.


    ¡°I¡¯m not scared. Once we¡¯re done with this, I¡¯ll knock you out of the ring.¡±


    This time, Cyrus was the one to sneer, his veneer removed.


    ¡°We¡¯ll see, then. Just remember that you started this, Jin Luo. Your master won¡¯t complain when I beat you bloody.¡±


    Following the exchange, the two boys continued to unload the sledges in silence, each one with slightly gritted teeth. Jin knew that he was the one in the wrong, but he refused to apologize for his comment. His pride would not allow it. He swallowed his dread, and continued to unload the boxes. He wondered what Master Yuenan would think when he found out about this. He would probably be disappointed, Jin thought.


    Muscle Development Techniques: [A rare form of body-alteration technique, a muscle development technique must be kept active for many months in order to fully take effect, as they slowly alter one¡¯s body to be much stronger than it would normally be, and ultimately culminating in a unique form of miasmic physique upon reaching the spirit refinement realm. The less severe of these techniques will slowly fade back to the body¡¯s standard over time if not practiced, and only become permanent if used as the foundational technique of one of the martial artist¡¯s cores. More extreme techniques might result in the martial artist¡¯s death if they are no longer practiced, or if the martial artist is crippled. Despite being classified under the same term, the differences between muscle development techniques of the different miasmas are fundamental. Formless variants often focus more on muscle movements, while manifest techniques might expand the muscles, and genesis ones on energy storage.]

 215- An Ascetics Idea of Fun

    The Downpour, Canvas, Frontier Territory, Early Winter, 1596 PTS


    ¡°He¡¯s an idiot,¡± huffed Yuenan, exasperated at his disciple¡¯s actions.


    Riese shrugged.


    ¡°He¡¯s young. I feel this sort of thing was to be expected. Besides, I imagine this could be a good lesson for him.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll see,¡± Yuenan muttered.


    They stood at the edge of a covered balcony, one which jutted out from one of the room¡¯s covers. This was a place for the Elders of the sect to watch disciples from a concealed location. Though observant disciples might notice the presence of their souls, the balcony itself and its occupants could not be visually observed from below.


    ¡°What do you know about this Cyrus?¡± Yuenan suddenly asked, breaking the silence. Though the rain pouring down right before their eyes was loud, it could be considered white noise to the ears of any long-term Downpour Resident. For himself and Riese, both of whom had lived here for over an average mortal life-time, the noise might as well have been nonexistent.


    Riese shrugged.


    ¡°He¡¯s been one of the more talented of the most recent generation¡¯s disciples, and is trusted by Idri¡¯s aides. Raised as the descendant of an influential merchant clan, I believe. He was sent to us because he¡¯s the third son.¡±


    Yuenan nodded, receiving all of the details.


    ¡°I can see why they might not have gotten along. Do we know what happened between them?¡± he asked.


    Riese shook her head, pausing to take a sip of her tea. The scent was different from that emanating from Yuenan¡¯s own cup, a fact which did not spark any surprise from the man.


    ¡°Neither of them are giving the proper details of what happened between them to cause the fight,¡± she explained. ¡°According to those I asked, at least.¡±


    Yuenan took another sip of his tea.


    ¡°They¡¯re probably both at fault, then.¡±


    Riese nodded in agreement. Regardless, at this stage either one of the boys could have backed out long ago. Reaching this stage was foolish and immature on both their accounts.


    ¡°Who do you think is going to win?¡±


    ¡°Does it matter?¡± Yuenan asked.


    ¡°I suppose not,¡± she replied. ¡°But he is your disciple.¡±


    Yuenan shrugged, but did not respond. Jin had brought himself here on his own two feet, and what would happen, would happen. Internally, he could not help but feel annoyed about the affair. It seemed that the boy remained immature. He did not decry a martial artist the right to defend themselves, but Jin had to learn the rule of the martial world. To accept a duel request from someone so clearly more powerful¡­


    He took another sip of his tea, eyes still locked on the tiny figure of his disciple below. He wondered just what was running through the boy¡¯s mind.


    <hr>


    Jin breathed slowly in and out as he stood before the ring. He wrung his hands, feeling the sweat as it formed beneath his skin. His martial training, short as it was, had already begun to take effect within his body, changing the way that Jin experienced the world. He was stronger than ever, and much faster. The world seemed clearer, and he was able to notice details that might have been impossible before. It was difficult for him to discern just how significant the changes were, but Jin was certain that they existed.


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    Idly, Jin glanced across the arena, where Cyrus stood. The larger boy gave a tentative swing of his blade, a large and unwieldy weapon that at first glance looked to be the opposite of something a formless artist would use. Practitioners with muscle development techniques truly were something else, he thought. Still, Cyrus using such a technique would make the fight easier for Jin. He had fought with enemies who were stronger and faster in the past, and despite the unfairness of such a matchup, it still seemed better than one with a more mysterious technique at use. If Jin¡¯s opponent could use the Water-Striding Steps as well as his master could¡­ it would have been best for him to simply submit in advance, pride be damned.


    But in the current scenario¡­ a deep, heavily shrouded part of himself felt that he could do it. He was a martial artist now, someone miles above the person he had been before. Jin did not need to stomach the dismissive eyes of the passersby. Eyes such as those Cyrus was glancing at him with even now. The other disciple had been looking down on him because he came from the streets. But Master Yuenan had said that a martial artist¡¯s origin did not indicate their potential. Even a genius from the most illustrious of families might falter and die on the path.


    This was Jin¡¯s opportunity to prove that truth to the rest of the sect.


    This training room was located in one of the upper areas of the sect, and was exposed to the elements. Constant rainfall fell on the room, crashing into the stone circle and cascading off into channels carved into the floor, to pour off the side of the sect¡¯s walls. Mere moments after stepping out from the corridor, Jin had found himself entirely drenched, slick with water under the pounding gale around him. The room was filled with the watchful gazes of other disciples, excited to watch a duel. Such events only happened every other week, and Jin had already taken the time to watch two of them before. It was certainly an interesting diversion from the monotony of sect life.


    As he stepped onto the raised circle, Jin gripped the wooden sword tighter in his hands, feeling the fabric cord which bound its grip shift under the pressure. His eyes roamed to the far end of the room, where an occluded balcony rested. Here, he could sense two souls blazing brightly. Both bore the strength of a soul undergoing refinement. As Cyrus did not seem to have a particular master, Jin was almost certain that they belonged to Master Yuenan and Elder Hukari. The fact that his master was watching sent a shiver down Jin¡¯s spine, and he straightened himself up, his motivation growing. He would need to win, or risk staining his master¡¯s image.


    Cyrus smiled, rising to follow his opponent onto the raised arena.


    ¡°I admire your boldness,¡± he said. ¡°For that, I will allow you to concede, if you publicly apologize for insulting me.¡±


    Jin had calmed down since their meeting, and he was not unwilling.


    ¡°I will do so, if you also apologize for your slights.¡±


    Hearing this, Cyrus frowned, as if he had no recollection of being so rude and dismissive. Perhaps he truly did not remember. Jin¡¯s group tightened further on his blade, and he raised it, pointing the tip towards the other boy¡¯s throat. Cyrus suddenly grinned, a dark look in his eyes.


    ¡°I have nothing to apologize for,¡± he insisted. ¡°Fine, then, let us begin. I will graciously allow you to take the first move, junior.¡±


    Jin glared up at him, the resentment rising once more. At this point, it did not matter how small the slight, or any feeling that his attitude might have been unjustified. Once more, Cyrus was looking down on him. Nobody could look at him like that, never again. He had left that life behind.


    ¡°I thank the senior for his graciousness,¡± Jin practically snarled, leaving no illusions about the meaning of his words.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure why you¡¯re acting like this,¡± frowned Cyrus, who then shrugged. ¡°No matter. Perhaps this lesson was one you desperately needed to learn.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll begin,¡± Jin said, before darting towards the larger boy, and slashing towards his legs. It was a good, strong swing, but one that was emblematic of Jin¡¯s training to this point. He had only been training in the way of the sword for a few weeks, and his accomplishments remained insubstantial.


    Cyrus ignored the blow, stepping into it and letting it slam into his thigh. Jin saw him wince, but the interrupted swing was unable to receive his full force. As if he were a rampaging beast, he slammed shoulder first into Jin, forcing him to take a step backwards.


    Cyrus took another heavy step, driving his blade towards Jin¡¯s head. Jin guarded, using his wooden sword to protect his face, but the blow landed, and Jin¡¯s defense was only able to partially guard against it. He was pushed away, slammed to the stone of the ground in an ungainly fashion. The world spun, wobbling and fading in presence as Jin¡¯s eyes watched the sky.


    The dark masses of clouds truly were beautiful, he thought.


    Ascetic and Secular Forces of Canvas: [Despite the term ascetic being used, ascetic martial sects are rarely truly ascetic, not dedicated to the loss of all comforts. Instead, they are merely sects which focus on the practice of martial arts above all else. Despite this, there is no noticeable difference in the odds of an ascetic force or a secular force¡¯s member achieving immortality, whether false or true. Ascetic forces are generally located in rural areas, far away from towns and cities, while secular forces tend to be located within populated areas, though this is not always the case. Both forces often own businesses and merchant groups to assist with sect funding. Some secular forces are even run similarly to businesses, however, and focus on profit generation.]

 216- A Well-Placed Step

    The Downpour, Canvas, Frontier Territory, Early Winter, 1596 PTS


    Raindrops fell on Jin¡¯s exposed face, as the world faded in and out of presence. For a moment, he couldn¡¯t even remember where he was, before memory returned in a flash. He had been fighting someone- Cyrus, an older disciple. Jin¡¯s strained mind could not even remember why they were fighting.


    At the bare edges of perception, he heard the heavy stamp of a foot, and Jin knew that his time was running short. Gritting his teeth, Jin tried to rise back to his feet, but he felt his left arm refuse to comply. Had he broken a bone? Using the power of his will, Jin¡¯s other hand slammed into the water-swept surface of the arena¡¯s floor, Jin forcefully shoved himself into a seated position. Almost on instinct, he fell into a roll, avoiding the heavy crash of Cyrus¡¯s wooden blade into the surface he had been resting on just moments before. The move was brutal, but Jin could respect it. It was wise to attack an opponent when they were down. It was a method of avoiding any potential tricks.


    Using the momentum of the roll, Jin rose again to his feet. He could feel the throbbing pulse of his heartbeat from the back of his head, telling of a bleeding wound. But that was something that he could ignore, as it was beaten back by the rain. Jin felt his blood wash away into the endless flow, as if he were becoming one with the endless storm.


    ¡°You should stay down,¡± snarled Cyrus, swinging wide, but Jin ducked beneath it, the telegraphed blow far too easy to track. The larger boy was like a raging fiend, large and powerful, but in Jin¡¯s eyes, he was almost slow. There was something odd about that fact. It was not just his opponent, but the world itself that seemed to have slowed, a symphony in tune to the staccato rhythm of the rainfall.


    In that moment, Jin¡¯s mind¡¯s eye flashed back to the glance he had once taken of the waterstrider. The grace which it had exhibited despite its enormity. Jin got it now. He understood what his master had been trying to teach him. The steps flowed smooth, drifting across the flowing streams like an insect darting across water.


    In one of his science lessons, Yuenan had taught him that the reason the small waterstriding insects could run on water was due to their wide strides, and a factor known as surface tension- the force which held water droplets together. The water-striding steps were just that- a step which was impossibly wide, and impossibly soft, as if his body was not as heavy as it should be.


    Jin stretched his leg out, and as Cyrus¡¯ sword came in for another blow, he strode past the other body, handily dodging, as a surprised expression filled Cyrus¡¯ face. Jin smiled as he came to a stop on the other side of the arena. This was only the earliest stage of achievement in the technique, but it was enough to put it to use. With this, his odds had multiplied, because unless he made a mistake, Jin was untouchable.


    Cyrus made an admirable effort, but he was simply not quick enough to respond. Moreover, his annoyance grew with every failed slash, and his exertion grew as well. Jin could see the other boy¡¯s bloodshot eyes, and the rage that he failed to contain.


    The other boy¡¯s problem was one that Jin only realized now. He lacked the Water-Striding Steps, and was stuck with only the balancing abilities his body naturally had. On such a smooth surface, covered in flowing water, it took effort for him to keep his balance. This left Cyrus forced to take slow, plodding steps as he carefully chose where to place his feet.


    With his newly-mastered technique, Jin had no such restrictions. As Cyrus slashed once again, Jin dodged, taking advantage of his shorter stature to step beneath the blow, and this time, he responded with one of his own. Two swift slashes to Cyrus¡¯s side resulted in twin grunts, and by the time Cyrus slung his sword backward to deal with Jin, Jin had already ducked.


    However, he failed to anticipate the knee that slammed into his gut. Doubling over, Jin laughed, ignoring the splatter of blood that emerged from his throat.


    ¡°That was good,¡± he burbled, enjoying himself more than he realized he had since he had adjusted to sect life. Few things could make one feel alive like combat.


    The throbbing in his head and his chest continued, but Jin ignored it as he slammed his sword into Cyrus¡¯ ankles with a sharp crack. Cyrus slipped, but did not fall, his stance far too stable.


    Despite Cyrus¡¯ effective counter-attack, Jin still had the advantage. As the  swifter and more mobile of the two, he was able to choose when to engage and disengage, an advantage which far surpassed Cyrus¡¯ reach advantage, or even his more developed stage in the realm.


    In Jin¡¯s experience, fights rarely lasted for more than a minute, but soon, this one had gone on for several. Cyrus was simply too durable, and the wooden sword he was wielding found it difficult to do more than bruise the other boy¡¯s ribs.


    It took some time to take Cyrus down. As time passed, both of them grew wearier and wearier, and had Jin been any weaker, he might have simply slipped and forced Cyrus into a wrestling match on the ground. However, due to Cyrus¡¯ advantage in physical strength, Jin knew that he had to play it safe. So instead, he continued to engage in cowardly tactics, dashing freely across the watery surface, feeling joyful as he did so.


    Jin felt as if he were the storm itself, relentless and oppressive. He judged the length of Cyrus¡¯ arms and blade, and knew precisely how far to stay out of range. If Cyrus wished to even the odds, he would need to do something to throw Jin off guard, to shift the flow of battle, but he did not do so. He merely continued following the same patterns, the same stances that both of them had trained in.


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    And for that reason above all else, Jin was able to beat him.


    Ultimately, Cyrus fell to the ground, defeated, and just like his opponent had, Jin took one final strike, slamming the sword into the larger boy¡¯s side. Cyrus grunted, but made no further sound as Jin raised his sword high in exhilaration, his breaths heavy and chilled in the cold of the rain.


    If he were still a mortal, perhaps he might have fallen sick after this. On the streets, many had died of such illnesses.


    The training room had gone silent save for the pounding rain, but moments after, the disciples erupted into a fervor, shouting and speaking loudly to one another. The sounds hurt Jin¡¯s brain, and he, too, collapsed to his knees on the stone of the arena. He could not help but smile, and his eyes roamed upwards to the concealed balcony in the corner.


    He wondered whether his master was proud of him.


    <hr>


    The Downpour, Canvas, Frontier Territory, Early Winter, 1596 PTS


    Yuenan smiled as he witnessed his sole disciple¡¯s movements. This was the true reason he had chosen the boy. Regardless of what the tests had claimed as Jin¡¯s remarkable receptivity to formless miasma, his talent for combat was what was truly exceptional.


    For someone like Jin, only when putting their training into practice would he achieve substantial improvement.


    ¡°This Cyrus has turned out to be quite the talent. I¡¯m impressed,¡± Riese said. ¡°His muscle development technique has progressed faster than one would have anticipated at this stage.


    Yuenan glanced askance towards. Those had not been what he had anticipated her first words to be.


    ¡°I suppose,¡± he said. He had paid little attention to Cyrus¡¯s abilities. In all honesty, he had difficulty gauging talent among those at such a low stage. It had been far too long since he had been so weak, and unlike Riese, Yuenan was now teaching for the first time.


    ¡°I¡¯m more focused on Jin, as you might imagine. He finally figured out how to use the steps.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± she asked, raising an eyebrow. He nodded.


    ¡°A real fight is different. It is a lens with which to view one¡¯s abilities in action. It is where the results of training solidify. And for some,¡± he continued, watching his disciple¡¯s every movement, ¡°it is a place where new things may be learned.¡±


    Riese smiled.


    ¡°You have quite the good disciple, though I feel you should tell him to be more elegant. He was wielding that sword as if it were a cudgel.¡±


    She reached out, lightly caressing Yuenan¡¯s cheek.


    ¡°Truly, take care, Yuenan,¡± she said. ¡°I suspect that boy may be his own worst enemy.¡± With that said, she clapped him on the shoulder, making her leave from the viewing balcony. Yuenan watched her departing back, and once she was finally gone, he returned his attention to the bleeding, heavily wounded form of his disciple.


    ¡°Just who will you become, I wonder?¡± he muttered to himself. It was good for a martial artist to enjoy combat- expected, even. But perhaps he would need to intensify Jin¡¯s science and philosophy lessons. Yuenan would certainly not be left with the legacy of a disciple who was a meathead. Nor, he thought, would it do for Jin to be so easily antagonized. He would make the boy rectify that weakness, as well.


    After departing from the balcony, Riese quickly maneuvered through the halls of the sect, winding up by the side of the hall to wait. As anticipated, a wounded Cyrus Aodi soon stepped past. He had sensed her presence, but upon realizing who she was, he started in surprise, before quickly bowing.


    ¡°Disciple greets Elder Hukari,¡± he said, his awkwardness prompting a chuckle from Riese¡¯s lips. He was a cute child, she thought.


    ¡°Your loss was a surprise,¡± she said.


    The boy visibly tensed, and she was able to sense an undercurrent of anger within him. That was not a surprising reaction. Few young men could accept becoming a stepping stone in this manner, particularly not when the fight had been initiated by said opponent.


    ¡°I apologize, Elder,¡± he said, his teeth not-so-secretly gritted.


    ¡°The reason you lost,¡± she said, shaking her head, ¡°is because you lack experience in real combat. Yuenan¡¯s disciple is lesser than you in most regards. His talent is great, but it has yet to bear fruit. But I believe he has fought before, and put his life on the line. In that,¡± she continued, ¡°you cannot match up to him. For now, at least.¡±


    Cyrus looked down at the shorter woman, his sodden hair continuing to glisten in the rain.


    ¡°Am I supposed to just accept this?¡± he asked.


    Riese smiled, watching the boy carefully.


    ¡°How would you like to become my disciple?¡±


    Cyrus blinked, clearly not having expected such a response.


    ¡°Are you serious?¡± he asked. ¡°Why me?¡±


    She shrugged.


    ¡°I am merely recognizing your potential.¡±


    ¡°If I accept you as my master,¡± he said hesitantly, ¡°will I be able to get my revenge?¡±


    Ah, she thought. This one has heard the rumors. It did not matter, of course. There was truth to them, but Riese was not the type to be defined by her relationships with others. No matter the circumstances, she was her own individual, and she would do as she wished.


    ¡°Of the great martial masters,¡± Riese said, ¡°the best almost always had a rival. I think that your drive for revenge will be a boon for the sect. Never lose that spark.¡±


    She admired the spark in Cyrus¡¯s golden eyes. It was an admirable flame, unquenched despite the storm that raged outside. Perhaps these were emotions that could only be found within the young. That was good, though. To Riese, it seemed that both of the young disciples were boys playing at being men, but lacking the maturity to truly understand adulthood. If they had been wiser, none of this would have happened in the first place.


    As an Elder, it was her job to instruct them.


    Canvasian Science and Natural Philosophy: [Even prior to first contact with the Staiven, the Canvasians independently arrived at the concepts of the scientific method, as well as the philosophies of scientific rationalism. To certain factions, such studies were seen as complementary to martial training, and disciples were educated to the best of their force¡¯s capability. It was not until the conflicts with the Reth, where their technological superiority turned the tables on the larger force of Sunlit Hall¡¯s martial artists, that they realized the critical importance of developing their technology base further, however. Until first contact with the Staiven, such efforts had borne little fruit. In the modern era, Canvasian science is almost entirely based around the reverse engineering of smuggled alien technology.]

 217- The Elusive Spark of Illumination

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Seventhmonth, 1634 PTS


    Once again, the elites of the Redwater Sect had gathered within the conference room. All of the Palace Leaders and Elders were present, minus Heutel, whose presence was unneeded, and Karie, who was currently training disciples. She would be updated by Rachel, later.


    ¡°How long is the situation expected to continue?¡± asked Kein, glancing towards Rachel and Eli. I had barely sat down before he started speaking. The past week must have been hard for him and Ran, operating under the suppression of the other underworld forces.


    Even still, the Justice Office¡¯s troops had not left the sixth district, clearly aware of what was brewing behind their backs. It seemed that they hoped the Celans could recover enough to defend themselves before their forces would return to the first district. I could barely guess as to what their intentions were behind the occupation.


    Eli shrugged.


    ¡®They¡¯re keeping their intentions tight to the chest, it seems. But rumor has it that they intend to stay until the predators stop circling.¡±


    I nodded. It was a reasonable choice to make for them, though one that seemed out of character for the Staiven. There had to be some reason why they were defending the Celans like this. Were they really that worried about the racial conflict?


    ¡°Perhaps they realized that the racial conflict was not a natural occurrence,¡± said Rachel. ¡°If they suspect someone influenced it using the networks, perhaps they¡¯re hunting for not only Triezal, but for a suspected Shade.¡±


    A jolt of alarm shot through me, and my eyes snapped to Rachel. If they were able to notice the presence of a Shade on the station¡­ Janottka was gone, leaving Rachel as the one that was left. If they were hunting for a Shade, she was the only one remaining on the station to find.


    ¡°That would certainly explain it,¡± nodded Jihan. ¡°But if that¡¯s the case, what, if anything, should we do?¡±


    Rachel shrugged.


    ¡°If we were to tell them that we knew a Shade was present on the station but didn¡¯t tell anyone, do you think they would applaud us?¡± she asked, her tone clearly sarcastic.


    ¡°Regardless, we have our own issues to handle,¡± said Ran, changing the subject. ¡°You told us to delay, but we can only do that for so long. The other gangs have been interfering with our cash flow, and we need to do something. We¡¯re starting to hemorrhage money.¡±


    I nodded. This meeting had been called for a reason. We had finally received the money from the Umrakians, and now, it was  time to fulfil our part of the bargain. I wondered whether they had already realized that we would have done this anyway. Though, perhaps we would have been more discreet.


    ¡°We¡¯re going on the offensive,¡± said, my voice firm.


    Orion smiled.


    ¡°Who are we targeting?¡±


    He turned to eye myself and Rachel, who laughed.


    ¡°Everyone, of course,¡± she said.


    Waved her hand dramatically, a three-dimensional map of the stacks surrounding the sect appeared. The region depicted not only our territory, but that of the remaining gangs around us. Despite the numerous forces we had conquered just over a month ago, in a place like Tseludia, gangsters were like worms. No matter how many you killed, more would always pop up whenever the rain passed by.


    The model was composed from translucent blue light, and around half of the buildings within were colored in a vibrant green. A closer inspection revealed them to be A slender finger stretched across the map, indicating a few points, which lit up with red dots. At a glance, there seemed to be more then fifty of the dots.


    ¡°These are the locations we have noted martial artists loitering or being disruptive. In roughly seventy percent of cases, they left after being confronted by our patrolling forces. In the others, there have been minor fights and skirmishes, though there were no casualties yet. However, revenue is down twenty percent during this period,¡± she explained.


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    Jihan frowned.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand. They¡¯re scaring people away from our brothels? Why don¡¯t we just move the courtesans?¡±


    ¡°We own the brothels and some of the restaurants,¡± Rachel explained, ¡°but most of our money comes from our protection racket. That is what they are primarily targeting.¡±


    I already knew most of what was being said, but I listened carefully regardless. Heutel was not present, but my mind inevitably drifted to her. Despite our hopes, the pharmaceutical development in the Linen Palace had yet to bear fruit. It seemed to me that the sect¡¯s investments so far had all been long term, while the pressing issues required short-term solutions.


    For now, all we could do was fulfill the terms of our agreement with the Umrakians. Their money was exactly what we had needed at this time.


    ¡°We¡¯ll need to establish the division of our forces. Ideally, we will push out most of the other forces at once, and pressure them at the same time. They will need to learn their lesson, or they will think we are weak.¡±


    ¡°Will I be in charge of this affair?¡± asked Orion. As always, his eyes contained little but naked ambition.


    Rachel shook her head.


    ¡°It¡¯s too large of an area, so we¡¯ll split our forces into three groups, led by you, Jihan, and Karie.¡±


    He nodded, clearly miffed, but to his credit, Orion did not say anything.


    ¡°I¡¯ll handle Lao Feng,¡± I said, suddenly.


    Rachel gave me an odd look.


    ¡°But the Feng Gang isn¡¯t¡­¡±  She smiled, finally realizing my thoughts. ¡°Well, why not? Some exercise might do you well.¡±


    Jihan glanced at me, unsurprised by the suggestion. For these past weeks, I had made little progress. Progression remained at the forefront of my mind, but focus alone would not grant the enlightenment I needed. I was flagging. Was this the limit of my talents? Perhaps, I had thought, what I was missing, what I needed in order to improve was battle, a true test of my capabilities. I had been using him and Karie as sparring partners every day, hoping to experience a spark of inspiration regarding my bottleneck. I had not been so lucky, and so now I would seek out alternative sources of inspiration. There were not many targets who could effectively spar against me. And given the current stalled status of the underworld, I was currently limited as to the feathers I could risk ruffling.


    Fortunately, a convenient opportunity lay before me. And while I was at it, perhaps I could deal with the loose end known as Triezal.


    ¡°I have an alternative suggestion, Sect Leader Yu.¡± The words came from Jihan, who had remained mostly quiet in the meeting so far. I gestured for him to continue.


    ¡°I believe you should have a discussion with Sirena Hadal,¡± he said. ¡°Ideally, while this effort is underway.¡±


    His words were a surprise, and prompted a flurry of discussion around the table.


    ¡°And why is that?¡± asked Rachel. The sanguine practitioner met her gaze, his face expressionless.


    ¡°Because I would be surprised if they ignore what we¡¯re planning, today. They were the ones who started this.¡±


    I agreed with him. The time had not yet come where we would cast aside our relationship with the Hadal Clan. Our forces were too few, and their Supreme Elder alone was enough to destroy our entire force while hardly even breaking a sweat. Still, I knew that if I spoke with her, she would almost certainly order me not to interfere with the other gangs. Every time we expanded our power in that manner, we dug into their bottom line. There was only so much that the clan would allow before the Matriarch¡¯s goodwill ran out. And even still, whatever plan she had for me had yet to achieve fruition.


    The question, however, was how much Karie Hadal should be involved in such discussions. I would need to speak with her before making the decision. I sighed, rubbing the spot on my forehead where my cerebral dantian had once rested. It seemed as if all a sect leader did was go to meeting after meeting. Even by handing over most of my duties to Rachel, I still found myself trapped with far too many responsibilities.


    Still, I thought. It was better than being alone.


    The meeting continued for several more minutes, as those present discussed each of their roles, as well as plans and backup plans for the engagements. While on the surface I was quietly listening to the discussion, internally I could not help but be distracted by my thoughts.


    I needed to fight, and yet my responsibilities stood in my way. If necessary, I would abandon the sect, or let it be threatened, if it would allow me to break through my bottleneck. One could slow their progress along the path, but I knew that every day I did not move forward ate further and further into my remaining life force. As an unorthodox practitioner, I could not be careless. I was not selfless enough to die for a cause.


    Even if it was not the optimal scenario for the sect, I would be participating in the raid.


    Before long, the meeting came to its conclusion, and we made plans to take action in one day¡¯s time. As the others filtered out of the room, Orion stayed behind, causing me to raise a brow.


    ¡°Is something the matter?¡± I asked.


    He smiled.


    ¡°Sect Leader, I would like to ask your permission for something.¡±


    Borders of the Pantheonic Territory: [Borders of galactic territories are something that has always been hotly contested between factions. Most of the explored galaxy is under the control of various Osine factions, with the rest under the power of ascendants such as those of the Pantheon. While the borders between such powers are not as hotly contested as those between the Osine nations and the Incursion, the Pantheonic Territory¡¯s borders are still constantly shifting as threats and deals are made between factions. Fortunately, the firm treaties the Pantheon have made with the Sheneth-Ari have reduced the burden, and allowed their navy to focus on other threats.]

 218- Unbowed by Pressure

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Seventhmonth, 1634 PTS


    There were few experiences more exhilarating than displays of force. Orion had been born into the underworld, recruited into his father¡¯s gang when he grew old enough to begin learning martial arts. Orion wanted power, but that was not the only reason he remained in the underworld. He was a martial artist, and as such, he enjoyed violence. That was simply the nature of things.


    Orion sidled up to the disruptive patron, kicking the man in the back and sending him sprawling down to the ground. The martial artist snarled as he scrambled to his feet in an ungainly attempt to preserve face.


    ¡°I¡¯ll gut you like a-¡± the man started to say, before being interrupted by a boot to his face as Orion kicked the man back to the ground. This time, the gangster finally realized the difference in their realms. He smiled flatteringly, a silly expression given the growing welt on the side of his cheek.


    ¡°Martial master, this one did not see you there,¡± he said. ¡°Is there an issue?¡±


    Orion disdained the way the man had switched so quickly to flattery, though in his place Orion couldn¡¯t imagine he would have acted any differently. It was in a Seiyal¡¯s inbuilt instincts to take any action that would aid in survival, no matter how shameless. Pride was a weakness, one that only got in the way.


    Pride, he believed, was for only the mighty and for the fools who thought themselves to be among the prior groups. As a prideful man, Orion considered himself to be in the latter group. He only needed to take one more step to reach the next level and become truly strong. All he needed was treasures.


    ¡°Do you know whose turf you¡¯re on?¡± he asked.


    The man blinked, finally putting the pieces together in his mind. He was the slow type, it seemed.


    ¡°You¡¯re-¡± he started to say, before being silenced with another kick.


    ¡°That¡¯s the wrong answer,¡± Orion said.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you being too harsh, Master?¡± asked his first disciple, Sashan. Orion scowled, almost regretting having brought her along. He had asked for permission to bring the more upstanding disciples of the sect with him on this mission, and after only a short discussion, Cyrus had agreed. It seemed that the Riverfiend knew the same truths as he did: a scion raised in safety could not flourish, like a sapling in an unlit room.


    ¡°To deal with this sort of trash, one needs to speak their language,¡± he said, grabbing the beaten foundation refiner by his hair and dragging him to one of the sect¡¯s soldiers. ¡°Dispose of him,¡± he ordered. The soldier nodded, and carried the unfortunate thug to an awaiting autocart, where several other wounded gangsters had been laid out. Most were awake, but under the watchful gaze of Orion¡¯s soldiers, they were wise enough to remain subdued.


    Orion had not even bothered to inspect which miasma the man used. He was so weak that it did not particularly matter. Regardless, the cart existed because killing the gangsters felt like a waste, when he could instead sell them to the Linen Palace¡¯s leader. Ever since he had started such work, he had begun to see every other criminal on the street as a mere paycheck.


    His other disciples nodded at the sage advice, while the frown on Sashan¡¯s face told him she wasn¡¯t buying it. Orion sighed as he often did around the girl. Training her was like acting as the father to a recalcitrant teen, and Orion had avoided fathering kids for a reason.


    ¡°Do you have an issue with my methods, disciple?¡± he asked. Sashan nodded boldly. ¡°Then do inform me of a better method.¡±


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you speak with him first?" she suggested. "If you gave him the chance, I¡¯m sure he would have surrendered.¡±


    Orion shook his head. The girl was still young, and far too shortsighted.


    ¡°We are not just here to end the current crisis, we¡¯re also here to prevent future problems. I am sending a message: interfering in the Redwater Sect¡¯s territory is not a wise decision. The delay has weakened that message, so I plan to use violence to strengthen it again.¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡±


    ¡°No buts,¡± said Orion, shutting her down. ¡°Take it up with the Sect Leader if you have any more problems.¡± Fortunately, none of the other present disciples were presenting any problems. Aside from Sashan, the rest of Orion¡¯s disciples showed proper respect to their master.


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    Overall, he thought, assessing the situation, the mission was proving to be trivial. Too trivial, almost. Apparently, only one core formation practitioner had been among the disruptors, and not a single spirit refiner. This was not enough to truly pressure the sect. Something must be happening outside of Orion¡¯s awareness. Still, that was not his problem. Cyrus and Rachel would deal with that, while Orion¡¯s sole focus was the task before him.


    Perhaps Rachel had simply assigned him to deal with opponents he was able to handle, and others such as Karie and Jihan had dealt with the more advanced practitioners. It was difficult to say. Regardless, this was just the earliest stage of his work today, and now it was time for him to begin the next one. Orion raised his arm, directing outwards.


    ¡°Lead them to the other group,¡± he ordered. His subordinates obeyed.


    Once more, Jihan eyed his disciples. Today, he would give them something that was extremely overdue. An opportunity to prove themselves.


    <hr>


    ???, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Seventhmonth, 1634 PTS


    Despite Janottka¡¯s death, the net had not calmed down in the past few weeks. She had assisted in sparking the hostilities, but in the end, it was all self-sustaining.


    And the Staiven were watching, now.


    Their net crawlers were nothing compared to her own ability, but the remaining traces of her battle with Janottka had already been collected. They knew that a Shade was present, and that it had been interfacing with an internet node inside the sixth district during the battle. This, she still believed, was the primary reason for their continued presence in the district.


    As much as Rachel did not like considering herself a machine, she was clear that the Staiven would see her as one. And even if they did not, their treaty with the Sheneth-Ari would still insist they attempt to kill her.


    And if the Osine were to find out what she really was, they would arrive in person. Rachel would be forced to flee for her life, discarding everything she had been working to build on the station.


    It was a fine line she was treading. If she ceased to interact with the station¡¯s network, Rachel would surely slip past the loose net of the Staiven¡¯s security, but she could not do that. Her virtual acumen was a large part of the sect¡¯s advantages.


    Their moves today were one such example. She could sort through communications, finding each and every disruptive martial artist in their territory, making a difficult, prolonged task into a simple affair. The Hadal merchant faction, or whoever it truly was that sent them, must have expected this to be a far more troubling affair, as the martial artists hid whenever a Redwater member arrived. This had been why the Iron Palace had difficulty dealing with the threat on their own, but with Rachel¡¯s assistance, this problem could be solved without issue. Relatively speaking, of course. She doubted the pressure would actually end here. they could send out forces to defend their own territory, but the same was not true for business partners outside the few stacks the Redwater Sect controlled.


    The larger issue, however, lay with what came after. This was the true problem at hand: who, exactly, it was that wished to target them, and why.


    A fragment of Rachel¡¯s attention remained with Cyrus as it usually did. Her projection walked beside him as they approached the doors to the Hadal Clan¡¯s headquarters. Once again, they had an appointment with the Matriarch, but this time it was they who had requested it.


    The clan¡¯s entrance was as imposing as always, at odds with the sterile, patchwork design the Staiven favored. A cross section of Canvas, captured and carried all these lightyears away.


    ¡°Are you certain this is a good idea?¡± she asked. ¡°We don¡¯t know whether Sirena signed off on their suppression of us or not.¡±


    Cyrus shrugged.


    ¡°I would wager that she did not, but regardless, we will have to speak with her about it. The current situation is easy to solve, but the next one may not be. And unless you have a suggestion for handling their Supreme Elder¡­¡±


    ¡°Not yet,¡± she sighed. ¡°But I see your point. ¡°I¡¯ll keep you apprised, but so far, everything has gone smoothly.¡±


    ¡°Remind them to just defend our territory and not take any more,¡± he ordered. ¡°We can barely handle what we currently control.¡±


    She nodded in agreement.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do so, but I believe they all already understand the situation.¡±


    ¡°If they don¡¯t,¡± he said, ¡°I¡¯ll have to get more practice in.¡±


    Rachel snickered, amused by the threat.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to inform them of that.¡±


    In a perfect world, the sect would have grown far more stable by this point, focused on training the next generation of soldiers, a force of actual talents who could hope to rival the other forces. Today, she hoped to ensure that they would obtain that opportunity.


    Programming in the Pantheonic Territory: [Due to the restrictions on development of artificial intelligence technology, the virtual technology of its inhabitants has been restricted in its development. Not only are such rules law by nature of treaty, but they have also been codified into doctrine by the six churches of the Pantheon. Because of this, limitations have been placed on programming techniques such as machine learning, and limitations have been placed on algorithm complexity, to inhibit the odds of accidental Shade development. Arguments have been made that this leaves networks vulnerable to alien Shades, but this is considered to be the duty of the Navy and the Port Authority to prevent.]

 219- Put into Practice

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Seventhmonth, 1634 PTS


    Orion smiled, gesturing outwards, where a circle had been crudely marked onto the ground with light projectors.


    ¡°I want you to test yourselves in a real fight. And for that reason, I¡¯ve put together a relatively safe opportunity to do so.¡±


    ¡°Are we¡­ supposed to spar?¡± asked Wue Lin, one of his personal disciples. Wue was quite muscular, and Orion had picked him purely for this fact. His physique was rather impressive, though he was far too simple-minded to exercise any of his potential. Orion sighed, annoyed by his disciple¡¯s inability to comprehend the obvious.


    They stood in a warehouse, one used as a storehouse for the materials and foods sold at the brothels and restaurants the sect had inherited from the Redwater Gang.


    ¡°You can¡¯t be serious, Master,¡± said Sashan, who seemed to have realized what he planned for them. Orion shrugged.


    ¡°The Sect Leader signed off on it. You need to test yourselves, and this is the safest way to do so.¡± His eyes roamed over each of his disciples¡¯ heads. ¡°If you can¡¯t do this, then you have no business being a martial artist in the first place.¡±


    ¡°You want us to fight them?¡± asked one of his other disciples, his eyes firmly locked on the crowded mass of gangsters on the other end of the room. They were guarded by Orion¡¯s forces, and had been stripped of their weapons.


    ¡°You do not need to kill your opponent if you do not wish, but you can if you want to,¡± Orion continued, cutting the boy off. ¡°Now,¡± he said, ¡°which one of you wants to go first?¡±


    There was a long pause, as all six of them hesitated. Orion sighed in disappointment. He liked to think that he had been far bolder at their age. What sort of martial artists were they? He would have expected them to be more confident. Finally, however, as the pause dragged on, Wue raised his hand. Orion nodded appreciatively. The boy was a fool, but at least he was proving not to be a coward.


    ¡°Perfect. Get in,¡± he said, motioning to a soldier, who handed him a sword. With great trepidation, Wue accepted it, hefting a weapon of real metal for the first time. The sword sagged for a moment, and Orion recognized the surprise at how the blade bore a greater heft than the synthesized composites that composed the training swords.


    Hesitantly, the boy stepped into the ring, and the first of the gangsters stepped forward to meet him, hefting a blade of his own.


    These were some of the gangsters that Orion had captured, those whose martial talents left them in the early stages of the foundation refinement realm, just like his disciples. Those more advanced had been sent to the Linen Palace.


    Orion had told them that if they defeated a disciple in combat, they would be allowed to leave, and he intended to keep his word. But he was confident in his teaching abilities. If any of his disciples were to fail this test, he would need to resort to¡­ more extreme teaching methods. The gangsters¡¯ weapons were blunted, to reduce the danger the disciples would be in.


    For a long moment, Wue paused, and Orion could sense the manifest energies flowing within his disciple¡¯s body. He had learned only one technique, and was the slowest in activating it of his cohort. But once it had been activated, such a simple manifest technique was trivial to maintain.


    The moment his technique had begun, Wue charged impulsively, slashing out with his sword. It glowed slightly, heated by a technique which, practiced to completion, would eventually become able to summon a sword of fire.


    The gangster glanced down at his own weapon, then lashed out, pressing his blade towards Wue¡¯s forearms. Though Wue had moved first, his movements were clumsy, betrayed by his relative inexperience. His blow was intercepted, and with a loud cracking noise, the gangster knocked the sword loose from his hand.


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    Wue cursed, diving for the blade, but his bulk made him slow, and with a cruel grin, his opponent stabbed firmly into his turned back. Had the blade not been dulled, such a blow might have taken his life.


    Enraged, Wue spun, giving up on retrieving his weapon, and dove for the man¡¯s legs. He took another painful blow to his shoulder blades, but the thug was too slow, and was unable to dodge. The two of them toppled to the ground, with Wue on the bottom. The thug prepared to stab his sword once more into the teen¡¯s injured flesh, but Wue reached out, managing to grab hold of the gangster¡¯s forearm. He tried to shake the heavyset boy off, but Wue was stronger, and his grip held firm.


    Mere seconds later, he began to scream.


    Orion smiled in approval. The thug was no master himself, and had underestimated Wue¡¯s ability. The technique he had performed did not heat up metal: it heated up whatever he was holding. The gangster¡¯s shouts resounded across the room as the scent of roasting meat slowly spread. Beneath the screams was the sound of his arm sizzling as it cooked.


    ¡°I surrender! I surrender! Just get him off of me!¡± he shouted, terrified by the pain and the mouth-watering scent.


    Though Wue laid on the ground, wounded and breathing heavily, the battle was over, and Orion felt a sense of pride at his disciple¡¯s victory.


    ¡°Excellent job, Wue,¡± he said, motioning towards his lieutenant, Li Qing, who stood at the edge of the ring, and quickly pulled the two apart. From the corner of his eye, Orion could see Sashan¡¯s face, which had acquired a greenish hue. He sighed, hoping that she would grow out of it soon. Perhaps it would only happen after her first kill.


    A hint of motion towards the edge of the room attracted Orion¡¯s attention, accompanied by the approach of a cohort of souls. He had not expected visitors so soon, particularly not without forewarning. He frowned, but made no move to approach. Soon, the warehouse¡¯s entrance slid open, revealing the refined appearance of Karie Hadal and the forces under her command.


    Orion did not generally get along with the scions of orthodox forces, and nor did he particularly like this woman. Still, he had to admit that there was an undeniable air around her that set her apart from others. Even the white robes they both wore appeared more refined on her than most. Her hair was also tightly tied up in an intricate braid that any other woman would have needed assistance to tie.


    As she walked in, her steps had grace more than befitting a spirit refiner. The only person Orion had met who moved with more finesse was the sect leader, but that was to be expected from a formless artist.


    As she approached, the Hadal Clan¡¯s Heir Candidate raised an eyebrow as she glanced at the makeshift fighting pit, where two martial artists had been dragged away to receive medical attention.


    ¡°Really?¡± she asked, the look in her eyes clearly revealing amusement at the spectacle.


    He shrugged.


    ¡°My disciples need true experience,¡± he said by way of explanation. She nodded, not disputing the assertion. It was the simple truth that sparring was no substitute for real combat. As the scion of a powerful force, she knew that all too well. Far too many of her relatives remained untested.


    Or, at least, they had been prior to the recent conflict. In a sense, he thought, a short, intense conflict like the one they had just gone through was a good thing for the Hadal Clan in the long run.


    In the end, Karie sighed, turning to him.


    ¡°Let my disciples use it too.¡±


    Orion smirked as he watched the shift in expression of a large disciple standing behind her. Reinwan Dan truly was the image of a talented genesis practitioner, a very bulky boy who would surely be able to take a punch. He seemed uneasy at the thought of fighting a gangster in the pit.


    ¡°Of course, Lady Hadal,¡± Orion said, chuckling. ¡°There¡¯s plenty of gangsters to share.¡±


    Internally, he suspected that part of the reason the sect leader had assigned Karie to work with him was with hopes of this very outcome in mind.


    Manifest Technique Progression: [Unlike the techniques of most other miasmas, manifest techniques do not simply work from their inception. The power and complexity that a foundation refiner can put into the ability is simply not enough to truly manifest material from the Spirit World. Instead, the techniques are generally simplified. A practitioner trying to summon fire might instead summon heat, or one attempting to summon metal might simply be able to slightly harden an object they are holding. Despite being lesser variants, such abilities are still been more than enough to form a third-rate sect or martial academy.]

 220- Visceral

    Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Seventhmonth, 1634 PTS


    ¡°I¡¯m going to throw up,¡± Sashan muttered, holding one hand over her throat. Her fellow disciples did not seem to be in much better condition. She had fought before, but such injuries¡­


    She could still see the sword press through Wue¡¯s back, the disgusting scent of the gangster¡¯s skin burning. It revolted her, bringing back thoughts of the Hadal attack on the sect, and those she had witnessed die before her.


    Sashan could admit it, she was scared. It was almost comedic. She, someone who had always been talented at fighting, who had beaten tens of other teens in her time at the sect, and in the streets and alleys of Canvas Town before that. But there was a difference between fighting a street kid and fighting a martial artist, just as there was a difference between a spar and a battle.


    Wue hadn¡¯t died, but it could have happened. His injuries could have been worse, and if they had, would her master truly have interceded? Master Orion was harsh, a true denizen of the underworld. She respected his role as her teacher, and appreciated how he satisfied her hunger for knowledge. But she had qualms with his manner of going about things.


    ¡°Does anyone wish to go next?¡± he asked, but was met with silence. Orion sighed. ¡°If you¡¯re so reticent, I can allow you to go in pairs. But be aware, that is not necessarily a safer endeavor.¡± He then glanced at Sashan, and her stomach dropped as he smiled brightly at her. ¡°My first disciple shouldn¡¯t delay while her siblings take action, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    ¡°Master, I-¡± she tried to say, hoping to further delay, but it was of no avail. Orion¡¯s smile had not reached her eyes, and she knew that he was serious. With her stomach still squirming, Sashan prepared to accept his order. From the corners of her eyes, however, Sashan noticed Elder Karie narrowing her own, glancing across her own crop of disciples.


    ¡°It seems your favored disciple remains hesitant, Orion,¡± she said. ¡°Reinwan, go in with her,¡± she ordered.


    Though they had only spoken once or twice, Sashan had seen Reinwan around the sect plenty of times before. He was tall and strong, bearing a similar build to Wue. But unlike her martial brother, Reinwan¡¯s talents stood out. It was rumored that, like her, he had been personally praised by the Sect Leader.


    He bowed slightly, much more respectful of his master than Sashan acted to hers. It was ironic, given that he was merely an instructional disciple, not a personal one like she was. Perhaps it was simply his upbringing to act in that matter. She had heard that he came from a middle-class upbringing, unlike the vast majority of the sect¡¯s disciples.


    After doing so, Reinwan turned, meeting Sashan¡¯s gaze for a moment before lifting a greatsword from his sheath and striding confidently into the arena. She flushed, slightly embarrassed by her own anxiety and hesitation, before awkwardly joining him, retrieving her own weapons from her robes. Unlike Wue, Sashan¡¯s particular abilities had forced her to learn to fight using real weapons, and she carried them with her at all times.


    She held a whip in one hand, and a blade in the other, in the style her master had taught her. This fighting style suited her, focused on harassing one¡¯s opponents and wasting their energy. A fine style for one so scared of injury, she thought, negatively.


    Reinwan met her gaze once again, his tone still level and confident, as if there were nothing to be afraid of.


    ¡°I will be the hammer and shield,¡± he said, ¡°while you harass them and give me openings.¡±


    ¡°Sashan nodded firmly, gathering her resolve. Though his plan was simple, it seemed an effective tactic, and he seemed confident in his abilities. She would need to place her trust in him.


    One of the gangsters who entered the ring this time was a woman, a farsei with hair that had been dyed in a bright red hue. The other was a slender man with a lithe physique. Both held those same blunted swords as their predecessor, and their eyes were filled with determination. Sashan instinctively wished to avert her gaze.


    She clenched her fist tightly as she stepped forward, feeling the braided metal of the whip and the cool steel of the sword¡¯s unwrapped handle press firmly into her hands as she breathed out, calming herself. Sashan was not a stranger to fighting, but after what she had seen, the fear was crippling. She did not wish to die. Sashan¡¯s desire was to live a long, warm life of luxury. The sort of life her parents had been deprived of. If Sashan wished to achieve that, she would need to face these fears. Eventually, she might even need to be able to kill for it.


    She released the whip¡¯s end, allowing it to snake down and coil on the ground beside her, ready to flick its pointed tip at her enemy. The whip was a complex construction of small mechanisms, perfectly coiled and entwined together. The sort of object that might have taken months of craftsmanship to create had it not been synthesized into being.


    To her left, Sashan sensed flowing miasma beside her, and could gather that Reinwan was releasing his genesis stores, and greatly enhancing his physical strength. It was a simple ability, but at such low stages of martial arts, simple brute force was more threatening than complex arts like her own, whose utility depended entirely on its practitioner¡¯s skill.


    Suddenly, the female gangster darted forward, prompting Reinwan to step closer and meet her charge. Their heavy blades reverberated, colliding under the extreme force of two genesis practitioners. Stunned from her reverie, Sashan focused on the man, who had followed tightly on his partner¡¯s heels.


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    Moving like a flash, the man darted in, seeking a gap in Reinwan¡¯s defences. A flickering practitioner, she realized, and one bearing a movement technique. Knowing she needed to assist her ally, Sashan flexed her hand, sending the whip darting forward at her target. The pointed metallic tip swerved towards him, but at the last moment, Sashan hesitated, and the weapon narrowly missed the man¡¯s shoulder. He ignored the blow and dove in, scoring a shallow wound onto the side of Reinwan¡¯s bicep.


    Sashan gritted her teeth, steeling her resolve. Battle was no time for hesitation, regardless of her feelings or of the circumstances.


    As Reinwan forced back the martial artist¡¯s charge, Sashan lashed out once more with her whip, tracing a gouging blow across the side of her foe¡¯s cheek. This time, she gained his attention, and he backed further away from Reinwan to focus on her.


    ¡°We don¡¯t need to fight, girl,¡± the man sneered coarsely, ¡°I just want to get out of here, and if you let me win¡­¡±


    Despite his words, the man¡¯s eerie gaze made her uncomfortable, similar to that of a drunk lecher stumbling down the street. She knew that he simply wished to live, just like anyone else, but¡­


    Sashan knew enough to understand that there was little chance her master would let these gangsters free easily, even if they did defeat her. In fact, regardless of what he had told them, the odds of their survival might have been even lower if they defeated one of his students. Ignoring him, she lashed out with her sword, surprising the gangster, who had to use his movement technique to muster a block in time.


    The sei man smiled, showing off a set of suspiciously perfect teeth of a pure alabaster white, undoubtedly the result of surgery.


    ¡°You¡¯re a kind girl, aren¡¯t you? You can help us,¡± he continued, but his movements were steadier now, evidence that he was preparing something. His image stuttered as he suddenly appeared before her in a burst of motion.


    ¡°There is a difference between cowardice and empathy,¡± she muttered, finally mustering her own miasma.


    Though her master and most of her martial siblings had chosen to manifest fire, Sashan had taken a different path, one which she believed suited her more. She struck outwards with her sword once more, this time pressing energy through the weapon as she did so. Electricity sparked along the blade¡¯s edge as it clashed against that of her foe, arcing down the man¡¯s blade and forcing his hands to clench. He startled in surprise, nearly tripping over himself as his movement technique was interrupted by the stimulus.


    ¡°You sneaky bitch!¡± he cursed, his coarse language annoying her. Sashan scowled, feeling less pity for the bastard.


    Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, Sashan glanced over to Reinwan and the gangster woman, who were still locked in a stalemate. The two already had much more scrapes and injuries than they had had before, but none of the injuries looked to be serious, particularly for a genesis practitioner.


    Using her other hand, Sashan¡¯s whip snaked out, lashing against the woman¡¯s wrist and forcing her blade away from Reinwan. Sashan pulsed her miasma, sending an electric shock down the whip, forcing her muscles to spasm. She smiled as the sword fell from the woman¡¯s hand.


    And Reinwan took advantage, adapting his strategy in mere moments.. He was brutal, far more than she could comfortably stomach. Reinwan used his blade like a cudgel, needing no proper form to crush the gangster¡¯s now undefended throat. The thug barely even had time to react, still reeling from the shock she had received to her hand. She toppled to the ground, blood splattering across the stone of the ring, dripping from her mashed larynx. Her partner froze in surprise at Reinwan¡¯s shocking brutality. In a fight, she thought just one mistake, one moment of weakness was all it took for everything to change. As if by instinct, Sashan moved.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you just-¡± the remaining gangster said, before his words were suddenly cut off.


    Sashan hand pressed a mere foot forward, and her shortsword slid cleanly into the man¡¯s throat. From such a short distance, she could see the widening of his eyes, the slackening of the hand on her wrist as the gangster slumped to the ground before her, dead. Sashan paused as the reality of what she had done dawned upon her.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t me,¡± she muttered, dropping her weapons in revulsion and horror, and shoving the corpse away. Sashan¡¯s knees suddenly gave up, and she toppled to the ground, expelling the contents of her stomach onto the stone of the floor. She did not cease until wet bile burned in her moistened throat, and her hands had been steeped in the foul substance.


    Sashan hadn¡¯t always been this way. She had once thought herself courageous, the sort of person who would do whatever it took to acquire a bright future for herself, one her parents had wished for her. She had fought without qualms in the entrance examination and the internal competition, and had done well. But¡­ those were spars. It was as her master said: a real fight, a real battle with someone who wished to hurt, to kill you¡­ it was different. Sashan had no problems with fighting, but she did not want to die, and she did not wish to kill anyone. Was that too much to ask for?


    For a martial artist, perhaps it was.


    She felt a warm palm on her shoulder, and glanced up to see her master smiling down at her, his hand offering a towel. That look¡­ was it pride? Sashan averted her gaze, unable to meet his eyes.


    ¡°Good work, Sashan,¡± he said. ¡°I wasn¡¯t sure you had it in you.¡±


    As much as she hated the thought, deep down, Sashan had to admit that his words made her feel better.


    ¡°...Thank you, Master,¡± she finally said, accepting the towel. Orion patted her on the shoulder, and then returned his attention to the ring, where a pair of dead gangsters were being carted off.


    Almost immediately, his eyes had gone cold and uncaring. How many people had he killed, she wondered? Would she be so uncaring, one day?


    Sashan could not be sure whether she liked the idea or not.


    Seiyal Views on Murder: [Like most humanoid species, the Seiyal have both a stigma against murder and a tendency to idealize it in certain senses. They have strong cultural attachments to ideas of ¡®honor¡¯ and ¡®face¡¯ that would help to ascertain whether a murderer was justified or not, and whether they are a ¡®righteous¡¯ or ¡®demonic¡¯ individual. Such views are not unilaterally shared among Seiyal subcultures, and are much more prevalent among martial artists than among mortals. The common Seiyal idea of justice follows an idea taht most races have independently conceieved of: ¡®eye for eye, tooth for tooth.¡¯ Unlike races such as the Staiven, there are few Seiyal who express wishes to abolish capital punishment for criminals, and harsh punishments remain commonplace on Canvas, particularly in colonial regions controlled by Sunlit Hall.]