《An Oddity's Odyssey [Cultivation LitRPG-Lite Adventure]》 1. Daopunk Good to see ya again! Is what I would say if ya weren''t such a pain in my ass! Your memory getting faulty or something? Didn''t I specifically ask that our meeting be somewhere warm? Yet here we are, an icy hell-hole in the middle of bumfuck nowhere on this Heavens-forsaken rock. No wonder ya called me to pick up your sorry butt; who wouldn''t want to leave this dump? Damn, I figured that things went South here after the war, but I didn''t think things would hit the friggin ''pole. Well, whatever, get in the car, and you can make it up to me on the way. *...* What? Don''t give me that look; you know the rules. Balance must be maintained. A favor for a favor, and since I''ll be the one driving, a favor I am owed. Relax, don''t give yourself a heart demon. You''ll enjoy the experience; I guarantee it. Let''s go. *...* Oi moron, what do ya think you''re doing there, huh? Nice try, but I''ll be taking your luggage. That''s my job, them''s the rules. So long as we''re stuck traveling together, you never have to worry your pretty little head about baggage. If you gotta a problem with it, you can find another guide. So, do we have a problem here? *...* Glad to hear it. Now move aside while I pick up this- BOUNDLESS PATH! Why is this thing so friggin heavy!? Hasn''t anyone ever told ya about letting unnecessary shit go to reach Enlightenment? Damn! What are you lugging all this crap around for? Actually, don''t say a word. I don''t need to know. Just get in the car while I drag this thing over. *...* No, I don''t want any friggin help! Just pop open the truck for me¡­ Thank you. Now get the Void in the car before I turn into a friggin popsicle. Ahh¡­ Now that''s much better. I can already feel my toes again. I love the heat; I really do. So try to remember that next time, eh? Heat is good, and cold is evil. Got it? *...* Good. Now, before telling you about that favor, I should probably give a bit of backstory first. You don''t need the details, but let''s say I recently happened to come across something really valuable: a set of Scribe Quartz imprinted by, get this, The Wandering Frankenstein himself! Can you believe it? *...* Whaddya mean you never heard of him?! You livin'' under a rock these days? I''m talking about that crazy bastard who went toe-to-toe with the Court. Come on, dude, you gotta know who I''m talking about. *...* Yeah, that''s him. The Liberator of Diyu, Mr. Koi Nai, The Blessed Tribulation, blah, blah, etc. You know he never liked those titles, right? He prefers his real name or his Dao ¡ªAh, forget it. We don''t have time for a tangent. Regardless, the guy is a big name throughout the Multiverse, but nobody knows the man behind the myth. That''s by design, of course. The powers that be are still bitching over the whole mess, and the Frankenstine wasn''t a real big fan of the limelight. Lucky for us, though, he had a change of heart. I don''t know who cus it definitely wasn''t his idea, but somebody convinced him to imprint every memory of his whole life onto some primo-grade Scribe Quartz. And I''m talking about the pricey Soul Memory model that can record everything! Forget front-row seats, alright? This viewing includes the donner''s five senses, thoughts, and feelings. The process also suppresses the viewer''s sense of self for better immersion. To put it simply, some mook''s past becomes your present reality. If you''ve never enjoyed one, let me tell ya, the experience is intense.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. *...* Er¡­ No, I don''t have the originals on me. I was allowed to view the memories but wasn''t allowed to actually keep them. Stealing- I mean, borrowing the originals wasn''t exactly a viable option at the time, so I did the next best thing. I used a Recording model Quartz on myself experiencing the original memories. Kinda like recording a movie at the theaters, only the quality doesn''t suck ass. Pretty clever, right? *...* OI! What kind of corpo-crap you spouting? Of course, it''s not copyright infringement¡­ Probably. They''re memories, for crying out loud; nobody can copyright them! Besides, the owner didn''t forbid it or anything. Ergo, it''s not stealing¡­ I think. Didn''t really care enough to fact-check at the time, and I still don''t. Now, do ya want to hear the favor or not? *...* I''ll take that as a yes. Now, open the glove box and hand me the metal case inside. Thank you. Now take a look at¡­ Eh? *...* The gun? Damn, all this time, and you''re still such a pain about this kinda stuff. Forget about the gun; it''s just some extra protection for the trip. Just leave it in the glove box and look at these crystalline babies. *...* Cool right? And it gets better. See how the crystals in each rod are different colors? That''s because I got it edited to make up for what was lost in translation, so to speak. The Recording model can''t record thoughts and feelings, so we used a narrator. Other than taking out the boring parts like years-long meditations, early childhood, and junk like that, we didn''t alter the base material. I even went out of my way to track down a few survivors to add some extra perspectives. It''s to help out with¡­ what''s the word? Uhh¡­ Context. That''s it. *...* Of course, I''m not just doing it for the money; what do ya take me for? I''m doing this for the people so they can know how it really went down. Think about it, the official biography of the greatest Calamity Cultivator to ever travel the Dao. The masses will eat it up; you know how much they love forbidden knowledge. Once word gets out, even the Tath¨¡gatas won''t be able to put that genie back in the bottle. The truth will be out there and I can practically hear the Drachma clanking into my wallet already. It''s a win-win. But first things first, I gotta finish the damned thing. That''s where you come in. During this trip, I want you to give the biography a once over so I can ask you something. Understood? Feel free to speak up if ya don''t want to do it. *...* Thanks a billion! Knew I could count on ya. You should be finished by the time we get to the destination, so you can start right after we hit a gas station. Viewing the Scribe Quartz can take a couple of hours each sitting, and once started, it can''t be stopped early. So it''s best to use the bathroom beforehand. After all, nobody would want any accidents to happen in my car, right? Especially you, considering if ya do, I will literally scatter your atoms throughout the stars. *...* I''m not kidding. Whiz in my car, and you''ll never see the next sunrise. No exceptions. Got it? *...* I''m happy we came to a peaceful understanding. Now, take the first crystal, and I''ll show you how to prime and activate it. See that Rune etched in the dead center? Press and hold until it glows red. *...* Yup, just like that. It''ll flash red for a bit until it glows a solid blue. That means it''s primed. Touch the same symbol again, and it''ll activate the- *...* YOU FUCKING MORON!!! WHY DID YA¡­!?!
Start of Epic 1: Mediterranean Foundations 2. The Professor From his 3rd story office window looming over the 2nd largest sports field on campus, the Professor frowned. This behavior was nothing new, of course. The sight of Professor Charles Morgan in his ratty lab coat glaring down at the field used mainly by the college lacrosse team was familiar to most of the student body, especially to the lacrosse team that had to withstand his unnerving gaze nearly every practice session. In fact, at some point during the 10 years since he had taken the position of Head Research Officer and, naturally, the office that came with it, a rumor had spread that he hated lacrosse with a passion. A hatred that was born when he supposedly lost his right pinky to a rogue lacrosse stick whose wielder had swung too close and too hard. A complete fiction, all of it. Morgan hated the ancient North American sport as much as he hated any other non-combat sport. Which was none at all. The truth was far more straightforward. The 77-year-old Scientist simply grew up and lived his entire life in New England and, like so many others, had an incurable case of RBF. Known to the rest of the world as resting-bitch-face, a condition chronic to individuals often lost to thought. Admittedly, the effect was magnified several fold as his irises were two different colors, the left an earthy brown and the other pale blue, and thus gave Morgan an unnerving glare. It was nothing personal; the lacrosse players were simply in the way. Not that he would be bothering any athlete at present. Despite the inviting June morning, there weren''t any students outside today. The field was as empty as it''s been for the last few weeks. The history behind his missing digit was far more interesting. A damn shame no one else alive today knew of the story, which was to be expected, as a tale like that would only be shared with a close friend. A similar mystery clung to the coat, but in his experience, few ever question the lab coat. Regardless, this frown was different from all the others before it. The expression on the Professor''s face wasn''t an unintentional combination of cultural influence and absent pondering like normal. No, this frown was intentional. It was an open display of irritation for the feeling that churned his gut. The sense of being¡­conflicted. "What the hell is wrong with me?" He asked himself in an emotionless monotone that portrayed nothing of his soul''s turmoil. "I got what I wanted. So why don''t I just¡ª" But the question died before it could even be finished. Behind him on the dark mahogany desk sat the three typed reports he requested yesterday, delivered only an hour ago. It only took 15 minutes to read and re-read them, and Morgan spent the remaining time frowning out the window while feeling¡­ conflicted. Those reports were from his colleagues, each belonging to a different department that Morgan had some power over. While all three contained different conclusions, all three irrefutably proved one thing: Charles Morgan was not crazy; the world was. The Professor leaned back in his comfortable, yet overpriced, padded chair. There was a time when he did most of his thinking standing up, but that was a young man''s game. Morgan sighed, and his dark, bony fingers twisted, twirled, and tugged at one of the many gray dreadlocks hanging over his shoulders. His hair made an excellent fidget toy, but it did nothing to relieve his stress today. Nothing could because the old coot was being ridiculous. His sanity was intact. Despite all common sense, Morgan hasn''t lost a single marble, his deck was full, and every screw upstairs was perfectly tight. Since he wasn''t a raving lunatic, he had a duty to perform. Wishing that wasn''t the case would be like expecting a cat wouldn''t scream outside its owner''s door for breakfast. A foolish hope. "Screw it." He snorted. "Time to get to work." He spun the chair back around, lifted his legs off the ground, and did the hip thrust shuffle until he was close enough to his desk to grab the Holo-projector remote¡ªa remote that was nowhere to be seen. The Professor eyed the four drawers suspiciously as he tried to recall if he''d opened any of them today. He had. He started with the top right and excavated the rest in clockwise order. The first held dried-up pens, scrap paper, and documents he couldn''t throw out for reasons that escaped him. The next drawer had a couple of unopened water bottles and his lunch for the day. But sitting on top of that meal was his Geiger counter. He tucked the consolation prize in his inner coat pocket as he would need it later. The third drawer contained nothing but trash. The final drawer did not hold the remote. Instead, he found his cell phone. The cell phone he could have sworn to be in his pants pocket. With a dry chuckle, he reached into his faded green cargo pants, which management had kept telling him not to wear, and fished out the prize. He pressed the power button. *VroOMMM* The fan inside the Holo-projector mounted to the ceiling hummed as it whirled to life. Dozens of green LEDs flashed on and off all over the white metal surface surrounding the glass lens. "Holo-Projector, connect me to the Student Assist Desk," Morgan said after half a minute had passed. "VOICE RECOGNITION CONFIRMED." Growled the deep robotic voice of the Holo-projector. "HELLO PROFESSOR MORGAN. PLEASE CONFIRM THAT THE DESK SURFACE IS CLEAR OF ANY OBSTACLES BY WAVING AT THE CAPTURE CAMERA." The Scientist, curious to know how the AI would respond, flipped the bird at the tiny camera mounted at the far left counter of his desk. "MOTION CAPTURED SUCCESSFULLY BY CAPTURE CAMERA." Declared the unnecessarily expensive device. "CALLING NOW." A translucent pillar of green-white light descended onto the desk surface. The center of the basketball-wide pillar flicked chaotically before a slowly rotating white sign materialized at the center. On each side were the words'' please hold'' in bold red letters. Overpriced this glorified laptop maybe; the Professor had to admit the technology was cutting edge. Even in broad daylight, the holographic sign at the center looked solid enough to touch. When Morgan took this office in the early 2040s, he''d have never imagined having something like this. Voice commands and eye-tracking software rendered the mouse, keyboard, and monitor obsolete. The benefits didn''t justify its installation last year, which forced him to work out of a staff room for a third school year. But Morgan strategically chose not to complain too much about the injustice. The active construction in his office almost exposed his little secret across the hall to management. The edges of the holographic sign became a blinking green, and the words changed to ''Connected.'' The sign disappeared, in its place a perfect miniature hologram of a Japanese man in his twenties seated at a desk and slouched on his chair. The youth had shaggy black hair that hung down to his ears and wore a standard lab coat over his blue-white wave-patterned shirt. The Holo-projector only displayed the top half of a subject, but Morgan knew he was wearing white cargo shorts and flip-flops all the same. "Hey man, this is like, intern Namiko Stone from the Student Assist Desk." The student greeted him with a laid-back drawl, not even bothering to look up from his phone. "How can I help you today?" The Professor had become exceptionally acquainted with this student in the last two years. Morgan had substituted for Namiko''s marine biology class for most of a semester after the original teacher suddenly disappeared during an expedition to find the nearly extinct Wahoo off the coasts of Hawaii. The authorities never found the crew or the bodies. The rest of the class suspected an accident at sea. Namiko, though, pointed out that the area of search would have brought the expedition team very close to the New French Empire''s borders. That unexpected tactical thinking and Namiko''s obsession with all things saltwater caught his attention. So, he gave the promising kid an internship. "Is that a phone I see in your hand, Intern?" Asked Morgan, tilting his head to show interest. "I thought those went out of style a couple of years ago. Everyone under the age of 40 started using those AR glasses." "Hey-ey Professor Dude!" Namiko''s head shot up, and a smile split his face. The hologram was so accurate in detail that Morgan could see the individual strands of hair move and facial muscles flex perfectly. "Yeah man, but people stopped using Empire-made stuff because some pretty heinous spyware was found on them. So smartphones are back in the Nations." "It''s good to know I''m no longer behind the curve." Morgan nodded, his curiosity satisfied. "Can you please contact Professors Casper, Melchior, and Balthasar for me? They''re not going to answer any of my calls, and I need them all to meet me in my office." Morgan watched with amusement as the Intern''s tiny eyeballs bulged from their sockets. That amusement, though it never showed on Morgan''s expression, dissipated as he looked closely at the student''s face. Namiko had bags under his eyes and a paleness that wasn''t there last week. His eyes shifted to the hand gripping the phone; the nails were choppy and uneven, as if they had been chewed on. All the classic signs of stress. The Scientist wasn''t surprised; every animal had their coping mechanism, and humans were no exception. It''s always challenging to live through a historic event. Morgan would know after having experienced many himself. "You want a¡­ uhh." Stammered Namiko. "I can definitely like, let them know that you want to see them. Could you tell me why? You know, in case they ask or something." "Of course." he shrugged. "I want a meeting to review and record the findings of the latest project I pulled them on." To emphasize the point, Morgan waved the reports in view of the capture camera. "Look, Professor Dude. I gotta be honest here and tell you that all three teachers requested not to be disturbed today¡­ like at all." "Uh-huh. Tell me, did they ask for no one to bother them or for me specifically to stay away." "Both, my dude." It was Namiko''s turn to shrug. "Yeah, they were not happy campers when they stopped by my desk this morning." The Intern suddenly looked side to side as if to make sure he wasn''t being spied on. "Hey, it''s none of my business¡­ but what-" "I forced them to spend all day yesterday on a personal project and to hand-type their findings in a report so I could physically read it," Morgan interrupted, answering the question before it could be asked. He paused and added, "The word ''forced'' might be too strong. I told them that if they helped me, I''d let them stay home for a month with full pay after today." "Damn Dude!" laughed Namiko, his arms hugging around his side to keep them from bursting, though the lack of stability nearly caused him to fall off the chair. He asked between laughter fits, "Do you, like, even have the authority to do that?" "If the Dean has a problem with how I run my departments, he can come find me." Morgan chuckled dryly. "Last I checked, he was hiding in southern Brazil. Something about it being a target of low interest. I wasn''t really paying attention." "The Dean left, too?" Namiko''s laughter stopped cold. "Can he even do that?" "He''ll find out. Or he won''t have to. Now contact the others and tell them to yell at me in person if they have any complaints." "Wait¡­ But isn''t going to your office exactly what you want them to do?" "That''s why I like you kid." The Professor pointed a finger at his promising former student. "You catch on quick. You deserve a shot at a prize, too. Get them to meet you at the help desk in 15 minutes and take them to my office. I''ll make it worth your while. See you soon." He pressed the power button on the remote, setting the projector to standby mode. The unconventional shutdown caused both Namiko and the pillar of light to disappear. Morgan didn''t stand up immediately. He sat there momentarily, partially to reflect on his feelings and partially to procrastinate standing up. Such a task was challenging at his age. The Professor felt lighter after talking with the Intern. Most of the student body avoided him like the plague, thinking of him as a strange old man in a torn and stitched lab coat. Not that Morgan could blame them. Most classes he taught these days were substitution roles as he was fluent in nearly all scientific disciplines. It''s difficult for students to become attached to a teacher with no official classes. Morgan used to teach courses related to his true passion for Ecology. But his old age, on top of responsibilities as Head Research Officer of Boston Prime University, robbed him of that simple pleasure. Still, at least he had plenty of time for personal projects.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. The Scientist inhaled deeply from his nose, then exhaled through the mouth. Prep-work for the trial to come. He pushed himself away from the desk until the chair hit the window to give himself plenty of clearance to stand up safely. With an embarrassingly loud grunt, he shot to his feet, all his joints popping and aching from sitting down for nearly three hours. Morgan had to grab hold of the desk as his knees trembled dangerously, and a part of him felt ridiculous in needing the extra support. He might be an old man now, but he wasn''t feeble. He walked without a cane, cooked, cleaned, and was utterly independent¡­ Still, a fall at his age could be lethal. Morgan looked around the office, genuinely looking for the first time in years. How the times have changed. In his hay day, the man was a fit son of a bitch. He had to be, as he spent the first 40 years of the last 50 years constantly in the field. The items covering the walls around him were proof of his life''s accomplishments. Hanging everywhere were martial arts medals and scholastic diplomas he collected like trading cards. Shelves upon shelves of knick-knacks from all the places he visited. Shiva and Shakti masks from India, the claw of a golden eagle that gave him his first scar, and a set of higonokami knives he took off that abalone poacher in Nagoya. Those were only a few pieces of memorabilia cluttering the dusty office. But his favorite by far was the memory cabinet. Hundreds of Polaroid pictures covered every centimeter of wood, glass, and mirror within the cabinet. Every photo was taken at the end of a thrilling expedition and held two figures within them. One was always an animal, and no two photos had the same species. The other figure was the same young man of African descent. His square jaw was set tight, his lips slightly pursed as if he were forcing them shut to keep them from acting independently. The mismatched eyes glowered at the cameraman, and the jagged pale scar running horizontally across his nose only added to the intensity. His black hair was bound in thick dreadlocks that only went to the shoulders. Looking at the upper cabinet section, where the older pictures stayed, depicted the young man after his first successful capture. It showed a gold eagle mid screech, its wings pinned by the man and blood running down his face. Continue down only one more picture, and one will notice that the man lost a pinky sometime before the photo of the giant, angry, snapping turtle. The further down the timeline he went, the greyer and more wrinkled the ecologist became. The final image showed the man, now old and gray, standing in front of an airport, a tiny oblong egg pinched gingerly between finger and thumb. Notably, he was the only human in the memory cabinet, save for two crumpled and worn polaroids tucked away at the far back. These were the two oldest pictures by far. One was of Morgan in an oversized cobalt blue graduation robe, his newly earned high school diploma tucked under an arm. That baby-faced graduate had his face distorted in pretend disgust as a girl with a thick afro and nose, much like his own, kissed his younger self''s cheek. It was his younger sister. The other picture he wouldn''t look at¡­ Not right then, and maybe never again. The Professor let out a low chuckle as his little trip down memory lane went on for a stop too long. Yes, he''s lived a long life and accomplished much. But perhaps his greatest adventure awaited him just across the hall. With a last hurrah like that, he couldn''t afford to die just yet. Not when there was research to be done and a mystery to solve. He twisted his torso side to side, and the vertebrae in his back went, *Snap* *Crackle* *Pop* The sounds were more bark than bite, but as he walked to the door with a pep in his step, they reminded him of a cereal brand from his childhood¡ªhis sister Cynthia''s favorite treat. Morgan hadn''t had the stomach to try them since he was 16 and made the mistake of finishing off a box meant for her. That gut punch he received ensured he''d never make the same mistake twice. Morgan poked his head into the hallway to see if the coast was clear. Naturally, the large university hallway would be empty, as nearly 85% of the students stopped showing up in the last week. Hell, even the teachers had a daily absent rate of half that. But even in times of crisis, keeping up practical habitswas essential. The coast cleared. He walked over to his personal storage unit, known to everyone else as the out-of-order janitorial closet. Taped off with black and yellow caution tape. The lore behind the room was far more profound than the first appearance suggests. Over seven years ago, the janitorial staff suddenly deemed the closet unfit for keeping cleaning supplies and locked it off for everyone''s safety. Coincidentally, not even five days later, Morgan successfully negotiated a 20% pay increase for the janitorial staff. Then, the very next day, the only keycard for the closet appeared on his desk. That entire week was full of odd happenings. It was a shame the janitors couldn''t use the spacious, temperature-controlled closet. Still, at least the Scientist found it to be a perfect place to keep his more important research subjects away from the eye of management. Lucky him. With a swipe of the keycard, he entered cautiously, unsure what had happened since the last visit. Thankfully, everything within was precisely as he set it up last night. A large blue decontamination tent, reported missing from inventory, stood erected in the middle of the room. The back half of a motion camera on a tripod poked out of the tent''s entrance. Morgan tapped his phone on it, and all the recorded footage was transferred instantly. He placed the camera the university unknowingly lent him off to the side. Morgan pulled open the tent flaps, and his eyes twinkled with excitement not felt in so long. Placed on a stack of milk crates was a clear plastic tub. A large cricket-keeper that anyone in the pet hobby would know on sight. But inside was no cricket. It was something far more interesting. The Scientist designated it as Subject 28-284. A reference only people who once owned prehistoric flip phones would understand. Not wanting to waste any more time, Morgan hoisted up the keeper with both hands and power-walked into his office. The Subject''s container was gently placed on his desk in clear view of the capture camera. In comparison, Morgan nearly threw himself into his seat as the previous feeling of inner conflict was wholly forgotten. With zeal, he went over the footage captured last night and, in a spark of brilliance, looked up his house on satellite maps. Nearly everything had fallen into place by the time he heard it. *Knock, Knock, Knock* He glanced at the time on his phone. It read 8:35 a.m. That was good; Namiko was only two minutes late. "Door''s unlocked!" Yelled Morgan and slipped the phone in his lab coat. The Intern, now in the flesh, entered first. It was the student''s first time in the enigmatic Professor''s office, and he gawked at everything like a tourist while holding the door. *Slam* At the sight of Morgan staring at him, Namiko closed the door with more force than necessary. The Intern looked back with a nervous smile. He opened and closed his mouth several times as he tried to find the words to explain the obvious. "Damn." Snorted the Professor and gestured for the student to take the chair before the desk. "Those bastards left already, didn''t they?" "You got it in one man." Namiko sighed before taking the offered seat. "They didn''t even leave a note or anything. They just bailed. Sorry, Professor Dude. I would have come up earlier, but it took time to make sure they were all gone." "You have nothing to be sorry about." Morgan waved the apology away. "It''s my fault for believing those young punks would keep their word. I should have known the only trustworthy people employed in this damned school are me and the janitors." "How do you know that the janitors are trustworthy?" "Do you know about my secret deal with them?" "...No?" "My point exactly Intern. But that''s not important at the moment. Right now, we have to talk about your reward." Said the Professor, and from those words, Namiko sat up straighter in his seat. "Technically, I said you needed to bring my colleagues to get it. That being said, them leaving really isn''t your fault. So I''m fine with giving you another chance to get the same deal I had with them. Only with college credit since you aren''t actually being paid." "Hell yeah, dude!" Namiko fist-pumped like he just won the championship match. "How can I help?" "Don''t worry, it''s nothing difficult. In fact, I could do this entire step of my project by myself. However, as a scientist, I like to involve others in my work whenever possible. However, as we find ourselves on the brink of possible nuclear armageddon, I find myself short on help. That''s where you step in." Morgan waited for Namiko to stop bobbing his head in agreement before speaking. "All I want you to do is read the conclusions in the reports out loud while I record everything." "Deal dude." The Scientist quickly highlighted all the essential sections and left Namiko to skim them over. At the same time, he set up the Holo-projector to record everything. The ambient sound was a little high, with the summer winds blowing through the windows, but that should be automatically filtered out. When the Intern gave a thumbs-up, he started recording. "I am Charles Morgan, Head Research Officer for Boston Prime University and lead on the project focused on Subject 28-284. Current date: June 19th, 2074. The following summaries are of the findings made by my colleagues on Subject 28-284. Student intern Namiko Stone will read their findings. The first to be read are the findings of Professor Celmira Caspar, the resident geologist. Mr. Stone, you may begin." The youth cleared his throat and began to read. To Morgan''s surprise and, perhaps, slight disappointment, he read everything verbatim. "As stated in my report, the sample shavings Professor Morgan supplied from Subject 28-284 were analyzed, and chemical test results confirm his initial hypothesis. 28-284 is composed completely of 24k gold with no other trace elements found. It should be noted that I observed the sample shavings dissolve into the surrounding atmosphere several hours after being removed from the Subject. Disregarding that minor detail, the gold atoms are identical to every other gold atom ever examined. Obviously." "The next summary findings are from the report of nuclear engineer Vincent Melchior. Start when ready." "I can confirm after personal testing that the Subject, despite not being made of any material that should emit radiation, does so anyway. Subject 28-284 releases bursts of Alpha particles, too weak to penetrate clothes, in a tight beam originating from its front. Continued observations have also shown that the radiation bursts always come in a nonsensical but clearly repeating pattern." "Professor Abby Balthasar, who specializes in entomology, wrote the last report summary. Go ahead, Mr. Stone." "In conclusion, 28-284''s appearance resembles that of Chremistica Ochracea. A species commonly referred to as the Peaceful Cicada in China, where it is normally found. Other than a few mildly unique characteristics, the Subject is indistinguishable from any other member of its species." Namiko shuffled through the documents to ensure his part in this was over. When nothing was found and believing his part in this was over, the mistaken Intern carefully laid the paperwork on the desk. He took out his phone and began to type rapidly, perhaps to reach out to friends or family now that he had suddenly come across some free time. That was fine. The Professor was willing to let him celebrate while he wrapped things up. "For clarity, I, Professor Morgan, will provide the final analysis and history. After testing and observation from four different scientists, myself included, it is evident that Subject 28-284 is a living radioactive cicada made of solid gold. The specimen was discovered on my desk yesterday, June 18th, 2074, when I entered the office at 8 a.m. While there is no security footage for total confirmation, it is believed that the Subject entered via an open window, of which there were few. The true origins of 28-284 might forever remain a mystery." A thrill of anticipation shot up his spine as he said, "Mr. Stone." "S''up," the Intern answered without looking up. "I''m just checking the status of the peace talks, and things look all good. Did you need something, Professor Dude?" Peace talks? Why on Earth would either side have those? Neither side wanted peace; they wanted to win. "I do. I''ve noticed that you haven''t had the chance to personally state anything on the record yet. So, I want to give you that opportunity by having you answer a simple question. Are you ready?" Morgan almost chuckled at Namiko''s confused nod. "Excellent. Subject 28-284, the creature sitting within the cricket keeper between us, is the first and only non-carbon-based life form ever discovered. Could you say one thing about it that you find odd or even mildly interesting?" Namiko''s face twisted in panic as he shifted his gaze between him and the golden cicada. Back and forth, back and forth, his head turned like an oscillating fan in the struggle to come up with an answer. It took all of the Professor''s will not to say or do anything, as outside influence could ruin everything. Even armed with that knowledge, the effort nearly broke him. Suddenly, Namiko''s focus snapped solely onto Morgan. The kid''s eyes were different now; they radiated the certainty of a predator coming across a cornered prey. He''s caught onto the scent of something; that much was certain. Has the spell been broken? Would Namiko finally acknowledge the golden elephant in the room? Or was he chasing the trail of some wild goose? "Oh, I got something good." The Intern said, grinning confidently from ear to ear. "Call me crazy, but I think the little critter likes you. I mean, the whole time we''ve been sitting here, reading reports and junk, I''ve noticed that it''s never stopped staring at you. It''s like, locked-in. That''s got to be a little weird, am I right?" Everything seemed to come to a screeching halt at that exact moment. The wind stopped blowing in, the projector fan faded to nothing, and both men held their breaths. Silence reigned supreme within the room as Morgan heard a goose''s honking echoing in the background. The work of his imagination, he hoped. "You know what?" Morgan asked, standing up to offer a hand, "I couldn''t agree more." The two scholars shook on it before he ordered the hoho-projector to pause the recording. With Namiko''s part now over, the two exchanged thank-yous and goodbyes. The Professor even promised a letter of recommendation the next time they saw each other¡ªassuming, of course, there weren''t any apocalyptic events between now and then. Halfway out the door, the Intern wished his former teacher good luck before swiftly exiting, ensuring the door wouldn''t slam behind him. Morgan sat back down. He waited patiently for the last of the footsteps to fade away¡­ *Step, Step, Step, Step* Not yet. *Step, Step, step, step* Namiko just turned the corner. And... *step, step, step¡­* "BWAHAHAHA!!!" He roared, happy tears welling up and nearly blinded him. The Professor couldn''t stop himself from cackling, wheezing, and slamming his bony fist onto his thigh until all the mirth exited his system. "Haha¡­ ha! That was amazing." He eventually choked out before directly addressing 28-284. "Thank you, my little golden mystery. It''s been¡ªWell, it''s been a long time since anything has made me laugh that hard." Morgan straightened up in his seat, whipped away the last few tears, and cleared his throat. "Holo-Projector, unpause recording." 3. The Call Although the Professor had been laughing uproariously only moments ago, his voice had already returned to its usual emotionless state. "This is Charles Morgan, Head Research Officer of Boston Prime University. Date: June 19th, 2074. This is an addendum to the latest record log focusing on Subject 28-284. That recording mainly contains the written findings of my colleagues read by intern Namiko Stone. This addendum aims to introduce new information about 28-284''s other anomalous abilities and characteristics that I didn''t, or perhaps it''s more accurate to say I couldn''t include before. The reason will be encountered later in the recording." The Scientist rubbed his hands together like he was about to dig into a delicious meal. A tad unprofessional, perhaps, but with several juicy data points to report, he couldn''t resist¡ªnot to mention dessert right after. "I will start with Mr. Stone''s observation of subject 28-284''s interest in myself. 28-284 indeed directs its full attention on me. Periodically moving within the container to reposition its body to keep me in its field of vision. Curious to see what new behaviors would arise when alone, a motion camera was positioned to record it once I left the university last night. After reviewing that footage, I made an interesting discovery." "During the night, 28-284 always remains its location within the cricket keeper. Any movements made are rotations in a tight circle, fixed like the hands on a clock or a compass''s needle. A highlight summary of 28-284''s actions after I am seen leaving its containment the night before are as follows: Its movement appears random at first until one takes into consideration my own actions during that same period. On average, it takes me 10 minutes to reach my car from my office, 15 minutes to drive home, and around an hour and a half to eat dinner with my pet before bed. That night, I spent seven hours asleep. While I haven''t had the chance to use a compass for accurate readings, I was able to confirm the direction of 28-284''s head segment pointed roughly in the direction of my home during its 7-hour idle period¡­ I think it''s safe to say that I am of great interest to 28-284." Morgan paused momentarily as the realization of what he said aloud hit him. He leaned forward on the desk until his chest was firmly pressed against the wood surface, and his head became low enough to be considered at eye level with the golden insect. It was a sign of respect for the Subject, and it didn''t matter whether the creature could comprehend the gesture or not. If the golden cicada was so interested in him, the least he could do was look it in the eye as he gave his report. The Professor continued, not caring in the slightest for how ridiculous he looked. "The next anomalous ability was tested and confirmed by our favorite intern and less favored Professors Caspar, Melchior, and Balthasar. In fact, if anyone is still listening to this recording by this point, chances are you aren''t affected by the ability. Subject 28-284 is either the cause or at least is the center of some kind of perception-distorting effect. Those who come into the range of 28-284 or any sample of it, as revealed by Professor Casper, who never came into direct contact, fall under the effect. Those affected can and do notice the Subject''s anomalous properties; they just fail to see any issues or problems. All they see is an uncommon but ultimately normal cicada. That made including other researchers on this project difficult since, given the current political climate, few would consider an unofficial bug study worthy of their time. As a direct result, many details of this perception distortion can''t be tested, such as the range and duration. What can be said is that the only known individual immune or spared from this effect is¡­ myself." The Professor cocked an eyebrow at 28-284 as if waiting to see if it would contradict him. No answer came. So he reached into his lab coat, which was a difficult task with his chest still on the table, and retrieved the Geiger counter. He placed the device between him and 28-284. "While the ability to perfectly track a target and distort others'' perceptions is already incredible enough, it pales in comparison to the radiation the Subject emits. To be clear, the radiation itself isn''t anything exotic or especially dangerous. Professor Melchior is correct; it''s just bursts of weak Alpha particles firing in a tight beam. They do happen in a repeating pattern, but that pattern is anything but random." Switching the Geiger counter on, the room was filled with electronic beeping created by the device. "What is being heard is an activated Geiger counter placed near 28-284. Each beep marks an individual collision between the Subject''s radiation and the argon gas inside the device. Some collisions happen so close to each other that when an observer listens closely, it sounds like a slightly longer beep is being made. I could be going senile, but those long and short beeps sound an awful lot like the dots and dashes of Morse code. I noticed that similarity last night, and on a hunch, I recorded 15 minutes of the beeping to take home and decode. The repeating pattern is short, so translating took little time. Morgan sat back up, moved the Subject away from the desk camera, and pressed the keyboard button on the holo-projector remote. Once the notepad app was open he typed in time with the repeating beeping pattern. *.-. .. -. --. (Short pause) .-. .. -. --. (Long Pause)* "I''ll save the listener of this recording the trouble of translating themselves." The Scientist took a shaky breath to steady himself as excitement threatened to overwhelm him. "It reads as ''Ring, ring''. That is what 28-284 is broadcasting, has always been broadcasting as far as I can tell. The same thing over¡­ and over again." *Ring, Ring* "At this point of the recording, I am switching from supplementing information over to the realm of speculation. It is my personal hypothesis that 28-284 is not a real creature at all, or if it is, then it''s unlikely to be the author of these events. The Subject is a transmitter/ receiver being used by one or more other entities. I have come to think of 28-284 as a reverse payphone. I know that form of communication is pre-historic but stay with me here. Before wireless telecommunications became widespread, a payphone was a public phone that someone had to travel to in order to receive a call. 28-284 is the other side of that same coin. A phone with the ability to track down, follow, and can only be answered by the call''s intended recipient¡­ In this case, me."Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. *Ring, Ring* Morgan fell silent as a piece of his body made itself known. His heart, that antique collection of muscle tissue that could barely be felt only yesterday, pounded in his chest. *Th-Thump, Th-Thump* The sound was almost deafening. *Th-Thump, Th-Thump* Could this be a heart attack? *Th-Thump, Th-Thump* Could this be fear? *Th-Thump, Th-Thump* Or could this be something greater? *TH-THUMP, TH-THUMP* "It''s at this point," his voice became a husky whisper, his gaze locked onto the precious Subject, "that I move on from speculation¡­ to experimentation. That''s why I am going to end the recording here. I''m aware that doing what I am about to do would be viewed by others as dangerous, foolhardy, and, above all, selfish. I also agree with the view that experimenting with a suspected alien entity is a risk I don''t have the authority to take." The Professor closed his eyes¡­ and opened them again. The Scientist smiled. His mouth opened, and the lips stretched back wider than they had any right to. It showed far too many bright white teeth and displayed an uncomfortable amount of gums. Unrestrained emotion contorted the facial muscles, making the eyes appear half-closed even when fully opened. Despite the grotesque manifestation, it was undoubtedly a smile, the ultimate expression of joy, pushed to its absolute limits. An event like this had not occurred since Morgan''s last trip to the Savannah grasslands of Africa in 2057. At the time, he had been held at gunpoint by American poachers who were on the continent to make a quick buck off the restored white rhino population. The encounter happened by pure chance as the Professor had stumbled upon them when they attacked the same rhino crash he was observing. Morgan ordered them to vacate the area. One of the poachers asked how a 59-year-old geezer could make three armed men do anything. The Scientist smiled, and five days later, those same poachers were arrested at a village for stealing food. All three were delirious and heavily injured. When arrested and questioned, they told the authorities they had been without food for days after fleeing from a monster. One with brown and blue eyes. "However, the truth of the matter is that I never really gave a rat''s ass about authority." Continued Morgan; the monstrous smile making his voice a raspy growl. "The only reason I went through all the trouble of recording as much as I could with at least one witness was out of professional courtesy. Once I confirmed my sanity was without question, I could have easily skipped all that trouble like I desperately wanted. However, the notion conflicted with my duty as a scientist. Science is a team sport, and if something happened to me, I wanted to give the next guy a solid foundation to work off of. But at the moment, this mystery is mine and mine alone." *Ring, Ring* He looked up at the holo-projector bolted above him. His arms spread to either side as if challenging the listener to disagree with him. Or maybe the invitation was open to any entity that dared to question his decision. "Mysteries are plentiful enough in this world. They can be made, found, and sometimes they even walk right up to you all on their own. But answers, especially the important ones, should always be discovered. Consider that the last piece of wisdom from an ancient old fool. Now I have to go. The phone is ringing, and there''s only one way to find out who''s calling." He let out a long breath, and his arms returned to rest on the desk. The monstrous smile faded as what needed to be said was said. "To whoever is still listening, goodbye and good luck. If we''re ever to meet, let it be among the stars¡­ Projector, end recording." *VROOmmm* The tiny fan within slowed as the machine returned to its dreamless slumber. This time, Morgan watched as the LED lights winked out, one after the other. A chuckle escaped him as an entertaining thought crossed him. That holo-projector was the most significant innovation in communication technology humanity has ever produced. Yet the only tool he needed to communicate now was the voice he was born with. *Ring, Ring* The Professor looked at the reverse pay phone. It was still there, staring at him, ringing at him, just waiting to be answered. After realizing that 28-284 was using Morse code to communicate, he went out of his way to become fluent in it. As a result, he no longer heard the beeping of a Geiger counter but the words they symbolized. Morgan cleared his throat and, for the first time, addressed the Subject directly. "Hello." He said. It was only fair to be polite after waiting as long as he did. The effect was imminent. The device ceased all sound as 28-284 began to flap its golden insectoid wing excitedly. The flapping only lasted half a minute before it ended, and the beeping started again. "Hello." Greeted 28-284. "Thank you for answering." "Of course." Replied Morgan. "Why did you call?" "To make you an offer." An offer? If this creature, assuming it was a genuine living being, was sent to him to make him an offer, that sounded shady even to Morgan. He frowned again as thoughts of intergalactic scammers came to mind. He swore internally to himself, right then and there, that if this was some scheme to contact him about his spacecraft''s extended warranty, then there would be consequences for everyone involved. Boston Prime had a hydraulic press in the basement, and the cricket keeper could easily fit underneath the press. "I''ll need details first." He tapped out. "Your terms are accepted." Beeped 28-284 as a shiver went down the Professor''s spine. "I welcome you into my Patron''s world." "Your Patron''s world?" Asked the Professor, his eyebrow raised as his theory of a shadowy mastermind received a major point of data. "I''m sorry, I don''t-" But he wasn''t even able to finish the sequence before shit started hitting the fan. The golden cicada started shining with radiant light, dimly at first, its intensity increasing with each second passed. A mighty gale erupted within the office. The reports were sent flying all over; the lab coat flapped wildly, and even the heavy dreads swayed back and forth. Still, he never looked away from the Subject. In his peripheral vision, he saw the items hanging on the wall remained stationary¡ªan indicator that he was in the eye of a miniature hurricane. In seconds, the scene appeared to have reached its zenith. 28-284 now resembled a miniature sun and the winds a howl from hell. Regardless, the stubborn old Scientist refused to look away, even as his eyes teared from the abuse. He wanted to see everything! Needed desperately to know what will happen next! He couldn''t let himself blink! The soul was willing, but the light stung horribly, and the winds blew dust and debris right into his face. In horror, he watched helplessly as his body took control and his eyelids slowly closed. When they opened again, Morgan couldn''t help but curse aloud. "God damn it." 4. The Apple An afternoon sun shone brilliantly from up in the clear blue sky; its warm rays barely pierced through the leaves of the tree he sat under. The air was hot and muggy, or it would have been if not for the breeze that kept things comfortable. On the wind that blew the tall green grass came the fragrant scent of nature that he knew so well. The calming cocktail of dirt and plants, and if he paid close attention, he could smell the sea''s salt. He closed his eyes and held his breath, and indeed, he could hear the waves as they crashed against stone. All of it was familiar. The sun, sky, air, wind, smells and sounds all whispered to the experienced ecologist. They told him exactly where and when he was. An island on the Mediterranean Sea, the time was roughly 5pm, so that would put him in Greece. The Professor knew lies, and all of it was lies. This was not a Mediterranean island despite how closely it matched all his expeditions to the region. That sun wasn''t the sun, and that sky wasn''t his sky. All of it from the air he breathed, the scents he smelled, and the sounds he heard were new sensations. He knew with absolute certainty because only the leaves and trees told him the truth. He was in an alien world, just as 28-284 promised. For nowhere on Earth could anyone find trees of black leaves, black bark, and certainly none with golden fruit that reflected sunlight. Charles Morgan had been teleported off-world, directly out of his office in Boston, and dropped off in the middle of a forest. "No, not a forest." He muttered to himself as he turned 360 degrees in his chair to look closely at the hundreds of black trees around him. Every one in sight had spherical golden fruit hanging from branches. But what caught his attention was the spacing between them. It was perfectly even; each tree was a little less than eight meters away from the next one. "An Orchard." Morgan leaned back in his chair and prepared to ponder the implications of being in an orchard rather than a forest. Only that train of thought was derailed as his seating situation finally occurred to him. He was sitting in his padded chair! Whether it was 28-284 or this Mistress, they teleported them both. Not only was he the first man to set foot on a habitable world he wasn''t born in, but his chair could claim the same for all furniture. *Whoosh* A gust of wind shook all the trees simultaneously. The Professor glanced behind him in the direction of the sudden gust. The pitch-black leaves were already starting to settle down, and that made him uneasy. The wind hit everything evenly, almost like a wave crashing on the beach. Something like that should be- His body went rigid even before he understood what was happening. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and a ridiculous urge to halt his breathing threatened to enforce its will. Morgan''s instincts were screaming at him to stop, become silent, and draw as little attention to himself as possible. Above all, he felt that if he were to look forward again, it would be his death. That could only mean one thing. Someone was standing before him, and they didn''t feel human in the slightest. The Scientist had to force himself not to smile as he was representing all of Humanity today. It wouldn''t do to scare the poor extraterrestrial. "That was an impressive trick with the wind," Morgan said as he ignored instinct and turned to face the newcomer. Was the intent to intimidate me, or did you just want to ¡ª" The Scientist had to stop talking in order to process what he was seeing. "Surprise me?" The so-called alien was¡­ They greatly resembled a¡­ Morgan was struck by¡­ The Scientist let out a disappointed sigh before he could reign in his emotions. This was his first direct contact with non-human life, and he almost felt¡­ cheated. If that made any sense. The newcomer stood only a meter away, and to Morgan''s immense irritation, they looked far too human for his liking. The not-man, for they resemble a typical male more than not, was a 193cm tall beefcake with muscles that rippled even when he stood still. Their facial features were the epitome of masculine beauty. They struck Morgan as notably Greek with their almond-shaped eyes and full lips. It was hard to tell since they lacked body hair, save for the eyebrows. They wore nothing but laceless shoes and baggy pants tied down at the waist and ankles. At least the alien stood out a little from the average gym adonis, thanks to their eyes and skin. The latter was a hue of reddish-pink that appeared to pulse slowly, shifting between darker and lighter shades. The former literally glowed a deep shade of violet as they swept over Morgan. They bowed deeply from the waist, though not deep enough to conceal the disgust in their eyes. "My apologies if this one surprised you, honored guest." They said in perfect English and delivered it with a cold politeness that made clear the apology was more formal than genuine. "What you felt was an attempt to locate your position within the grove. You were meant to be teleported directly to my Mistress''s pavilion. However, the apples of the orchard have a tendency to¡­ complicate such Skills. It is their nature. Again, you have my sincerest apologies for any inconvenience." "No apology needed." Said Morgan as he left his chair and offered a hand to shake. "As for the unplanned detour, I''ll consider it a stroke of luck. This is a beautiful orchard you have here." The tan hunk from outer space looked at his offered hand like it was covered in fire ants. The shithead must have been under orders to treat Morgan as respectfully as possible. So, despite the apparent hesitation, the beefcake took the offered hand. "The orchard belongs to my Mistress and her alone. However, I will take the compliment on her behalf. We must hurry over to her at once. Teleportation is not possible this deep inside the orchard, so we must continue on foot." They made to let go, but the Professor didn''t let up on his grip. "So not only do you speak excellent English, but you also know human customs such as the handshake. It''s nice to know that Humanity has such fans out among the stars, I''m flattered." Morgan tilted his head to the side as he continued to hold the limp hand in a one-sided shake. "If you know that much, then you should know that we humans exchange names during such greetings. However, since I am ignorant of the exact details of your kind, why don''t we add species and preferred pronouns to the mix." The violet eyes of the not-man flashed, literally, at his words. They gripped his hand again, far harder than before. The force never made him uncomfortable, but it was evident that the alien was significantly holding back their strength so as not to purposely cause harm. The Professor had often been in similar situations when working with black bears or big cats. The message was clear, this creature from another world had the power to causally crush the elderly man by accident. However, as E.T. was about to learn firsthand, power was relative. "I couldn''t help but notice you haven''t said anything in quite some time. Did I make you nervous or something?" He said emotionlessly once a full minute went by. "Tell you what, I''ll go first to show you how it''s done. My name is Charles Morgan, I am a human, and I use he/ him. There, it isn''t too hard. Now you try." "KA-KAKAKA KA!" The sound suddenly erupted from everywhere and nowhere all at once. It startled them so much that each party let go and stepped back. However, the Professor forgot that the chair was directly behind him and, as a result, fell clumsily on the seat. The alien looked up at the sky, their face a mask of confused fear. Morgan looked skyward, too, but what little could be seen through the trees showed no apparent signs of danger. The sound kept going despite the lack of a noticeable origin. The longer it went, the more details he was able to grasp. It wasn''t a sound so much as the voice of something. It was higher pitched and almost melodic despite the ear-shattering volume. By the time it suddenly stopped, Morgan could swear it was the laughter of some giant. "What the Honored Guest heard was the Mistress, your Host. This is her World. She sees all and knows all that happens here. Clearly, she finds you¡­ amusing." They gave the sky another conflicted glance before facing the way they came. "Come along, please. We mustn''t delay any further."Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. The Professor watched them go, curious to see how long it would take for them to notice. They moved quickly, far faster than a 77 old man ever could. In seconds, the alien had disappeared into the orchard and- "Well, hello again, stranger." Morgan deadpanned as the E.T. suddenly stood in front of him again, followed shortly by a slight gust of wind. "I thought you said teleportation wasn''t possible right now." "This one did not teleport." They said, and a vein throbbed on their bald head. "I ran back here when I noticed Honored Guest wasn''t behind me. Is there an issue?" "You ran back? That''s incredible; I couldn''t even see you move." The Scientist praised and meant every word. "As for issues, there are two, I''m afraid. First, you move too fast even when you''re not running. I am old by my people''s standards, and these poor bones don''t move like they used to. It might take us a while to reach the Host. Thankfully, you''ve shown multiple times that your strength and speed far surpass mine. So why don''t you carry me in my chair? We can''t keep your Mistress waiting after all, now can we?" "...Yes, of course." Agreed the not-man in a growl as several more vain became visible. "This one should have thought of that. Please-" They stopped talking as Morgan put up a hand. They blinked rapidly in surprise, the violet eyes winking in and out of existence. "Before you grab my chair and we start speeding through the orchard like a pack of wolves after prey, we must address the final issue." Morgan raised his pointer, ring, and middle fingers. With each word, he lowered a finger in the same order: "Name. Species. Pronouns." *Pop! Pop! Pop!* The sound of the alien''s knuckles cracking from how tightly they clenched their fist filled the air like corn kernels in a microwave. They gnashed their flawless white teeth and closed their glowing eyes so hard Morgan half expected them to tear from the force. Their chiseled chest heaved in and out as they struggled to control their breathing. The Professor said nothing, did nothing; he simply waited for his answers. After all, he was representing all of Humanity, and so he could afford to show patience. What he could not afford to do was show weakness. While the tantrum was already entertaining, the best was yet to come. For a brief moment, the not-man regained discipline over their boiling rage, only for it to crumble again when they looked at Morgan, who held up three fingers again as a friendly reminder. They lost control again, but now the skin seemed to lose its cool as well. Instead of steady shifts in color, the organ began changing in what resembled a Belousov-Zhabotinsky reaction. All over their exposed flesh, tiny black rings appeared sporadically and grew in size like ripples in a pond. As rings grew and eventually disappeared behind them, more formed, ready to take their place on this humanoid kaleidoscope. ¡°L-Lysander of Clan Nyx.¡± They managed to choke out, their eyes bloodshot from the strain. ¡°I am a- a Hellenic Kraken¡­ I use ''He'' and ''Him'' as well." "A Kraken?" Asked the Scientist, truly astonished despite his lack of expression. "I wouldn''t have guessed. We don''t have real Krakens on Earth, but the animals the myths are believed to be based on are fascinating. They''re called giant squids, and," he gave the self-proclaimed shipwrecker''s measly two arms the side eye, "they have eight arms." "I only have two arms in this form." Lysander snarled in outrage. "An unorthodox display of hubris but very well." He shrugged and felt proud to still remember the reference after half a century. Morgan shimmed in his chair to get a firm position for take off. "We can go n-" *Thunk* He felt the sound more than heard it as something hit his head, bounced, and squarely fell onto his lap. "-Ow." Finished Morgan tonelessly. The two men looked at the perpetrator, gleaming on his legs. The Scientist picked the object up for a closer examination, and as expected, it was one of the fruits. The Kraken called it an apple earlier, and Morgan was inclined to agree. It had nearly all the iconic characteristics. A small ridged bottom led to a larger curved top, and the stem protruding from the core even had a large leaf. The all-black stem and leaf would have given it away as something strange, even if the golden skin didn''t shine like polished metal. It was light in weight like a fruit, but when Morgan tried digging a nail in, the skin proved as unyielding as appearance would suggest. Did it require a tool to open, or was this grown for a different purpose? The squid-man said they had some kind of effect that threw off teleportation. Could they be a safety measure to dissuade anyone from popping in unannounced? The Scientist would have given up a few limbs to take it back to the lab, but it wasn''t his to take. "The Apples are a Dao Treasure my Mistress cultivated herself." Lysander spoke up as if sensing his dilemma, his skin returning to its original pulsing pattern. "She and the World are as one. "It was no accident that it found its way to the Honored Guest''s possession. Keep it until you are told otherwise." "If you say so." He nodded, his mind racing to develop tests capable of measuring space-related manipulations. "How far is my Host? I must admit I''m getting increasingly eager to meet her." "Her pavilion is located on the other side of the island, roughly 150 Li from our current location." Lysander closed the distance between them and, in one fluid motion, crouched, gripped the base of the chair with one hand, and lifted over 110kg of man and chair like steak on a serving tray. He added in a smug tone, "Normally it would take this humble servant several seconds to cover that distance. Sadly, that great of a speed might harm the Honored Guest, so we will travel at a more moderate pace." Lysander waved the free hand in front of Morgan, and suddenly, he could no longer feel the gentle wind against his skin. The Kraken started to move, starting at a walking pace. However, with every step, the acceleration nearly doubled. The trees around them became a stomach-churning blur of green, black, and gold within the first dozen steps. The bitter Lysander must have been moving at bullet train speeds, yet the air didn''t bother Morgan in the slightest. He stuck a hand out in front of him and was shocked when he felt a solid wall where there was none. "Is this some kind of force field windshield?" Asked the Scientist as an endless barrage of questions threatened to overwhelm him. When no answer came, he looked down at the speedy squid. "Did you hear my question?" The Kraken didn''t seem to acknowledge him. He just kept running with a satisfied smile¡­ A suspicion crossed Morgan''s mind, and working off that thought, he shimmed forward on his seat to give his leg more reach. Sure enough, he felt another invisible barrier under him. He kept reaching out in all directions, and soon, the truth became clear. The shithead had somehow encased him in a force sphere, one that was wind and apparently soundproof. "Clever squid." He snorted and settled back in his chair. "Well played." Irritated that he had to travel in forced silence, Morgan''s more practical side decided this was a good development. It''s been nonstop from the first minute on this planet, and he needed time to puzzle something out. Disregarding the apparent similarities between here and Earth, something more subtle had been gnawing at him. A repeating theme here stuck out as strange even compared to everything else. A Greek theme. The climate being a near-perfect copy of islands like Rhodes and Crete could be chalked up to coincidence. But this was an alien world, yet names like Lysander, Hellenic, and Nyx were being used¡ªnames tied to Greek mythology. Then, there was the apple. The Professor brought it close again and watched the scenery pass in his mirror-like surface. This fruit was familiar to him, or at least he had heard about something like this before. Somewhere deep in his brain sat a memory covered in dusty cobwebs that held a story. One with a golden apple and Greek gods¡­ The frown deepened as he reached for it, careful not to lose it. Folklore and myths were far from his specialty, but what Western child hasn''t heard the stories of the Olympians and pieces from Homer''s epics? Morgan closed his blue and brown eyes and pressed the fruit against his forehead. With his free hand, he began to pull at a dreadlock, and with each tug, a word came to mind as if he were somehow pulling it free. Trojan, siege, war, wedding¡­ Wedding? That word broke the dam of time, and a memory came flooding back to him. In high school, the class had been forced to read the Iliad. A poem recounting a tale about how an argument among the gods led to the destruction of Troy, an ancient city. The argument started at a wedding all the deities attended, all save one. A goddess who stirred up trouble among the guests by crashing the ceremony and offering a golden apple to- A warm, prickly sensation from the hand holding the apple caused him to snap his eyes open. The feeling wasn''t uncomfortable, but it was enough to draw his attention. He examined it and saw nothing¡­ Nothing until he rotated the golden apple and exposed the side covered by his hand. He sucked in a breath as words that were definitely not there earlier had appeared. They were flawlessly carved into the skin without breaking through to the flesh as if the fruit had grown like that. The message read: ''To The Fairest.'' 5. The Host According to Lysander, a Li is a unit of measurement used for distance on this planet. It is approximately half a kilometer, or, as he would say in his youth before the imperial measurement system was finally dumped in the 2030s, a third of a mile. Until that day, the Professor had never heard of a Li. If something similar had ever existed on Earth, then he was simply ignorant of it. Regardless of that minor detail, he knew for a fact that a Li was around 500 meters. That knowledge hadn''t come from his current chauffeur, Lysander, as the two hadn''t communicated at all during the journey. Not only because Morgan was placed in an invisible force field bubble but because the Kraken was an ass. Morgan knew how long a Li was because he was trapped inside a bubble with nothing to do besides math. He calculated their speed using the eight-meter distance between the trees they passed by in a blur of motion. By doing that, he got a number for how fast Lysander ran per minute and, by using more math, discovered they were actually moving at bullet train speeds. Which is why it took roughly 15 minutes to reach this pavilion. This means 150 Li is 75 Kilometers or a little under 50 miles for any geriatric American. The Professor truly hated doing math. But he hated boredom even more so. The orchard covered most of the island, save for the edge of land on which the pavilion was built. The preferred aesthetics of the alien architect closely match that of the Hellenes of old. However, the Professor was getting used to the uncanny resemblance by now. Seeing an open-air building made of white marble columns arranged in a rectangle didn''t shock him much. The roof was triangular and made of the same unadorned material. However, large strips of featureless black cloth stretched between the columns blocked any inside views. Either this Mistress wanted to keep the wind out, which would defeat the purpose of an open-air structure, or she had privacy issues. Or it could be that she likes the color black. The orchard starting 20 meters behind him would attest to that theory. Lysander placed the chair down beside an opening in the cloth walls. Morgan felt the space before him and found the bubble of force had been dispelled. The Professor stood up, brushed the creases out of his clothes, and addressed the Squid with all the respect he could muster. "Did you want a tip or..." he asked, slipping the Apple into his lab coat. "No payment is necessary from the Honored Guest. I live to serve my Mistress." Bowed, Lysander and Morgan couldn''t help but notice a malicious glint in his eyes. "However, may this humble servant offer some advice?" This was clearly a trap. "Please do." Said Morgan, curious as to what he was up to. "Please keep in mind that while you are a guest here and are entitled to all the rights that entails, you are still a lowly Mortal." Said Lysander while still in a deep bow, though it wouldn''t be a surprise if he wore an unseen shit-eating grin. "My Mistress is a being that has nearly come within arms reach of true immortality, a true Bodhisattva. I would love nothing more than to properly convey just how great the divide is between Mortals and divinity. Yet I fear you and your entire Species would wither and rot from the ravages of time before I could impart a meaningful amount of information. So, for the sake of brevity, I will simply gift this piece of wisdom. An ant," the bastard paused then to look up and didn''t even bother to wipe the grin off, "would do well to remember what happens when they try to walk alongside Giants." Bodhisattva? A Buddhist term here? The plot thickens. "What very sensible-sounding advice, Lysander. I have to admit I wouldn''t have expected wisdom from someone like you," Morgan said quietly before stepping forward and invading the Servant''s personal space. "Truly, I have much to learn, but in the spirit of wisdom, I do have to correct you on something you said." "Oh?" Chortled the Squid, disgusted by the sudden intimacy but refusing to step back. "Is Honored Guest going to say he is not an ant? This Servant deeply apologies if offense was given where none was intended." "Don''t be ridiculous; of course labeling me as an ant was appropriate. I would have to be an idiot not to understand that after all I''ve seen." The Professor stretched his arms out to show how small he was in a world so big. "Your mistake was in describing how wide this divide is between the Host and me. As per your own words, the distance can''t be that great." "Oh?" He asked laconically as a black ring formed over where a human heart should be. "Being nearly within an arm''s reach of immortality still means one has yet to grasp eternity. Ants and giants are equal in at least one thing: they are mortal." He gently grabbed either side of Lysander''s darkening face and brought it closer to his, like an adult making sure a child was paying close attention. "Squids are mortal, too. You would do well to remember that." "Is Honored Guest threatening this humble Servant?" The light in Lysander''s eyes burned with the desire to rip apart the upstart aberration. "Of course not, don''t be ridiculous." He released the Kraken. "I was only pointing out the obvious. Besides, how could I ever be a threat to someone so fast? You could escape before I could take a stance." "Ka-kaka ka!" Came the Host''s cackling laugh from beyond the cloth walls. "Mr. Morgan, please stop teasing my young pet and come in." Her voice was utterly enchanting to the ear, breathy and just oozing femininity. Though it conjured up a horde of unsettling impressions despite that. In the back of Morgan''s mind, he heard the cries of the revolutionary and the roars of the imperial. The muffled argument between the unrelenting force and the immovable object through thin walls. The dull thuds of striking fists and sharp cracks of breaking bones reached a crescendo as neither side would back down. That voice always carried one thing within it, regardless of the tone or the words. Conflict. Plain and simple. "Your house, your rules." Shrugged Morgan before turning on his heel and made to enter through the opening. Then, a thought gave him pause. He called out behind him. "Could you bring the chair in behind me? I brought it from home, and it''d be a shame not to use it. We older ants can get fussy about that kind of thing." He entered without ever looking back. Morgan threw open the black curtains, ready to¡­ "Sweet merciful god, you''re gorgeous." Morgan gasped and ran faster than any senior citizen had any right to in a pitiful attempt to get closer. "How can you be so purple?" The black cloth only blocked the outside view from three sides of the pavilion. The fourth side was left completely open for the structure''s inhabitants to bear witness to the majesty of the sea¡ªa purple sea. The Scientist ran till he came to the end of the white & black marble floor and only stopped because to take a single step more would mean his death. The Pavillion, it turned out, was built on the edge of a sea cliff standing 300 meters above the purple waters. His brain dimly noted that the lack of experiencing any increase in elevation during his ride here hinted that the entire island rose that far up as well. That note was quickly stored away as Morgan had bigger fish to fry. He hugged a nearby column for stability and stared down wide-eyed at the different shades of water. It was mesmerizing to watch the violet depths transition into amethyst waves as they crashed mightily into the lilac-stained cliff face. The ecologist swallowed hard when he noticed something was moving with purpose from under the lavender seafoam. For him to be able to spot it from this high up, the supposed creature had to be close to a blue whale in size. The Scientist decided right then and there that this sight alone made it all worthwhile. Even if that prick of a squid suddenly kicked him off the cliff and he fell to his doom for some interplanetary prank, he still wouldn''t regret a thing. He would die happy. Afterward, he''d enthusiastically haunt his killer. "Enjoying the view, dear?" Giggled his Host from behind him. "Very much so." Sighed Morgan contentedly as he turned to face her. The interior was spartan in its d¨¦cor. Placed in the center of the room was a featureless table made of an impossibly dark wood, likely harvested from the plentiful resources outside. His chair was placed by one end while the other was within easy reach of the giant throne. A wooden throne made of the same material, but the back had intricate displays of violent scenes carved and then outlined with gold. The seat cushion was purple and thick, just like the two oversized pillows on either side of the women seated there. The woman wore a black toga-like dress cut in a way that would leave the right breast exposed if not for the golden shimmering cloth wrapped around her modest assets. Her outfit lacked footwear, making Morgan wonder if he should discard his own shoes. The Host smiled at him, and she just might be the most objectively attractive woman Morgan had ever met. She was the embodiment of youthful beauty with the figure of someone who had recently entered adulthood. Her skin was pale to the point of being called porcelain, contrasting perfectly with the void black hair spilling over her shoulders. Her thick lips, sharp nails, and outline around the eyes were just as dark. However, he doubted the effect was from wearing cosmetics, as he noted the skin on her fingers became the same color the closer they got to the nail. "You seem disappointed, dear." She chuckled and waved for him to take his own seat. Lysander stood behind the throne and gave him a murderous look.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. Morgan ignored him. "I like your eyes." He admitted in the way of a compliment before sitting. It was true. The Professor found her eyes the most stunning feature of all. Not only did they glow especially bright under the pavilion''s shade, but they were heterochromatic like his. The left was salmon pink, while the right was a pale white barely noticeable from the sclera around it¡ªthe colors of flesh and bone. "Thank you!" The bubbly Host seemed genuinely happy from the observation. "Many who meet me find them disturbing; even my peers have trouble looking me in the eye." "Peers?" Morgan asked, interested in increasing his sample size of alien life. "What? Is the rest of the pantheon here, too?" "Patience, my Guest." She chided him playfully. "One should finish one meal before starting another, after all." She raised a hand and put down all but three fingers. "I believe it went: name, species, and pronouns correct?" "Indeed. I would go first, but my attentive Host is already familiar with me. Also, I prefer to be called by my last name, if you don''t mind. If you do mind, then add Professor before it or just use the title. "Duly noted Professor." She giggled before the Kraken randomly bowed and left the pavilion without another word. "While my pet retrieves some confections for us, I will greet you properly." She sat up a little straighter then, her jaw set with pride as she finally introduced herself. "I am Eris of Clan Nyx, Bodhisattva of Strife and Discord, and Progenitor of the original Snub. I normally use ''She'' and ''Her'', but like many of my Rank, there are days where I feel more fluid." "I figured, but didn''t want to assume." Nodded the Professor, outwardly unbothered, but internally his worldview was tearing at the seams. He pushed past the pleasantries to give some temporary relief from the existential crisis. "I do have a few questions I need answered before we speak about this offer your," Morgan almost said ''reverse pay phone'' but managed to turn on the proverbial dime, "messenger told me about." "I figured, but I did not want to assume." Eris chuckled with a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. A practical man would ask about the odd familiarities between this world and yours first, but you strike me as someone with more sensible values." They both turned to face the sea. Oh dear. The Professor was starting to like her. "I am what I am." Morgan chuckled dryly, turning his attention back to her. The Scientist leaned forward as if trying to keep the secret just between them. "So, how do you keep it so purple?" "Tell me, Professor, have you ever heard of a method of creating poison known as Gu?" "I actually have." He frowned, not sure why the sudden change of topic. Still, he rolled with it. "I once taught a course on venom at the school where I am currently employed. A Gu is more legend than historical, but a student would ask the same question almost every semester, so I researched the topic." The Professor cupped his hands together like he held an invisible jar over the table. "The method varies from telling to telling, but the gist is the creation of a poison made from animals. The poisoner places several different venomous creatures inside a jar before sealing it. Then they bury the jar so the animals trapped inside have no choice but to eat each other to survive. Each time an animal killed and consumed another animal, its own venom would grow more potent. Over and over, the cycle would repeat until only the winner remained, its venom having reached supernatural levels of lethality. After a certain amount of time had passed, the poisoner would dig up the jar and harvest the deadly crop. Sometimes they would simply take the venom to use as a completely fatal poison, other times they would release the creature in the home of the intended victim." Morgan snorted up at his Host. "It always surprised me when I told my students that it''s almost certainly just a myth from ancient Nanyue. Not only would any animal that breathes die when the oxygen ran out, but venom doesn''t work like that. However I will freely admit that some dart frogs do get their toxic skin from their diet of poisonous insects." "Very good!" Clapped Eris excitedly. "If you can grasp that method, then you should easily grasp the nature of my Gu Sea. Normally this sea appears just like any other from your world. However, I have altered the environment so that events play out exactly as you see now. First, I found a suitable location and filled it with salt water. The life within was carefully chosen and selectively introduced over the course of a hundred years. Then I had thousands upon thousands of a certain type of herb planted all along the sea bed. This particular herb is known for releasing a special toxin when specific environmental conditions are met. In this case, it is when the plant feels its waters are overpopulated by creatures. This toxin heavily dyes the waters but its main effect is to drive any creature exposed into a mad killing frenzy. When one plant starts to release the toxin, those around it follow suit. In fact the toxin is commonly used as the main ingredient for high-grade Berserking Pills, not that you would know what those are. Personally, I find the herb a useful tool in recruiting new followers." She said all that like a proud student explaining her science project. "This sea is a giant Gu for getting pets like your Kraken." Said the Scientist with grotesque curiosity. "Once the population of sea creatures reaches a tipping point, all it takes is for a single plant to feel threatened for things to devolve into a salty battle royal¡­ So the toxin dyes the water purple?" "No, dear." Her smile became a wicked thing, and if he were a religious man, he''d be reaching for a cross. "It dyes the waters blue. The water becomes purple by the end of the first day. Actually, you are in luck, as this is only the second day of this cycle. Normally, the population takes tens of thousands of years to grow enough to trigger a cycle. You must have been Fated to witness such beautiful conflict." "Lucky me." He agreed before asking quite seriously. "Is that why Lysander is such an asshole? He''s bitter about being forced to fight and kill till he was the last one swimming?" "KA¡ªKAKAKA!" Eris cackled so hard she shook the literal foundation of the building. She quickly reigned in the laughter so as not to send the section of the cliff into the literal sea of monsters. "No, of course not, dear. My pet simply holds to the traditional values when dealing with non-cultivators, especially when your form so closely resembles mine. Sadly, that is the case for many of my peers." "He¡­" Now Morgan was really thrown for a loop as he stared at Eris in disbelief. Though a small part of him did celebrate, as there was now a valid reason to screw with the Squid as much as humanly possible. "He hates me¡­ because I''m not a farmer?" "Oh!" gasped the Bodhisattva, covering her lips like she had spilled tea. The innocent gesture was a little jarring after her excitement about describing the Gu Sea. "I have touched a subject best left alone for now." The Professor opened his mouth to protest but closed it in the end. He noted the odd interaction and focused on the more significant issue¡ªa task made significantly easier without a giant purple distraction in his peripheral vision. When Eris revealed her identity, he knew deep down in his heart that the reveal was the final nail in the coffin¡ªa coffin that held in it the certainty of humanity''s independent development. It was surprising to discover your planet wasn''t the only one that held life in the Universe. It was unsettling to know that your planet was definitely the technological inferior of the two. It was a baseball bat to the back of the skull to learn that aliens not only existed but also came to your planet to be worshiped as divine by your ancestors. Morgan knew there was no way an advanced alien civilization that visited Earth''s past and stayed long enough to impact human culture this deeply would have ever truly left. No, they would have stayed and directed humanity''s development from the shadows. Always watching, always guiding. How much of his people''s actions could be traced back to these so-called Bodhisattvas? Could they be behind the approaching war? Is that why they''re reaching out? Does it have something to do with this offer? So many fears, questions, and feelings fought each other in a mad contest for what he should address first. Above all, the very notion that the slop the History Channel pumped out for years was even remotely accurate made him sick to his stomach. "Take your time, dear." Sympathized the embodyment of literal Strife and Discord after he had just sat there silently for a minute. "Believe me, Professor, I understand your discomfort, at least in part. It was a complete shock to all of us here when we discovered how much our Universe influenced yours." "Thank you, Eris." Sighed Morgan as he leaned back in his char for a very uncomfortable- *TH-Thump, Th-Thump* What had Eris just said? *TH-Thump, Th-Thump* "Shocked?" Asked the Professor as hope made his heartbeat pound merrily in his chest. "You say you were shocked when you discovered your influence on us? I don''t understand. How could that be in any way a surprise for you?" "We only managed to make direct observations of Earth successfully a short while ago. Two weeks, I believe you would say." She shrugged sorrowfully before immediately smiling fondly at the memory. "Things became very interesting when the first Divination came through the Bifr?st, and we saw a statue of Laozi. I thought war could flair up at any moment." Her expression suddenly became a pout, and she slumped forward on her throne. "Then Agustus ordered a thorough investigation before any information could escape. The entire mess was cleaned up in a day." "Agustus?" Choked Morgan. "Laozi?" "I did, dear." She sighed and tried to explain while still irritated at the two historical juggernauts. "Emperor Augustus is my Faction''s Tath¨¡gata; think of the position as the leader. Laozi, a Celestial Court spy, was sent to monitor this project. Still, we were ordered to pretend he truly is here to assist us. How are we to pretend that an Alchemist could ever assist in a." She turned to him with the fiery passion of a partner who desperately wanted to talk shit about a coworker. But one look at the Professor''s face made that mouth shut without him even needing to speak. Perhaps the great being blushing faintly on the other side of the table had forgotten who she was venting to. While this might be a regular Tuesday for her, it was Revelation for him. Receiving such consideration from a creature whose divine portfolio consisted mainly of being problematic and ensuring others follow suit felt off-brand to Morgan. It could be that the two-armed son of a squid was right about her taking a liking to the lesser Mortal. In any case, now was not the time to look a gift horse in the mouth. That would come later. She cleared her throat and continued in a more befitting manner. "I am aware that you have similar men in your history, and that similarity is no coincidence. Our influence extends even deeper into humanity than just the elements of myth. We have reached into the very souls of your greatest people. Not most of them, but for the few who do hear our stories always have a tendency to make our history yours." "So we were influenced unknowingly. This¡­¡± Morgan spun a dreadlock around as he weighed this reality with the one he feared he had. "This was unexpected. But not an unwelcome one. I really thought for a second that my-" *TH-Thump, Th-Thump* There was something else she said. *TH-Thump, Th-Thump* "Did you say ''Our Universe''?" Asked the Scientist, seriously wondering if he had developed a heart condition in his old age. "Am I in a different Universe?" 6. The Gatekeeper "Correct. We are, in fact, in my Universe. Ah!" Eris''s black-tipped hand shot up and silenced any questions before the breath could be taken to speak to them. "We shall speak about the Multiverse in a moment as my pet is returning to us now. I believe such a discussion will be far easier to have over cake." In response, he held up a finger. His pointer. "Can I at least get a name?" the Professor asked in begrudging acceptance, fidgeting with his hair. Snacks notwithstanding, a conversation about the Multiverse is going to get confusing if we keep using the same term for two different locations. Officially, there isn''t an accepted name, but for the moment, we can refer to it as Cosmos. It''s used these days as a more or less interchangeable term for Universe." Morgan struggled to come up with a better word, or at least one that originated from something other than old Greek. While ''cosmos'' fit the theming of the day''s events, it also acted as a reminder of how deep this unintended influence went. Still, it was the lesser of two evils. If he had to spend the rest of this meeting saying ''My Universe'' over and over again, it would leave a bitter taste in his mouth. As if a single entity could claim ownership of something so vast. "Cos-mos?" She giggled while trying out the name. "I like this word. It tastes sweeter on my tongue than most words in your English." "I thought you might." The Professor deadpan. "I will pass the name along to my supervisors." She grinned slyly at him. "This Universe has many names over the countless eons, but all alive today know it as Vajrayana." "Vajray-ana." It was his turn to savor an alien name, and he found it tasted familiar. Yet nothing specific surfaced from the pool of memory. "Has an interesting kick to it. Does it mean anything?" "Many have meditated on that same question for their entire lives, only to die before achieving an answer. However, think of the name as a promise to all who walk under the Heavens." Eris answered crypticly with a dark giggle before shamelessly evading the question. "Hello, pet." *Step* "Welcome back." Morgan said when Lysander''s foot hit the marble floor. He didn''t turn to greet the pet but thought screwing with him a bit might be fun. "Did you remember to bring drinks, or will you have to run back to the other side of the planet?" "How could you possibly know where the sanctuary is?!" Lysander snapped with unexpected ferocity. "Where did you get this information?!" "There''s no need for him to scream. I''m old, not deaf." He sighed to the puzzled divinity before massaging his neck as he mentally prepared to use math again. He addressed the salty sea monster, "It''s easy squid-man, if we''re 150 li fro-" *Whoosh* A gust of wind swept over him. Morgan stopped speaking then. He didn''t move a single muscle, even to close his mouth, which was an annoyance since his lips were slightly puckered after starting on the ''O'' in ''From''. But during that ''O'', some critical observations had just fully registered. First, he had already stopped massaging his neck by that point. Second, he recognized the grip of the hand still on his neck. He had shaken it not long ago in the orchard. "No more. You will not speak to me this way, Wanderer filth." Lysander whispered into his ear, his sheer hatred of the Mortal fueling some pre-existing paranoia. "Suspected spies are not protected under Xenia. So speak to me with the respect I deserve." He looked to his Host before answering. Eris only sat on her throne stoically, seemingly waiting for Morgan to respond against this serious accusation. Her act might have been believable without the fires burning behind those mismatched eyes. He knew those particular flames well, the blaze of curiosity. The Kraken might have taken a dive off the deep end, but the near-immortal was perfectly aware of his innocence. But why would she let something like that ruin the fun? "I have." Said Morgan, the words devoid of any emotion. "From the beginning, in fact." "Speak plainly, fool!" Lysander growled, and his grip tightened. With the tighter grip, Morgan felt something other than flesh touching him¡ªjewelry perhaps? "What do you-?" "I have been speaking to you with the respect you deserve," he interrupted, "from the beginning." The fingers around Morgan''s neck twitched. *["Stop."]* Eris Mandated, the word sounding distorted yet crystal clear all at the same time. Lysander immediately let go of the Honored Guest at his Mistress''s command. Only the Squid was one of many following the order. The wall curtains ceased all movement just as the waves could no longer be heard crashing against the island. Morgan''s breathing became labored as even the air was hesitant to disobey. Earlier, the Scientist had been told that his Host and that world were one. Yet only now he was beginning to truly understand what that meant. Eris, the Bodhisattva of Discord and Strife, held out her hand expectantly. Morgan watched with fascination as her trained pet approached, shamed-faced, to place a green ring on her hand. She inspected the ring and nodded contentedly before slipping it on. Eris didn''t even bother to give her servant another glance before dismissing him with an absent wave. Lysander disappeared right before the Scientist''s eyes. At first, he thought it was just another display of mind-boggling speed, but the rush of wind never came. Instead, he heard something much more impressive. *Pop* The air rushed to fill the Kraken-shaped vacuum left behind. Divinity and man stared at each other while the world remained in a static state. Time, assuming it hadn''t also come to a screeching halt, ticked by. A second became half a minute, then a full minute, then two, followed by three. Morgan refused to let a fourth go by as he started getting bored of this game. "I could be going senile in my old age." He said, breaking the silence first. "But I don''t see any cake." "Kaka ka!" Eris burst into a fresh fit of cackling laughter that might have sent a shiver down a sane human''s spine. Her palm slapped her leg during the uproar, and he could have sworn the throne''s legs embedded themselves a few centimeters into the floor. "I am beginning to greatly enjoy your company, Professor! Rarely have I met a Mortal of your caliber." "Hmm." Mused Morgan once the crashing waves returned and the black cloth bellowed in the wind again. "I probably shouldn''t take that as a compliment... Meh, I will." His gaze flickered over to the empty space where Lysander once stood. "My pet is alive." She gasped breathlessly. "I placed the fool in the deepest chasm in the sea so he could Meditate on his actions. I dare say he will miss the rest of our meeting. As for cake." Eris extended the hand wearing the ring. "As we''re alone, you will have to serve yourself." The empty table between them could no longer be called such. Tea cups, saucers, spoons, forks, a cake knife, serving dishes, a clear pot of coffee, and a large silver platter with a cover materialized onto it all at once. If that wasn''t already impressive enough, all the cutlery and delicate dishware had set themselves perfectly on entry, making it hard to believe that the table had ever been bare in the first place. "Impressive ring." The Scientist admitted while eyeing the steaming pot of coffee that looked suspiciously like it could be from any dinner he''d ever visited. "Can I pick one up from the gift shop on my way out?" "Gift shop?" She asked, her head tilting to one side at the new words. "Don''t worry about that," he snorted as he reached for the coffee, "I''m just being a pain in the ass." Morgan didn''t see any milk or cream, but that was fine as he preferred his coffee black. The caffeine was the vital part of the equation. "So about that Multiverse." He sipped the dark beverage and noted that it tasted of dinner quality. "You Mortals are always in such a rush." She snickered and snapped her fingers. *Snap* Immediately, the inanimate objects on the table began to move independently. The teapot flew over to her cup and poured its amber contents inside. Meanwhile, the platter''s cover levitated straight up before stopping a meter above the table. Two identical cakes coated with vanilla frosting sat side by side on the platter, and the serving knife flew over to hover menacingly over the baked goods. The knife cut into the right cake twice before lifting the slice up. The Professor blinked in surprise as the desert''s interior was made of five different colored layers stacked on top of eachother. The colors went red, yellow, blue, green, and purple from top to bottom. Given the current month, he became convinced she had teleported the food from some Earth dinner. "I feel like I''m in a kids'' movie." He snorted as the knife cut a slice of rainbow cake and placed it on his plate. When he looked up, however, he saw that instead of cutting from the same cake, the knife had sliced into the other. The second was also rainbow-layered, but the colors ran in reverse. Morgan raised a brow at the grinning divinity. "I hope you don''t expect me to finish mine before we part ways." "Behold," she announced grandly, ignoring him and sending the knife to orbit the desserts, "the Multiverse made simple." The Scientist sat up a little straighter as he realized why she wanted to wait till the food had arrived. He shoved a fork full of cake into his starving mouth and studied closely. Using the knife as an improvised pointer, she began to label each part of the delicious analog. "Let us say that this is Vajrayana." The knife circled the cake her slice came from. "It is made of several alternate realities or Realms." Each layer received a jab. "Separating the Realms are forces known as Lesser Barriers." The white frosting within the cake is poked. "Encasing the whole Universe is a similar force known as the Greater Barrier." The blade runs along the frosting coating. "And finally, we have the Void, a place where nothing can exist." The knife wiggled between the cakes before landing itself between them. "Do you understand, dear, or will I have to explain in more detail?" The knife trembled slightly as if hoping Morgan would say no. "I got it." He nodded after swallowing another piece. "A Universe is a cluster of Realms that are layered on each other. These Realms are separated by barriers that are a less intense version of the big one that keeps the ''Is'' from becoming the ''Isn''t''." He ate another piece to stall for time as he continued to work out the remaining implication. "I''m going out on a limb to assume that since you are aware of the other Realms, is it possible to travel between them?" "Indeed, we have mastered Realm travel eons before we ever discovered the existence of Cosmos." Eris beamed with pride at her people''s accomplishments. "There''s one thing I don''t understand, though." He frowned and shoved the rest of the cake into his mouth in defeat. "You wish to know how we crossed the Void?" She guessed with a patronizing smile. "I do not blame you. That issue had plagued the greatest Cultivators of-" The Scientist held out his hand for her to wait as he struggled to quickly choke down the last piece of cake to wipe that look off her face. He had to wash it down with some coffee before the surgery chunk would go down. "If you''re going to say that a bridge was created from Vajrayana to Cosmos by manipulating the Greater Barrier," It took great effort for Morgan to resist laughing at the sight of Eris''s jaw dropping. Thankfully, the fate of Lysander, still fresh in his memory, kept the old man from giving so much as a chuckle. "It''s a simple deduction to make when I already know Universe travel is possible, and you''ve just told me that the Greater Barrier can survive exposure to the Void." "I suppose you have a valid point¡­" She sulked and turned to face the sea. "What I don''t understand is how you''ve guided the bridge over to Cosmos in the first place." Continued Morgan, far too focused on the problem to give Eris''s mood much thought. "I understand that information can travel through the Void as Earth has clearly been heavily influenced. I would say that this bridge followed the information leaking from Vajrayana, but if that leak was a surprise¡­ Taking that into account then¡­" You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. The penny dropped. "Of course." The Scientist would have smacked himself for overlooking something so obvious. "I''ve been so focused on the blatant influence from your people that I never considered that information could travel from either source. The information leaving Cosmos must have been like a lighthouse in the darkness that this barrier bridge followed." When no response came, he realized why. The near-immortal was still staring out to sea, her expression hard, arms stubbornly crossed as she refused to say a word. Though her silence was answer enough for him, Morgan was content in indulging himself in the euphoria of satisfying his curiosity¡ªat least for a time. So he decided not to press the matter any further until Eris was ready to continue and they could finally speak about this offer. The Professor also gazed at the beautiful waters concealing an epic battle for survival. Making it only slightly more violent than any natural setting. He knew if word of the Gu Sea ever reached Earth, most of his fellow humans would label the practice as evil. He disagreed. It was no more or less evil than the practice of raising animals for slaughter. Farm animals usually die when they are meant to, at a time dictated by their owners. If anything the Gu Sea felt kinder as countless generations would live and die of natural causes until the day came when there would be one fish to many. Soon after that day, only one fish would be left in the sea. Hadn''t the same fate befallen the countries of humanity? For nearly 65,000 years, countless countries have risen and fallen beside each other, only for there to be just two left standing today. Soon, there would only be one, and humanity would be lucky to have even that much left when the smoke cleared. When did they reach that same tipping point? When was the day when there was one country too many? It wouldn''t change anything, even if he could know. Still, tragic as things were back home, it was better for humanity to perish by one''s own actions than to fall at ¡­ at another''s¡­ word. A voice, one that he thought long dead and buried, escaped its crypt to scold the man for missing the obvious trap. The Professor banished the ghost, not needing or wanting her help from beyond the grave. "Eris¡­" Morgan said, and his euphoria quickly faded once the reality of his situation began to dawn. The use of her name must have started her out of the silent tantrum since he felt her gaze pierce the side of his head. "Why do you want to make an offer to someone like me?" *Slap!* The sharp sound of flesh striking flesh exploded from the other side of the table. The old man nearly jumped in his seat before turning to find Eris''s black-tipped hand still firmly on her forehead. "The offer, of course!" She chided herself. "Thank you for reminding me Professor, I had completely forgotten as well." "Wait." He hoped the word came out as more of a request than the order he wanted it to be. "Before that. I need to know why we are even here at all. An offer is only made when one party requires something they can not take from the other with force." "...Yes?" She looked at him like he had sprouted a third arm. "I am aware." "What could I, a human from a backwater species still struggling to leave their home planet, have that you, a powerful being from a star-faring civilization, couldn''t just take by force?" "Did that only just dawn on you now?" She sighed sadly before giving him a pout. "Professor, are you not being paranoid? Have I not been an agreeable Host? Did I not protect you from my pet and punish him for the offense? Is it so unthinkable that I simply wish for your willing assistance in the spirit of Camaraderie between our Universes?" A tear rolled down her cheek and landed on the table with a wet plop. The Professor didn''t answer right away. Instead, in the spirit of comradery, he decided to review the evidence before saying anything. So he studied the Bodhisattva of Discord and Strife, then the Gu Sea before looking back at the Bodhisattva of Discord and fucking Strife. "Are you serious?" "Damn." She cursed in disappointment; the act completely dropped. "Was it the tear that gave me away?" "No, but it didn''t help." "I gambled and lost. Everyone these days just gives me whatever I wish when I wish, so I rarely get a valid reason to trick anyone these millennia. Forgive me for the indulgence." She shrugged before flopping back against her throne, her eyes peering at him with renewed interest. "The truth is that my superiors do not wish for your willing assistance; they require it." "...No, I''m not really buying it." Morgan leaned back as he considered everything. "They have Earth, and they have me. There is nothing that I do to stop you from taking everything¡ªmy life, my people, my world. Yet here we are, talking when you could be talking. So what aren''t you telling me?" "My dear Professor," Eris sang with a tone so sweet it gave him a toothache. "I would never hide anything from you. But as your generous Host, I should point out that there are assumptions that are blinding you to the obvious truth." "You''re a Bodhisattva, aren''t you?" He deadpanned. "I''m sure you can work a miracle to cure my blindness." "Your assumption is that this bridge, referred to by all involved with the project as the Bifr?st, has already connected to Cosmos." Her pupils flickered wildly with manic glee as she said the unthinkable. "However, the Bifr?st has yet to do so." The Professor didn''t react right away. Instead, in the spirit of comradery, he decided to review the evidence before saying anything. So Morgan, a human, stared hard at Eris, a Vajrayana equivalent of a Goddess. Without looking away, the Earthling topped off his cup with the dinner coffee pot and reclined it in his custom Swiss office chair. He sipped at the beverage made from Brazilian coffee beans and savored the bitter flavor. "Are you serious?" "Depressingly so." She snickered, enjoying the frustration of her employers. "I do not blame you for doubting my word. However, the truth of the matter is that the Bifr?st is very close to completely piercing the Greater Barrier of Cosmos, specifically the Realm where your Earth resides. This allows my people to use direct means to observe the state of Earth with ease. Interacting directly, however, is orders of magnitude more difficult. Through great costs, we are able to teleport inanimate objects and animals through what little barrier remains, as you already know. Under specific circumstances and at an even greater cost, one that could burn through the resources of a small empire, we can teleport Sapient beings safely." She wiggled a finger at him playfully. "As you may have noticed." "I have." He nodded as everything began to come into focus. "I have also noticed that my value seems tied to Earth, meaning I will likely need to be sent back if I agree. So why can I travel between Universes and some super warrior like Lysander can not?" "Your Universe lacks¡­ a certain element. Aether." Eris''s expression twisted as she struggled to explain. "I will go into detail once I have gained your trust that our plight is real. All you need to understand is that this element saturates every corner of Vajrayana and is crucial for our existence. The agents we have successfully teleported on Earth have all failed to last longer than several seconds without it. This is why the connection needed to be a physical link between our universes. Such a bridge would allow the elements to equalize on both ends. At our present pace, the Bifr?st would only take another 50 years at most, a mere blink of an eye." Her eyes, perhaps. "Alright, I''ll accept that you people can''t get early access to Cosmos. Meaning whatever scheme you have planned will require a local to pull off. Now tell me about this need to get ahead of schedule. If the Bifr?st has tracked Earth to the point where it''s scratching away at our front door, then I know it''s only a matter of time." *Clap, Clap, Clap, Clap* "Time is the blessed issue!" Eris cackled and clapped with sadistic glee. "Ka-kaka! We all thought time was a foe we mastered long ago. What fools we were! Recently, time has reminded us that even we holy beings are not immune to its cruelty. For 50,000 years, the Bifr?st has slowly crawled towards new land to claim and dominate. The resources needed to build and maintain such an ambitious venture damaged the very foundations of a Realm. Thousands upon thousands of deals struck between interested parties within the Factions for how the spoils would be split. Yet all of it, the effort, the sacrifices, and even the prize could be lost in only a few days! The ambitions of an entire Universe, crushed due to a single plant of humans wiping themselves at an inopportune time!" The Bodhisattva devolved into a pile of uncontrollable laughter at the misfortune that might befall the governments of Vajrayana. On a personal level, Morgan agreed wholeheartedly with the hilarity of irony on such an epic scale. Laughter would sadly have to wait until he returned home. As Eris had revealed, the last piece of data needed for him to understand his role in this mess. "I''ve been using the wrong Terminology this entire time." Admitted the Scientist, a smile attempting to assert itself while he struggled to keep it off. "The information coming from our Universes isn''t a leak to be followed; it''s a flaming Beacon in the Void. This bridge isn''t tracking anything; it''s Chasing the information. Taking all that into account means the Bifr?st isn''t the hunting dog I was imagining. It''s a Moth Drawn to the Flame." Eris stopped laughing. She didn''t say anything or indicate that she had heard her statement at all. The Host only watched her Guest with the detached interest of a Lioness watching a cocky male approach. That was fine; the Professor didn''t need an interactive audience, just an attentive one. So he continued. "Flames are an event. Once it''s gone, it''s gone, and so requires constant fuel to burn brightly. But as your observations of Earth have doubtless already told you, the life that fuels this flame is about to run out prematurely. War is on the way, a total nuclear exchange between the United Peoples of the Americas and the New French Empire. Conflict on that scale has got to be rough on the inhabitants; any survivors probably wouldn''t long either with that level of radiation. I''d say the following nuclear winters would mean the end of complex life. Also, I''m confident that roaches and bacteria don''t produce a visible amount of information." He paused to see if any mistakes would be pointed out. None were, so he gave voice to the awful conclusion. "No Fuel. No Flame. No Reason for that Moth to do a Damn Thing. And something tells me it''s too late to swap out the guiding system this far in this little Venture." "Hmm." She mused as her eyes radiating carnage of untold proportions flashed brighter than ever before as she judged the impudent Mortal. "But that''s just the theory of an old man." Morgan reached for the serving knife and gave himself a healthy portion of cake. But before tucking into what might be his last meal, he spoke. "You''ve been quiet for some time now. Any good theory should undergo peer review. So tell me, Eris." He smiled monstrously for the second time that day. "What do you think?" "I believe," she said, smiling just as monstrously as he did. "We are more alike than I would have ever thought possible." Then, the world went to Hell. The ground started to shake far more than the Richter scale could measure, for the power of a Bodhisattva was greater than any shifting fault line. The columns of the pavilion were instantly ripped to pieces, and the collapsing marble roof would have crushed the elderly human if the wind hadn''t blown it into the sea below. With the entire structure gone, save for the floor, it became clear how wind could achieve such a feat. Dozens of tornadoes were ranging all around the pair like wolves circling prey. Much of the island around them had fallen into the sea during the quake, stopping only meters before reaching the orchard. The only bit of ground left was the portion keeping the floor from falling into the churning waters. Above, the sky had become black with roiling thunderclouds that threatened to- *CRACK!* A purple lightning bolt crashed on the floor, breaking through the marble floor near him. Instead of seeing the ground underneath, there was only empty- *CRACK* *CRACK* *CRACK* *CRACK* Over and over again, the bolts fell from on high, systematically destroying the black-and-white floor to reveal the truth that there was no ground beneath them. The floor simply floated in place, perhaps just to spite the law of physics. The Professor was fine. During the earthquake, if that natural disaster could be called such when not on Earth, he noticed that he and the table weren''t shaking at all. When a gust strong enough to send several tons of stone didn''t send him to the stratosphere, Morgan figured Eris was keeping him safe. So he ate his cake and enjoyed the show. Once most of the floor disappeared, the weather cleared up. Before long, the two sat peacefully on a hovering marble slab the size of a small bedroom. The setting sun slowly approached the horizon, and the Gu Sea grew shades darker in the fading light. Their smiles had left, but they didn''t mind. "A bit dramatic, no?" Morgan asked before sipping his now lukewarm coffee. Eris ignored him and moved swiftly to business. She was on the clock, after all. "I, Eris of Clan Nyx, as the Representative for the Universe Vajrayana, acknowledge the Earthling Professor Charles Morgan as the Gatekeeper of his Universe Cosmos. As such, I offer the Gatekeeper this Accord in exchange for allowing early access to Cosmos. Once the Bifr?st is connected, I will teleport him and any other beings of his choosing off Earth and into my care. Those interested in cultivation will become the direct disciple of a Master best fit to guide their Path. All Earthlings exiting Cosmos this way will be given the option of joining mine or any other Faction that is willing to accept them¡­" She hesitated slightly before shrugging and added, "I also pledge to marry him should he be agreeable to the match. I swear on my Dao that my word is true." She looked at him with a cunning smirk and waited for the predictable answer. Incredibly he¡­ He believed the offer was genuine. The Earthling hadn''t been convinced or even fully trusted the divinity. His instincts were actually utterly silent on the matter. He simply knew that if he agreed and assisted in this plot¡­ he would gain all the promised rewards. The idea of Eris or her superiors reneging on the deal was as ridiculous as believing the sun wouldn''t rise come morning. The Professor knew intellectually that such certainty in itself was suspicious, but there was nothing else to be done. Facts were facts. So Morgan thought the offer over and decided it wasn''t bad. Hell, it was actually pretty generous. It gave him and anyone he thought was worth saving a lifeboat out of the war. It also promised a place for him and others to go afterward so they wouldn''t really be refugees. He wasn''t sure if he could get into the farming game this late in life, but it was optional. It''s depressing that as Gatekeeper, the Scientist would be directly responsible for what would undoubtedly happen in opening those metaphorical gates. These Vajrayana Factions would hit the rest of humanity with the colonizing stick harder than the British Empire did. But humans were essentially dead in one way or another. Plus, nobody had ever asked for his hand before, so he felt flattered despite his age. All in all, a very generous offer indeed. After frowning into his coffee for several seconds, the Professor made the only logical choice and told it to his alien suitress. "I refuse." 7. The Dimond Tantra It was in the early Spring of 2044 that the Professor first understood what it meant to face the unbridled wrath of a god. The name of that capricious deity, was Mount Vesuvius. On March 14th of that year, there was a great panic near the mountain when the local towns were overrun by waves of animals fleeing from Vesuvius. The sensors permanently placed around the volatile mountain for constant surveillance, reported no abnormal activity. So, it was believed the issue lay somewhere on the mountain. As a result, Morgan received an invitation from the Italian government to run an environmental survey of the area immediately. He accepted. Night and day, he combed the area, only to find an almost total lack of wildlife everywhere. The discovery disturbed him. Animals are highly mindful of their environment and would only abandon their homes and hunting grounds for nothing short of a disaster. So before the sun had risen on the 17th, he visited the monitoring station built into the mountain. Only to find the subterranean complex abandoned, coated in decades of dust and cobwebs. Not long after, the worst came to pass in the cruelest way possible, with an ironic twist. On the 100th anniversary of its eruption, Vesuvius did so again thousands of years earlier than any prediction ever expected. Morgan was forced to take shelter within the station as Mother Nature reminded humanity that she followed her schedule. Hour after hour, the Scientist waited helplessly in that tiny room as the world rumbled, acutely aware that the end could come at any moment. His only entertainment came from watching volcanic rock crash into the ground. Eventually, the falling ash caked the window, taking even that morbid distraction from him. Thankfully, the eruption was only minor; after 26 hours, it became safe enough for him to descend to make his report. An investigation was quickly launched, and it discovered that the overseer in charge of the monitoring station had been to blame. The overseer quietly closed the station without proper authorization to embezzle the funds. In the end, over 4000 Italian citizens perished, and the angry civil uproar that followed weakened the country considerably. Only a year after the eruption, Italy was strong-armed to join the ever-growing New French Empire. While the greedy overseer played their part, it could not be denied that an entire country fell to a single blow dealt by an uncaring force of nature. The deafening eruptions that once haunted his dreams echo at the back of his mind when Eris next spoke. "You refuse?" Parroted an entity far more potent than any lowly volcano. Her eyes narrowed as she dug a long black fingernail deep into the table. "My dear Professor," the nail sunk deeper at the mention of his title, "would you enlighten your loving Host as to the issue in the generous terms I have offered?" "Hmm." Murmured Morgan as the memory of Italy''s ruin urgently whispered caution in choosing his following words. "All of it." "All of it?" Asked Eris. "All of it," he confirmed with a nod. Internally, he felt saddened as the perfect opportunity to comment about an echo in the room passed by. It was for the best, as even he believed his Host would not appreciate the comment. Also, they were not technically in a room anymore, as it had been destroyed minutes ago. "Even the marriage proposal?" She pouted, her shoulders slumping. "I''m sorry, but I have no choice." He sighed and placed the cooling coffee back on the table. "You are, quite literally, the most incredible and captivating creature I have ever met. However, the fact of the matter is that I don''t swing that way." "Pardon me?" Damn it. Communicating with aliens would be increasingly difficult if he can''t shake off his habit of using idioms. He clarified with exact and precise language. "I am not sexually or romantically attracted to women." "Oh, is that all?" She giggled before reality bent around the deity. Eris sat on his throne, a charming smirk under the Void black beard. He parted the curly hair obscuring his vision, and Morgan saw that their eyes remained the same. "As I told you earlier, I can be fluid." The voice was far deeper now, as masculine as the last one was feminine. There was no moment of change; the Scientist didn''t even blink. It happened in the minuscule space between one second and the next. Eris''s slender frame and female aspects were replaced with a bulky and muscular body that would make mythological heroes of Greece green with desire and envy. Morgan could relate to the latter but not the former at all. "I am not sexually or romantically attracted to men either." The Professor said with an apologetic shrug. "That ability is awe-inspiring, but before we become further sidetracked, I should warn you that no form could elicit such a feeling from me. The only love I can offer anyone is a platonic one." "Oh dear." The Bodhisattva sighed and returned to the form and gender they had before. Well, I can not say that I am not disappointed to hear that. However, I will not press my affection on you if it is not received. Unlike some other lightning-throwing pigs I have had the displeasure of knowing." Her tone became light again. "Thank the Heavens we cast that hoary old goat out." "Are you talking about Zu-" He started to say but willed his mouth shut. There was a better time for a history of Vajrayana Faction politics. That would come later. "Nevermind. Let''s return to your offer. Its benefits to me are clear, but it mentions nothing of the rest of humanity." Morgan started on his second piece of cake while she chewed on his words. He tried his best not to stare at his Host, but her expression became increasingly wrinkled in frustration as she searched for how excluding most of one''s species from salvation would be an issue. It was as amusing as it was disturbing. This new Universe may hold wonders, but it may lack a value for life. Then again, he should remember who he was basing that assessment on. A deity of conflict may not have the best grip on sympathy. "...It does not." Eris hesitantly agreed before adding, "I am dealing with the Gatekeeper, not with all of humanity, so the offer reflects that." "True." Said the Gatekeeper. "However, as of right now, you are not only dealing with only the Gatekeeper but also with the Arbiter." "Arbiter?" Eris gave him a look as if he''d sprouted a second head. "What is an Arbiter?" "It''s a title I just made up. As Arbiter, I''ll negotiate on behalf of all Earthlings with the Factions of Vajrayana." He took a sip of the coffee. "By the way, as Gatekeeper, I give myself the title of Arbiter." "Is this a joke?" Eris asked, and judging by her pursed lips, she was genuinely asking. "Is this revenge for my pet''s behavior?" "Nope and Nope." "Then why are you-?" She interrupted herself as a possible answer came to mind. Dawning a sly grin, the Bodhisattva leaned forward, her voice a bubbly whisper. "Are you doing this to sow seeds of Karma?" "Karma?" The Earthling chuckled darkly at the perceived joke. "Definitely not. I don''t have a reason other than I am what I am." *...* The Professor violently whipped his head over to the orchard, a knee-jerk reaction that almost caused the chair to topple over. He had become overwhelmed by the feeling of being watched in that direction. However, he could see no one when scanning the new shoreline from the floating platform. From the cliff edge, something golden glittered in the setting sunlight¡ªmost likely an apple either shaken, blown, or knocked off its tree from the multiple natural disasters. "If you are wondering if we are being watched," she said to regain his attention, "then we absolutely are. I would not worry overly much about it. My planet is protected from direct observations. As for this new responsibility, I am afraid to say that it is unnecessary. By the time my people are able to reach your planet, the remaining humans will be long dead. I can swear that on my Dao if you-" "No need for that." The Scientist rejected outright. Unearned certainty is more disturbing than comforting. If you don''t mind, I would rather you explain." "Not at all. First, you must understand that the method used to prematurely connect the Bifr?st would be rather crude. An Artifact known as a Realm Piercer would be deployed on Earth, forcing a tear in the Greater Barrier where the Bifr?st is burrowing through. Once the hole is made, we will ram the bridge through the gap. This will create a connection into Cosmos and will make teleportation far easier, allowing us to remove you and any number of chosen. This forcible connection will unfortunately make physical travel nearly impossible for some time for an estimated three to six months." The Scientist noticed a potential flaw in this argument and gestured to speak. Eris beat him to it. "As you will undoubtedly ask, no, the Artifact can only be used on the Cosmos side of the bridge. The Greater barrier is meant to keep foreign forces out and not to keep anything within." She paused for any questions and, when none came, continued on. "Aether will be able to pass through unhindered, and that alone spells out your people''s doom. Within days, the Earth will reach Continental levels of Aether saturation, the lowest level that can support active Cultivation. The energy will not affect humans, but it will have a drastic impact on flora and fauna. They alone will be able to utilize the Aether as they are born with the ability to cultivate. In hours, non-Sapiant life will become Spiritual Beasts more powerful than any living creature your world has ever produced. In days, they will advance enough to overcome any weaponry wielded against them. In weeks humanity will be forced out from their cities as wave after wave of Beasts hunt them. I doubt there will be more than a few humans left before the first Cultivator ever enters Cosmos." "You seem very sure about this." Morgan said through a mouthful of cake. "I''m going to assume you''ve observed such changes in some of the animals teleported here." "Every single one, in fact." She gushed and pointed to the Gu Sea. "My favorite was a creature you would know as a dolphin. What it is now has no name, but I added it to my Gu, and it seems to be faring quite well against the others. The rest were given away as gifts to our highest benefactors." Typical. Morgan hoped the rich bastards got killed from playing around with their exotic pets. "So this Aether can make animals into civilization-ending monsters." The Professor summarized with a snort. "How come we Sapient creatures get left out of all the fun?" "Beings like us do not possess an innate ability to Cultivate," she shrugged. "So we require a method to be taught to us. Once, during the early days of the Universe, there were as many methods as grains of sand on a shore. Now, there is only one." "There''s that word again¡ªCultivation and its new friend, Cultivator," Morgan said dryly. "I''m going to assume that they mean something more than agriculture where you come from." "Ka-kakaka! I suppose that depends on what you view as a crop." Giggled Eris before her mood and tone turned on a dime. She began to chant, each word carrying the force of a rip-tide. "To reach Enlightenment, traverse the Dao. To traverse the Dao, Cultivate the Eternal Foundations. To-" "Cultivate the Eternal Foundations, accept the gift of Vajrayana." Morgan finished, to both their surprise. The words came unbidden, the chant meaning nothing to him¡­ and yet. *Th-Thump, Th-Thump, Th-Thump, Th-Thump* And yet they set his blood ablaze. He knew the chant, but no memory came to mind. Morgan had never heard it before, never spoken it before, this much he knew to be true. But they came as naturally to the Earthling as reciting the alphabet. The familiarity was starting to fade like dew bathed in the morning sun.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. The Professor would not let whatever the hell this was escape him without a fight. So he closed his eyes to shut out the alien world around him, desperate to hold on. Morgan repeated the chant endlessly in his mind, faster and faster with every repetition until it became an indecipherable cacophony of noise. Still, he persisted until his madness finally bore fruit. *ba-rk, bar-k* There! What sound had his mind drifted onto? It almost sounded like... No, it couldn''t be... Yes, Morgan was sure now. He heard a dog, his dog, barking desperately for him to return! This result actually made things more confusing as he had never owned a dog. Nowadays, he was too old for such a responsibility. Still, Morgan might have adopted a pooch earlier in life if he weren''t always away from home. *Plop* Something fell on his leg. He opened his eyes and felt his cheek, finding it wet to the touch. Morgan was crying. Why? "I know you." Drifted a breathy whisper into his ear, her breath smelling of funeral flowers and the memory of cold iron. "We have met before¡­" Morgan opened his eyes and turned to find Eris centimeters from his face. The divinity had finally left her wooden throne. She placed a gentle hand on either side of his head to keep him from looking away. Her hands were warm¡ªso warm that he felt the heat even through his thick gray hair. They stood there gazing at each other for minutes that dragged on for hours. The Mortal blinked, and the near-immortal was gone. "Humans on Earth have come to dominate their home world with nothing but their wits and tools. An impressive feat, but my people were never so limited." Said Eris, who had now returned to her throne without crossing the space between. "My people came to conquer every Realm by utilizing the gift of Vajrayana. The element known as Aether. Harnessing its endless potential, we have transcended the pitiful existence the Heavens has allotted. These miracles you have witnessed this day are not the results of simple technology, for we require no such crutch. With our Cultivation Method, known as the Dimond Tantra, reality bends to our wills." The Scientist- No. Morgan said nothing. He stood up and walked to the edge of the crumbling floor. There, Morgan gazed out to the purple sea of blood and violence, his mind struggling to cope. Old he might be, the man was not one to stubbornly hold onto beliefs when they clashed with undeniable evidence. Yet, to his shame, Morgan had quietly ignored the many signs and chalked every impossible event to advanced technology. He had spent a lifetime filling up the well of knowledge, only to find the bottom was false, that the well ran far deeper than anyone could imagine. The notion... had scared him. That was over now; his Host''s words made sure of that. Magic, as his people would describe it, was real. Morgan can see that now. While magic may have different names here, such as Cultivation or Aether. It still didn''t change the fact that he was standing on a fucking floating platform being kept up by a literal divinity so it didn''t fall into a sea of Beasts. How was all this possible? The Earthling wanted nothing more than to say he didn''t know. But that would be a lie. Today, for the first time in his life, he knew for a fact the answer was magic¡­ Fine. FINE! That was completely fine with him! Today, it would be magic, and tomorrow, it would be Science. All he had to do was figure it out¡ªall of it. He would not rest until he understood every step. The Scientist returned to his seat and did his goddamn job. "Eris, thank you for being so patient with me." Morgan nodded his respect, and she reciprocated. "I only have a few questions about this Cultivation Method, and then I''ll have everything needed to restart the negotiations. Are you still willing to continue entertaining my selfish request?" "My dear Professor," giggled the embodiment of strife. "Of course I will. I am nothing if not a proper Host." "The Dimond Tantra," Began the Professor, eager to cure his ignorance. "Tell me about it. There''s no need to go into detail, as I''ll get there soon enough. Just give an idea of what to expect." "KA-KAKAKA!" Cackled Eris, the laughter sending ripples on the purple waters below. As abruptly as it started, it ended. "My apologies. It is so amusing to instruct someone as intelligent as you in the way we do for our young. But no matter." The Bodhisattva waved her hand, and everything disappeared from the table. With the same hand, she laid it flat against the table, palm down. Purple smoke began leaking out from between fingers, where palm met table. The smoke did not obey the whim of the air currents and collected into a tight ball at the sender of the table. The swirling billiard ball hovered briefly before expanding outwards in all dimensions like an explosion in slow motion. Each wave and tendril of smoke reached a certain point before coming to a stop. This repeated until a violet-tinged image hung suspended in the air: a multi-level tower with multiple eaves flaring upwards, a pagoda. The tiny double doors of the mystical hologram opened and grew in size while the rest of the building disappeared. The effect was impressive, like manipulating the POV camera forward in a game. The image became the interior of the pagoda. At the center of the simple room was an elevated platform where sat a statue wearing loose clothing. The stone figure was humanoid but otherwise completely featureless, with no face, clothes, or anything to suggest any defining characteristics. The statue sat with the legs crossed before it, both hands resting palms up upon its lap, the head slightly bowed forward. "Every Cultivator alive today began their journey by visiting a Celestial Pagoda," said Eris. "The Faceless Guide is said to be the first and only Mortal to have ever reached Enlightenment and the creator of the Dimond Tantra. It is by Meditating before this statue of the enlightened that we Mortals are shown a path to grasp eternity." "So you were not born as you are," Morgan noted as he soaked up every detail of the figure. You became one through Cultivation." "Indeed, my astute Guest. In truth, the familiar form you see here resulted from my evolution and progression as I traversed the Dao," she admitted. "My original form was shed eons ago when I became a Bodhisattva." A living creature that used billions of years as its measuring stick? What a dull existence. The Professor honestly couldn''t see the appeal in living so damn long. However, the information of changing forms provided some context for Lysander''s hate. To the Hellenistic cephalopod, it must''ve felt like Morgan was a dirty street urchant cosplaying as a god. Morgan motioned for her to continue while he quietly enjoyed the pain he inflicted on the Kraken. The Faceless Enlighten condensed back into the billiard ball before sections separated from the main body. Soon, 12 purple marble balls hovered in four groups of three. One by one, the marbles molded themselves into simplistic symbols. The first group had a tower shield, a two-handed sword, and a hand formed into a fist. The group to its left consisted of a hood and cloak, a bow loaded with an arrow, and two daggers crossed over each other. The third had a gnarled staff, a hominid skull, and what looked to be a string of prayer beads. The last group consisted of an open book, a bubbling cauldron, and a coin with an unknown symbol. The Scientist suddenly sat up a little straighter at the sight of these symbols. It was nothing like his reaction to the chant or that business with the dog. The symbols were familiar, as he had definitely seen something like this on Earth. And the comparison made him uneasy. "A Cultivator will choose between one of the 12 Origin Classes comprising the four pillars of the Dimond Method. These pillars are named the Path of Domination, Deception, Manipulation, and Creation." Said Eris, winking knowingly at her alarmed Guest. "Not to worry; I will not spoil the surprise of discovering each Class for yourself. But I suspect you will choose the Sage, as you would flourish with higher Intellect and Cunning." All symbols, save the staff, condensed together to form a miniature model of Morgan seated in the same position as the Faceless. The symbol for the Sage floated just above the model''s head. The smoky projection''s accuracy was every bit as detailed as his Holo-projector back home. He could see his miniature breathing steadily and, when he squinted, saw the eyes move under closed lids. "The Origin Class is the foundation of one''s Cultivation and will greatly influence the direction of growth." The staff descended into mini-Morgan''s chest and dissipated into the model. Its eyes opened as it stood up with a grace that he had not been able to replicate in a decade. Once the choice is made, a Class Core is formed within the Mortal, allowing them to refine Aether into usable energy." Morgan swallowed hard then. Unease had taken root in the pit of his stomach, and the growing feeling was finding it difficult to coexist with the slice and a half of cake already there. "You mentioned that there would be growth." Morgan struggled to say. "How exactly does that work?" "A very astute question my dear." Eris beamed at her student. "The Dimond Tantra method aims to refine the Cultivator into a gem of perfection. For the Mortal gem to shine, the unnecessary material must be removed. So, growth is measured in Cuts awarding Attribute Points to invest into Attributes. Initially, the newly made Cultivator will gain AP equal to one Cut and a single Skill as an investment by the Heavens. Further progress is the responsibility of the Cultivator, and they will need to fulfill certain criteria before they can move onto the next Rank." Mini-Morgan began to walk in place over the table. Small balls of elements appeared with every step taken and began orbiting the purple model. First was a fireball, its flames dancing in a trail behind it. Then, a bolt of crackling lightning twisted into a double helix joined. He didn''t know what came next as the Human looked away from his miniature self to stare dully at the Gu Sea. It didn''t help ease the nausea. "Eris I-" Morgan slammed his mouth closed as something sweet tickled the back of his throat. Once the danger had passed, he choked out the dreaded question. "Excuse me. I need to know if a Skill is a pre-designed sequence that utilizes Aether automatically for the Cultivator. The Skill can be triggered so long as certain qualifications are met and the minimum energy is available." There are no atheists in foxholes. That aphorism was burned into his memory as it was a favorite saying of his mother. It meant that times of extreme stress or fear could prompt or rekindle a belief in a higher power. The Scientist closed his eyes and did just that. As to who or what he was offering his prayers to, he hadn''t the foggiest idea. He had never been particularly attached to any of the higher powers back home since they never seemed interested in him. To ask for their help now felt a little silly as Morgan had met two higher powers today alone. Granted, he hated one and got him banished to the deepest trench on the planet. The other he liked but wouldn''t trust any assistance given without a signed contract. That left... no one. Eh. He''ll just throw a prayer out into the universe and owe a favor to whatever ensures the answer to his question is no. "Yes, that is completely corrected." Answered Eris completely mystified. "How could you possibly have- Professor?" Her confusion became concern as she watched her Guest wheel himself over to the platform''s edge to evict the cake from its former home. "Thank you." Morgan gasped and rolled back to the table where a napkin and water cup had already materialized. The smoke-creating mini-him was already gone as he took a long sip. He drained the cup dry and looked to the bewildered Bodhisattva of Discord and Strife. With a touch of madness in his normally monotone voice, he said, "I''m sorry you had to see that, but it can''t happen again. Let me ask you something. This floor is being suspended mid-air by a Skill, right?" *Stomp!* Morgan slammed his foot down for effect. "No." Answer Eris as her mismatched eyes watched him with total fascination. Perhaps she didn''t want to miss whatever strange thing he did next. "Levitation is a passive ability nearly all Immortals receive." Passive abilities? Dear god, when would this nightmare end? "I understand. But as a Bodhisattva, you''ve definitely used a Skill like¡­" The Professor searched his memory for the most basic example. His gaze locked to the center of the table where the smoke model once was. "Fireball. Did you have access to a Skill where you launched a ball of flames at a target?" "...Yes." Her head bobbed. "The Skill was not named as such, but it essentially performed as you described." "Alright." He took in a big breath. "Describe how the Skill functions." "It was a low Rank Skill." She frowned as she was forced to recall a memory made potentially before his species even evolved. "A ball of flames would be conjured at the center of my outstretched palm¡­ I could increase the destructive power by allowing it to charge for a time. When I wished, it would fly forth to strike my target. The Skill was quite controversial at the time as it would often cause much collateral damage." Even in a different Universe, Fireball was still Fireball. Which was a significant problem. "You misunderstand. I mean, how did the Skill do what you described? How did this Skill create fire when there was nothing to burn? How could it condense flames into a round shape? Why didn''t the fire on your palm burn you? What force launched the ball?" "Ah, now I understand what you are getting." Chuckled Eris as she snuggled deeper into her pillowed throne. "The answer is simple. The Diamond Tantra is a completely automated Cultivation Method thanks to the Class Core. What need is there to understand such nuances and mechanics? Nearly all interactions with Aether are handled by the Class Core. It is far safer than allowing a Mortal to directly control an unstable energy capable of altering reality. More importantly, this path to Enlightenment has been tried and proven. This is why it has become the only method left in Vajrayana. The other methods were simply outcompeted and faded to obscurity, forever lost to time." The Professor stared at the Bodhisattva blankly. "...You and nearly every Cultivator in Vajrayana have no idea how any of the automated functions of your own Cultivation works, do you?" "A handful of Court agents are likely learned in the general principles." A cup of something steaming hot appeared in her hands, and she took a sip. Eris let out a contented sigh of blissful ignorance. "As for myself, I rarely bother with such questions. Clearly, it is working in my favor." "Hmm." Morgan hummed as he too reclined in his padded chair. Something was brewing in the deepest, darkest, most deranged corner of the mad Scientist''s mind. An idea that would most likely get him killed. "I''m ready to restart negotiations now." 8. The Deal "Oh?" Giggled Eris, pausing before she took a sip from the cup. "So tell me, Arbiter of Earth, what will be required to allow us entry to Cosmos?" "Nothing unreasonable. I just want to secure a path of survival for my people." Said Morgan casually as he waited for his attentive Host to take another sip. As soon as her lips made contact, he spoke rapidly. "I''ll need the following. The Arbiter of Earth gave his demands. His non-negotiable demands. *Thbptttttttt!* The Bodhisattva spit the mouthful of steaming liquid in shock, soaking what little floor reminds off her left side. "Boundless Void!" Eris cursed, golden liquid dripping down her porcelain chin. "An Earth Faction? Are you mad!?" "No more than when I was invited here." He shrugged before tilting his head curiously. "Also, that''s the part you''re upset about, the creation of a new Fraction?" He grabbed a cord of hair and began spinning it. "I would have thought the territory sphere would be the top complaint." "Cosmos is an entire Universe." She sniffed grumpily as the mess from her spit-take disappeared in an instant. "A single Galaxy will hardly be missed. As for your people, I suppose such an undertaking would be difficult if the numbers were nine trillion." She pointed a finger at him, and he saw the black pigment coating it fluctuating back and forth in her agitation. "A Faction is the highest form of recognized government. Their territory normally encompasses the majority of a Realm." "Perfect." Said Morgan, half listening to her while finalizing the details of his idea. "Then such a large force must have many laws protecting it from being attacked by the other Factions. I''m confident the Realms would have been unified by now if that weren''t the case." "You wish for Earthlings to remain independent?" Her eyes narrowed until they became slits with pink and white suns shining through the gaps. "Professor, such a thing is impossible to maintain in the long term without sufficient power. Even if they are made a Faction and gain all the protection, it will only be a matter of time before they become puppets." "Yes. I know. And I agree." He answered her question, statement, and prediction emotionlessly. "But I am a teacher, not a doctor. I can only help them save themselves." He ceased fidgeting with his hair as a thought struck him. "You said Augustus was your Faction leader. Does there need to be a single entity on command for a Faction to be recognized?" "Not at all. Several are run by multiple Clans or other such organizations." "Good." He nodded and resumed his fidgeting. "We can circle back to leadership in a moment. I want to set strict guidelines for what''s to come." "Why would guidelines be needed if I am overseeing this operation?" She asked in a sweet, innocent tone that nobody in either Universe would believe. "Well, I''ve met you for a start." He deadpanned. The dreary conversation went on far longer than any of them wanted it to go. Whenever Morgan thought it was finally over, Eris asked a question or noted a potential loophole that could be exploited. It soon became clear she was doing it to get a rise out of him. However, he played along as every point she made to spite him was one more chink in humanity''s armor covered. After an hour, they were both exhausted and were starting to wish 28-284 chose a Gatekeeper who would have just taken the fucking bribe. Regardless of the cost, he was satisfied with how humans should be treated and treat each other during their stay. "Thank the sweet merciful Dao; this torment is over." Came the muffled groan from the reality-warping divinity. She had buried her face in a throne pillow around the 35-minute mark. "Not yet." The Professor grunted sourly as he eyed his empty coffee cup and considered getting a fifth refill. His leg bouncing under the table informed him that the answer would be no. "We have to talk about Faction leadership." Morgan pretended not to hear the quiet sobs coming from the other side of the table. Though internally, he had to wonder what a greater power prayed to when they found themselves in the damned foxhole. Thankfully, that conversation was over in a quarter of the time. By the end, Eris had actually regained much of her good mood. "I can not believe that I am actually looking forward to this." She giggled as the pillow was returned to its rightful place. "Dear Professor, I must say that you have some interesting views on elections." "I''ll take that as a compliment." He nodded before frowning as he couldn''t recall if the joke had been made already. They had been seated at this table for almost two hours now, and he could tell his joints would have their revenge when he eventually needed to use them. This meeting had lasted so long that it felt like night should have descended on the planet by now. Yet the setting sun refused to move from its place¡­ No matter, the time was well spent. Soon, it would be over. "My task as Arbiter is now over." Eris, Bodhisattva of Discord and Strife, scowled at him and spoke not a word. She was waiting for something¡ªwaiting for him, he realized. Morgan let out a sigh as the game was over before it could even start. She had gotten a reasonably accurate handle on the wily Mortal. "Now we can talk about my payment as Gatekeeper." He chuckled without mirth as Eris glared at him. The chuckle died when he felt the wind pick up again. "Relax. I only have one goal I need help with. No need to throw a hurricane at me." "I will determine what will be thrown," she huffed and crossed her arms, "after I hear this goal. I warn you now, my superiors will not like your terms for your people." "Then tell them they''re non-negotiable," he suggested helpfully. When the wind only got stronger, he cut to the point. "As you may have noticed, I''m not the biggest fan of the Diamond Method." "Truly?" Eris said sarcastically, the pink and white eyes flickering to where he evicted that poor baked good over the edge. "I would not have guessed." "Well, now you know." He said, ignoring the snark. "That being said, I am very interested in everything else Vajrayana has to offer." The wind died down as his Host shot up in her seat. His words must have sent off alarm bells because she assumed the worst. "Surely you are not considering exploring Vajrayana without stepping on the path of Cultivation?" "Don''t be ridiculous. I may not like the method, but of course, I will become a Cultivator." Morgan said, waving away her fear. "I simply want to understand all the mechanics in use. So, if divinities like you couldn''t figure it out using the popular method, it''s most likely a dead end for my purposes. Thankfully, there were once many other Cultivation Methods, so I know my goal is possible. I want-" "STOP!" Secremed Eris in utter panic, terror in her eyes as they watched the sky. "STOP SPEAKING!" As if nature were agreeing with her, thunder cracked in the far distance despite the lack of storm clouds. The outburst was so unexpectedly out of character that he no choice but to shut up, wait, and watch as the Host''s hands clapped together before her. When she speaks, the words are ethereal and melodic and utterly alien from anything found back home. Focusing exclusively on this odd task, she slowly pulled the palms apart to reveal a golf-ball size orb of¡­ The Scientist isn''t sure. Most of the little sphere was a pitch black and sprinkled generously with tiny glowing specks of white twinkling light. He might have thought Eris had plucked out a piece of the night if he hadn''t known better. Luckily, he did know better and didn''t say what he thought out loud as he was told to keep quiet. The more Eris pulled her hands apart, the larger the night-o-sphere got. From golf ball to softball to bowling ball, it grew. By the time she maxed out her arm span, the thing was the size of a yoga ball. His curiosity burned for him to ask about it, and just as Morgan reached his breaking point, the ball popped. Shreds of starry matter engulfed the platform quicker than the eye could follow. Where there was once a sun, a sky, an orchard, and the Gu Sea. There was now an infinite expanse of starry night in all directions. The stars shining above him were one thing, but to see them in every single direction besides down made his head spin. "Disorienting, I know." She apologized before collapsing deeper onto her throne. "I picked it up from Mama Nyx. A tad flashy for a total concealment Spell, but then again, Mama always did have a flair for the dramatic." Eris glared at him with an anger he couldn''t understand. "Much like some Mortals I know. Now speak."If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Oh, for the love of all that which irony touches, what did he do this time? The Mortal literally asked for not only the moon and stars for his people. But also the planets, comets, nebulae, and everything else in the goddamned Milky Way, and she didn''t bat an eye. Now she was glaring at him like he''d broken the law. Hmm, that comparison reminded him of something. "What?" He said while making a mental note to pay his sister a visit after all was said and done. "I just want to study Aether and all the wonders of Vajrayana to create my own Method of Cultivation. So, as Gatekeeper of Cosmos, I only request any assistance that can be given. What''s so wrong with that?" "I knew it," the Host grumbled to herself while attempting to massage the stress from her temples. Her voice became low and toneless as she mimicked him. "What is so wrong with that?" "Are you people just not allowed to use contractions or..." "To begin with, what you have just requested is highly illegal." She snapped waspishly. "As a Bodhisattva, a being created by the Diamond tantra, I have the right and duty to smite a Mortal for even suggesting something so dangerous." "Danger is an old friend, and whether or not I die has already been decided," snorted the Scientist. "Besides, where I come from, laws are more like suggestions." "Dear Professor, please see reason. The danger of killing yourself from Aether misuse is not the biggest problem you will face. Your greatest foe will be time. Those extinct Cultivation Methods had countless years to develop to the point where they were even remotely viable. You will expire long before overcoming the first hurdle of even refining Aether. With your age, I doubt there are more than 160 to 180 years of Essence left in you." Morgan stared at her. "...I''m sorry. I must''ve not have heard you clearly. My ears aren''t what they used to be." The old man wheeled himself across the floor and came to a stop beside her throne. "Could you repeat that for me?" "Hmm... I suppose my estimation might be a tad too conservative." Eris''s brows furled as she closely examined Morgan''s arched brow. "Did I give offense?" Oh shit, the woman was serious. Just what was in the Vajrayana water that made vanilla Mortals live to be a quarter of a century? "No." He said slowly, not liking the turn the conversation had taken. "You''re a little off with your prediction. I''m an old man. At 77, I doubt I have more than a decade or so left in me." "Death before a century? KA-KAKAKA!" Cackled Eris, slapping the table at the perceived joke. "Now that is ridiculous; imagine having a lifespan so small! What a tragedy to have so little time to-" Eris''s eternally youthful expression froze when she saw his aged complexion. Morgan''s old, withered, time-worn face looked back at hers. Slowly, her perfect eyebrows crept higher and higher as she realized he, too, was serious. It hurt. It pained Morgan almost more than any injury when Eris realized the truth¡ªthat the ephemeral being in front of her wouldn''t even live half as long as a Mortal from her Universe. "A tragedy?" A bar of steel reinforced the Scientist''s voice. "At age 27, I committed myself to pursue my passions, no matter the personal cost. I wanted to study habits few even knew existed, so I explored nearly every corner of Earth. Everywhere, From the ocean depths to mountain peaks to war-torn jungles. It was dangerous and unpredictable work, so I honed the martial arts I had abandoned. Practicing combat for my own ends made the training enjoyable, and I quickly became addicted to the convenience of strength. At my peak, my name could''ve been among the strongest alive, even if I never chased that dream. Eventually, time did take its toll, and my body could no longer handle the strain of expeditions or tournaments. So, I took a position at my old school to devote myself to academia. As age withered the flesh, my understanding of reality''s mechanics and properties grew tenfold. This position came at the cost of taking up teaching and allowed me to discover I had a passion for guiding young minds to their full potential. When I received your call, I answered as soon as possible because this old fool just had to know who could be calling at this late hour of my life. Consequences be damned; I wanted to have one last adventure to close out a life filled with them. So tell me, if I died at this moment, would you call a life lived like that a tragedy?" Eris looked away without answering, though the reddening tips of her ears told the whole story. The near-immortal''s embarrassment filled him with guilt. Her insult was given in ignorance, not malice. When the Professor spoke again, he tried for a gentler tone. Few could ever tell the difference with his emotionless voice, but what else could he do but try? "For 50 years, I have chased whatever has caught my attention, and I am not afraid to say that the answer to my question¡­ is yes." Morgan looked at her, and whether he knew it or not, his eyes burned like those of the young man in those photos. "So I can''t die until I''ve tried everything to pursue my goal. So I will ask you again, Eris. Will you please help this poor old fool?" "I¡­" The Bodhisattva hesitated to say before surrendering to the fire burning in the human. "I will. Though be warned now. For this goal, what help I give will likely cost you far more than what you might gain. Even if you succeed, peace will forever elude you. Life will become a constant struggle, and whatever Fated end awaiting you is unlikely to be a peaceful one." "BWAHAHA! I expected nothing less from you!" Morgan roared with manic satisfaction. "That fate is fine with me. What will be, will be." "KA-KAKAKA!" Cackled Eris in amazement. "Laughing?! At your probable death!? What an oddity you are, my dear Professor!" Morgan took the observation in the way it was given, a compliment from a like-minded individual. The Earthling and Vajrayian, the term for a citizen of Vajrayana, laughed until they could stomach no more.
Another hour came and went as their meeting finally neared the end. "This seems like a bad idea¡­" The Professor muttered as he wiped the sweat off his brow with the left hand and shakily held his gifted apple in the other. "I''m not sure how the Iliad went down on this side of the Void, but I''m pretty confident nobody ate the damn thing in the myth." "Much the same happened in my history, but the reason can be chalked up to vanity and not caution." Eris giggled as she examined his signature on the Accord. "Aphrodite wanted a trophy to lord over the other Olympians and still has it displayed on Olympus to this very day. I use it to spy on the whole Sect from time to time. The stupid whore still hasn''t realized after all this time." "I''ll remember that next time I need to infiltrate the pantheon." Morgan sniffed at the golden apple suspiciously. The soft scent of sweetness made his stomach heave, but then again, so did everything else at the moment. "And you''re sure it''s safe to do this so soon after the Soul Graft. I won''t fall apart like a building that survived the quake but not the aftershock?" He''d never make that mistake again. "The threat of death is nearly nonexistent. I can not say such an outcome is impossible, only improbable." Consoled, the Bodhisattva with all the gentleness of a pharmaceutical company. "Now, be quick. It is best to form the connection now while your Soul is too preoccupied with incorporating the new addition to notice the foreign body. As soon as the connection is made, I will need to send you to Cosmos before the concealment Spell ends and the Heavens take notice of you." "Are cryptic warnings how you say goodbye in this Universe?" He snorted. "Eat quickly." She insisted, casting a concerned look at the stars around them. "We have seconds before you bring a Calamity down on our heads." A Calamity? Took one to know one. Still, she had a point. He''d literally signed up for this, so he might as well embrace the suck and get it over with. But before that came to pass, the Guest needed to say something to his Host. "Goodbye, Eris." He said, bring the accused fruit up to his mouth. "If we meet again, it''ll be among the stars." The Human bit into the Apple of Discord. *Crunch* His teeth found no issue piercing the skin. An explosion of sweet and tart flavor burst onto his tongue. The taste was a bit closer to Honeycrisp than the more appropriately named Golden Delicious. *Gulp* He braised himself for another hellish experience as his ancient being was modified yet again¡­ Only it wasn''t as bad this time around. A warm sensation radiated from his stomach outwards in warm pulsing waves, similar to being injected with dye for a CT scan. "Did it wor-" Morgan tried to ask, but time had already run out.
The starry night sky around them dissipated into the winds of the alien world. Though the Professor was nowhere to be seen, only Eris, Progenitor of the original snub, stood on her destroyed pavilion floor. The nigh-immortal frowned as she gazed at the frozen horizon, an unusual departure from the usual manic smile. For perhaps the first time since confirming her Dao, Eris felt¡­ conflicted. "I accomplished my task, broke no Oaths, and assisted as much as Fate would allow¡­ and yet." She whispered to no one, perhaps not even to herself. Yet somehow, this billion-year-old being knew, deep in her blood-drenched Soul, that this would not be the end. "Did I go too far?" The Bodhisattva released her hold on time, and the sky raced forward in a blur to resynchronize with the cosmic pulse of Vajrayana. Night descended in a beat of her ancient heart, bringing with it the countless lights that twinkle in her pink and white eyes. Stars! When was the last time she properly spent a night stargazing? Not since she was a little girl on the streets of that wretched stump, she knew. Before she promised to burn the Realm that abandoned her and set out on her path¡­ But, oh! How that young girl looked up at them and wondered what they were. Up above her world, so high, like millions upon millions of diamonds in the sky. How desperately she wanted to be one. But that man didn''t wish to be one. He wanted to understand them. "Goodbye, Professor." Giggled Eris. Her Soul soothed as anticipation replaced the unease. "I hope we meet again."
The deal was struck, the Accord between Cosmos and Vajrayana signed, and Charles Morgan had been returned to Earth. But the Human didn''t return alone. 9. The Spirit His new Patron, Eris, warned Morgan about the time dilation. While given with the best intentions, that information was also a catalyst that could''ve destroyed the Earth''s future. On the bright side, it really was only 9am. Immediately after the disturbing Soul Grafting procedure was finished, the gasping Earthling was told that only 25 minutes had passed since his arrival. This was not a quirk of time flowing at different rates between the universes like he had hoped but a deliberate effort by Eris to make their return journey far smoother. The cyclone of wind and blinding light produced by the golden cicada were the by-products of Aether suddenly being injected into a small area. Saturating the area with exotic energy made any Skill, like Teleport, trigger properly. Apparently, spatial rifts were far easier to open within dense Aether than not. The Bodhisattva described the idea as similar to objects being lighter in water than on land. So before the energy already in his office could spread out and dissipate too much, he was sent back. Hence the need to alter the flow of time on the Vajrayana end. The Scientist didn''t bother to ask for specifics of this Aether buoyancy theory due to her earlier answer to a far more critical question: How had she gotten three and a half hours to fit in a 25-minute bag? Her response- "It is a rather straightforward task. Simply isolate a solar system and stretch out the seconds so they are able to hold more time. One could do it with only a planet; however, doing so will likely disturb the orbit of the whole system. In the end, repairing such an imbalance is almost always more costly than the energy saved." -didn''t inspire much confidence. That said, Eris gave Morgan specific instructions on what to do when he returned to Earth. Her mistake was giving those instructions before launching into a poorly explained discussion on time manipulation. As a result, the Scientist was far more interested in checking the time on his phone than getting away from the landing zone. Thankfully, he was not alone. [The Realm Piercer!] Screeched a panicking voice from everywhere and nowhere all at once. [Move now!] *Whoosh* Something moved through the air above him. Morgan opted for a more brutal method than standing. Bringing both legs up to his chest, he kicked off hard at the bolted-down desk. *Wham!* The back of the chair hits the reinforced glass window behind him, forcing it and him to a painful stop. "Damn it!" He cursed as momentum forced the chair to tip forward and eject the seat senior citizen onto the floor. [Ouch!] Cried the unseen speaker. *Shunk* Something dug into the wood floor in front of him. Blinking away the stars from his vision, the Professor looked up at his would-be killer. Stabbed in the floor was a meter-long, 10cm thick rod made of brass-like metal. Engraved into the alien Artifact were symbols resembling Sanskrit, all pulsing in unison with a soft golden glow. At the top of the device was a solid piece of clear stone shaped into a baseball-sized dodecahedron. With the other end still buried, he assumed it had a pointed tip like on a spear or stake. A heavy stake that would have driven itself through his skull and torso if not for the warning. "That was close." Murmured Morgan, crawling closer to the Artifact that would somehow blow a hole in Cosmos''s Greater Barrier. He addressed the unseen speaker without taking his eyes off the pointy boom stick. "Thanks for the reminder. I assume I am speaking to the Spirit?" [But of course!] The Spirit said happily. [We shall be traveling together after all, so it is my pleasure to offer assistance.] Their voice was almost perfectly androgynous, save for a slight infliction that gave the impression of leaning towards femininity. Or perhaps the old man was just hearing what he thought he should. He''ll just ask when he gets the chance. Regardless, the Spirit''s words sounded like they came from a pair of expensive headphones¡ªone that produced crystal clear sound without any noise cancellation. The voice, if it could be called that when it didn''t originate from vocal cords, must have been spoken inside his mind. A strange experience to take part in but one which made sense as they were possessing the Scientist. Spirits were a particular species in Vajrayana that were found in every Realm. Each one came from Cultivators of varying species that, for one reason or another, chose to shed their Body and Mind in favor of preserving the Soul. Getting rid of those earthly attachments essentially ended their Cultivation journey. It also created an even greater dependency on Aether, but in return freed them from mundan issues and allowed them to form a closer connection to the Dao. Much of the specifics were meaningless to him, but they meant the Spirit needed two conditions to be met if it were to return with him to the energy-starved Cosmos. The first was an Aether source to draw on for sustenance and a vessel to reside within. The former was the Aether Reservoir, a gifted tool that looked suspiciously like a leather cord necklace strung with a sphere of amethyst, sitting in his coat pocket. The latter was Morgan. "That''s good to hear from an entity that''s Possessing you," the Scientist said, reaching for his fallen phone blindly as he continued speaking. "Not that I can technically hear you at all." [Hee-Hee! Possession is indeed an accurate term, but our connection is nothing like the Exorcist.] Snickered the Spirit. [In the first place, I am severely limited in an Aether desert like Earth. By the way, you are searching in the wrong location. The phone landed near the desk''s right leg.] From the corner of his vision, he saw the LED light shining from the phone screen. "Are you tapped into my senses?" He asked before snatching the device. [Yes. My current abilities are so limited that I can not manifest at all. Other than speech and thought, I am entirely depend on your Body for sensing the world around me. You have my-] "No need to apologize. I was just curious." He cut them off and navigated to the camera app. "Eris wasn''t sure how much influence you''d have on me when we got back." An alert window popped on the screen, warning him that he would need to delete more media if he wanted to record. [You have media on this device?] They asked eagerly. [Are there visual stories like the wizard in the traveling blue box stored inside?] "You mean Doctor Who?" He asked absently as he checked digital storage and found it packed to the brim with essential system functions. "No, I don''t have any entertainment media on here. My phone is an antique and needs more storage space. I''ll need to buy an SD card for-" What the Vajrayian just said hit him. Tucking the phone into his coat, he glanced at the ceiling, not knowing where to look when addressing them. "You know Doctor Who and the Exorcist?" [One of the night security staff at the school entrance had fallen asleep with her media device on while the doctor show was playing. It was a howl-o-ween episode where they reference the popular horror film.] The Spirit answered, proud of their pop culture knowledge. [I watched many adventures the night before we first met in your office.] In his office? "Wait, you were 28-284?" Morgan asked with a frown, getting to his feet and brushing away the wrinkles from the coat. [Indeed. I was the messenger tasked with getting you to the negotiation table, and I am proud to say that you did exceptionally well. My apologies for the intrusion, but I observed the proceedings from the orchard.] Oh? So, the gold object glittering at the cliff edge was the 28-284 vessel. But if the Spirit was an outside observer until Eris summoned them into the concealment Spell before stuffing them into the apple, then how could they be aware of their current agreement? Before that, a more pressing question needed to be answered first. "That''s fine. I doubt you were the only peeping tom today. But before we go any further, I''m going to need a name from you." [A name¡­] They said slowly, a note of uncertainty tinged their voice. [When our Patron informed me that you were willing to assist in my journey so long as I assisted in yours, I agreed without hesitation. Now that we are here, there may have been some miscommunication. Are you aware of my¡­ current predicament?] "You''re an amnesiac looking for your past." He answered bluntly before locking the door and drawing all the curtains closed. "Spirits normally keep their memories after ditching their Body and Mind. However, you recently awakened in her care with no idea of who you were. Besides that, she didn''t give me any more direct details about you, though I''m told that Eris gave you access to some helpful tools." [Did she? If so, I do not sense them.] Their tone was back to its original easy cheer. [Perhaps they will become available once we return to Vajrayana. As for a name, I fear I have none to give. We are on a journey to discover my past, and as such, I do not wish to reinvent myself. Could you not simply refer to myself as Spirit?] The Professor paused and looked to the ceiling once more. Aware the ghostly passenger could feel what he felt, Morgan tilted his head to the side. "Hey Spirit, it''s a big Universe, and we''ll probably have to interact with other Spirits at some point. Wouldn''t it get confusing if we needed to interview that one Spirit that''s floating suspiciously among the other Spirits?" He waited for an answer, but none came. He sighed. "If you don''t want a name, then would you settle for a nickname? It''s a human custom where those who are familiar with each other give new titles to express that closeness." [That would not be such an outrageous solution.] They admitted with hesitation. [As we are two Souls bound to one Body, I suppose we are, by definition, close to each other¡­ Very well. What nicknames do you believe will be appropriate?] "A few come to mind." Morgan said as he looked down at the glowing Artifact still embedded in his floor. "We need to get moving soon, so we''ll have to work and talk. I''ll rattle off suggestions; you pick the best one." [Very well.] Hmm. The Professor wondered if he could leave the grounds carrying the Artifact without drawing attention. No, it''s definitely not going to happen. Perhaps if this were two or three years ago, security might''ve ignored him, thanks to his position. At present, it might be best to find a case to conceal the alien stick-of-doom. Given the Realm Piercer''s dimensions, one case did come to mind... Morgan looked towards the forbidden door and could have sworn on his future grave that it gave off a menacing aura. "Damn it, I knew that mess was going to come back to bite me in the ass one day." Morgan grumbled before suddenly asking, "Umbra, yes or no?" [Wha-] The Spirit startled before understanding that the question was, at least, for them. [No, thank you.] The Professor went to the closet, took a deep breath, and yanked the door open as he ran behind it for cover. He waited for half a decade of procrastination to come crashing down¡­ Nothing happened. It was a good start.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it "Specter?" Morgan suggested as he cautiously poked his head around the door. [No.] They said, clearly engrossed in what he was up to. Within the closet, bins were stacked on top of bins until they reached heights that almost scraped the ceiling, and there were at least four to five more stacks behind the first. In between the dusty, cobweb-riddled towers of black plastic were all the items that couldn''t fit in a bin. While the item Morgan sought after would be too big to fit inside a bin, it only meant he''d need to pull out row after row to reach the deepest section. "Spook?" He asked with a resigned sigh. [No... May I ask what you are doing?] "This is where I threw all my field and training gear when I got too old to have fun. We need a case to carry the Artifact in, as I''m not trying to get questioned by security for carrying a weapon." The old man began stretching as he prepared to lie in the bed he''d made. "They''ve been very touchy about that after all the recent Empire terrorism. At best it''ll get confiscated, at worst they''ll cuff me first and ask questions later. How do you feel about Phantasma?" [Pardon my assumption, but would a case made to carry a weapon, even a nonlethal one, not also attract attention? Also, I am afraid Phantasma does not resonate with me.] "Alright Spirit, then how about Anima? As for the case, I got tired of cops thinking the same way you do and stopping me for questioning. So I had a custom case made that''s shaped like one meant for an instrument known as a guitar." Before the Spirit could give an answer, Morgan bent his knees, gripped the handle of the bottommost bin, and dragged the whole row nearly three meters into the room. He might have dragged it further if the sudden acceleration hadn''t surprised him into letting go. Strange. That stack was far lighter than it should have been. It wasn''t like the Professor not to have packed every container to its absolute limit. Thoughts of thieves in the night entered his mind only to be quickly dismissed. What would a bunch of college brats do with all the ancient junk he kept around? [The nickname is better, but I am not a fan of the animal imagery it conjures¡­] They paused momentarily to consider the suggestion. [I will pass on this name. However, if you describe this false guitar case, I may be able to keep watch for it.] Morgan stepped into the newly created space to peer between the other rows and, again, saw no promising sign. Now, the man had to wonder if he was going senile. Was the dart gun even at the university? It should be. The Professor''s most recent memory is using it in school four years ago during the fluorescent capybara incident. "The case is shaped like a rounded hourglass with a long protrusion on top. It''s made from a hard plastic with a dark gray color and straps attached on one side." Morgan described his target and offered his best nickname. "Umbra?" [Umbra? No, no. That will not do at all.] The Spirit declined firmly before adding casually, [As for the color of the case, I would say it resembles more of a black than a gray.] "It''s black, but I''m accounting for all the dust that''s probably- You know where it is, don''t you?" [Look to the top of the storage bins you just pulled out.] They advised, and he could hear the smirk they wore, lack of body be damned. Really? Morgan looked, and sure enough what on first glance appeared to be the topmost bin was in fact, the case. Oops. While he folly was a bit of an ego bruiser, mistakes were part of- A corner of the Professor''s lips twitched as a new nickname came to mind. "You''ve just saved us from wasting a whole lot of time." He said while carefully stretching out his arms to grab hold of his quarry. "Good job, Ego." [Ego? Hmm. Ego is interesting. Certainly more fitting than the others. An ego is the mediator between conscious and unconscious parts of the Sapient psyche, the sense of a person''s identity... Yes, I do enjoy the sound of that. From this moment forward, that shall be my nickname. I thank you, Professor.] "Any time." Morgan said, taking the opportunity to carry the case over to his desk. He made to open it, yet there was one more trial to overcome. "When the hell did I put a combination lock on this?" Morgan frowned as he eyed the combination lock, pinning the two zippers in place. Compared to the beaten-up and scratched rifle case, this lock was clearly far newer. He vaguely recalls placing a lock here sometime after the glowing capybara debacle. The thinking back then might''ve been akin to, if one student knows about the rifle, the rest will soon. Regardless, the issue remains that he didn''t remember the combination. Fortunately, he knew where to look. He switched on the Holo-Projector. *VroOMMM* "Holo-Projector. Open file labeled ''Junk Drawer'' and display the contents." This was where the Professor stored all passwords or important access codes for anything he thought was essential to keep but not remember, hence the file name. [What is a Junk Drawer?] Asked Ego. The Professor opened his mouth to answer, unsure he could explain the Earth phenomena that nearly every home contained. However, the Spirit was spared from the trial as a robotic growl of a voice spoke up. "VOICE RECOGNITION FAILED. PLEASE REPEAT REQUEST." The Head Research Officer''s head snapped up to the ceiling as he had never once heard those words. "Holo-Projector." Morgan stood up straight and repeated himself, making sure to speak clearly this time. "Open file labeled ''Junk Drawer'' and-" "VOICE NOT RECOGNIZED." Interrupted the uppity AI. "THIS HOLO-PROJECTOR UNIT IS ASSIGNED FOR THE PERSONAL USE OF THE HEAD RESEARCHER OF BOSTIN PRIME UNIVERSITY. PLEASE REQUEST PROFESSOR CHARLES MORGAN FOR PERMISSION TO USE HOLO-PROJECTOR." [That is an interesting conundrum.] Ego hummed with interest. [Could the teleportation to Vajrayana have somehow caused damage to this device?] "Could be. But I doubt it. The box the AI is in is rated to survive earthquakes." He answered with uncertainty. Morgan placed the guitar case on the floor and returned to the chair. "Holo-Projector. Force open to desktop. Override code TAP-3275601-R1C." "OVERRIDE CODE ACCEPTED." The AI accepted its place in the pecking order, but the tin can just had to have the last word. "CURRENT USER WILL BE RECORDED AS PER SAFETY PROTOCOLS. WARNING: ANY ATTEMPT TO DISABLE RECORDING SOFTWARE WILL RESULT IN A SHUTDOWN. WARNING: THERE WILL BE A DELAY IN START-UP FUNCTIONS DUE TO RECORDING SOFTWARE. PLEASE HOLD." *VRROOOMMMM!* "Shut down," he sniffed to Ego as the cooling fans above began to scream for death under the technical strain. "And an alert to security and the police. It''s fine; I''ll just minimize the window. We''ll look up the combination, load up the Artifact, and start shopping for supplies. We have 24 hours before I''m contractually obligated to throw open the gates, and we need to make a lot of stops before we go to my home." [Of course. I am not sure where our journey will take us, but I am sure there will be many hardships ahead of us.] The Spirit said sagely before switching to a more sorrowful tone. [However, I fear this one will be utterly useless in gathering supplies. Spirits require little save for Aether, and I believe you have much more experience with such long journeys. I fear I will be little more than a useless bystander. Constantly chattering in your ear, so to speak. Unless you have any tasks this humble Spirit could perform in the meantime?] "Uh-huh." The Professor grunted noncommittally as he read between the mental lines. "Nothing comes to mind. Do you have any idea how you could pass the time, Ego?" [As a matter of fact, I might have stumbled upon a solution that will benefit us both.] They hinted at him like a car salesman offering a discount just for their favorite sucker. [Professor, did you know that once a memory is created, it is permanently etched onto the mind even when the Soul has forgotten? This is how a Spirit is able to retain their memories of their past life. The exception being myself, of course.] "I did not know that." The final LEDs flickered overhead. "Let''s cut the bullshit Spirit. Why do you want to look at my memories?" On any other day, Morgan would have been alarmed by such a request. The very idea did set off warning bills, but he couldn''t just shut them down outright. Eris had sworn up and down on her Dao that Ego couldn''t forcibly violate his privacy in any way. The connection between them was mutual and voluntary, establishing a relationship similar between guest and host. Even if the Spirit wanted to force their way into memory lane, they''d be forced to stop possessing him first and only then attack him. At the moment Ego only had as much freedom as he gave them. [Hee-Hehe! Very well.] Snickered Ego as they dropped the pretenses. [The truth of the matter is I have fallen completely for your Earth media after only having a taste of the blue box show. I wish to be given access to only your memories of all media you have ever consumed. I have no desire to know your thoughts and feelings on them or any other thoughts that might have been conjured at the time. Only the visual and auditory senses that originate from the media.] "Oh, is that it?" The Professor had been worried about a more personal request. His history would stay with him until the grave, but if the voice in his head only wanted to watch more TV while he shopped, it was fine with him. First, he needed to make sure of something. "Media can be distracting, especially the mind-numbing stuff we humans cook up. How do I get your attention if I need to ask you something? Do I just call your nickname three times to summon you or something?" [A very perceptive question. Firstly, I will be absorbing the content you provide at a rapid pace. I suspect that it will take roughly 15 to 18 hours before I am finished consuming it all. Also, I doubt any vocal summonings could reach me in such a state. So you will need to project any communication to me. Speak mind to mind, if you will.] "I can do that?" [Naturally, Professor. Our Souls are essentially touching at the moment, and with some conscious effort, the words can pass between us without the need to give them voice. This is how I am able to speak to you now. Please, give it an attempt.] "Conscious effort." The Scientist grumbled as he closed his eyes to focus. The room disappeared, and for half a beat, he expected a ghostly apparition to manifest in his personal darkness. When nothing came, he set to work. With his internal monologue as a voice, he projected to Ego. [Like this?] *Clap, Clap, Clap* The sound of someone applauding echoed in his mind. [Excellent work!] Cheered Ego loudly before whistling in celebration, the sharp intensity of which caused Morgan to wince. Ego noticed and their following words came much softer. [My apologies. But that was a perfect projection. With diligent practice, I am sure you will reach my proficiency with the skill.] [Good to know. I''m just happy I wouldn''t have to look like I''m talking to myself whenever we speak in public. Lunatics draw attention.] He projected before the darkness he experienced became suddenly brighter. [The Holo is on,] he opened his eyes, [let''s-] Morgan''s jaw tightened at what was being displayed before him. [Professor.] Asked the Spirit curiously. [Who is that?] The recording software displayed a scarred man sitting in his chair, hunched over his desk, wearing his white lab coat, and scowling up at the ceiling. The Professor had seen this man''s picture only hours ago, though it technically was less than half of one. In his heart of hearts, Morgan knew it had been roughly half a century since that man had looked back at anything. "It''s¡­me." Whispered the Scientist as he began examining his younger self, or rather himself. "Holo-Projector. Change the recording angle to mirror mode." The hologram flickered and suddenly Morgan was staring into his own heterochromia glare. He stood up and so too did his photon doppelganger. The old man made young again leaned forward as far as the desk allowed. He lifted his left hand, flexed it, and watched the rejuvenated muscles under the fleshy digits flex with forgotten power. With the other appendage, he felt the scar given to him by a hawk from Alaska which made him at least 27. This guess was outright confirmed as he finally, after almost ten minutes of having it back, realized he had a right pinky. At the base of that pinky was a simple band of polished green stone¡ªa jade ring he had seen not so long ago. The return of the prodigal finger put him squarely in the first month of his 27th year of life. He flexed the long-lost digit and found he could maneuver it perfectly. That alone settled exactly what happened. [I''ve literally been returned to my 27-year-old body.] He switched to mental communication as all of this was being recorded. The Professor did not want any incriminating evidence to be floating around if any of this ever came back to bite him in the ass. [I''m new to magi- I mean Cultivation. But if this were a rejuvenation, my scar should have also healed, and my pinky muscle memory wouldn''t return so perfectly. Also-] Morgan sniffed his gray-less hair and found the smoking gun he sought. [Coconuts.] [...I beg your pardon?] [I was gifted a year''s supply of coconut hair moisturizer around this age and never used it again once I went through the box.] He visibly shuddered at recalling the tropical torture. [Saving money was nice, but I haven''t been able to stomach a Mounds bar since.] [You seem surprised. Is this new youth and Dimensional Ring not a part of the deal with our Patron?] Ego asked as the body they inhibited obsessively wiggled their pinky. [Also, I do not mean to come off as rude, but did you truly not notice obtaining another finger until just now?] [I didn''t ask for it. Doing so never really crossed my mind.] The Professor shoved the ring into his pocket only to discover a sheet of folded paper within. He opened the sheet and found it contained a handwritten note from his Patron. He skimmed through the contents as he added absently. [By the way, I didn''t have a pinky for almost ? of my life, so cut me some slack.] [Cut you some what?] That question alone convinced Morgan to allow Ego to take in all the Earth culture they wanted. He is unlikely to ever meet another Earthling once this expedition starts, and he suspects it''ll last a while. In all that time, for all those years, he will make references. It''s inevitable. So why should he suffer alone? 10. The Departure *...be¡­ep¡­* The sun had long since set when they arrived and parked several houses up from the yellow duplex. They stood before the building, one for the first time, the other for the first time in a long time. No light came from any of the windows, yet two cars slept dreamlessly within the lot. Man and Soul would have to sneak in. Over a gate that forever needed a coat of paint, staying within the blind spots of the motion-sensitive sentries, and a blind search in the dark for a rock that held a secret key older than the Man. *...beeb¡­* These phantoms slipped into a darkened kitchen, key in hand, and sat at the dining table for a meal that would never come. The Man tapped and tapped on the table to summon a ghost from his past; the Soul begged and pleaded for caution. From the shadowy hallway came the sound of a gun cocking, followed closely by an order to stop. A switch flipped, light banished darkness, and the Man found two sisters when he expected one. The Cynthia who was, and the Cynthia who is. The one-who-was looked at him as a stranger, the one-who-is knew her brother no matter the age. *...Beeb beeb¡­* Once the truth was accepted, the Man received his beatings. The blow to the jaw hurt far less than the cold steel in her words, for they awoke the dead. Two ghosts hovered behind the Cynthias'', but time had worn away their features to nothing. The Father looked at his wayward son, his police badge more vivid than his face. The Mother in her military officer garb turned away from him, as expected. *Beeb Beeb Beeb* Thankfully, the dead only speak when spoken to, and the Man did not return to relive the past but to secure a future. The Man warned his blood of the apocalyptic changes that were to come. He urged them to gather among the trusted before the last grain of sand fell. Most importantly, the Man gave Cynthia a gift, one that will alter the course of humanity''s Fate. The One-who-was thanked him; the One-who-is chose to forgive but not to forget. They left the home and returned to their car, then the Soul asked an innocent question. Two more Souls appeared in the back seat, but the Man would not look at them. Not then and perhaps never again¡­ Then, a building-sized red and black USB flash drive manifested in the middle of the road and refused to allow passage until it was fed- *BEEB! BEEB! BEEB! BEEB!* The phone alarm''s persistent digital ring pounded relentlessly against his poor eardrums. [Oh, Heavenly Dao, your head hurts!] Moaned Ego loudly as Morgan finally jolted to full consciousness. [Could you please wake up and turn the alarm off.] "I''ll turn off the alarm at least." Morgan groaned before slamming a pillow over his head. His words were muffled when he asked, "What alarm number is it? If it''s the first, I''m just going back to sleep." [No clue. Apparently, in this limited state, I can''t maintain consciousness when you''re asleep. Spirits don''t sleep. Instead, we go into a sort of torpor-like state, so I''m also just waking up.] The Spirit complained, showing off their new mastery of English contractions. The Spirit''s change in speech was a surprise tp both of them yesterday, an unexpected gift after absorbing several decades worth of Earthling media. While Morgan found the change to be a positive, Ego was far less incline to agree as they didn''t realize that the change would fundamentally alter that part of themselves. While they ultimately accepted the alteration, Ego refused to go anywhere near his memories again. However, that mishap hadn''t dampened their thrust for more media, they simply wanted to experience it first hand. As last night more than proved. On the topic of last night. "Did you have any weird dreams?" Morgan murmured as he groped blindly for the phone, slamming his fingers on it on the third attempt. "I dreamt of last night, when we visited my sister." [Nothing.] Sulked the Spirit. [A shame since I don''t remember dreaming when I could. There''s probably some time before we have to start packing. Tell me about your dream.] "It played out mostly the same as what happened, except for the last part," Morgan replied as he struggled to shut off the alarm without removing the pillow¡ªa task that was proving hard to pull off even as his thumb wildly manipulated the screen. "Why won''t it be quiet?" *BEEB! BEEB! BEEB! BEEB!* [You probably have to unlock it first, oh great Scientist.] They snickered. [By the way, it helps if you actually look at the phone.] "Is nagging me first thing in the morning going to be a common thing from now on? Because I''m more than willing to wait till the afternoon before we talk to each other." [Why are you so cranky in the morning? I thought old people always got up before the sun.] "Old people are still cranky when they wake up; it''s just that we''re already hyped up on caffeine by the time everyone else wakes up." He shot back. "Also, plenty of younger folk in the military wake up far earlier than civilians. Especially when-" *BEEP! BEEP!* "-One second; I need to avoid throwing the phone against the wall." With enormous effort, the Professor pushed the pillow onto the empty side of the bed before stuffing the screaming phone underneath. Morgan sat up, yawning and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His bedroom was a hazy mess of grays and blues. As he wiped away the sand man''s gift, the Scientist wondered which of the dozens of alarms managed to wake him. Aware that his younger body lacked discipline, he set the earliest alarm to 6 am and the rest to ring in 15-minute intervals afterward. Ego insisted he name them all, which only delayed sleep that much more. If Morgan had to guess, this was the 7:15 am alarm titled ''Get up, you lazy prick''. When the last of the sandman''s gifts was grounded away, he checked how far he was off the mark. The title read, ''Last 15 minutes on Earth''. *BEEP! BEEP!* Neither one said a single word or reacted as they stared at the alarm''s name in utter disbelief. The blaring noise faded into the background as blood rushed to his ears. Morgan dismissed the alarm and fully unlocked the phone. Swiping down the notification window, they saw the same message repeated over and over again: ''Missed alarm''. Ice crept up his spine as his gaze shifted to the digital clock in the top right. It ticked from 8:45 to 8:46 am. Ah... They fucked up real bad his time. Morgan scrambled to escape his well-padded prison, yet the bed refused to let its inmate go without a fight. One of the blanket corners snared a foot, sending him crashing face-first onto the black wood floor. [How could we possibly sleep through 20+ alarms?!] Demanded the Spirit as the once world-renowned Scientist crawled on all fours towards the bedroom door. "It probably-" He said in between grunts as he attempted to free himself. "-didn''t help-" This last tug separated jailer from the prisoner. "-that I had a long day yesterday." Morgan ripped open the door and nearly dove into the hallway. "A day that was even longer thanks to a certain pain-in-the-head Spirit begging me to download hundreds of anime, audiobooks, movies, and TV shows until 4 am." [I-uh. I see your point.] They chuckled nervously before changing course. [Alright, what needs to be done before we can leave?] "Pack everything inside the car, change clothes, and Momo has to be prepped for transport." Taking the steps two at a time, he raced down the metal spiral staircase and landed in the living room. [Oh, so pretty much everything then?] Sobbed Ego miserably. Once in the living room, he bolted for the front door, only stopping to grab the nearby car keys, to which the jade Dimensional Ring was added for safekeeping. Anyone looking out their window or walking down the suburban street would have been treated to a distressing sight. Bursting from the home of a senior citizen was a barefoot and shirtless man making a beeline for the homeowner''s SUV. The street looked empty of any onlookers but porch cameras had become standard security by this point in time. Likely, the scene was caught from multiple angles, and anybody could have sent it to the police if they were having a slow day. Thankfully, a half-naked potential carjacker was unlikely to capture anyone''s attention on this day. On any other day, the Professor might''ve gone viral. Morgan first retrieved the case containing the Artifact as it was the linchpin in this fiasco, but he faltered on what should be taken next. He ran around to the already-opened trunk and took stock of what he had bought the night before. Several sets of work clothes, all-terrain camping gear, outdoor cooking gear, water purifier tablets, several months'' worth of MREs, custom first aid kit, hygiene and hair supplies, climbing gear, winter gear, diving gear, bowie knife, whetstone, protection, box of duct tape, shovel, solar generator, toolbox, chemistry kit, organic chemistry kit, folding table-chair combo, large crate of notebooks, pens, a telescope, binoculars, microscope, a parachute, inflatable raft, and everything bought for Momo. Well, shit. The Scientist had royally screwed up. Eris promised him that he would be sent to a world different than the one humanity would be taken to. A planet she promised would give him both privacy and a somewhat safe space to perform his research. However, he neglected to ask what kind of environment awaited them. The Dimensional Ring she sent had been a lifesaver as the space within the ring was massive, allowing him to prepare for every environment he could imagine. However, according to the instructions in her note, items being stored in bulk needed a large clearance of space around them. There was no time to unpack everything from the car. [You bought all this in the few hours I was gone?] Said Ego in impressed horror. [This isn''t my first expedition; I can be very time-efficient when motivated.] Projected Morgan, switching modes of communication as he was not anxious to add schizophrenic to the possible video title. [Forget that. I have a hypothetical question.] [Hit me.]Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. [If we sit in the car while being teleported, will it take the whole thing like it did with my chair?] [Uh¡­ Maybe? Listin Morgan, I''m unsure how teleportation would react to a whole car. Last time, it took us and your chair, but not the holding tank I was in or the desk between us. We might arrive with the car intact or just the car seat, or it could reject the vehicle entirely and only take you. At best, it''s a dice roll.] Damn it, a risk like that needed to be a last resort. Morgan fidgeted with his hair as he spent precious time debating. Should he just take the food and shelter in hopes that wherever Eris sent them would be hospitable? No, definitely not. Perhaps he could expect such soft treatment if his Patron were any other mythological figure. Sadly, reality wasn''t so kind, and any location chosen by that divinity should be subject to suspicion. Beads of sweat that had nothing to do with the weather or his mad dash outside began to form on his back and brow as every new idea was formed and then scrapped for containing a fatal flaw. The seconds ticked by, and with every second gone, there would be less time to implement a plan. The situation was galling to him. The Professor was given a literal pocket space with storage comparable to a shipping container. Yet he wouldn''t even use it to its full potential. [OH!] Ego gasped suddenly, and if they had hands, they would raise them and wave them high in the air to get the Professor''s attention. [Oh! Take the whole car! So long as you picture the car as your target, then everything inside should be stored as well¡ªjust like how the cake was stored with the serving tray and cover!] The obvious bitch-slapping him upside the head stung a bit, but there could be no growth without pain. Morgan slammed the door and trunk shut before taking a few steps from the treasure trove on wheels. "Good job, Ego. I knew I kept you around for a reason." He thanked before slipping the jade ring on and pointing the hand at the car. He spoke the storage command word that was written on the. "Intrare." Like a soap bubble popping out of existence, the SUV and everything inside disappeared from sight. *Pop* Nature abhorred a vacuum, and air was more than willing to flood the empty space. "What the Hell?!" Screamed a shrill voice from behind. "Oops." Whispered the Professor as he turned to face the newcomer. It was the McAllister boy from next door. The last time he saw the kid, he was a grade-schooler on a tricycle. Now in his teenage years, he stared at the space where the car was in slack-jaw amazement. Morgan struggled to recall his name. "Hello¡­ I want to say, Rusty? I''m sure what you saw just now may seem impossible, so I- Wait. Why am I explaining anything right now? It''s not like you telling anyone what you saw will have any consequences for me, even if they believe you." Morgan ended the conversation by running back into the house while shouting at the youth, "The world you know ends today, stay close to family!" Back inside, he checked the time. [Nine minutes left!] Panicked Ego as Morgan tore the Artifact from the case. [The instructions for the Realm Piercer are simple. All you need to do is stab it into the ground outside and have your hand placed on it by 9 am. The Enchantments on it will take care of everything else. How fast can you get dressed?] Morgan misjudged his new strength when hurling the Artifact across the living room. It overshot the coach and embedded itself into the drywall between his computer station and a custom glass terrarium as large as a fridge. Within the little slice of New Caledonia were dozens of native plants, a running waterfall, and a small fleshy tail poked out from under a leaf. "Very." He answered, striping naked as he took the stairs at the same hazardous pace as before. He dived into his bedroom, only to exit less than a minute later wearing olive-green cargo pants, a dusty pair of Timberlands, and a black T-shirt under the lab coat. A pair of rounded sunglasses with side shields hung from the shirt collar. [Really? You''re taking the coat?] Asked Ego as they entered the living room. [You don''t think it makes you stick out in a crowd?] "What self-respecting scientist does research without a lab coat?" Morgan answered on autopilot as he approached Momo''s tank. "Now stop complaining and say hello to our third member, the Princess Monochrome Morgan." All the excitement from running up and down the stairs, slamming doors, and screaming must have woken the little nocturnal creature. A second after pulling open the glass double doors, a blur of black and white leaped onto his right forearm. The Professor brought his sleepy child to eye level for the Spirit to examine. Mono is what is known as an adult axanthic lily white morph Crested Gecko. A mouth full of fancy words to say, she had vivid black-and-white pattern scales that are normally not found outside the pet trade. Years ago, on the return trip from Morgan''s very last expedition, he encountered Momo outside the Boston airport. Two women were caught attempting to smuggle live reptile eggs through security. At least, this is what the soon-to-be Professor assumed to be the case when he witnessed both women running like bats out of hell out of the airport entrance, luggage still in hand. The woman clutching the larger of the two bags stopped and began tossing its contents into a nearby bush. Disposing of the evidence became a second priority when several officers busted through the doors, sending the smugglers running once more. Once the cops were out of sight, Morgan inspected the tossed contraband and discovered six Tupperware containers, each containing two intact eggs. Being a responsible privet citizen, who had probably been recorded on camera poking around the bush, Morgan flagged down an officer. The officer thanked him for helping the department in securing all 11 smuggled eggs. [She''s incredible.] Marveled Ego. [She is.] He projected since speaking aloud might spook the poor girl even further. [Apparently, she''s also very expensive.] [How much?] [Let me put it to you this way. When I took her to an Expo five years ago, the lowest offer I got was $22,000.] [That¡­ That''s a lot of money.] Whispered Ego. [But currency is meaningless in the grand scheme of things, so I''m glad you kept her instead of- What are you doing?]" [Hmm?] Asked the Professor as he adjusted his shirt. [D-don''t ''Hmm?'' me.] The Spirit attempted to chide the ridiculous Human, but their obvious amusement ruined the effect. [You just stuck a reptile under your shirt; don''t pretend that''s a normal thing to do.] [Well, I can''t keep her in the tank; the damn thing weighs a ton.] Morgan tried to pull the Realm Piercer from the wall, but it was stuck deep in a wooden beam. He yanked it free with both arms and drywall dust exploded outwards to cover his laptop. The gecko stirred nervously from under his shirt. He scratched her back through the fabric to calm the adorable beast. [Momo will be fine; I trained her to stay put and behave when we''re out and about.] [Let''s hope so.] Said Ego earnestly as they left through the kitchen The Scientist''s backyard was an empty shell of its former self. Looking at the space now, all one would see is an empty rectangular patch of well-kept grass. In the 30+ years since he had moved in, the yard had only been so neat in the last five. Morgan''s sensibilities disliked the ordered rows of flowers and shrubbery many in the neighborhood strove to maintain. It all felt so artificial, so he allowed his space to grow wild and free. Barring only the genuinely hazardous pests from moving in, the space became a sanctuary for all local wildlife. Hummingbirds, butterflies, snakes, moles, and everything in between called the dense foliage home in those days. A stone path hugging the fence walls was the only visible sign of human touch. That maintenance eventually became too much for the elderly owner as keeping the natural chaos from spilling over to his neighbors was difficult. One sad spring night, the Scientist captured all the inhabitants he could for relocation. The following day, he cleared the land. [Morgan?] Prodded Ego gently. [I''m sorry, but we only have three minutes left.] "Yeah." The Professor grunted in agreement. The past banished, he stabbed the Realm Piercer into the center of the lawn before slipping on the shades. This wasn''t his first rodeo, and there was no way he''d miss the transition due to blinding light. [What was that back there? You walked to the middle of the yard and just stood there.] "I just wanted to have a moment with the ghost of my backyard." [With the empty backyard?] There was no accusation in their tone, only polite curiosity. [But not with the home you''ve lived in for years?] "I had more fun out here than in there." He shrugged before changing the subject. [Is there anything important that we need but didn''t pack?] [No, we should be good. Assuming all of the necessary supplies were already in the car, that is. I created a mental checklist last night while we were downloading every-] Ego cut themselves off and, with all the psychotic fervor of a teenager realizing their phone was not in their pocket, screamed, [The flash drive! It''s still attached to your laptop!] "Shit." Morgan secured a hand over Momo before running back into the house. A part of the Earthling''s mind felt incensed at the idea of risking all life in the world just to retrieve something so frivolous. However, wisdom was the force that guided this seemingly insane decision. Entertainment was not the only content stored in the drive. Last night, the Professor realized that thanks to the information transfer between Vajrayana and Earth, he could use humanity''s recorded history and mythology to his advantage. So, he added hundreds of documents, textbooks, and documentaries to the download queue. The laptop sat on the living room desk with the comically thin 100-terabyte stick drive sticking out the side. Ripping the drive free before cramming it in a coat pocket, the laptop let out an angry ping at the improper removal. The noise fooled Morgan into looking at the digital time display. His heart sank as the clock ticked 9 am. [We still have the rest of the minute.] Declared Ego firmly, the idea of losing hope never entered their mind. [Morgan, there''s still time. Run!] Morgan ran. He''s run from criminals aiming to kill, from hungry tigers that saw him before he saw them, from mother nature''s wrath manifested as a freak avalanche. He ran faster, harder, and more desperately than ever before. He was four¡ªno, three strides away from the Artifact. Acid building up in his out-of-shape legs burned with every step. He ran. Two strides away, Ego screamed encouragements at him, but Morgan could not hear them. He Ran. One stride, a single step, was all that separated despair from hope. The sudden physical strain dangerously churned his empty stomach. Still, He Ran! It''s within reach. His hand reached out, the space between the dodecahedron and the Man closed fast. Disaster struck when it most often did, at the worst possible moment. The left ankle twisted as it made contact with the grass, still slick with the morning dew. Pain lanced up his nervous system, a message to the brain to remove all weight off the injured foot. Stumble, the body begged, fall, or just stop. Anything to avoid causing more damage. However, his body had made a tragic mistake; the brain never called the shots. Morgan did. He hardly flinched, using the ankle bent awkwardly to one side like the sole of his foot. Agony radiated from the injury, but there was no more time. No more room for pain or pointless doubts. Failure simply could not be allowed. He made contact, and the crystal gem felt¡­ cold. *BUZZ!* The moment his left middle finger brushed the crystal''s surface, an unknown force dragged the rest of his hand forward and held him tight. The right hand soon followed suit, forcing him to hold the clear stone like a basketball about to be passed. The air around Morgan vibrated furiously, the intensity made his teeth chatter. Something bright appeared directly over them, casting everything in a pale golden light. Unfortunately, it would become one of the Earthling''s greatest regrets to have missed what came next. For he was forced to close his mismatched eyes to the mind-shattering display above. A Princess she may be, Momo was still an animal with good sense. When the world became a chaotic calamity of shaking and blinding light, her instinct was to get the hell away. What else could she do but climb up his shirt and leap to the safety of her adoptive parent''s face? A Human he may be, Morgan was still an animal with good sense. When something unexpectedly flew directly to his face, what else could he do, but blink? 11. The Tutorial Memories of Namiko Stone Time: 8:55am June 20th, 2074 The Stone household was not the largest home in the heavily wooded neighborhood near the edge of the city''s borders. Compared to the almost manor like buildings lining the street, the one floor home looked down right shrimpy. However, the backyard was the largest by far due to the previous owner''s fixation on farming simulators and deep pockets capable of bribing city officials. The owner had retired from corporate life to live out their rural retirement dream in peaceful solitude. A noble goal and one that could have given them many years of solace if they had survived the first harvest. As a former corporate titan, they felt agriculture was a simple and straightforward process like in their games. As a result, they did little research outside of growing and maintaining crops. After a successful yield, the owner enjoyed the bounty. The amateur farmer died in the hospital some days later, a victim of the lettuce they cared for so passionately. The house and land were put on the market shortly afterward. When Mr. and Ms. Stone saw that Japan''s annexation by the Empire had become a question of when and not if, they emigrated to Boston with their three-month-old son. If the new parents had ever had a passion for farming before, it shriveled up and died after learning the cautionary tale from the realtor. Instead, they built a massive shallow pond and stocked it with breathtakingly beautiful koi. These dazzling creatures would enchant their baby boy for years to come. "You gotta be more careful little dude." Said Namiko to Pondbro, the largest of the koi. "You''re like, way too old to be pulling these stunts." Pondbro, being a koi of action, continued to struggle in the grip of his oldest friend. The foolish fish was an Ogon with stunning red-gold scales that shimmered like metal in the sunlight. He was one of the few original pond inhabitants and had remained an untouchable monarch for decades now. Yet that natural armor had obviously met its match as a long jagged scar ran along the left side of the tail. The weapon that likely dealt the blow was the algae-covered stick slowly drying on the grass near the pond''s edge. One end was covered in muck, while the other held a pointy end from how it broke from the tree above. Deducing that much was child''s play, but the Intern needed help solving the current dilemma. When he awoke hours before, and sleep had refused to take him back, he decided to be productive. Since he started college, the family pond had grown increasingly unkempt as his aging parents found upkeep a grueling challenge. So Namiko wadded in the thigh-deep water to clear away all the nasty scum and fallen debris. When he found the stick with red-gold fish scales still stuck on the sharp end, he caught Pondbro without a second thought. A pity since now he was stuck with a weary fish in both hands and no bucket in sight. *Slam* The sound of the door opening and closing behind him caught his attention. "Yo, primo timing, man! I could use some help!" The Intern shouted over his shoulder as he gingerly lowered Pondbro back into the water, carefully keeping the patient from escaping. "What have I told you about using slang in my house?" Sniffed a woman, her accent thin but still noticeable. "Why are you playing in the pound?" "Hi, Mom." He greeted, ignoring the first question and electing to stay where he was. "I''m cleaning the pond because if I don''t, the little dudes will get messed up." Namiko waited until his mother''s footsteps were close before risking movement. He turned to face her and¡­ and what the son saw broke his heart. Reina Stone was an early bird and had likely woken up hours ago, yet she looked as if she had just gotten out of bed. His mother wore a seafoam green bathrobe that matched her flip-flops. Her shoulder-length hair remained a mess and looked almost as shaggy as his. As Namiko trudged through the muddy pond bottom towards Reina, he noticed she refused to meet his eyes. Perhaps in an attempt to conceal her bloodshot eyes. Whether they were caused by tears or lack of sleep, he did not wish to know. "Is that Ponyo?" She asked with a concerned frown, using the koi''s old name. "What happened?" The Son recounted the events how he suspected they played out. He pointedly did not correct his mother on Pondbro''s name as he usually would. That argument was as old as the fish, sparked when Namiko discovered the Koi had been misgendered by the seller. He believed there would be little joy in teasing her today. "The little guy should heal fine on his own." Explained the Intern as he crouched to submerge his squirming charge. "But I want to medicate the wound anyway. Give the bacteria no chance to take the beach, ya know?" Namiko cringed internally as his military analogy felt inappropriate under recent events. But if Reina noticed or cared, she didn''t let it show. "I will get the Melafix," she said, using the opportunity while he was crouched to kiss the top of his head¡ªa display of affection he had not received since he outgrew her. She turned to leave when a thought must have crossed her mind: "How did you catch a fish without a net?" "With my hands." He said, looking up at his mom with a big grin. "Professor Du- er. I mean, Professor Morgan taught me how to get a fish to swim right into your hands. It friggin blew my mind." "Hmm," Reina murmured noncommittally, but a corner of her mouth tugged up. She directed her attention at the captured fish. "You should have known better, you old thing. I hope you''ve learned a valuable lesson." She turned away to make for the house, and Namiko saw she moved with more pep in her step. The Inter silently thanked the enigmatic teacher for reaching out last night. At the time, Namiko had been stranded at his college dorm after trying and failing to find friends willing to hang out. The game console was on, but he quickly learned that getting into the mood to play was impossible. Only hours previously, he''d be alerted by his news app that the peace talks had collapsed for the most bullshit reason possible. Then, out of nowhere, his phone pinged with an alert. The Professor had emailed him out of the blue. The short message spoke of how the teacher had decided to visit family in these dark times. He also recommended that Namiko do the same. The Professor even included a picture of the reunion as proof. Accepting the wisdom that came with age, the Intern was at his surprised parent''s door within the hour.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. "First, you stopped by unannounced; now I catch you harassing the fish?" Sighed his father with an overly dramatic flare. "Honestly, I wonder where we went wrong in raising you." Namiko didn''t need to look away from Pondbro to know he was standing right behind him, shaggy graying hair a mess and wearing nothing but board shorts. The man was likely barefoot as splashes could be heard growing closer. Shugo Stone, ever the moon to his wife''s sun. "Ha. How should I know?" Snorted the Son, rolling his eyes as he looked at his parents beaming down at him. He noticed the jug of medicine in his hands. "Mom sent you to do her dirty work?" "Yes and no." Shugo said, a little of the light behind his eyes withering. "Your mother explained what happened to Pondbro. She planned on joining you at first but had to go and confront your brothers. They just heard about the peace talks breaking down." "Yeah." Muttered Namiko darkly before lifting Pondbro up one last time. "It was some real heinous stuff." Father and son worked in silence while treating the family fish''s wound. Each wanted to bring up that alarming event, but neither wanted to upset the other while there was work to be done. Soon, the injury was cleaned and then dyed blue by the medication, giving the once flawless koi a chaotic blue streak on one side. Satisfied with their work, Pondbro was released. They both watched as the koi fled the scene like a sports car after accidentally scraping its back end against a mailbox. "The Empire has got to be full of it." Bursted Namiko suddenly, unable to keep the anxiety and anger in check. "They want an excuse to fight, even if the reason is bogus. I mean, how could finding a couple of bodies be a terrorist attack?" "Terrorist attack." Shugo snorted in agreement as he cleaned the blue medicine off his hands. "They just called it that because they have no idea what else it could be. Finding eight corpses outside of eight different temples all over Asia is odd, even in the best of times. But it''s what the UPA diplomats didn''t-" he paused to peer cautiously at the house. When he saw Renia was nowhere near an open window or door, he continued. "-didn''t disclose to the public that was far more concerning." "Dude!" Hissed Namiko and closed the little distance between them before whispering, "Tell me you didn''t talk to Ritsu again." "Ritsu is a family friend who held you as a baby." Defended the father at average volume. "If he-" "-didn''t introduce you to mom, I would have never been born." Finished the Son. "Ritsu is dope; I get that. Ritsu is also a big-shot Empire diplomat, and that''s all the gov is going to see if they catch you two talking." "Bah. The government has bigger fish to fry." Shugo cringed slightly at the accidental pun but kept going. "They aren''t looking for spies when the end is a button press away. But if you don''t want to be implicated, I could keep these juicy details to myself." "Don''t be ridiculous." The Intern subconsciously channeled his favorite teacher. "Of course I wanna know. Knowledge is power, man." "So they are teaching something in that school besides how to bully fish." He chuckled before whispering conspiratory, "Ritsu and I spoke just before you turned up last night. He sounded disturbed, and I think he just wanted to vent to someone who wouldn''t report him. But according to him, the bodies are definitely connected by some kind of fringe group. They were all different nationalities but had similar clothes and the same strange device with them. Ritsu was shown a picture and said it looked like a magic scepter from an RPG game." "Ok¡­ That''s like, really weird." The Intern admitted while he frowned pensively at the water. He noticed the other pond dwellers trailing after Pondbro, likely to investigate the new paint job there. "But cult shenanigans don''t mean the UPA is behind it. They have just as many crazies." "True enough. But unlike most cultists and crazy people, these bodies could not be identified by the Empire. They found all the bodies over the last two weeks and they couldn''t find any social media accounts, banking, criminal, citizen, education, health, nothing! Can you believe that?" The wide-eyed stare he gave his father was answer enough. "Exactly. Ritsu told me the Empire has classified them as ghosts, and while they don''t know the goal, they know only one group can erase someone so thoroughly. So until the UPA fesses up and-" ¡­And what? Until their government reveals that they were the masterminds behind the dumbest covert operation ever conceived? Namiko turned away from the fish to shoot his father an annoyed look. The pause was undoubtedly an attempt to tease the young man and lighten up the conversion. While the sentiment was appreciated, the execution was not. Only Shugo Stone was not messing with his son. The man wasn''t even looking in his general direction. The parent had his eyes fixed on the sky just over the house, his brows furled in confusion. Namiko watched transfixed as confusion matured into total open-jaw bewilderment. But before any flies could take a tour inside, the jaw snapped shut. The middle-aged man''s eyes dilated, his breathing became ragged, and all the color drained from his complexion. This was fear¡ªpossibly even paralyzing terror¡ªsince his father had yet to do anything but gawk. This level of fear from a man who thought nothing of conversing with political figures from a hostile country? Were the literal bombs dropping? Namiko looked and refused to believe it. There, in the same sky he and every other creature ever born had lived under, was a second sun. A shining sun that hovered low in the West, a perfect mirror to the one in the East. Parent and child gasped as the impossible celestial body''s light flickered like a light bulb when an energy-hungry AC unit was switched on. The truth was displayed for all to see; the spell broke. "Hey dude," said the Intern shakily, "that''s like, not a sun." Quickly, he navigated through the menu, pulling up the camera app and zooming in as far as it could go. Once the software compensated for the brightness, Namiko could see that the false star''s surface bubbled and roiled like plasma. Still, the flowing material could not be mistaken for anything but liquid gold. He reported the findings. "I knew it! The camera says it''s only 12km away from us. If it were real, we''d be toast at that range. But we should really grab everyone and head to the basement¡­ Like, right now." "REINA!!" screamed Shugo, his son''s words finally reaching him. "GET THE¡ªAHHHH!" The cry to action became a cry of panic as the unidentified hovering not-sun exploded outwards. Namiko never even got the chance to scream. By the time his brain registered what had happened, it was too late to bother. The house had already been swallowed in a curved wall of swirling gold and white light. The Intern''s last thought, before the end would claim him as well, was of the family inside. He hoped that his father''s last words had failed to reach them and that they left this life completely ignorant of the horror that snuffed them out. That would be best. Children given confort by a parent, a parent comforting their children. Yes, that would be a gentler end than his. His world became an endless expanse of white before becoming the more traditional black void he expected to meet after death. The Earthling floated, stood, or swam in the empty vacuum with no senses to draw any context from. Namiko enjoyed oblivion for only a fraction of a second before a rectangular screen of purple light popped into existence, running the experience of nothingness. The screen display suddenly shifted, like someone switched the channel, and now it displayed a human woman, one seemingly not much older than him. She sat on top of a wooden throne placed in the middle of a forest of black trees. Long black hair framed the pale face of the haunting beauty, and her sweet smile almost put Namiko at ease. However, her glowing, mismatched eyes made such comfort impossible. They conjured the image of piranha devouring their prey''s flesh until only bone remained. "Welcome, my dear students," crooned the women, "to the Multiverse. Today will mark the first day of the Tutorial." "Multiverse?" Thought the former Inter as it finally dawned on him that college, war, and even death were no longer the greatest concerns. 12. The Avatar This latest trip to Vajrayana wasn''t nearly as smooth as the last two. Technically, Morgan was standing still, ankle aching, his arms outstretched, and fingers clawed to grip an Artifact that was no longer there. Yet all his senses reported that the world around him was moving at speeds that would make even Lysander blink twice. Even through closed eyes and sunglasses, a kaleidoscope of bright, colorful lights still managed to reach his retinas. These lights entered his notice as small and dim before growing exponentially, reaching a crescendo only for them to suddenly veer off randomly and disappear behind him. Intangible wind screamed as it tore past him, always heard but never felt. The howling gale would remain constant until one of the lights zipped behind him. The experience was like the late-night drives of childhood summers when he slowly drifted to sleep as the car zipped by the lampposts lining the highway. This might have been a comforting comparison if he weren''t teleporting through space-time. The fact that Morgan could experience anything this trip and not the last two confused him. How could transferring from one point to another without traversing the physical space between them be compared to anything other than falling asleep on the couch as a child and waking up in one''s own bed? The Scientist desperately wanted to see what was happening. Unfortunately, one of the Enchantments placed on the Artifact must have paralyzed him as a safety feature. He suspected the condition also applied to the Princess, for she didn''t move a single muscle throughout the whole space-bending ordeal. Morgan worried that his little girl would suffer permanent eye damage from the harsh light searing her sensitive, lidless eyes. However, he had to begrudgingly admit that the safety feature was a necessary evil since a blind gecko was better than Momo yeeting herself off whatever space-time bubble they were in. Fortunately, the turbulent flight between Universes lasted less than a quarter of a minute before they landed. Literally. Decades of experience took over the millisecond before Morgan registered that he was falling. His knees bent, and one arm braced his head while the other shielded Momo just as his boots made contact with the soft floor. Pain exploded from the ankle as he fell a distance equal to a step on a staircase. He wanted to scream, to fall down on his ass, to rip off the boot and see how bad the damage was. Sadly, such luxuries were too costly in a possibly hostile environment. He pitched forward hard before balance was regained, and only then did he open his eyes. [Look alive Spirit.] Ordered Morgan mentally, spinning on the good leg to scan for dangers the unknown planet might harbor. [See anything?] Once again, the Professor had been teleported into the company of trees, though this was no orchard but an actual forest. Graceful willow-like trees dominated this patch, their long gray leaves drooping from the slender branches. The forest was likely old-growth as trees ranged from wrist-thick saplings to ancient specimens with trunks wider than Morgan''s arm span. Under him, the ground held a kind of spring to it from years of timber falling, providing the perfect nourishment for the white carpet moss covering every inch of the floor like freshly fallen snow. It was cool, the air tasting crisp and damp, like a rainy fall morning. Whether the time was morning or far later, it was impossible to tell when the sky was obscured by a gray canopy. The fog didn''t help visibility much, either. In fact, the fog was unnaturally thick in the area. Morgan watched a vapor droplet roll off a leaf before falling into the low-lying fog that came up to his knees. Little lights shone with a warm yellowish glow within the sea of mist, and dozens could be seen sparsely scattered between the tree trunks. "We''re clear." Whispered Ego. [That''s what they want us to think.] Morgan tore himself from sightseeing to find the closest tree capable of concealing his bulk. Finding one that fits the bill, he hobbled over, carefully favoring the injured ankle. [I wanna check on Momo. Cover me.] After examining the branches above, kicking the trunk, and stomping the ground around the tree provoked no discernible reactions, he crouched to examine the reptile. Crested geckos are a docile species, known for being tail-droppingly skittish at best and suicidality jumpy at worst. The Professor was ready to catch Monochrome the second she made a break for it. However, Momo needed no such consideration. She sat calmly on his open palm and regarded her parent quizzically. He moved her from side to side and saw she turned her head to keep him in sight. "You''re fine," he sighed in relief. "Good. So tell me, girl, did you see anything on the way here?" He gestured vaguely skyward with a finger. "Err." Squeaked Momo unexpectedly. "Oh?" chuckled Morgan, affection for the tiny creature welling up inside his chest. "I''ll take that as a yes. Was what you saw interesting?" Her head craned upwards, and he did the same, curiosity and caution demanding to know what caught her attention. Yet there was nothing above them but empty treetops. Regardless, Momo continued to stare at the sky, her large unblinking eyes seeing something the human could not. Or maybe the Princess was simply lost in reliving the memory. Now, that was an exciting idea. What had Monochrome Morgan witnessed within the folded space between here and there? "Damn, I can''t believe I missed the whole thing." Morgan paid for his incompetence with an offering of chin scratches for the little miss. "Next time, I''ll have to be more vigilant so we can watch it together. Would you like that?" "Err!" She squeaked again, this time with more gusto. "...Hold up." The Scientist narrowed his eyes on the ten-year-old gecko he had raised from an egg. She had never been so animated in their typically one-sided conversations. This time, it felt as if she were really communicating with him. The Princess tilted her pretty head to one side, almost as if she were curious to hear what he had to say. Then she suddenly went utterly still, her natural instinct when something large enough to eat them came shambling along. "So Morgan." Said the Spirit from over his shoulder. "Notice anything¡­ odd going on here?" "Yes, and something tells me it''s only going to get stranger from here." The Professor stood straight, turned, and finally met his smiling partner face-to-face. "So, what do you think? This is my Avatar, the metaphorical shell coating my Soul," they explained, giving him a twirl that somehow failed to disturb the thick mist clinging to the floor. What did he think? They wore a two-piece robe or cassock, as it would be called on Earth, though the so-called clothes were part of them. The outer layer appeared to be made of a single stretch of midnight blue wool covering all but the right arm and side of the chest. There, the lighter navy blue inner layer of the robe poked out, and a loop of mala prayer beads made of a dark reddish wood wrapped around the wrist. The cassock made direct observation difficult, but if the theming held true, then their footwear is likely sandals or slippers of a monastic style. Skin as black as the dried ink scrawled on a tome clung tightly to the thin frame of their humanoid body in the few places not covered by clothing. Morgan thought them to be hairless due to their bald head until their eyebrows twiched slightly. The hair there was a shade or two darker, like their nails. Otherwise, the Spirit''s facial features were the mirror image of their voice. An androgynous beauty that made them almost dreamlike, old and young all at once. On closer inspection, one could judge their appearance leaned ever so slightly towards the masculine.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. What truly captivated the Scientist''s interest were the eyes and mouth. Their teeth, tongue, gums, and palate were all a solid, ethereal blue that glowed dimly in the forest''s low lighting. Ego''s eyes were similar to their mouth, but where an iris should be, a white light burned instead. "I think you look like the ghost of Vesak past, here to reveal the moment I lost my way," said Morgan dryly as he gently guided Momo back under his shirt. Once she was successfully coaxed to safety, he looked back and saw Ego pouting. "What? That was a compliment. I like the Avatar. You''re the first alien I''ve seen that didn''t just look like a drop-dead gorgeous model wearing special effects makeup. The spectral monk vibe is like a breath of fresh air." "Coming from you, I suppose that would be a compliment." The Monk sighed before walking around the tree, but when the next words came, they did so from behind. "I don''t sense any Essence around us, so we should take this peaceful moment to speak." He turned, finding Ego had seemingly relocated eight meters to seat themselves on a mossy log. There, the ambient lighting was marginally brighter since the new seedlings had yet to grow enough to block out the cloudy sky. Morgan went to join them, sending the pool of vapor into a swirling chaos in his hobbled wake. When he sat on the fallen willow padded with white moss, his weight caused the decaying wood to lift slightly on the other side. "Momo saw you, so you''re clearly not a hallucination being projected into my vision. I can also physically hear you." The Scientist mused aloud as the Monk absently played with their beads. "That being said, you''re not interacting with anything except for yourself, sound, and light. That would make this Avatar something like a hologram." The intrusive thoughts won out, and Morgan attempted to poke a bead. As suspected, the finger and thumb passed right through the solid-looking wood as if it weren''t there. "Ghost fits the theming more than a hologram, but you''ll get full points anyway. What you see is one of several ways I can manifest my Avatar. It''s the form that requires the least amount of Aether to upkeep since it''s mostly incorporeal." They explained while unwinding the stringed beads from their wrist. "But if I''m willing to splurge a bit¡­" Ego''s side of the log lowered, and at the same time, the fog around them began to shift wildly in the gray light. "Think fast." They tossed the beads over to him. Morgan''s arm shot forward, this time making contact with the accessory. He watched with rapt attention as they swung through the air; the weight felt realistic. The sensory observation continued from there. They smelt strongly of wood oil. He felt the ruin carved in the grain and heard his nail scrape the surface. "Can I lick this?" He asked sincerely. In response, the beads winked out of existence in his hands, only to reappear around their wrist. Morgan felt the log tip down to his side again. "It might look and feel real, but it''s still a part of my Avatar, like my clothes. I can remove them from my person when I''m corporeal, and they behave like normal objects until I change them or they get too far from my vessel." During the previous night, Ego explained that Spirits could exist without possessing a vessel, although doing so came at considerable risk. Their kind has a different relationship with Aether than other Mortal species, as every member had been a Cultivator before shedding their Body and Mind. Unlike everyone else who had to consciously interact with cosmic energy, Spirits unconsciously absorbed it like plants taking nourishment from sunlight. A helpful trait, but there were severe drawbacks, such as a need for a vessel to actually store auxiliary power. Without one, they would hardly make any profit from the Aether absorbed vs. the Aether spent to exist. Using any of their abilities would essentially kill them until a new vessel could be found. "What''s your range?" "Let''s focus on- Huh¡­ Good question." The Spirit frowned before disappearing and reappearing in the same fraction of a second. "A little less than 11 meters. Any further than that is like hitting a brick wall. But let''s focus on what''s important," they spread their arms wide to indicate the foreign landscape around them, "the here and now." "Yeah, wherever here is." The Professor''s heart quickened as excitement began to build up within him. Now that they had returned to Vajrayana, Morgan could at last use the most extraordinary tool Eris had bestowed. The Bodhisattva had been strangely cryptic about the exact nature of the ability she grafted onto his Soul. Her warning had been anything but cryptic, as the divinity had promised that using it on Earth would be worse than useless. Once he returned to Vajrayana, though, she hinted that activating the ability near their landing zone would yield interesting res- "Wait, didn''t you see the information window?" Ego cut off his train of thought with an incorporeal air chop. "I have no idea what you''re talking about," he shrugged, assuming they were referencing one of the other tools their Patron had given them. "But if it''s important, feel free to share with the class." "Hmm, I got the window the second we touched the ground; I''m surprised you- Oh, I guess I''ll have to actively project it since the tool is linked to me." The Monk closed their eyes and pursed their lips in concentration. "Get ready." A patch of skin over the sternum suddenly felt unnaturally warm. Fearing the worst, Morgan tried to peer down his shirt to see if Momo had forgotten her traveling etiquette. But he didn''t get the chance. When Ego said information window, Morgan couldn''t help but picture something ripped right out of a video game: a little table chart displaying boxes of information that would hover in the air at eye level. Unfortunately, he was wrong; he could not interact with it, period. Incredibly, the window being a distraction wasn''t an issue, as the window was simultaneously there and not there. Morgan could read every word with no issues without focusing directly on the window. It functioned almost like a single frame of memory kept in pristine condition and ready to be called forth at any moment. However, before anything else, Morgan peeked down his shirt. Thank the Heavens and Bodhisattvas alike, there was no ''accident'' waiting to greet him. Thankfully, nothing was noteworthy besides a gecko and the Aether reservoir. "An island planet of semi-sentient clone trees, where every speck of land holds a vast variety of Beasts?" The Scientist chuckled dryly, all the excitement setting his blood on fire. "Damn, Eris really hooked us up with a perfect launching point for my Tantra research. Granted, I''m still a little unclear about the exact definitions of some terms used." He turned to ask the Monk if they could shed some light on the Threat Levels, only to be beaten to the punch. "We can talk about the Threat Levels later." Ego sighed while massaging their temples. Clearly, they disapproved of Morgan''s view on things. "Do you understand what a Wild Sector is?" Well, no. But the man knew what ''Wild'', ''Sector,'' and ''None'' meant. So when all three words were in the same text block as a response to ''Government Body'', he took a crack at it. "An area where civilization has no hold over and the only law is the law of the jungle?" "That''s good enough for now. Do you realize that on a planet consisting of only 5% inhabited land, we might be thousands of Li away from any major population point? It might take us years to find a single person, let alone the Capital city!" Their voice never rose in volume but by the end Ego was whispering with the energy normally reserved for cursing the heavens. "Oh, that''s why you''re upset." Morgan understood now and made to comfort the Spirit. "I wouldn''t worry about it. Our Patron was fully aware of our goals, and I doubt we''re too far away from some kind of hub of civilization. To be clear, I''m confident of this not because I trust her but because of the nature of our deal. As she agreed to, the chosen location must be able to grant us both a reasonable chance at success." Naturally, he left out an important detail, which would only further upset the Monk. The Professor and Eris had argued over what constitutes a reasonable chance and eventually they landed on an accepted definition. That being, ''a scenario that is more likely to occur than not, regardless of outside interference''. He was satisfied at first. However, the more Morgan looked back on it now, the more flawed the definition seemed. Technically speaking, a win/lose ratio of 50.01% success and 49.99% failure would fit perfectly. Hmm. Morgan suddenly felt a pang of worry for the people of Earth left in that cunning woman''s care... Oh well, nothing he can do about it from out here. "I get what you''re saying." Ego said, unconvinced, though with some hope tinging their voice. "But what if we look in the wrong direction? If the town is West and we go East, we''re as good as dead." "The trick is to travel in every direction. Trust me, I know how to navigate with paper and a compass." The Professor said with firm conviction before shamelessly changing the topic with a completely innocent question. "Is there anything else you feel is important and need to discuss?" "Important at right this moment? Not really, no. In the future, I''ll start filling in gaps in your knowledge about common topics such as proper etiquette, Xenia protocols, and of course the Heavenly Dao. But that can all wait till we''ve settled down first." Morgan, not for the first time in his long life, thanked the poker face mastery that New England and familial ties had forced onto him. Each of these future lessons sounded as captivating and exciting as a PowerPoint seminar. Thank whatever deity watched over his homeworld that presentation slideshows went out of style as the old generation passed, and the new one became the change they wanted to see. Still pouncing on the opportunity Ego had unknowingly presented. "Oh... It sounds like you have a lot to teach me. Before we get going, I wanted to talk a little more to give my ankle time to rest. Don''t worry; I''ll be fine." He added quickly, as the Monk''s face fell as they forgot about the injury. "But in the meantime, I was hoping you could tell me what you know about Bloodlines." 13. The Bloodline Their smile slipped a bit. "The Bloodline? Shouldn''t that wait until after you started Cultivating?" "Why?" Morgan''s perpetual frown deepened at the unexpected hesitance. "Eris said I could use it without Aether, refined or otherwise. It runs on my Essence instead, hence why I took it for my Cultivation research." "Uh¡­" Ego looked as perplexed as he did. "Did the Patron tell you what Essence was?" "Not exactly, but I''ve been able to piece it together from context clues. Essence is just my life force, right? It''s the sand in my hourglass that has yet to fall. I''ll admit that spending some sand every time I use the Bloodline is alarming, but as long as I don''t spend it all, I should be fine. Once I''ve cracked Aether''s secrets, I should be able to replace what I''ve lost." "No, you can''t! That''s not how it works!" The Spirit got worked up again, dispelling all his hard work. "Essence isn''t time, lifeforce, or anything as mundane as a fuel source. A person''s Essence is their literal Soul, their very being. Each time Essence is spent, a part of what makes you, you, is permanently lost because it is finite. You can''t replace what you''ve lost. This Bloodline will devour you gradually, making you more hollow and less Morgan." "... You''ve lost me." The Scientist turned to fully face them and sat with his legs crisscrossed on the log. "If I compare my Soul to written music, losing Essence is like erasing notes off the music sheet. Every note removed changes the song for the worse by making it less coherent. Eventually, if I keep using the Bloodline, then the sheet will read more like noise than music. But if the Soul is finite, then why would being able to Cultivate help increase longevity?" "Huh, music. That''s actually not a bad comparison." Ego muttered before mirroring their student''s sitting posture. "Alright, Professor, what you need to know first is that while nobody can create Essence, it can be bolstered with Aether. The cosmic energy will increase the potency of your Soul-stuff. Let''s go back to your music sheet example. As you are right now, using your Bloodline for one minute costs a single note to be fully erased. However, when the sheet is charged with Aether, a minute of Bloodline use might only blur a note slightly." "Ah." He grunted with a nod. "With Aether bolstering my Soul, I''ll get more bang for my buck. Using the Bloodline now will be incredibly inefficient, as the Soul lost will be at its absolute peak." "Exactly my point." The Monk let out a sigh of relief that definitely had to be for dramatic effect. "So you''re going to wait before using the Bloodline?" "Don''t be ridiculous; of course, I''m still going to use it now." Morgan snorted. "The explanation is appreciated, but I knew death was a possibility from the start. We''ll have to set up some safety measures in the protocol to limit the damage done to the Soul." "Safety mea-" The Monk started to repeat in disbelief before disappearing entirely from sight. [Ego?] He projected when the Spirit could not be located anywhere within their supposed range. There was no response, at least at first. Then the Scientist became aware of a strange buzzing noise in the far distance. It almost sounded like someone was ranting incoherently in the distance. Morgan sat up and walked the perimeter around the log to see if he could determine the direction of the noise. The quick jaunt provided no hint, as the sound remained the same volume no matter where he went. However, he did step into something interesting. His right foot seemingly plunged beneath the mossy ground near the stump that once bore the massive log. Decades of hiking through rugged terrain kicked in, and hands immediately grabbed hold of the nearest sapling. Both hands slid down the damp bark even with their iron grip, earning him several cuts and more than a few splinters. By the time he stopped, his leg had sunk to just above the knee. Now that the Scientist was low to the ground, he saw the fog and fallen foliage had conspired together to hide an opening into the earth. A naturally formed pit trap. Classy. Cold arms hooked under his pits just as the buzzing ceased altogether. When Morgan saw the limbs were as black as night, he relaxed and allowed himself to be hoisted up. "Are you okay?" Asked the Monk as they fussed over him like a mother hen, brushing away the dirt and leaves clinging to his pants. "I can''t go off ranting for two minutes without something happening." "I''m fine, I''m fine," Morgan snorted but made no move to stop them until they were satisfied. "Thanks for the concern¡­" "Happy to help," Ego sighed. They returned to their seats, carefully giving the stump a wide berth, yet neither moved to sit. The Professor leaned against the log and checked on Momo, who, despite the fall, remained sleeping on his right breast. The Spirit paced in circles, constantly fidgeting with their mala beads. All around them, the alien island remained unbothered by the strange beings intruding on its misty terrain. No animals cried in the distance, no insects chirped for attention, only the faint sound of rustling willow leaves broke the static ambiance. Strangely, what moved the leaves wasn''t the wind but the fog itself. Droplets of fog condensed until reaching the size of a golf ball, when the collected weight proved too much for the leaf. Morgan watched one such event play out on a branch overhead and waited eagerly with cupped hands outstretched to catch a particularly fat drop. He caught it and found that the droppplet weighed almost nothing despite keeping its liquid-like state. He doubted he''d even noticed its presence if not for the slight cold sensation in his palm. From what the Scientist could tell, what rolled his hands was really vapor, pretending to be water. If the fog weighed so little, then why did it fall off the leaves in the first place? Morgan allowed the drop to fall on a patch of moss, but instead of rolling right off, it absorbed the fog drop like a sponge. Interesting. "What did the Bodhisattva tell you about the Bloodline?" Ego finally asked, halting their pacing and back facing him. "What does it do?" "She called it Perception of the Stone Sage," Morgan answered. He noticed Ego''s cassock ripple in his peripheral vision as if a private breeze had blown through. "Eris didn''t say much about the previous owner other than they were incredibly infamous back in the day. Apparently, it''s an ocular enhancement that gave this mysterious troublemaker insight into the true nature of the Dao. The Cultivator died, but the Bloodline found its way into her position." "My, my." They turned to him and rolled their eyes. "Such a valuable and priceless gift. No wonder she was so willing to pawn it off to you like a hot stereo." The Monk considers him for a long moment before coming to some internal conclusion. "As a Spirit, I can monitor your Soul while you test out the Bloodline. However, you deserve to know what''s really at stake here. When a being dies, their Soul is returned to the grand cycle of Samsara, where it will eventually be reborn." "Time out." Demanded the Earthling, as his world had just been rocked to the very foundations. "Not only is there an afterlife, but it''s reincarnation?" "It is in Vajrayana." They deadpanned, obviously not willing to indulge on a philosophical tangent. "An afterlife shouldn''t really be news to you by now. If there are Souls, they must go somewhere when the Body dies and the Mind dissipates. That is if the Soul isn''t too damaged to make the trip. I don''t know if there is another destined destination waiting for Earthlings when they die. I do know that if you lose too much of yourself, you''ll risk total oblivion. I mean it. There will be no after, let alone an afterlife." "Hmm." hummed Morgan, not sure whether the information itself or the fact that it was common knowledge disturbed him more. Ego planted themselves right before him and gently placed a hand on each shoulder. "Now that you have all the information, are you sure you want to do this?" Oblivion. Out of all the endings conceived by humanity, no other ever struck such fear in his people''s hearts as that. Just mentioning such a fate could send people into nightmarish spirals of existential despair. It was easy to question the point of anything when nothing waited at the end. So, was he sure? *Th-Thump, Th-Thump* As an agnostic, the Professor always believed what happened after death was going to be a surprise and that oblivion was a real possibility. The dice roll had never truly bothered him. Granted, that was before a literal Spirit rudely dropped some significant spoilers. Yes, the Spirit in question was a well-meaning amnesiac from a different Universe, so any peeks behind the veil should be scrutinized. Still, their credibility remained solid until proven otherwise.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. But was he sure? *Th-Thump, Th-Thump* The Scientist could hold off on using the Bloodline in his initial research. If no progress could be made, he could simply obtain a Class first and then use the Bloodline. Just as the original owner had likely done. His goal of crafting his own Cultivation Method or Tantra was considered impossible in the first place. Eris thought the same and made that quite clear in their deal. Perspective of the Stone Sage was a tool, not a guarantee of success. Only an idiot would take such a risk. Knowing all that, was he sure that this was what he wanted? *Th-Thump, Th-Thump* So¡­ that''s how it was to be. The Earthling was only human in the end. "Yes," Morgan answered with solid conviction and a calm heart. "I am." "I understand." Ego accepted the decision without condoning or condemning it. They stepped to the side, content with their role. He closed his eyes and thought back to that conversation held in secret, where only the false stars could hear. Eris had assured her favorite Mortal that interacting with the Bloodline would be as natural as using a limb. It was already a part of his being, and Morgan needed only to reach out for that new addition of his Soul. The Professor decided to take the near-immortal at her word. If Perspective of the Stone Sage was an ocular enhancement, then that would mean his sight was already enhanced. But they were partially obscured, protected by a second pair of translucent eyelids so his Essence wouldn''t be wasted. Morgan opened his eyes; the foggy forest of willows and moss remained unchanged. Then he willed those eyes to be fully open, and the world became a shade darker, almost as if he''d put on a pair of sunglasses. That minor change was utterly forgotten when the real show began. Lights. Billions and maybe trillions of little dust-sized motes of light danced through the air like luminescent snowflakes in a blizzard. From his observations, every mote produced white, gray, or black light. The motes only moved in large synchronized groups based on color. Morgan watched fast-paced black streams rush inhibited over the forest floor; he followed white lackadaisical clouds as they floated up past the canopy as if the willows weren''t even there. Many isolated bunches of gray motes would move chaotically, bobbing left, dashing right, while others seemed fixed in place. When he turned, he saw a continuous vortex of different colored motes being pulled into the earth over where the hold was by the stump. The Scientist might have tried to investigate the hole if this endless swarm of monochromatic fireflies hadn''t blinded him to everything. Hell, he couldn''t even see his arm waving centimeters in front of his face, even when he squinted at- Oh? Once again, his view of reality shifted dramatically. The visual cacophony of airborne TV static disappeared, plunging the world back into the unnatural darkness, allowing him to see his arm. At least, he''s pretty sure it''s his hand. What wiggled its fingers at him was something resembling an X-ray. Where there should be flesh, and the end of a lab coat sleeve was a solid mass of total black, it was as if he''d been transformed into a living 3D silhouette. Instead of bones, his enhanced vision revealed glowing green plant-like roots sprouting all through the limb, and the same was likely true for the entire body. He brought the appendage in for a closer inspection and found the slow, dull, pulsating green roots penetrated muscle and bone but stopped right at the skin. As the Professor moved the hand back, a flicker of muted red just above the knuckle caught his attention. When his attention was directed there, the roots faded before the entire surface of his skin became enveloped in a hazy blanket of the same muted red. This wild barrier moved like waves of forest fires burning both inwards and outwards with no discernible pattern to be found. Could there be more secrets hidden within Morgan? The Bloodline must react to his will, for the fires faded from his skin. Morgan looked excitedly for a third colored light within him, yet nothing seemed to pop out at him. He might have given up if a tiny wisp of blue hadn''t drifted into and out of the upper right edge of his vision. He craned his neck in that direction but found nothing. Another bit of blue peeked the periphery of his left eye, and a hunch was born. Morgan pulled out his cell phone, aware the batteries would be dead, but the screen could pass as a makeshift mirror. The hunch was right on the money as a third group of lights could be seen in the reflection. Blue, glowing vapor in a single thin band rotated lazily behind his skull. Morgan rotated his head, and sure enough, the vapor disk moved perfectly in time with him, its position fixed. The band reminded him of the rings adoring Saturn if they were perpendicular to the planet''s equator. Rings? The errant thought directed Morgan''s hungry gaze to the Dimensional Ring on the hand holding the phone. The ring''s outline was nearly indiscernible from the finger''s base, and disappointment caused him to purse his lips. That piece of jewelry was a proper Artifact, a gift from a divinity. Surely, there must be something interesting for his Bloodline to show him. Morgan brought the ring right up to his face and will his- Success! Inscribed all over the ring¡­ Inscribed over the surface of the Dimensional Ring were hundreds of¡­ of tiny Ruins that pulsed an intense¡­ blue just like the¡­ Dear god, the Professor was so tired. All the day''s excitement and lack of sleep must have¡­ must have¡­ Must have what? What was he doing again? Ah yes, the ring. The Ruins glowed with the same shade of vapor blue that the band behind his head seemed to be made from. He''ll have to- Who was screaming at him?- He''ll have to¡­ write down¡­ the possible connection¡­ Right after, he takes a nice nap on the soft mossy floor- [Morgan!] Roared Ego, their mental cry barely getting through the fatigue. [Turn it¡­] But their voice was lost in the mental fog descending rapidly over the Mortal. The bleary-eyed Human looked over to see what the pissed-off Spirit was yelling at him for this time. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he stared in blank incomprehension. The Monk had become a blazing configuration of flickering red haze that waved and jumped for his attention. Ego lacked any structure resembling a blue band or pulsating roots, but their fiery barrier more than compensated for the missing pieces. Theirs flickered in different shades of red, bouncing constantly from red-yellow and red-orange with an intensity several times brighter than Morgan''s pitiful cloak of embers. Why was that? In his darkening mind, dozens of theories sparked brilliantly into existence like molten scales set free by a blacksmith''s hammer. Many were extinguished before igniting any more profound speculation, the arctic environment of ignorance snuffing out their fiery potential. Only a single theory managed to find kindling in the sanctuary of the Professor''s knowledge of Spirit anatomy. Morgan softly blew deductions and hypothetical scenarios to feed the nascent flame, and it exploded with volcanic implications. The resulting hypothesis burned onto his waning psyche the perfect test. Again, Morgan actively willed the Bloodline to display what he wished, and the free-floating light motes returned. However, in this go around, only the motes in Ego''s immediate vicinity were allowed to be shown. Instantly, he noted an almost complete lack of gray lights surrounding them while the black streams and white clouds seemed to be in full attendance. On a hunch, those motes were filtered out as well. Nothing could be seen until the flaming Monk stepped forward, and a soft-ball cluster of gray motes appeared. Even as the Spirit grabbed the Mortal''s shoulder, Morgan watched in vindication as the gray cluster was suddenly sucked into Ego''s Avatar. If that wasn''t enough confirmation, a minuscule flare of red haze shot from them and seemed to join his own. Taking everything into account, the evidence outright screamed that the motes of light are really- *SMACK!* The sound was felt far more than it was heard. "Gah!?" Grunted Morgan, utterly bewildered after the Spirit''s backhand to his cheek. [Turn Off, The Bloodline!] Projected Ego slowly and loudly, shaking Morgan''s shoulders with every word, [It''s Killing You! TURN. IT. OFF!!!] Oh shit, that''s right. He''d forgotten that little tidbit. Morgan willed the proactive lids to obscure the actual state of reality, and the foggy forest returned. "That was close." He sniffed, giving Ego a nod of appreciation. "Thanks Ego, I got distracted there. Next time, we should-" But the mention of a next time proved too much for his partner as their arm cocked back and the hand balled up into a fist. Training took over, and Morgan guarded his head and chest as the Monk unleashed a flurry of punches. In truth, guarding was unnecessary. Not only were the strikes weaker than what a child could produce, each one was purposely aimed at his raised arms. He could have ignored the blows, and he doubted a single bruise would bloom. However, the Professor didn''t dare lower his guard; such a disrespect was unthinkable. [You idiot!] Snarled Ego directly into his mind. [Fool! Moron! You little son of - AHH!] They screamed in fury as they delivered the final blow. They stood there huffing and puffing, so angry they forgot they didn''t need to breathe. When no more attacks came, Morgan lowered his guard. At the same time, Momo poked her head up her shoulder. When the Princess saw who had unleashed the barrage, she began to chirp out of outrage. "No, girl." Soothed the Professor, his finger scratching under her chin. "I deserved that." When she quieted down, he locked eyes with Ego. "I am sorry." "Sorry!?" They hissed aloud, fresh tears welling up before they were whipped away with a sleeve. "For what? For ignoring me until I hit you or for being a suicidal moron?!" "Both, but I''m mainly apologizing for scaring you. I got distracted, lost in the wonders around me like a rookie in the jungle. I didn''t even realize anything was wrong until you slapped me. So thank you for pulling me back from the brink." "It wouldn''t be the first time this week." Ego sniffed and shoved their hands into the cassock sleeves. "Your eyes change when the Bloodline is active. You''ll have to cover them with something whenever you use it around other Cultivators. The sclera went black, and the iris became blood red. I doubt anyone would care, but we can''t risk some old monster of a Cultivator recognizing those eyes from a wanted poster." They changed? Morgan made a mental note to take a picture for him to see. It would be interesting to see what he looked like with matching eyes. He only wished the transformation weren''t so edgy. "Agreed." He nodded before craning his neck to peer over at the hole, Eris''s hint of something interesting sparking an idea. The hole wasn''t just a hole. "Come on, I''ll tell you everything I saw while cleaning." He moved past the sputtering Monk and started clearing the area. 14. The Cave "You think you saw¡­ Aether?" Asked Ego, their skepticism not so much coloring their words as drowning them. "The mysterious cosmic energy capable of warping reality and making Bodhisattvas out of Mortal¡­ That Aether?" Morgan tossed away the last rotting bundle of branches covering the suspected cave entrance. Now that cloudy sunlight illuminated the dark space, suspicion was quickly transitioning to fact. Making out details was difficult, but he could see with certainty that the hole dropped two meters straight down onto a leveled earthen floor. The pale flesh of willow roots lining the walls better reflected light than the surrounding dirt. Their faint outline continued under the stump before darkness swallowed them up. "Seeing might be the wrong term here." Muttered the Scientist as something about the sight set off warning bells. "I''m not convinced that''s what happened." Ego threw up their hands in exasperation at his conflicting nonsense. "Didn''t you just finish telling me about the endless swarm of monochromatic fireflies and glowing roots, barrier, and band?" "I did. I also did not call it an endless swarm of-" "It''s called an artistic license." They interrupted hurriedly before changing the subject. "Isn''t that where you almost fell through the ground?" "Yup. Eris mentioned that I should use the Bloodline near the area where we landed, and I noticed a massive amount of Aether being funneled down this hole. All the evidence points that whatever''s down there is worth investigating." Morgan explained while scooping Momo out from under his shirt. "Here, hold her for me." They accepted the temporary ward, who begrudgingly allowed herself to be held by this unearthly stranger. Then, Ego took notice of what he was doing. "Why are you taking off the lab coat?" The Professor tossed the pristine white lab coat over the log before answering. "Well, it''s my favorite coat, and I figured you want something to bury if my corpse couldn''t be retrieved." Morgan jumped into the tunnel before the Monk could even give voice to their protest. His forgotten ankle protested at the harsh treatment, but the pain shooting up his nervous system was already a shadow of itself as if the damage had been days ago. He chalked it to the generous benefits of youth and took out his phone to use as a flashlight. Only to silently curse at his stupidity as he recalled that the phone''s battery was dead. He''d brought a charger and several flashlights, but all the supplies were still in the car, stored in the Dimioninal Ring. If Morgan wanted to retrieve them, he''d first have to find a space free of trees up top to access anything within the Ring. Doing so would take up precious time without any guarantee that they would find ample enough space. While unfortunate, it wasn''t a deal breaker as a solution came to mind. Working as quickly as one could without the help of light, he checked the immediate area for any sign that a spelunking adventure should be canceled. The floor was inspected for hazards, walls were kicked to check integrity, and a hunk of moss that fell earlier was thrown unceremoniously further into the tunnel to get a reaction out of any potential inhabitants. In a minute, he made a report. [We''re good.] He called up mentally to the Spirit, glaring daggers down at him. [The tunnel floor starts to slope down a little past the stump, the walls and floor transitions to rock after a couple of meters. Also, nothing ripped out my throat so far.] Morgan instinctively whipped his head around, all too aware irony often had a dark sense of humor. Today, however, there would be no punchline as nothing had crept up from behind, which only made tomorrow all the more threatening. [Ego, we''ll need you to take point since I can''t sense life force. Pass me the lab coat before-] *Whoosh* The balled-up coat sailed through the air before hitting his face mid-sentence.
[Getting back to what I was saying,] Projected the Scientist once the others had joined him for the trek down. [I''m pretty confident that Perspective of the Stone Sage allows me to perceive Aether in a visible state. I''m about 90¡­ 95% sure. It fits with what Eris promised about its usefulness in studying Aether. I also imagine that seeing the literal magical lifeblood of Vajrayana must have been a significant advantage for the original owner.] [That would fit the given narrative.] Admitted Ego, taking the hint to swap to mental communications as they took the lead in the narrow passage. [But until the details line up, I''m not buying it. For one thing- Hang on.] The party stopped as the path ahead of the group curved hard to the left. Ego''s avatar froze in place, the cassock still in mid-flutter as they devoted all their concentration to scouting. Evidently, no insidious bugaboos brimming with Essence had been waiting around the corner since the Spirit had reanimated and continued where they had left off. [For one thing, how can anyone see energy? One can observe the effect or presence of energy, but it''s not like energy can absorb part of the wavelength and reflect the rest into your eyes. A Bloodline affects the user, not the world around them.] Around the bend, the downward slope became far steeper, like that of a staircase, and now every step forward took them even deeper underground. Further exploration might''ve had to be postponed if the floor had been smooth or slick with moisture like most underground structures carved by water erosion. One misstep now might have resulted in a bone-cracking tumble that could last whole minutes before coming to a stop. Oddly the rock under his boots remained rough, dry, and the many tree roots poking through provided excellent traction. A blessing to be sure, though it begged the question of what had carved the passageway in the first place. [Is that doubt in my conclusion I hear? Excellent. Believe it or not, I also have a basic understanding of biology and immediately came to the same issue. Hence why I said ''perceive'' and not ''see''. I''ll cut to the chase. I believe the Bloodline itself is either capable of sensing the Aether around me, or enhances an already existing sense for the energy. I''m not sure which one it is yet. Still, I am convinced that once the energy is detected, my ability translates that sensory information into a visual medium I can somewhat understand.] [I''ll concede the first part may have some merit to it. But translates?] They asked, their glowing face looking over their shoulder to see if he was screwing with them. [Perspective of the Stone Sage, the eye-enhancing Bloodline, is an ocular translator? That still sounds like seeing.]This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. [It''s really not; you''re just getting hung up on-] The Professor suddenly pitched forward as his boot snagged on something unseen and would have face-planted if he didn''t manage to cling to a convenient handle. A jolt of bewilderment arched up his spine when he realized the perpetrator and savior were living tree roots. The panic was short-lived once he recalled the plant''s bizarre situation stated in the info window. If these island trees were all one massive connected entity, these roots might extend deep into the planetary crust. Unseen in the pitch-black tunnel, the Scientist''s brows shot up as he recalled the information written in the ''Five Wouderus Voyage'' window. If a World Core meant what he suspected, then these trees'' mystery went far deeper than just the crust. [You ok?] Ego asked, poking their head around the second turn. [I''m fine, now where was- oh right. Try this analogy. I am given a written description of a movie, but it''s in an alien language that I can''t and will never understand. My Bloodline can read it, but the language can''t be translated into English. So instead, the ability draws me a picture book displaying its contents. Even though I can''t read the words, I can now understand their meaning.] The Spirit didn''t respond immediately; likely they were pondering on his theory or trying to devise a polite way of informing the Scientist what an idiot he was. In either case, twenty or so minutes ticked away in silence. Morgan didn''t mind, as he found doing anything besides keeping upright challenging, as the roots were becoming quite hazardous. With every turn, more and more of them seemed to poke out of the stone. By the 7th turn, the wall around them consisted of wood rather than stone. [I''m sensing a massive amount of life past this turn. But we don''t have to worry because it all sounds like plant Essence.] Ego finally projected before turning around with a wide toothy smile. The dark environment accentuated the ghostly blue light shining through the gaps of their teeth like a carved Halloween pumpkin. [Before we go take a peek, we need to talk.] Talk? Talk about what? The fact that plants have a Soul? [Yes Professor, plants have a Soul like all living things.] They answered, beating him to the punch. [But that''s not relevant right now. What is relevant were your mentions of translators and language. It got me thinking about something important that you''ve probably overlooked.] [Considering everything that happened in the last 48 hours, I''d bet there''s a lot of shit I''ve overlooked.] He snorted in self-deprecation. [Can''t this wait?] Naturally, the man wanted to know what the Spirit had in mind, but they had just walked so far, and the possible finish line was right there. Their ghastly azure smile widened as they tapped the Aether repository, still masquerading as a necklace on his neck. [It can wait; I just thought you''d like to know that your necklace holds more secrets than either of us thought. But I''ll scout ahead since you''re in such a rush.] The Spirit teased before rashly disappearing. Almost immediately, Ego reached out to him, their projection giddy. [Morgan! Get down here, you need to see this!] The Professor sighed, continued walking, and whispered softly to himself and the sleeping gecko, "It''s like they''ve never seen a horror movie before."
Well, Morgan had to hand it to Ego. He really did need to see this, as where the tunnel led to wasn''t the life or a death trial like he suspected his Patron had in store. In fact, it was just the former. Life. That simple yet boundless concept embodied every centimeter of the vibrant cavern stretching for hundreds of meters. Thousands, no, likely millions of willow roots of varying sizes joined together to create breathtaking displays of chaotic harmony. Car thick roots crisscrossed into one another in gargantuan checkerboard surfaces that formed not only the floor Morgan stood gaping on but also over the walls like living curtains. However, the smaller roots refuse to be outdone by their larger siblings, compensating for their puny size with elegant style. By weaving together like strands of a wicker basket, they formed themselves into natural bridges connecting random sections of the cave or simply dropped from the ceiling to cling to the floor like hollow pillars large enough to fit houses inside. Save for one to his right, most of these pillars grew on the far larger half of the cave. How could the Professor take in the fantastical view when he was several football fields below the ground? It was thanks to one of the cave''s inhabitants. One specimen sprouted near the entrance, a plant with two black tear-shaped leaves at the base of a stem whose top curled down due to a large white flower bulb emitting a spotlight of yellow light, similar to the lights they''d seen in the fog earlier. The plant the Scientist crouched beside was only a youngling no bigger than a desk fan, while many in the distance grew to heights rivaling telephone poles on Earth. All the ambient lighting emanated from these living lamps, making everything but the high ceiling visible. But everywhere the light touched grew mats of fluffy green moss that almost seemed highlighted in the plant light. Cutting through this arboreal Nervana, a stone''s throw away from the tunnel entrance, gently flowed an underground river. Neither its source nor end could be seen, but a tight cluster of eroded stone formed an arcing bridge wide enough to fit a modest shack. In fact, his eyes could''ve been playing tricks on him, but there seemed to be a structure erected at the center of the rock formation. Although, naming what Morgan saw as a structure might be too generous a description. What he saw was more like a large pile of branches and various dead mosses haphazardly stacked into a loose bowl shape wide enough to block off any passage completely. [This is incredible.] Whispered the Monk with such earnest reverence it distracted the Scientist from the growing unease he felt then. [Morgan, did the trees do all this?] He turned to find their avatar beside him, Ego''s face alight with child-like wonder as they turned every which way to catch everything there was to see. "I think so," he whispered as well, figuring if the Spirit thought it safe, then there was likely no danger. "At first glance, I''m thinking that this is some kind of nexus point for all the tree roots on this island. The info window said that every tree is connected to the World Core. Assume that a World Core is located at, get this, the center of a planet. These roots must have broken into this cavern, eventually growing to cover the new space. When the stump above died, the main roots must have weathered way, creating the tunnel. Plants change their environment way faster than water, but even still, all this must have taken thousands of years." [Oh, it''s probably older than that if our Patron knows about it.] Snickered Ego, already stepping away to explore. [Who knows, if the Phol¨®¨¥ Forest is the premier training ground for Realm Europa''s budding talents, maybe she stumbled here in her early days. You know what, I think she would want us to set our camp here. I can feel this cave has a profound connection with the Dao.] Did it? Well, they could talk about that later. At the moment, a far more critical question needed to be asked. "That reminds me. What were you going to say about something important I''ve overlooked?" *Thwip* The air whistled as something sped through it. Irony often had a dark sense of humor, and proof of that had struck hit just as the pain did. 15. The Ambush "Damn it." Growled Morgan as a pen-sized projectile pierced his left shoulder, centimeters from embedding itself into the collarbone. Sharp pain prickled from punctured flesh as whatever had hit him sunk deep enough to pierce the right side of the trapezius muscle. His hand wrapped around what felt like the stubby projectile''s shaft, intending to rip it out. "Stop!" Barked truly ancient training from within him, the unwelcome memory demanding his obedience in an annoyingly familiar, crisp, and authoritative tone. Oh, this day just kept getting better and better. "Puncture and stab wounds will bleed faster without a plug, hands off! Ignore the pain and stop wasting valuable time. Think!" The memory urged impatiently. "Think of what happened, the data''s meaning, and how it can prove useful. Think Boy!" Though Morgan was loathed to admit it, it was lucky that the departed''s words of wisdom were far faster than the actions of living flesh. His left eye twitched in accepting, but the advice was solid, and only a fool would discount it. Bottling up his discomfort, the Scientist decided impact was the element to cling to. When the projectile hit, Morgan felt the force push, but it wasn''t forward, backward, or to any side. It pushed straight down, meaning the attack originated above them! Immediately, the image of the shack-sized bowl flashed behind his eyes, and he cursed himself for going soft in his old age. This is Vajrayana, and here be monsters. But was this really an ambush? Their first strike inflicted merely a flesh wound instead of something more fatal. Thanks to the horrendous aiming, he''ll be able to look up and- Unless that''s what they wanted their prey to do. [Ego! Go holo-Avatar now!] Morgan roared mentally and, at the same time, raised both forearms protectively over his head. [There''s an enemy above us! Look and tell me where they are!] [I don''t need to go hol- Wait, an enemy? Above?] Asked Ego in confusion, having just spun around and clearly unaware of how dangerous shit just got. [I already told you there''s nothing here!] *Thwip, Thwip* A third of a minute after the first, two more projectiles stabbed into Morgan''s arms exactly where his eyes would have been had he looked up. So the attacker sought to cripple its prey before moving in for the kill? A bit high risk, high reward, but a decent enough strategy for an opening salvo. Such a clever foe; it''s a shame they had to meet like this. [Oh Heavens, you''re right!] Ego projected with shocked embarrassment, manifesting beside the injured man. [Something''s taking shots at you from above. They''re above my sensory range, and the ceiling is too dark to tell where they are! We need something to- Oh! The patch of moss glowing by your feet, toss it up!] [Understood.] Morgan ripped a clump of luminescent plant matter with each hand and flung both directly upwards with all the force he could muster. Then he covered his skull back up and searched the nearest shelter. With Momo chirping wildly under his shirt, they all needed to find a safe place to take cover. Two possible areas caught his eye, but one clearly offered better protection than the other. *Puff, Puff* The moss clumps exploded against the ceiling, brightening that section for a precious moment like lightning on a stormy sea. "Skreee!" Came a startled bestial scream that sounded like an unholy fusion of a raptor''s cry and a particular tantrum-prone toddler. The unexpected light show likely revealed and shocked the airborne Beast simultaneously. [I saw it!] The Monk babbled incoherently as whatever they saw disturbed them greatly. [A Beast! We''re dealing with a Spiritual Beast!] Personality, the Scientist would have loved taking a peek if he weren''t already running to a hollow pillar before the moss made contact. It wasn''t his first choice, as the rugged woven pattern contained as many holes as a chain link fence. However, he figured it was good enough when the alternative was a crevice in the wall almost twice the distance away. As he drew closer, he realized things weren''t as bad as he initially feared. These massive pillars weren''t exactly hollow, as up 12 or so meters from the ground, a horizontal honeycomb platform of densely packed roots reinforced the natural structure. Now, their attacker''s altitude advantage drastically lowered, as it''d need to fly in close for better angles. *Thwip, Thwip, Thwip* Whistling from the largest volley released yet grew louder behind him. How utterly predictable. Mere meters from a gap in the Pillar, with safety just a leap away, Morgan slammed on the brakes and came to a screeching halt. He watched in satisfaction as all three projectiles impaled one after the other in a perfect line of where he would have been. However, his satisfaction was short-lived since it dawned on him that retreat would be impossible. A Beast intelligent enough to lead their shots would probably be able to strike him if he ran to the only exit. Even if they all made it to the tunnel, it would only guarantee his backside would resemble a porcupine''s. "Princess, I''m not sure if you can understand me," the Professor said breathlessly as he placed the irate gecko on a section of roots, "but stay here and don''t draw attention." "Err¡­" Momo chirped, her neck bulging and shrinking with anxiety. Morgan waved for her to go when his blood seeped from the wounds, staining the white coat with growing blotches of red. "I''ll be fine." He promised, even as alarm bells went off, as the bleeding was more intense than it should be. Momo did as she was told, crawling up the thumb-thick root and away from him. The Professor felt pride when she kept moving, never once turning back. [Getting her to safety was noble, but shouldn''t we be planning for a successful retreat and not a desperate last stand?] Asked Ego from outside the lackluster defenses. [This Beast''s an excellent shot, and there''s only one exit; you do the math.] Morgan pointed distractedly at the gap he entered through. [If you don''t believe me, there''s the proof. Now get inside before you get shot and-] A realization made him shift gears entirely. [Wait, why the hell isn''t it shooting at you?] [Oh!? Uh¡­ I uh- Hee-hee hee.] They giggled nervously aloud, their cheek going a slightly lighter shade of black. [Funny story about that. The monster-um- it doesn''t know I''m here.] [...What?] *Thwip, Thwip, Thwip* As if proving their claim, three more darts were launched directly at him. Two embedded themselves on the roots, while the third made it through an opening but nicked a root on the way in. Tumbling through the air, it slapped harmlessly against his back. The Scientist spun around on the good leg, caught the weapon before it fell to the ground, and gave his partner the evil eye. [I can explain, so let''s be calm here.] Ego phased through the bars as Morgan studied the so-called dart. [My Avatar comes in three flavors; corporeal, semi-corporeal, and incorporeal. While incorporeal, I save on energy, and practically nothing can register my existence. They all just look the same to you since you''re my vessel.] [Good to know; we''ll go into detail later; just stay incorporeal for now.] Dismissed Morgan absently as he stared hard at what he held. [Oh, and keep your eyes trained above us and behind me. Last thing we need surprising us is a second shooter hiding in the dark.] [Aye, aye, sir.] The Spirit sniffed before manifesting at the edge of their range. He ignored the snark. Having them patrol for other Spiritual Beasts might be unnecessary, but realizing what was in his hand made his back sleek with sweat. Was he losing it, or was this monster really flinging feathers at him? Gripped tightly in his fist was indeed something that looked very much like a feather. The vane fanning out from either side of the feather''s yellowish shaft was a dark orange with horizontal black stripes similar to a tiger''s pelt. The pattern may be beautiful, but what concerned the Scientist was the calamus, the bare end he expected to be sharpened and rugged enough to punch through wood. Yet this biological arrowhead was neither sharp enough to cut into his thumb nor resist breaking from the force of said thumb. Precisely what anyone would expect from an untreated, freshly discarded feather from any large raptor. Granted, the thing smelled of sour body odor, iron, and was sticky to the touch. Interestingly, it was made of unsharpened keratin, stronger than flesh, but it should''ve cracked against wood. For something this brittle to do so anyway violates logic and, therefore, must be the work of- Suddenly, a thin, shadowy object zipped through the boundary zone between the darkened ceiling and the illuminated floor. *Thwip* "Son-of-a-bitch." Grunted aloud the only visible target as another feather dart found its way into his right forearm; the intended target zone likely his neck. "Skreee!" Screced the unseen monster, its voice echoing off the high ceiling. Shit, the Beast''s aim was only improving. He needed the thing to get closer, inside the Pillar if possible. After that, there were two plans that might work. But how to lure in a creature with this amount of cunning... Hmm. Well, he could try pissing it off. In fact, now that Morgan figured out the monster''s trick, he knew just how to do it.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. His vision darkened before flooding with Aether as Morgan triggered Perception of the Stone Sage. Immidetly, his sight was blinded by a wall of TV static, as the energy was far denser down here than above, forcing him to filter out the free-floating motes. [Morgan!] Snapped the Monk with outrage, likely hearing his Soul fade one note at a time. [Don''t worry about me, just keep watch.] He ordered and felt like a jackass in doing so. [We''re dead anyway if a whole flock is waiting for us. You''re my ace, but I need to keep you a secret until the last second. I promise to narrate what I see. If I go quiet, you have my permission to come slap me one.] The Monk clicked their teeth but didn''t bother to argue. In an unexpected surprise, Morgan caught his first, albeit distorted, glimpse of the Beast perching on what might be the lower end of a different root pillar over 30 meters away. His Bloodline''s incredible range wasn''t part of the plan, but if the monster''s Aether-infused systems lit up its location like a neon sign at midnight, he wouldn''t complain. However, the Beast''s silhouette caused vague memories to stir within him. Regardless, the Professor narrated all that he saw. Glowing roots spread throughout the somewhat humanoid body offered some general physical characteristics. For example, the torso and head appeared no different to any human of a more diminutive stature. The legs, however, bent forward from the knees like many birds. Judging by the broad rectangular appendages sprouting from the shoulders, this creature had wings instead of arms. The intensity of the Essence blazing around the silhouette was closer to his than Ego''s, but little attention was paid to it as something strange was happening to the blue band rotating behind the head. Not only was the misty energy there far more condensed and brighter than the one behind his head, but sections of energy began separating from the main body. Wisps of blue energy snaked their way over to the wing tips to hover in tight clumps. At the same time, the roots in the same area started acting up. The green energy within seemed to exit the nearby roots to enter three feathers. Morgan quickly glanced down at the darts in his arms, satisfied that they lacked a similar glow. Likely, the energy within them dissipates over time. Once wholly saturated with green glowing ooze, the green energy snapped into tight little rods like metal rebar in concrete. Only after did a blue energy clump condense evenly into a thin aura around each feather. A thrill went through Morgan as the darts pulled themselves free before rotating mid-air so that the hollow quill ends pointed squirt at the intended recipient. Like living ammunition anxious to meet the foe, the darts placed themselves in a vertical line a quarter meter apart. Once the monster was satisfied with their trajectory, the blue aura seemed to rush into the darts just as they rocketed forward. *Thwip, Thwip, Thwip* The Professor watched all three reinforced feathers sore towards him with rapt attention, curious as to what the green energy within them would do. The energy''s vibrant glow remained consistent even as they perfectly cleared the obstacle. At the last moment, Morgan sidestepped them all to watch them punch into the wood floor. Each shot retained its energy for half a heartbeat before the green ooze evaporated into the air. *Plink-plink-plink* A chorus of liquid drops hit the root cover floor near him. Was that water dripping from the ceiling? It would be a shame if so. If Morgan survived the ambush, he wanted to set up the base within the Pillar. However, if water leaked from above, he''d have to choose a different location in the cave. "Skree!" Screeched the outraged owl-like monster before furiously flapping its way to a new sniper''s post. Morgan watched, the whole time narrating what was happening, as the attacker primed the ammunition, took aim, and fired again. "Skre-Skre!" *Thwip* Only to wordlessly snarl with rage when the man dogged at the last possible moment. *Plink-plink-plink* [Alright, so the bird-monster uses the blue energy to telekinetically launch the feathers strengthened with green energy.] The Spirit mused behind him. [The first is probably Mana, which makes the other Qi.] These colorful energies had standard names? "Skreee!" *Thwip, Thwip* [Care to share this information with the class?] Asked the Professor before jumping to the right, almost slipping on the slick floor. Although the dizziness he was starting to feel might have contributed more to the near slip. He wasn''t overly concerned by the new symptom, as it likely stemmed from Essence loss. *Plink-plink-plink* "Skreee! Skre-Skre-Skre!" The monster started screaming so much that Morgan could''ve deactivated the Bloodline and still know where the darts were coming from. What the hell was the point of causing such a ruckus when it was hiding in the dark? [Spoilers.] Ego snickered morosely. [Consider those terms as an appetizer of what you''ll learn if we survive.] [Well, if I didn''t have a reason to live before, I do now.] Morgan chuckled, even as he started to paint heavily from all the exertion of running around. Thankfully, the Beast was done playing with the wily intruder. [Here it comes.] The Monk''s avatar immediately manifested before him, already looking where he was. "SKREEE!" Cried the Beast as it soundlessly descended toward their section of the Pillar. One avian leg anchored the body firmly to the side while the other remained outstretched. Mana within the band remained passive while Qi began flooding into the talons of the unburdened leg. Once they were filled to the brim and formed into tiny rebar rods, the monster slashed down at the roots separating it from the particular annoying prey. The roots hardly offered any resistance as the initial cut separated a meter and a half of wall. [Well, it''s coming in here like we wanted. What''s next, Professor? It''s definitely visible at this range, so you should see this as nature intended.] [More than happy too.] Sighed Morgan in relief, deactivating the Bloodline. [Now let''s take a look at the- Oh... That''s just not right.] "SKREEE!" Not right, was putting it mildly. The monster loudly clawing its way to kill him looked precisely what it sounded like. While the wings and taloned legs did resemble an owl, the ratio tragically favored the humanoid half. What wild noted brown hair covered of the naked, flabby torso, the rest was drenched in what Morgan desperately hoped was blood and mud. Its female-ish face was marred with intense scarring, an improvement considering swamp hags from fairy tales would pity the screeching creature. Even as a devoted zoologist, the Scientist was seriously tempted to turn the Bloodline back on just to avoid seeing¡­ all that. [Yeah.] Agreed the Monk in genuine sympathy. [Not the prettiest sight in creation...Oh? I just got another information window, this one is on the Spiritual Beast. Should I send it now?] [Yes, please. Send it right now.] The Ecologist all but begged, aware this lull in the fight would be the last. So this is what a Harpy looked like. It was a wonder the silhouette seemed familiar. The Professor had heard of them on Earth but only through osmosis, hearsay, and other media references. While portions of the information window were still meaningless to him, the Scientist suspected the ''Stat Afinnity'' grades worked like a video game. The Harpy was particularly fast, somewhat clever, and not much else. Just perfect for his plan. "SKREEE!" The bloodthirsty monster screeched, now dramatically banging its wings against the Pillar in a useless blind rage. "SKREEE!" Morgan ignored the screams, choosing instead to concede how useful a Beastiary would prove in the journey to come. Eris had outdone herself this time. Just the idea of filling up a whole encyclopedia of alien creatures made him bounce on the balls of his feet in excitement. *Plink-plink-plink* [What was that?] The Monk asked before turning around. The Scientist answered without looking away from the threat trying to kill him. He felt incredibly annoyed that Ego would just look away like that. But the old man might have just been extra cranky from being so fatigued and lightheaded. "SKREEE!" [Relax, Monk, it''s just the roof leaking water. I''m sure we can find a dry spot to set up base, it''s ok.] [It''s not okay...] Ego said, their voice haunted, almost as if they were the one who''d seen a ghost. When Morgan looked at them, he was shocked to see that the Spirit''s normally ink-black skin was a dark gray, and their avatar trembled in the grip of icy terror as they looked at him. [Why not?] Morgan shrugged. [It''s just wa-] *Plink-plink-plink* [It''s not water.] They whispered like the truth was some terrible secret, their gaze glued on his chest. It was as if the cave went utterly silent as the Professor''s dam of certainty began to buckle under a torrential rainstorm of questions. Each question adding a crack to the dam''s ever-increasing spider-web of damage. Now that he thought about it. Why did the roof only leak after he moved? He deactivated his Bloodline, so why did he still feel so lightheaded? On the topic of discomfort, the only pain he felt was a dull ache from his ankle. That couldn''t be right; he has four fresh wounds... Didn''t he? His already pale complexion became a shade lighter as he turned to the feather still in his shoulder. Morgan watched as a trickle of his physical essence leaked from the open hollow end, but the liquid was far thinner than it should be¡ªalmost like water. The dam broke. Morgan looked down at his chest and saw what had shaken the Monk. Blood. The Human saw so much blood. It ran all down his front, dyeing the white lab coat red¡ªthe sleeves, the shoulders, everything. The old keepsake was so drenched, that blood constantly dripped from the cuffs to hit the gnarled wooden floor with a steady beat. *Plink. Plink. Plink. Plink. Plink* [How?] Ego asked shakily. [A hemotoxin that''s not only stopping any clotting, but it''s making my blood thinner. There''s probably an anesthetic somewhere in that cocktail, too. Something to numb the flesh.] He chuckled, his throat as dry as his amusement. [I was so focused on a supernatural problem I never considered being poisoned. That''s funny, considering who sent us here.] They didn''t laugh, not even a snicker. Perhaps the Spirit didn''t find gallows humor particularly appealing. They just kept staring at his chest with him. *Plink. Plink. Plink. Plink. Plink* [How could we not no-] [I told you to keep watch behind me.] Morgan didn''t mean to interrupt them, but he couldn''t stand the idea of them feeling at fault for his fuck-up. [The Bloodline blinded me to the mundane world; even when I turned it off, I was too focused on the Harpy. Plus, the monster was screaming so much we couldn''t hear the blood until I made big movements, kinda like shaking a wet sponge.] [But you aren''t moving right now.] *Plink. Plink. Plink. Plink. Plink* Dread filled them both as they only now realized this revelation had an audience. Ego and Morgan turned to the Phol¨®¨¥ Harpy, who waited patiently and quietly for her prey to do precisely that. "Skre." She chirped with an honest, rotting, sadistic smile. "Skre-Skre!" The Spirit and the Professor needed to remember where they were. This was Vajrayana, and here, there be Beasts. *Plink* *Plink* *Plink* 16. The Fight Against Time They were so screwed it wasn''t even funny. *Plink. Plink. Plink.* Charles Morgan was a god-damned moron. The fool had forgotten that non-Sapiance did not mean stupid. While he made plans, so too did the enemy, damn them. Now he was paying the price and had to understand just how screwed he was. But the Earthling was in luck, for the foe was making the fatal mistake of gloating. So, the Scientist did the only logical thing he could do when his life was literally being bleed out of his body. He sucked in his lower lip and bit the end hard enough to draw blood. As the blood bead began to well up, the Harpy''s twisted sneer of rooting teeth widened at what she mistakenly took the self-mutilation as a sign of fear. Morgan held his breath, fully aware that what he heard in the next few seconds would decide his fate. He tuned out all other sounds save for one in particular. *...* Wait for it... *...Plink* YES! That was precisely what he needed to hear! The fact that it took so long for the blood from his lip to fall meant the Beast''s venomous cocktail was localized to only the wounded areas. Otherwise, the blood would have flowed immediately instead of pooling up and dropping. Now, the scenario has become a fight against time. Quickly, Morgan predicted at his current rate of exsanguination, he''d have 10 to 20 minutes before blood loss made him combat-ineffective. Granted, that was only if the vanilla Mortal could keep his heart rate beating at the same steady pace. That meant running, jumping, and direct combat were out of the question until he could stop the bleeding. Hmm... They should be able to pull out a win with a few minor tweaks to the plan. "Skreee-ee-ee!" The Beast sang in sadistic offkey melody as she raised her Qi-infused talons for a second cut on the root pillar. This cut only made it through a dozen or so centimeters, but that fact hadn''t dampened Harpy''s spirits as she raised the leg again. "Skree-ee!" [Alright, Ego, slight change of plans.] Morgan projected as he calmly walked to the section of Pillar that was farthest from where the Harpy was. [Only a slight change in plans?!] The Spirit demanded in a hiss as they pointed at his sorry state, then to the foe. [You look like the mosquito''s equivalent of chocolate fountain while the monster coming to kill you is doing a Shining reference! How is the old plan even remotely viable?] [Because,] Morgan chuckled dryly as he felt a chill creeping up his hands. [I still have a few aces up my sleeve.] [...As one of those aces, I''m not precisely glowing with confidence.] They sighed and might''ve protested more if the foe allowed it. "Skreee! Skre-Skre-Skre!" The Harpy practically foamed at the mouth as she made the third cut into the Pillar and began shoving her rather rank body through the triangular hole. So intense was her blood lust that when she finally made it through, a wing snagged on a protruding root. She tumbled down four, six, eight meters through the air before successfully catching the air. But instead of gaining some height for a divebomb like he planned, she barreled directly for him. Her talons, longer and sharper than even the biggest eagles, scraped the floor as she closed the distance. "Skree!" The Professor couldn''t believe his good luck. Morgan stretched out his right arm, palm pointed at the approaching Harpy and unpacked the Dimensional Ring glittering on his finger with a simple command. "Exitus." The SUV''s back end appeared less than a meter before the Professor, while the Beast enjoyed a similar view of the car''s front. "Skree?" The Harpy chirped in what Morgan swore was a tone of utter bewilderment. Completely understandable. It''s not every day that a couple of tons of alien metal suddenly pops into existence. *WHAM!* The Phol¨®¨¥ native crashed feet first through the SUV''s front window in a puff of feathers, wedging herself between the driver''s seat and steering wheel. Peering through the trunk window showed the monsterus bird was already attempting to free herself. There was some visible damage to be seen within the feathery flying mass tearing up his seat. One leg now bent in the opposite direction from the other, which was never a good sign, regardless of what Universe one found themselves in. Tragically, besides a few new cuts that would leave a fresh set of scars, the Beast looked fine. She was ready and willing for the second round if the anger twisting her face was anything to go by. [It worked?] Asked Ego before hastily backpedaling. [I mean, of course it worked!] [Nope, I was afraid of this happening. I think she reinforced large parts of her body when a crash is imminent. For birds, surviving a collision is an evolutionary godsend. Initially, I didn''t think she''d want to keep fighting after a car crash, but now I know better. This is why we will implement phase 2.] Projected Morgan as he dug around his coat for the car keys while ignoring the emotional pain from seeing the punctured and bloody lab coat. [Where the hell are my keys?] [Professor, you left the car unlocked before storing it, remember?] Oh yeah. Morgan threw open the trunk, and the Harpy halted her desperate escape. A single feather swirled in the turbulent air between them. *Plink. Plink. Plink.* The Mortal and Beast locked eyes yet again, each studying the other. She had managed to free her feathery rump, but the broken leg had gotten caught in the handle of the steering wheel. Large gashes could be seen in the handle, evidence that she tried cutting through but found that trick harder to pull off on hardened steel. *Plink. Plink. Plink.* The feather began to descend. Her bright orange eyes flicked to the wheel and back; the Professor did the same at both his med kit and the cheap brown leather suitcase poking out of the pile. The feather froze mid-air just as the tip pointed at his face. *Plink. Plink. Plink.* "Don''t." Morgan warned. "Skre." The Harpy snorted. *Thwip* "Ow!" He grunted as the feather dart bit into his flesh just above the right eyebrow, piercing flesh, but a lack of Qi meant it wouldn''t do the same to bone. Which was why the clever creature aimed for his eye, the most obvious target. "Non-Sapient my ass, you spiteful little-." "Skreee!" Ignoring the choked giggles from the Spirit and the angry screeches, Morgan haphazardly tore the suitcase and the kit from tightly packed supplies. A crate of MREs fell to the floor, spilling food packets, and the backpack camping kit was sent flying over him. He tried not to think about the possible loss of his limited resources, but the Harpy was only seconds away from pulling her leg free. Cradling the necessary tools, Morgan made a brake for the exit, realized he''d forgotten something essential and doubled back to sling on the thrown backpack. *Plink-plink-plink* After squeezing through the same gap in the hollow Pillar and tucking the med kit under an arm, Morgan kept running and ripped open the case with such ferocity that the rusty hinges snapped from the force. A rainbow of small plastic items were scattered over the wooden floor, many falling and disappearing into cracks between the roots. At least the more fragile hardware remained in the half of the suitcase he still held, the hardened black foam within keeping it secure. [Is that a shotgun?] Ego gasped beside Morgan as he doubled back to grab the only ammunition in sight, an orange shell with a stylized serpent wrapped around the shell. *Plink-plink-plink* Damn it, all this running was making the Earthing''s heart pound, but the threat of exsanguination should be dealt with before he could bleed out. Or Morgan would get ripped apart by the Harpy. Either way, the man''s cause of death would not be blood loss. [It was all Rey Carlos was willing to sell me on short notice.] He defended, not slowing down in the slightest as he shoved the shell into a pocket and freed the firearm from the broken case. [Be grateful I could get any gun without an ID in 2074; they really cracked down on that after France started sending spies.] The Spirit ran alongside him, their arms and legs synchronized to his. [I''m not complaining about what kind of- Wait. Who''s Rey Carlos?]Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. [Well until this morning, he was a trusted janitor at the university.] The Professor rambled as they both skidded to a stop a few meters shy of the exit. [By now, I believe his new occupation is student, like all-] "SKREEE!" The pain-riddled cry cut short any speculation of his people''s Fate. A backward glance at the creature scaling up the pillar wall killed any thought other than survival. The Professor relayed ''phase 2'' to the reluctant Monk. At the same time, he loaded the orange shell into the chamber and temporarily cut off circulation to his arms with two tourniquets taken from the kit. That didn''t stop the blood already soaked in the coat from dripping everywhere. *Plink. Plink. Plink.* [This is so stupid.] Ego grumbled from the exact spot specified in the plan. [Only if it doesn''t work.] Morgan corrected as he took the proper shooting position, placing his rear knee on the ground and the other leg supporting the elbow of the forward arm. [Stop complaining and tell me what the Harpy''s doing.] [Maybe you could see if you weren''t aiming in the opposite direction.] The Monk projected so low he almost didn''t catch it. [What was that?] He asked, aiming down sights at the empty tunnel stretching out before him. [I said the Beast'' just jumped through the hole, and she''s making a beeline towards you.] They reported quickly. [She''s 25 meters away; are you sure the backpack will hold up?] *Thwip, Thwip, Thwip, Thwip* Injured or not, the Harpy''s aim was as immaculate as ever, as all four darts had impacted the Scientist''s upper back. If not for the thick backpack and the metal camping gear within his lungs would''ve gained a few extra air holes. [Yeah, I''m confident.] [Don''t be a smart-aleck.] Ha! As if that would ever happen. Still, Morgan should focus on staying upright as the several cave entrances before him were determined to trip him up. [She''s circling overhead and gaining altitude; I''ll lose track of her soon.] *Plink. Plink. Plink.* [Nothing yet... Wait.] The Spirit sucked in a breath as something troubling occurred to them. [How do you know the Harpy wouldn''t just hide in the dark and wait for you to escape or bleed to death?] [Same reason she didn''t do that in the first place instead of coming to get me in the Pillar.] [Ah. You''re counting on that sadistic bloodlust of hers to override good sense. Good thinking, as she really dosn''t like you.]The Monk paused, reflecting on what they said. *Plink. Plink. Plink.* [You know it''s odd that a Spiritual Beast could have such a distinct personality, let alone be so self-aware. Lysander, in the brief time we spent together, told me it took time and-] "...skrrreeeeEEE!!!" Came the bloodcurdling warcry, starting soft at first but quickly becoming deafening as the dive bomb brought her closer and closer. [Tell me later.] Suggested Morgan as the information could be relevant to Momo''s sudden behavior changes. But for there to be a later, the Human needed to lock-in. The Professor steadied his breathing and tried to ignore the increasing chest pain or pins and needles pricking his arms. He''d literally only get one shot at this, so focus was paramount. [19 meters.] Counted the Spirit, though it was more for their piece of mind than his. [11 meters.] Unfortunately, a troubling memory had returned its ugly head at this critical moment. When Rey Carlos sold him the gun, he''d mention something possibly crucial about the different-colored shells. The Professor was more concerned with finding the nearest pet store on the GPS at the time, but he swore the former janitor mentioned something exotic about them. [7 meters.] They all but yelled. [2] Bah, the shell color was probably nothing too significant. "SKR-" "Hello." Greeted the Spirit. "-EEE?!?" What started as a scream dripping with murderous intent ended in a panicked squeal as one intruder suddenly became two. The Scientist felt the wind slap the backpack as the avian Beast tried desperately flapping in the opposite direction to abort the attack. Of course, such a notion was a pipe dream at the speed she traveled. After a freefall dive from potentially the cavern''s ceiling, there was no amount of flapping several meters from the ground that would counter that level of momentum. Meaning that whatever evasive maneuver the Harpy chose would have to account for her moving forward. However, veering left, right, or up would mean another collision. And even for a cosmic energy-enhanced mythical creature, two high-speed crashes in a single day, let alone an hour, was one too many. For the Harpy that left one option, aim for the exit and pray to every divinity with a beak that there was enough tunnel to safely slow down. The Professor also knew there would be only one reasonable option. That was why he aimed up at the empty space a little ways into the tunnel, for the Human could lead his shots, too. "Goodbye." Morgan deadpaned as the terrified Beast soared into view and pulled the trigger. For a fraction of a second, the entire tunnel was illuminated like an open field when lightning struck. *BANG! ROAR!* The bang from the gunpowder''s ignition was expected. The massive jet of flames lacing forward from the right barrel surprised everyone in the cave, especially the Beast it eagerly engulfed. If Rey Carlos were present, he might have reminded the Professor that the red shells were regular ammunition and the ones with dragons were incendiary ammunition. One shredded dinner with little metal pellets, the other cooked dinner with shredded magnesium. The former was definitely more lethal, but either would do when the goal was keeping something from successfully executing a complex aerial maneuver in a passageway of unforgiving stone and wood. The Harpy''s all too human face twisted in agony as flames burning over 2500¡ãC scorched her naked chest, hair, and feathers. Man and Spirit watched together as her body bounced off the floor and walls before rolling into a crumpled heap a hair''s breadth from the 8th turn. "Please tell me," Began Ego in a shaky breath, "that it''s over." "You know," Morgan said aloud, "if we were still on Earth, then I would have said yes." "Skreee¡­eee." Moaned the Beast as it struggled to move. "Oh, sweet merciful Dao." Gasped the Monk, clutching the prayer beads closer to their chest. "What a tenacious creature." "Agreed. Let''s hope she''s as cunning as the Bestiary reported." "Actually, that might not be what Cunning means in the context." They corrected, perhaps feeling a need to burn off some of their nervous energy by talking. "The literature suggests it might have something to do with how a being''s abilities are measured here." "What literature?" "Spoilers, but I''ll make it worth your wild by translating it in my own words." Ego bargained, actually sounding enthusiastic at the prospect. "The text isn''t exactly written in standard format... or in English." Morgan snorted in annoyance before leveling the still-smoking empty gun at the stirring creature in a last-ditch bluff. *Plink. Plink. Plink.* They witnessed the foe slowly stand on her mangled avian feet, an accomplishment only achieved by holding onto the tunnel walls with a wing. Her breath came in ragged, sporadic bursts as she used the other wing to probe the latest scar in the making. In the shadowy tunnels, her orange eyes shone like twin blood moons in the autumn night sky. *Plink. Plink. Plink.* "SKREEEEEEE!!!" The Harpy let out the loudest and by far angriest cry yet, where every note spoke volumes of her pain and hatred. Neither Morgan nor Ego flinched, made so much as a sound, or even acknowledged Harpy''s cry. The former was far too battered and tired to care, and the latter was too scared to move. The tantrum lasted half a minute before the Spiritual Beast turned right around and hobbled the hell out of this god-forsaken cave, perhaps off the island entirely. Honestly, Morgan can''t blame the creature for moving out, as the new neighbors were a couple of nightmares. "Praise the Heavens." Sighed Ego as they helped Morgan to his feet. "How did you know the Harpy would run rather than fight to the death?" "Most animals- Ow." The Scientist said through gritted teeth as he yanked the first dart free from his shoulder. "Most animals are pragmatists at heart. They lack notions like pride and ideals that we sentient beings love to fight and die for. Territory isn''t worth life. Now, if there were some little offspring in her nest, then it might have been a different story... I need a nap after setting up Momo''s new tank." "You can have one after I treat your wounds and we set up camp." Ego corrected as they dug through the med kit beside him. "Are you going to be okay after losing so much blood?" "Only one way to find out."
After a quick patch-up, the two made their way to the Pillar and car at a moderate pace, discussing plans to fortify the camp from other island dwellers and creating a basic schedule for the next few days. Naturally, exploration would have to wait for the injuries to heal, but Ego seemed happy as they could binge on some of the media they brought along. "Err!" The Princess chirped from the Pillar''s opening, and she jumped to her parent the second he got within range. The tiny gecko must''ve found the scent of iron too harsh since she ran to the top of his head to escape it. "Oof," Morgan grunted as the reptile hit him with more force than he expected and nearly sent him on his ass. "Hey Ego, could you start unpacking the car without me? I need to take a breather before I pass out." "Of course, I''m always happy to help." Called over Ego as they strolled to the damaged vehicle. "But remember that I want to watch something while you sleep. Don''t worry, I''ll finish writing before you wake up." Morgan gave a sleepy nod of agreement as he tried to calm the distressed Princess. There was so much to do already, but the Spirit earned their movie night. He''ll just slap the flash drive into- "Err?" Chirped Momo puzzledly as her chin scratches suddenly halted without warning. Panic gripped Morgan''s heart as he searched all his pockets for the- Aha! There was the flash drive. At some point, he must have transferred it to the back pocket of his cargo pants. For a moment, he was worried it might''ve fallen somewhere or, worse, broken. Thankfully, the device had escaped any damage during the fight and was in pristine condition, ready to be plugged into his laptop. Now, where did Morgan store the computer again? He knew he had yet to pack it in the car as they left the laptop downloading overnight... In fact, when was the last time he saw it? ...Oh no... "Whoa, are you okay?!" asked Ego as they manifested in front of the shaking man. "Your heart rate just skyrocketed. Are you going into shock?" Morgan didn''t say a thing as the Spirit waited for him to answer. He only closed his eyes and tried to enjoy the last moment of peace and quiet before the yelling started. But that fucking Harpy had robbed him of even that. *Plink. Plink. Plink.* 17. The Little Dragon Mere hours after Morgan''s life-and-death struggle with the Harpy, one where he lost between 20-30% of his blood, the man decided it would be the perfect time to roll the dice once again. This time, he would be betting with his Immortal Soul. All while wearing nothing except his green checkerboard boxers and bandages over his shoulder and forearms. His lab coat was drying after its much-needed hydrogen peroxide bath and awaiting its own round of stitching up. Morgan kneeled before the open doors of an overly priced commercial tropical habitat tank set up on one side of his two-room tent. The neon black and yellow plastic structure wasn''t the tallest, sturdiest, or even nicest-looking tent he''d ever owned. But last minute, apocalypse shopping rarely ever offered more than the bottom of the bar. At the very least, Morgan had been able to splurge on Momo''s temporary home, even if the simplistic and artificial habitat was a downgrade. "Alright girl," began the Scientist, with a notebook in hand and a pen ready. "Last question before the check-up, then you get food. On a scale from one to ten, how beastly do you feel?" "Err?" Questioned the unnaturally vocal crested gecko from on top of a hunk of wet cork bark, her monochromatic head tilting to one side. "Hmm." He hummed, not sure what to put down. "Let me clarify. Do you still consider yourself a Gecko?" "Er." She chirped with a nod. He took that as a yes. "Alright, would you say you''ve changed since coming to this cave?" Answering this question was paramount as the Spirit had theorized the cave to be a potential catalyst for why the Harpy was so... unique for a Spiritual Beast. According to Lysander, Spiritual Beasts typically held a weak grasp on individuality until they progressed on their Dao. Morgan took this to mean non-Sapiant beings needed to further their Cultivation before a sense of self could form. Since Ego claimed the cave, especially the rocky bridge where the Harpy chose to nest, was connected to the Dao, it could explain Momo''s and the Harpy''s lucidity. "Er." She chirped with a slow nod. He took that answer as a no. The Professor had learned that the precious creature still struggled with understanding the concept of nods and her head bobbed with nearly every answer. Not every nod should be trusted at face value. "Same question, but with the universe as a whole." "Er!" She chirped with an enthusiastic nod. He took that answer as a yes, as that nod just had a confident vibe to it. "I''m getting conflicted messages here, so I''m going to put down a 5." Morgan finished his notes, writing that he needed to ask Momo later if she knew what a universe and a gecko were. Now I''m going to need you to hold still, OK?" "Er!" The Princess said with a roll of her head and a flex of the tail before going absolutely rigid. Honestly, any active body language was a bit of a coin toss during these early days. Well, it was something they could work on together. Without delay, the Scientist triggered his Bloodline, closed it within a third of a second, and then wrote down the observations. It was his Soul; he could be as miserly as he wished with it. "Subject 66-66 has no distinct change in green, blue, or red energy structures; or as these forces are referred to in the universe Vajrayana, Qi, Mana, and Essence," Morgan spoke aloud as he wrote so a cranky someone could stay in the loop. "Much like myself, the Bloodline displays no hint of Aether infusion." [...] God damn it, he hates it when the Monk projects silence at him. It was like being actively told he was being ignored without actually acknowledging his existence. "This is, of course, discounting the Aether that is passively absorbed by these energy structures. This theory, proposed by Ego the Spirit, suggests that the reason I am able to see these energies pre-active infusion is due to this passive effect. That is believed to be why non-Cultivaters, or Wanderers, have such long lifespans and why the Bloodline can display these energies in the first place. Perception of the Stone Sage can only sense Aether, but it can translate and display any new form it takes. I am applicable to the theory, though I have yet to read the original source material." [...] Oh, for the love of- Maybe Morgan could track where Harpy ended up after she flew the coup. He could convince her to attack the cave again, giving the Spirit someone else on whom to focus their rage. "An original text I can not read due to my inability to read, write, or speak in Celestial Twilight... also known as Common. If not for the Universal Translator my Patron left me, I would be unable to communicate. It was an oversight. Morgan waited. Thankfully, there was no response, or rather, a lack of one. So he set aside the notebook and thanked Momo with a hearty helping of a fruit paste that had all the nutrients a growing gecko needed. Closing the habitat doors to keep in the humidity, he left the Princess to dine on her first meal in Olympia. When the Professor exited his temporary quarters, he took in the area within the Pillar he''d almost died in. The area hit all the necessary requirements of defense and space, while being the perfect distance from the river and exit. At the center of the Pillar sat Morgan''s tent, surrounded by the kitchen and research stations. Although, with the Dimensional Ring''s excellent storage convenience, both areas were fairly barebones. The kitchen was placed as far away from the tunnel as possible and consisted of four slightly decomposing logs and two flat rocks scavenged from above. The shortest logs would be dining chairs, while the others had a rock each for the gas burner and table. Located between the tent and tunnel, the research station was even more spartan. Only a metal folding table, two chairs of the same type, and a single open notebook. His SUV was parked in front of the entrance, its driver and passenger doors acting as a front door that only he had a key to. It was a crude answer to the question of security, but at the very least, if something forced its way in, the alarm would sound. As for the other end of the tunnel, he had placed- No. That didn''t matter at the moment. The Professor was just stalling to pointlessly delay the inevitable. Taking a deep breath to steel his resolve, Morgan turned to address the weightless entity meditating on top of his tent. The Monk sat in lotus position, their back to him, but he knew they were soundlessly mouthing a chant as they stared absently at the river. Morgan suspected this was the Vajrayana equivalent of putting on both earphones and blasting some headbanging music. Of course, that did not stop him from loudly clearing his throat and speaking to the irate Spirit. "The camp is looking good." [Correct.] Ego projected tonelessly, not bothering to halt their chant or even look at him. "And with my injuries," he continued, "we should wait until tomorrow before poking around the island." [True.] "So that means we have some free time." [...Yes.] Dear god, would this never end? "I''ll read Eris''s research material before making dinner." Morgan plowed on as if this were more than a one-sided conversation. "What are you going to do?" [Nothing.] They said, though this time, the laconic response held a bit of edge. It took all the wisdom and willpower the Professor had gained in the 77 years of life not to bring up the sore subject again. He was fully aware that the Spirit was just as angry with him as they were with themselves. Forcing the subject now would only bring disaster. Instead, Morgan went to the research station, eased himself into the metal chair, and began to read.
A faithful translation of the classic children''s tale of "The Little Dragon and the Celestial Attendant." Written by Ego the Spirit. In a land far, far, far away from the protective embrace of the Heavens, there was a Little Dragon with scales the color of the boundless sea. Her name was Ohtli, and she was the most inquisitive hatchling of her clutch. Her curiosity was limitless, and while her clutch mates wasted their days wrestling with each other or flying around in silly circles, Othli conversed with her Elders.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. The Elders warned Othli that there was such a thing as too many questions, so she was permitted to ask only one a day. So every morning, after the dawn had broken, she would venture out from the Clan cave at the foot of the mountain to find a question worth asking. Othli returned with a question to ask her Elders over the fire every night. But on the dawn of this bright and radiant morning, something was very wrong. Othil was already out of her cave; she rested on the border wall separating Dragons from their fellow Mortals. Big, sad tears rolled down her beautiful blue scales, and Othil watched them fall into the boundless blue sea outside this tiny territory. "What is it that saddens you so, little dragon?" Asked a Heavenly voice behind her. "Ah!" Exclaimed Othil in fraught, for she knew no Dragon would ever speak to her so kindly. This kind person must be a stranger, so she turned to them and yelled, "Who are you-" But for once, Othil knew the answer to her question. This stranger sat on a cloud no larger than her, but it flashed and cracked with lightning like a real thunderstorm. They had hair as white as the stars, eyes as black as space, and that form¡­ She began to tremble, fearing divine retribution. "Tremble not child, I am no Bodhisattva." They said as if they could read her mind. "Though our forms are similar, I am only a humble Clesteal Attendant." "You are a servant of the Court?!" Asked Othil, shocked, before looking up at the sky in fear of Dragon fire. "The Dragon Elders say your kind is not allowed to set foot in our lands." "I am aware of Heavenly law, my child, but as you can see, my feet are not touching the ground." Laughed the Attendant. "But I did not come here to speak of myself. I could hear your tears falling into the sea from 100,000 Li away, and I have come to investigate. So again, I ask again, what saddens you?" "Really?" She asked in amazement and kept asking. "How can you move so quickly? How can you hear from so far away? How can you ride a thunderstorm?" "The answer to all of your questions is that I am a Cultervater of the Diamond Tantra. Performing such tasks is a trifle." They put up a hand before Othil could ask even more questions. "Little dragon, I promise to answer all of the questions you have. All I ask is that you help maintain the balance." "Balance must be maintained." Agreed, Othil, as more tears fell down her beautiful scales. "I was banished from the Clan cave last night for daring to ask my Elders about Aether. They could not give a single answer, and the old Dragons argued among themselves, each giving a different answer. Soon after, I was told I had disrupted the harmony of the Flight and was punished." "Oh? Such disharmony and fell Karma was wrought over this simple question?" Laughed the Attendant. "Well, allow this humble servant to answer what you Elders could not." Othil became excited as her deepest desires might finally come to fruition. "Please, Celestial Attendant, could you tell me about the six types of Aether?" She asked. "The Elders could not agree if Aether was inside the body or outside in the air." "Hmm, I believe your Elders may have confused the three Aether Attunements with the three Prana Energy." They said after meditating on a proper answer. "Each has a deep resonance with the other, but they are separate. Aether is the gift of Vajrayana and is attuned to either the truth of Yin, the truth of Yang, or the truth of Neutrality. Mana, Qi, and Essence are Prana Energies that we are all born with. It is by infusing Yin into Mana, Yang into Qi, and Neutrality with Essence that allows Cultivators to traverse the Dao in search of true Enlightenment." "But I am confused." Admitted Othil shyly. "The Elders taught that it is the aspects of Body, Mind, and Soul that must be Cultivated to surpass the limits of Mortality and reach Enlightenment." "In that, the elder dragons are completely correct. Though those aspects of one''s self are known collectively as the Eternal Foundations." The Attendant praised with the warm smile of a proud parent. "Remember, child, all things are connected. To reach Enlightenment, traverse the Dao. To traverse the Dao, Cultivate the Eternal Foundations. To Cultivate the Eternal Foundations, accept the gift of Vajrayana." "You make it sound so simple." Said Othil, doubt clouding her heart. "But if it were so, then why aren''t my Elders Cultivators?" "Nothing is simple in this life, little dragon. Though the destination is known, the journey of Cultivation is difficult and long. That is why the Celestial Court Sect has gifted Mortals with not only a tried and tested Cultivation Method, but also a Class Core to guide our development. That is the way of the Diamond Tantra, a path open to all." Class Core? Was something like that necessary? She believed only a Method was needed to quicken the journey to Enlightenment. Allowing Aether to be absorbed at its natural pace would take too long. That was why, while the oldest Dragons were the strongest, they could never stand against a proper Cultivator. "A Class Core truly is a wonder, the ultimate tool for Cultivation." They laughed, seeing the bewildered expression worn by the Little Dragon. "The Class Core reveals the strengths and weaknesses of one''s Eternal Foundations as six distinct aspects measuring power and control. With a guiding hand, a Class Core allows a Mortal to directly choose where improvements are made. As no two Mortals are the same, so too are no journeys identical." "The Diamond Tantra is incredible!" Cheered Othil, her wings flapping with anticipation. "How do I start my journey towards Enlightenment?!" "You must wait until your 17th year, my eager little dragon. Then seek out a Pagoda to take the first step towards eternity." Said the Celestial Attendant as they rose high into the air on their crackling thunderstorm. "I must attend to my heavenly duties now. Goodbye, my child, and prosperity to your Dao." Othil the Little Dragon watched in awe as the Cultivator zipped over the boundless sea faster than anyone she''d ever met. A moment later, when the Attendant disappeared over the horizon, Othil jumped into the sky herself. She flew as quickly as her little blue wings could take her to the Clan cave, eager to tell her clutchmates of a better future waiting for them all.
...What the hell was that? The Professor stared hard at the five pages written in the Monk''s neat handwriting. Then he looked at Ego, who continued meditating without a care for his plight. Eventually, he gave in to his curiosity and confronted them. "Is this retaliation for the laptop?" he asked, waving the notebook in front of their eyes. "It''s a faithful translation." The Spirit answered, their first full sentence in hours. "The only alterations I did was cut out the 10+ pages of flowery descriptions and unnecessary information." "...It''s blatant propaganda." "The original tale is meant for young Noble children of respected Clans." They snorted before closing their eyes. "If anything, my translation helped make the characters at least somewhat tolerable. Over half of the pages I excluded were just the so-called amazing things the Attendant bragged about doing. Also, the original author made Othil''s character sound far more like a country bumpkin from the hills. Honestly, I don''t know why the author had such a heavy ax to grind." If that was the case, then there wasn''t much to be done. Propaganda or not, the information revealed from little Othil''s meeting with this Court agent went a long way in his research. Not only were there names to almost all of the phenomena that Perception of the Stone Sage revealed, but the text also gave a general direction of how progression in one''s Cultivation was achieved. Granted, that information would only mean something once Morgan found a way to take that unknown first step without the Court''s help. But this was only the first day, they had time. For now, he should create and organize a written database of knowns and unknowns. A light bulb suddenly lit up. "Ego, I have to say that I''m impressed by your writing skills." Praised the Professor honestly. "Personally, I''ve never been able to write anything but reports. But you''ve got some real talent here." "...Thank you." The Spirit opened one blue orb to regard him. "If you want, I wouldn''t mind giving you a few notebooks and pens for personal use." He said, extending an olive branch of peace. "...What would I write about?" They asked with raised brows, their attention entirely on him. "Hmm¡­ I substituted for a creative writing class once. At the time, the class was finishing an assignment where they had to choose a historical event, change it, and write about the new timeline. Maybe do that, but for the media you''re missing out on." He suggested, though the Professor felt like there was a term or two for what he was referring to. "I''m going to start writing down what we know, so feel free to take whatever you want from the table." Morgan turned away from the Spirit¡­ only to find Ego already at the research table, pulling out a chair. "I will do all the writing for your research. I have seen the messy scrawl you call handwriting. If I don''t help, you''ll go through the notebooks before I can take a few." Ego smiled warmly for the first time in hours, but a frown quickly took over as they finally noticed the state of the bandages and his attire. Or lack thereof. "We can start after you clean yourself up." His stomach growled audibly. "I should eat first." He admitted reluctantly, annoyed with his limited biology getting in the way of his work. "Could you check on Momo while I start cooking?" The Spirit agreed, and after they disappeared, Morgan brought out the box of assorted MREs. As the Human dug around for something even remotely edible in that box of dehydrated horrors, he cursed himself for not splurging on fresh produce. With limited funds, Morgan chose to forgo a more appealing food selection for practicality. Foolishness, even if it was $35 a kilogram of stake, he should have at least- *Pop* The increasingly familiar noise of sudden air displacement echoed in the cave. "What the hell?" Whispered the Scientist as he looked at the jade ring in confusion. Had he accidentally stored something? *Pop* There it was again, but its origin was definitely somewhere else. What on earth was happening? Could this be another attack so soon after the first? *Pop* "Er!" Came a panicked chirp from on top of his chest. "Er! Er!" "Momo?" He asked, and sure enough, he found the distressed Princess clinging to his hair. "How did-" [-she get all the way here?] Ego finished the question in his mind, their avatar nowhere in sight. [Stop looking for me, I''m still in the tent. As for your question, I have a theory I want to test out. I''m going to manifest near you in my incorporeal form; ignore me and watch Momo very closely.] [...Alright.] He projected back, curiosity overriding caution. Taking her in his hand, the Professor consoled the reptile with chin scratches and soft reassurances, pretending not to see the blue robes appear in his peripheral. A moment later, Momo suddenly froze in place. Yet Ego frowned down at her in confusion. "That''s odd. I expected an entirely different reaction when I became visible." They reached out with a spectral hand, a knuckle extended to gently stroke the nervous creature''s back. Just before contact could be made, Momo''s slitted pupils suddenly contracted before- *Pop* Air rushed to fill the empty space where a gecko once occupied. "ERR!" The Princess chirped furiously at the evil Spirit from on top of her parent''s head. "ERR! ERR! ERR!" "Hee! Hee-hehehehe!" The Spirit fell to their knees in a burst of uncontainable giggles. "I knew it! She did the same thing when I tried to pet her in her enclosure and every time I tried to pick her up." "Well, there you have it." Chuckled the Professor as he tried calming her without bursting into laughter himself. "Ego, you have successfully proven that Momo can not only teleport, but that she also really doesn''t like you." That remark killed their laughter rather quickly. 18. The Lagoon Luna Lagoon wasn''t the first island the trio visited after setting sail from Lamplight Isla nearly nine days ago, but the second. It was, however, the first discovery of the Olympia Sea expedition where Morgan and Ego''s lives weren''t under the constant threat of being snuffed out by the local wildlife. True, there was a moment yesterday when the duo had first begun exploring the local grove and had a somewhat dangerous encounter with the larger Lagoon residents. But that experience had less to do with the intrusion of the Beast''s territory and more to do with being in the right place at the wrong time. At least, that was how the Professor had viewed events, and after a night camping on the tiny crescent moon-shaped beach made of crushed lapis lazuli stone from which that atoll lagoon was named, Ego was starting to come around to his line of thinking. Monochrome, sadly, had been left on the previous island. That cultivating prodigy had undergone something of a physical metamorphosis during his three-day long recuperation within the cave. After gaining the handy ability to teleport, little Momo really grew into her new status of Beast, quite literally in fact. Not only was she far, far, bigger than any Crested Gecko should be, her very nature had completely flipped. Naturally, the Princess was still his little girl and, if anything, was more affectionate to her parent now than before. But gone was the primarily frugivore nocturnal creature, replaced with a powerful diurnal predator who hungered for fresh meat. Tragically, Morgan had nothing to offer her besides fruit goo and dead bugs. Worst still, despite the massive amount of supplies he had bought from Earth, a fishing pole was not one of them. Although that was likely for the best. On a Vajrayian planet with such a vast sea, fishing blindly might just dredge up a horror from the depths. Interesting that interaction might be, that can of worms was best left sealed. At least for now. Hence why, Momo was left on the prey-rich island of Bizarro Swamp, with a promise that they would come to collect her on their return. While losing such a powerhouse was a serious loss, her bowing out from the expedition early was for the best. After all, she might have gotten stir-crazy waiting for them on the beach, and Morgan simply didn''t bring enough scuba tanks for the both of them. Even if he did bring enough to share, that wouldn''t have solved the ultimate issue. How the hell would he get a human diving mask on a giant gecko?
Under the Olympia Sea, down where it''s wetter and quite a bit saltier, the peaceful mood of that morning was almost perfect. Calm, clear skies combined with a lethargic breeze that would''ve struggled to shake the leaves on trees made it possible for the duo to see for kilometers in any direction before everything was lost in a blue haze. The temperature under the surf was also ideal, effortlessly reaching that blissful state of comfort between warm and cool that would tempt many to take a reckless nap. The best kind of nap, too. The ones taken without setting an alarm, where dreams can seamlessly slip in and out of the waking world, a restful sleep that leaves one with blanket imprints on limbs and questioning what year they had awoken to. After the fortuitous encounter during yesterday''s exploration resulted in a significant step forward in the Cultivation research, the Professor was feeling good. Staring out into the vast open blue, confident no carnivorous Beasts would get the drop on them, Morgan was tempted to take such a nap on that almost perfect morning. Oxygen notwithstanding, naturally. Which, upon checking his regulator''s gauge and finding the needle nearing the ? of red, prompted some attention. Yet, any potential for rest was looking more and more like a fantasy as it was becoming abundantly clear to Morgan that he was the only one there who felt that way. [This should be the last one.] The Spirit muttered out of nowhere just as he opened the air valve on this latest oxygen canister. After nearly an hour of silence, their unexpected question caused Morgan to partially let go of the canister holster to perform the no signal before he stopped himself. He caught himself at the last moment, instead using both hands to sling the tank holster onto his bare back, belting it down tight before answering. [Nope.] He projected, both thankful for and still unused to the convenience of mental communications when diving. It had taken most of yesterday''s dive to beat down his almost instinctual training to use limited hand signals Ego wouldn''t have understood in the first place. [I have one more canister in the ring and another back in the cave.] [Huh?] They murmured distractedly, blinking at him with dull confusion before comprehending their mistake and clarifying by moving a finger in a circular motion. [A poor choice of words. I meant, One last go around the grove before we head back to the beach?] [What, getting tired of the view already?] Instead of answering, both the Monk and Professor shimmied in their seats and craned their necks to the right to peer down at the underwater grove surrounding the atoll lagoon. Starting a dozen or so meters from the crescent shore and spanning a radius of roughly three to four kilometers around the entire island, the massive grove consisted of the same palm tree-like flora. They started appearing high up the slope, but all those specimens were undoubtedly dead. Many had the trunks broken in half, mere meters below the surface, from protecting the lagoon from waves and winds. It was only 30 meters below sea level where the living outnumbered the dead, and something in the neighborhood of 80% of all palm trees sprouted from the flat sea floor at 60 meters. Just as any tropical vacation getaway advertisement would advertise, these single-stem plants had tall, straight trunks with massive green fronds, each containing hundreds of leaflets swaying in the water. Interestingly the underwater tree still had something like pseudo-bark, the dead (and normally dried-up) tissue left over from previous frond sheds covering its trunk, only shedding was a vibrant, damn near metallic, shade of coral blue. Even still, from Ego and Morgan''s self-swimming vantage point 10 meters below the surface, the view had a fantastical wonder to it that the other islands lacked. The grove canopy was always in motion with no uniform movement as waves above came from all directions to crash upon the trunk barrier. At any given moment, the vivid green fronds could be forced to part, allowing the sun''s persistent rays to shine upon the glittering trunks. Except for the last two or so meters of trunk where the palms sprouted from the seabed, of course. If one wished to sneak a peek, those sections would require more than sunlight, for they were coated in a layer of stone. Like a chisel, for instance. Or a jackhammer if they were motivated enough to work out the logistics. Morgan sure as hell wasn''t motivated to so much as lift a finger at the present moment. Not during what could be his last chance to rest before setting back out on the open sea. This was a moment of celebration¨C A victory lap for the breakthrough in his research. After so much effort and plenty of close calls, the Scientist could finally say beyond a doubt that he knew what hurdles he''d need to overcome. Better still, Morgan was confident that all that was needed to step on the stage of Cultivation was finding the perfect subject to learn from. It was a small victory, he couldn''t deny. Knowing where to go and what to do was far easier than the actual journey. But at his advanced age, Morgan had learned that progress, no matter how small, was progress all the same and should be acknowledged. And what better way to celebrate than with the people who made the breakthrough possible in the first place? [The view is spectacular.] Ego admitted after a minute or so had gone by. [But¡­ don''t you think our new friends here are going to get tired of us hitching a ride for so long?] [Nope.] Morgan didn''t even consider the question as he leaned back until he felt his tied-back hair press against him, acting like a pillow between him and the nose bridge. [I seriously doubt she would care about anything we do to or on her so long as we keep away from the little one.] The Monk, seated cross-leg in front of him, their avatar visibly no wetter now than on dry land, stuck out an arm to point at the young Beast swimming beside them both. Not for the first time, he wondered just how much the mysterious information leak between Vajrayana and Cosmos impacted both Sapient and non-Sapient life. Honestly, if not for a few physical characteristics the trained eye could easily spot, the Kataklysmos Bringer would easily pass for a fin whale. Nearly all of the hallmarks were present: a V-shaped head, low razorback fin, and a noticeably thicker peduncle at the base of the tail for moving that fluked tail at high speeds. For the love of originality, the entire pod of eight Beasts even had the same color scheme of dark tops and almost white bottoms as their Earth counterparts. Well, primarily dark tops. As the Bestiary mentioned, each creature had a unique patterned crest made of a rigid material that broke up light into a rainbow shine like fish scales. These crests encircled the flesh around both eyes before claiming up the forehead and encircling the front half of the blowhole¨C a blowhole that curved up and back so the twin nostrils pointed at the back end. Their pectoral fins were also vastly different as they were twice as broad and retained a high range of motor control as the Kataklysmos could bend and flex the fin with the same range of movement as a Human hand in a mitten. In fact, when Morgan and Ego first reached the pod this morning, they were lucky enough to catch a glimpse of the mother holding her curious calf''s fin to keep them from separating. Sadly, snapping a picture wasn''t possible as the phone was stored within the ring, its battery depleted. Which was strange because Morgan made sure to charge the device with the solar generator regularly. Yet it always seemed to be dead whenever he needed it¡­ Could their trip through the Bifr?st have damaged its battery somehow? Eh, whatever. The Scientist pushed such thoughts out of mind as for the third time that morning, he observed the Kataklysmos child through Perception of the Stone Sage. Unfortunately, it turned out that his Bloodline did, in fact, have some limitations when it came to range. While air didn''t affect the display distance, substances like water restricted Morgan to a ten-meter viewing in every direction. An inconvenience, especially on a planet like Olympia, but it wasn''t like he was complaining. Morgan still had a clear view of the young Beast''s Soul Foundation doing what he could only dream of doing. Just as the lighting shifted above the surf, the natural blue tinge of the Olympia sea became a nearly featureless black backdrop, making the Eternal Foundations of Junior the Kataklysmos look like a bioluminescent predator luring in prey in the abysses. Hunting, not for the pod''s typical fair of tiny krill-like Beasts that hid in the billions within the grove below, but for a far more cosmic source of substance. Luck, for once, had been on the Scientist''s side as the hunt for Aether was already nearing its end, as the mouth of Junior''s fiery red Soul was already opening wide. To his hampered sight, hardly a fraction of a second passed between a perpendicular stream of Yin Aether coming to view. The Beast smashed right through it, creating a gap in the pitch-black stream almost as wide as a car. The mouth closed, trapping the Yin-aligned meal before swallowing the mouthful whole. Minor details of the scene shifted as Morgan willed the active filters of his Bloodline to change, dialing back the opacity of all Prana energy to half strength to better watch the consumed Aether motes. Similar to how physical food would fare, the mass of black motes was forced deeper into the body when sections of the Soul Foundation flexed and constricted. However, once passed the mouth, the Aether wasn''t pushed through a single tube-like esophagus ending in a stomach; instead, it was dumped haphazardly within the body. This new influx of Aether joined the energy motes from previous meals in a bizarre mixture of black, grey, and white, all floating widely between the countless roots of the Body Foundation pulsing green with Qi. There was a method to this seemingly half-assed consumption method that closer resembled the ways of bacteria than mammals. All of the eaten Aether slowly moved in one direction as if pulled by gravity to a sphere of Essence located where a stomach would be in an Earth whale. Inside the sphere were three orbs of Aether, each consisting entirely of a single alignment type, and all spun around each other at speeds so quick that most of the time, they appeared as bands of light. As more motes approached the area, they would get absorbed by an orb of the same color, adding to their mass until they approached critical mass. Upon reaching softball levels in size, the Aether orbs routinely altered their orbit to violently smash into each other, creating a monochromatic shockwave within Junior. From the moment of the shockwave''s birth and expansion, all three Foundations flared brightly, seemingly absorbing the wave and infusing the energy into the Prana. In a second, the Aether explosion was completely drained before expanding to a meter in size; three new orbs were already being spun up to speed and, in another hour or so, would reach critical mass again. Before meeting the pod of Kataklysmos, the Professor knew from observing Momo and other Beasts that the Soul was essential in collecting Aether for Cultivation. Yet, it wasn''t until meeting these beautiful creatures¨C creatures big enough and dolce enough to allow Morgan to see and realize that the Soul was all that was needed for the infusion process. That key similarity to how a Spirit like Ego, a being composed entirely of Essence, processed Aether solidified in his mind what was needed to become a Cultivator. It- [You''d call our young friend little?] The Spirit suddenly asked, the faintest bit of vulnerability flickering within their question enough to drag him back to the moment and disable the Bloodline. [Hmm?] He grunted, looking at the calf in the eye with just as much interest as they gave them. [That depends. Are we measuring Junior here by Earth whale standards or compared to Mama?] ¡°Eie-eie-eie!¡± Junior let out a peel of squeaky chirps that were equal parts adorable and teeth rattling. The additional attention delighted the youth enough to add a little flair to their swim, causing the calf to accidentally accelerate past the pod and earning them an annoyed rumble from the mother. Her scolding brought the calf back into formation, and Junior''s gaze rested on the Spirit as if waiting for Ego to answer his question. The Bestiary warned of the Kataklysmos''s advanced Mind Foundations. Still, now he had to wonder if they really could hear thoughts. Even if they did, was their understanding of his and the Spirit''s projections just reacting to white noise or a deeper comprehension? [Is there a difference?] Ego sighed. [In my opinion, no, because my answer is yes to both question variants, but for different reasons. Compared to most whale species, the Kataklysmos are on the low end of the size spectrum, only a little smaller than the 18 meters of Sperm whales. As for the other, it''s a little obvious-]The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. [I was actually measuring little by overconfident scientists still recovering from the last time they underestimated an Aether-charged Beast.] [Hey, all the Harpy wounds have closed up by now.] And as proof, he flexed the muscles in his forearms and rolled his shoulders. [That''s the bright side of using a razor-sharp cutting edge against your opponents; those kinds of wounds heal way faster than claw-torn flesh.] [Good to know, but I was talking about yesterday''s dive when this same group of Beasts nearly bent you to death with a surprise attack. [First, I''m confident that wasn''t an attack on us; we just got swept up as the pod pulled up food hiding in the grove.] Morgan defended Big Mama''s pod and gently padded her nose. [Second, I said ascending too quickly would cause nitrogen bubbles to form in my bloodstream, causing immense pain at best and death at worst. Known commonly as the ''Bends'' and I know, you know that.] [Do I though?] They teased with a shrug. [You were a little frantic when we were holding onto a palm tree for dear life; maybe I misheard what you were frantically screaming about during all the craziness. An honest mistake.] [I bet it wasn''t.] He snorted, crossing his arms. [I doubt you''d be able to back up that claim.] They pointed. [I''d take that bet.] Morgan stuck out a hand to shake it, but that only made the ghostly grin widen. [I''m not much of a gambler.] Ego snickered before manifesting the Mala beads around their hands clasped in false supplication as they swapped back to their old speech pattern. [But, surely one so wise would never accuse this poor monk of spreading falsehoods just for the sake of getting a rise. A thousand pardons if this one''s thoughtless speculations have ''bent'' the Professor out of shape.] He gave another snort of disbelief, but in truth, Morgan was delighted with the current development. A crack appeared in the mysterious wall hanging between them, and he could finally see Ego''s usual self on the other side. Perhaps a little more back and forth could bring down the rest of the damned wall. [Really Monk?] He sighed, pointing a finger at the Kataklysmos, whose massive eye followed the duo''s silent argument with keen interest. [Lying right in front of the kid? If brats can''t rely on their elders to tell it like it is, then who knows where they''ll end up. What are you going to do if Junior ends up swimming on the wrong side of the current?] [Maybe I-] Ego started to return fire when the avatar''s demeanor instantly changed, snapping taut like the mooring line between a dock and a ship during a storm. Their lips became a strained thin line, the robes froze in place before their gaze flicked elsewhere, unable to look at the studded Human. What the hell had gotten into them? Just like that, the minuscule amount of progress Morgan had managed to chip away was gone, and once more, the wall was whole. So sudden was the shift in mood that it captured the attention of the other Beasts, who now all swam around Big Mama to watch the drama unfold. Shit, even Big Mama had begun to swim noticeably slower so she could be part of the unwanted audience. While the Scientist was impressed with the level of the Kataklysmos''s social intelligence, he was not a fan of how high school things had become. Morgan had done his time in that hell hole of adolescence anguish and refused to return in any form. [Alright, I''m done with subtlety Ego. What the hell did I do to piss you off this time?] [It''s not what you did that''s the problem, it''s what I- Well actually the problem is something you did but I let you- Not that I can tell you what to do-] They kept stopping and starting sentences like that, endlessly backpedaling and tripping over themselves until letting out a frustrated groan. [Look, we need to talk about our research''s latest breakthrough.] [We do?] [We do.] Ego said before executing a flawless imitation of taking a deep breath, and finally spoke their piece. [I think your assumption on Soul Sovereignty is¡­ It''s suspect at best and outright wrong at worst.] Morgan''s jaw might''ve dropped from pure surprise if not for the large rubber mouth guard making that impossible. Of all the topics he thought might''ve upset Ego, Cultivation research wasn''t even on the list. Up until now, Morgan just assumed the Monk simply wasn''t that interested, seeing his goals as a necessary step in achieving their own. The revelation left the man grasping for what to say in response. [Sorry, but it had to be said.] They insisted, misunderstanding his silence and launching into an explanation that bordered on rambling. [I don''t disagree with the general idea of Soul Sovereignty. Obviously, Beasts have the ability to control their Essence and use their Souls to process and infuse Aether into their Prana energies. I''m also not saying that gaining the ability isn''t absolutely necessary for you to become a Cultivator.] [Then¡­ What are you saying?] [What I am saying¡­ is that I don''t think finding this perfect research subject is going to¡­ give you the answer you think it will.] Ahhh, so that was what was bothering them the whole time. With the truth now out in the open, the morning events began to click into place as the Professor''s mind raced wildly, forming a range of different responses. He found the most logical route rather quickly, one where but one look from the crowd gave him an idea to turn this into a valuable lesson. [You do?] Morgan challenged with crossed arms, his mental tone now devoid of all emotion as if he were speaking aloud. [And, you think you''re capable of making that kinda call in this project?] Seven massive eyes turned to Ego. [I do, and I do.] They said shakily. [I have to be because I think you''re a little too invested in the research to see clearly.] The audience looked to Morgan. [Interesting. You not only doubt the hypothesis of a scientist with decades of experience over you, but you also accuse me of being biased to the point of being blind to some kind of obvious truth.] He tilted his head up to look down on the trembling Monk. [Some might say that''s quite bold coming from an amateur.] A physical visible tremor ran down Big Mama''s and the other Beasts''s spine from that mental bitch slap that made the Spirit wince. [Amateur, I am, and professional, you are. I am still a full partner in this research. I refuse to apologize for speaking my mind, especially when I have a good reason to do so. I''m sure you can learn a lot from any Beasts''s Cultivation Method, but I''ve always been doubtful of-] [Alway been doubtful?] He repeated, shoving his face so close to theirs that the avatar''s ethereal blue light cast into the diving mask made the Human''s glare reach demonic levels as Morgan snarled. [Really? Sounds like a load of bullshit to me. I didn''t see any doubt last night when you were nodding along to my every word. In fact, I''ve hardly heard a peep from you all morning. But I''ll humor you. So, tell me Monk, what am I doing wrong?] Ego gapped like a fish at their traveling partner, at a complete loss of words when confronted with the quiet flames of his wrath. They looked away from his gaze, unable to take the heat, only to realize there was no escape as the pod had completely surrounded them. Mortal and Beast eyes watched the Spirit from every angle, all of them waiting for an answer. [I- uh¡­L-like I said, not wr-wr-wrong¡­ Jus-t some¡­ friendly advice- Hold on, I¡­] Ego was utterly overwhelmed, devolving to an incoherent mess. Their head spinning every which way like an over-caffeinated owl as they couldn''t look away yet couldn''t maintain eye contact with the Kataklysmos, let alone Morgan. The Spirit was in free fall, the light of their avatar dimming noticeable in their panic, a trait the Scientist had never seen before. Time to pull them back up with one last push. [I ASKED YOU A QUESTION, SO WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU LOOKING AT THEM FOR?!] Morgan barked with so much mental force it made the muscles in his jaw clench. [LOOK AT ME WHEN I''M TALKING TO YOU, DAMN IT!!!] That last blow was enough to finally bring the wall Ego hid behind come crashing down. Ego''s outer shell of uncomfortable insistence harden, transmuting right before the Professor''s eyes into an armor of steely resolve in the face of his challenge. Blue light flared bright as a rising sun within the avatar, forcing the aquatic onlookers to break and look away on threat of blindness. Fear that twisted their ink-black face evaporated like water on a hot plate, replaced not with Mortal rage but with a stoic serenity normally found in faces carved of stone. *Click. Click. Click.* Hidden from sight, he could hear their spectral beads clacking like the second hand on a clock. [That''s better.] Morgan nodded, stubbornly ignoring the pain and tears welling up, and continued matching gazes with the azure star. [Now, do I need to repeat the question?] The avatar''s light dimmed drastically, going from a welding torch to a far more manageable light bulb level, which, of course, brought back the Kataklysmos''s close attention. [No need.] Ego''s eyes narrowed as they observed him, and for an instant, the Scientist understood what it felt like to be on the other side of a microscope. [The truth is that I don''t know if what you''re doing is right or wrong, and how could I? This is ultimately your journey¨C Your Dao to travel for as far as Fate dictates. So, if you wish to learn from the Cultivation of others, I have no objections, but that is clearly not the case here. You don''t seem to understand that the difference between a Beast''s Soul and a Mortal''s is as absolute as Heaven and Earth, and so search for an answer when you need something deeper.] [Meaning?] He frowned, the scar on his nose prickling with discomfort. [Meaning that you''re a stubborn old coot looking for a human-shaped bird to steal wing-flapping techniques from instead of learning how a bird flies to help construct an airplane. How the Ancient Cultivators of the past harnessed Aether may be lost, but the Diamond Tantra is proof that a method for Mortal, by Mortal exists. Start there.] [So you want me to abandon the expedition, pack up the base camp, and head for the capital?] [...I didn''t say that.] The Monk said after a pause, their expression softening as the brightness of their Essence returned to normal levels. [In fact, I think we should keep going¨C keep exploring the islands and Beasts until we can''t anymore. It''s hard for me to explain¡­ But I have a feeling that doing so is¡­ necessary somehow.] Morgan stared at them and then at the audience as he tried to understand what it had all meant. Junior and their extended family looked back at him with almost as much confusion. More than half of the crowd''s attention kept returning to the Monk as if convinced Ego had more to say, while the others waited for the Human to make sense of it all. [So let me get this straight.] The Professor projected with a slow, dry tone as he loomed over the Spirit. [You agree that I need to obtain Soul Sovereignty, disagree with my current hypothesis of how to obtain the ability, a hypothesis born from wishful thinking, but still think I should continue on even in vain because of a gut feeling I''ll get what I need in the end?] [Yes?] Ego flashed Morgan and the others a sheepish smile. [I know a feeling isn''t the most scientific of reasoning, but I-] [Don''t have to explain yourself because you''re right about doubting my judgment due to a possible bias.] He finished for them before checking his remaining air time. [I still think my hypothesis will be correct, but I''m not moronic enough to ignore the reality of my situation. Next time, just tell me what''s on your mind instead of brooding about it all morning long. It''s annoying and unnecessary.] [Brooding?] They gasped, glowing eyes blinking wildly in disbelief. [Wait, you aren''t mad at me for doubting you?] [Nope, also, you should start saying goodbye to everyone because, in five minutes, we need to start heading up.] Now satisfied that the wall issue had finally been dealt with, the Professor laid back down on Big Mama and turned to his side to observe the colorful palm tree grove, determined to use this remaining time to burn the fantastical scene into memo- Shit! Morgan''s heartbeat raced as two powerful flippers gently but firmly wrapped around his biceps and spun him 180¡ã before releasing him. As Big Mama''s long fins returned to her sides, Morgan looked back at the eight, no, nine individuals who clearly felt the conversation wasn''t over. Junior, in particular, seemed agitated as they used a fin to point instantly at a frowning Ego. [What in the Heavens was that all about?!] They yelled, a hurt look on their face as they raged at him. [It took me a very long time to piece together a somewhat reasonable argument for my views and even longer to build up the courage to bring it up in the first place. Yet when I take the chance to speak up I''m confronted with aggressive and insults when all I wanted was to help. I was terrified!] [I know. I was pretty convincing back there, huh?] He chuckled dryly. [Over the years I''ve found intimidation an effective tactic on my more promising students. So many of them were too trusting that I and other experts in different fields were infallible and pissed themselves at the thought of questioning our motives.] Then, in almost perfect unison with each other, Ego and the Kataklysmos pod froze in place as the truth crashed over them like an avalanche. Well, the adults of the pod, in any case. Junior likely found the nuanced concept of the discussion too slippery to grasp and, while working out what the strange little biped on their mother meant, nearly collided with the Kataklysmos before them. Luckily, Mama''s fin pulled them back from the brink just in time. [Morgan.] They said his name through gritted teeth. [Did you put me through all that just to teach me a lesson in self-confidence?] [Yep.] The Professor padded the Monk on the shoulder. [But look on the bright side; you''ve undoubtedly proven that you have what it takes to stand up for yourself even when your worst fears become reality. Good job by the way; most of those students didn''t have the spine to call me out like that.] [How comforting.] Ego deadpanned, a corner of their mouth twitching. [And I''m sure this lesson was only for my benefit and not so you could screw with me for your own amusement, right?] [Of course not, don''t be ridiculous.] He took advantage of the halted party to stand up and began stretching, prepping his muscles for the swim to the crescent beach. [I was screwing with you for everyone''s benefits.] ¡°Eie-eie-eieeeeeeee!¡± The Kataklysmos all exploded in what could only be a high-pitched squeal of laughter. All around Big Mama, the Beasts began swimming in circles, twisting and, in the case of one of them, swam up to the water''s surface to flip in pure joy. Again, little Junior was left out of the fun and pulled instantly at their laughing mother''s fin, the way every child would to demand an explanation. [Bwahahaha!] Morgan roared succumbing to the infects mood and waved a hand. [See? They get it.] [I- I¡­] Ego''s mouth worked back and forth between scowl and smile before they gave up and joined the fun. [Hee-Hee! Hehehe! I hate you so much right now!]
Together, Mortal, Spirit, and Beasts all enjoyed their last few moments together under the crisp blue waters surrounding Luna Lagoon. A comparatively peaceful island in what would very soon be proven an undoubtedly dangerous sea, but it was an outlier that nobody seemed to mind existing. As the Professor began paddling towards their next destination, at present only visible as a tiny yellow dot over the horizon, the Monk waved back at the eight black fins, bidding them all goodbye. The sight warmed the old man''s heart, and he could only hope the inhabitants of the next island greeted visitors as warmly as the Kataklysmos. Better still, if one of the Beasts there was the perfect subject he sought. Tragically, the duo hopes would shrivel up and violently die in the most horrific manner on that evil star of an island, the memories haunting their nightmares for years to come. Sometimes, Morgan and Ego would learn during that particularly cursed expedition, the universe really do be a bitch like that. But that was an adventure best told later. And perhaps during therapy. 19. The Last Hope Proud parent as Morgan was of the prodigal gecko, her sudden progression threw a wrench in the original plan''s gears. The Scientist wanted to observe and record step by step both how a beginner interacted with Aether and how the budding Cultivation progressed in relation. She was to be something akin to a control specimen in an experiment. Afterward, assuming a monstrous gecko hadn''t ripped him to pieces, they would do the same study on other Beasts they could find. If everything went well, Morgan was confident they could use the data to reverse engineer a method suitable for Mortals. Nature is, of course, the greatest of all teachers. Sadly, the fact that his little Princess could now teleport, among other physical changes that made themselves known soon after, killed the first half of that plan. May it find peace in the next life. However, the Professor always accounts for potential road bumps and is ready to pivot at a moment''s notice. Using Momo as the centerpiece of the study would have been convenient, but there would be other fish in Olympia''s sea. They planned to travel around the fog-locked island, now named Lamplight Isla, after the little bioluminescent plants growing above and below the surface in an outward clockwise spiral. Whenever a new island''s hazy form poked over the horizon, its location was marked, and an expedition was launched at the earliest convenience. Originally, Momo was to be left on Lamplight to stay safe, the idea being they would return to check on her. However, her change in diet, combined with a lack of fauna on foggy Lamplight, meant the adorable Beast had to live elsewhere. So they left her on the first island they encountered, a bizarre place but brimming with suitable prey items. Once his wounds proved non-threatening on the third day, it was time to set sail. Well, in truth, they''d be paddling the whole way, but it was the thought that counted. By July 19th, 2074, the two had found four new islands and eight new Spiritual Beast species but had yet to overcome the first hurdle of Cultivation. Although as the 26th night began to be burned away, Man and Spirit were following up on their hottest lead yet.
[Merciful Heavens, it''s so hot!] Projected Ego with alarm after going corporeal for the first time in three days. They lasted a whole minute before correcting that mistake. [I don''t even have a Body, and I think I have a burn now. How are you even still alive?] They had to speak mind to mind to each other, as the scorching vertical gales bellowing right in front of them made verbal conversations impossible. The winds also made their spy nest very hot, a fact Morgan desperately wanted to ignore. It also didn''t help his mood that he had chosen to leave his coat back in the cave, and had been without for weeks. But these expeditions, one in particular, had already destroyed three sets of clothes. With a weary sigh, the Scientist lowered the binoculars he had used to observe Subject 6262 on the landscape below. He checked the readings from the open-air thermometer and snorted as the digital display shifted a full degree higher, now reading 40¡ãC. [A toxic mixture of distractions, suicidal curiosity, and a delusional hope that hardships will be rewarded in the end.] He said mentally, even as sweat pooled and dripped from his brow, earlobes, chin, and every other surface not currently touching stone. [Speaking of distractions, have you thought of a name for this island?] The as of yet, unnamed island Morgan and Ego spent the entirety of the last three nights on was perhaps the most hostile location they had visited so far. The 150-hectare bean-shaped land mass had three key geological features; the coral lands, the red wastes, and the tower. The 1-3 meter corallite structures that completely covered the northern, eastern, and southern shores only looked like bleached fire coral but were really just stone. A brittle stone that tended to break at the narrow sections and plunge any poor creature forced to walk over them on a bed of sharp, broken rocks. Making it the perfect nesting ground for the island''s nocturnal prey species and a nightmare for anything larger than a medium-sized dog to travel over. Crossing through the red wastes encompassing the West shore was far more manageable as the only obstacles were bushes with thick black mineral shells protecting the green plant flesh within. Unfortunately, easier did not mean safer. Traversing through the wastes at night might mean a fatal run-in with the island''s only predators if they catch an unfamiliar scent wafting in their grove. However, walking in the same area during the day will kill anything not rooted in the ground, period. The greatest danger on the island was the tower. This 100+ meter tall and twice as wide rock formation resembled a broken chimney with a western opening and the grove of birch-looking trees with flaming leaves growing exactly where the firebox would be. The fiery leaves weren''t real fire but Mana masquerading as the chemical reaction; they even acted like mundane foliage and kept their shape as the trees periodically shed and replaced them. The constant fires and the tower''s shape created a smoke stack effect that draws in massive amounts of air from the bottom, stokes the flaming trees, and blasts hot air out the broken top. At night, strong winds blew in from the sea at around 30-40 knots, equivalent to a nasty thunderstorm back home. When the sun shone on the trees and photosynthesis was added to the equation, the raging inferno sucked in air at speeds rivaling the worst tornadoes in history. [As a matter of fact, I have, and I have a winner in mind.] The Monk smiled, which would have lit up the area if they were visible. [We should call it...] *Drum roll* The rapid beating of a snare drum bursted into his mind. [Trinity''s Crucible.] [Hmm.] Morgan chewed on the name as he returned to monitoring the Subject with the binoculars. [I like it. It''s way better than mine.] [What was yours?] [The Last Hope. But I might have just been reflecting too much.] [Well... Maybe just a little.] The two lay prone on the lowest desolate peak of the rusted red tower, putting them at least 40+ meters from the ground. Climbing the almost vertical rock wall in the fading light of twilight and descending in the dim light of dawn was a danger in itself, but the view offered two crucial advantages. It gave an unobstructed view of the box canyon below while still downwind of the pact''s territory. Ignoring for a moment the three identical heads and crimson flames erupting from their mouths with every bark, snarl, and growl, the Cerberi greatly resemble the Cretan hound. Each Beast was longer than it was tall and had a wedge-shaped head with pricked ears, slender legs, a snatch waist, and a long tail that curved forward to make a ring. Their short fire-resistant fur came in black soot, ash white, or a mottled mix of both colors. An excellent body plan for hunting small dexterous prey, such as the Black Iron Hares, rabbit-like Beasts with metal teeth that burrowed through the scorched ground and fed exclusively off the rocky shrubbery. Incredible as the island''s ecosystem was, only one creature here captured the Scientist''s attention so tightly. Through the binoculars, a female cerberus of black fur shifted uncomfortably on a vast bed of flaming leaves, finding it impossible to get comfortable with a belly that swollen. At regular intervals, the shiny fur rippled from powerful muscle contractions that promised that a miracle would soon come. Beside her, an ashen male paced back and forth in agitation, clearly as anxious to get this ordeal over with as Morgan was. The male kept one head trained on his whining mate while the rest snarled and growled at any packmate who dared intrude on this intimate moment. [Hey, is it weird that I feel terrible for spying?] Asked the Monk uncomfortably as the mother-to-be''s triple grone reached a new high of misery. [This seems like a violation of Cookie and Cream''s privacy. I know we''re running out of research leads, but still¡­ I feel too invested now.] Cookie was the name given to the mother as Ego refused to even consider using the subject number, and naturally, the father was dubbed Cream almost immediately afterward. [If it helps, I doubt they''d care about being spied on, it''s the intruding on their territory that''ll really piss them off.] Shrugged the Professor, who had made a successful career out of intruding on the lives of wild animals. [Also, we are not running out of leads; we have only ever had one lead.] [Ah, but there is one more lead to follow.] Corrected the Monk gently as they knew the Scientist''s apprehension on the topic. [So long as the Professor is brave enough to take the bull by the horns, that is.] [Is this about the mediation thing again?] Morgan turned a frown at the Spirit grinning wickedly beside him. [I''m really not sure if something like that-] *Tisssss* The sounds of sizzling flames cut through the silent night. Forgetting the conversation entirely, Morgan put the binoculars back on and zeroed in on the plump Cookie and the fast-fading cloud of steam near her rear. [Her water broke!] Gasped the Monk excitedly, likely they were tapping into the Scientist''s sight. [Prepare yourself, dearly departed Spirit, for we will witness one of life''s greatest miracles. And if we''re lucky, make some real headway into our research.] For most canine breeds on Earth, there would be a 20-40 minute gap between fluid release and delivery. But it seemed the Beasts of Vajrayana couldn''t afford such luxuries, for a membranous sac was already emerging. "Ouuuuwww!" Cried one of the mother''s heads while the others each let out a 3-meter pillar of flames that cast the world below a reddish glow. [Incredible.] Said Ego in equal parts horror, sympathy, and awe. [Having to push out one head already seems like a trial, but to contest with three simultaneously sounds like a calamity.] [Life, if nothing else, is a tenacious thing.] He agreed before narrating the scene so Ego could scribe it later in the log. [The pup, referred to hereafter as Subject 2229-] [We''re calling them Biscuit.] Ego interrupted insistently. It took the American a moment to understand they meant the English treat, not the buttery baked good. [-has fully emerged from 6262 while encased in an amniotic sac. There are no signs of movement from 2229, and visibly, the Subject has no birth defects or abnormalities... One of 6262''s heads has bitten through the amniotic sac, exposing 2229 to air and direct contact with fire leaves¡­ No visible reaction. Subject 7272, the father, licks the unmoving Subject¡­ No visible response from 2229.] The Professor''s heart sank at the all too familiar scene playing out below. As an Ecologist, tragic events like these were simply par for the course. The creation of life might be called a miracle, but it only took one foul line of DNA or one bad fall during pregnancy to snuff out potential before it ever saw the light of day. Life could be cruel, and death could be cruel, so why would birth be any different? Yet, even after witnessing hundreds of such misfortunes, it never got any easier. A shame. But nothing could be done, even if the pack would allow Morgan to help. [Guanyin, Bodhisattva of Compassion and Mercy, Deliverer of Sapient beings from unhappiness and hardship.] The mala beads tapped against the stone as the Monk started to chant. [By will of Heaven and self, This Mortal implores with honest resolve, May all hardships leave young Biscuit behind, Let them dissolve into the winds of Fate.] The Monk would finish a third repetition, but there wouldn''t be a fourth. "Yap! Yip! Afr!" The triple cries of the newly born Biscuit rang out into the brightening sky. "OUUUUUWWWW!!!" Howled the pack soon after. The Monk jumped to their feet and cheered for the new squealing life that protested heavily to the relieved parents'' persistent fussing and nudging. [They did it! They did it! Oh yeah, yeah, yeah!] Ego half sang, half screamed, on the top of their avatar''s incorporeal lungs. All pretenses of a Zen monk were lost as they got into the spirit of celebration. [No death up here today, woo!]Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! [I''m triggering the Bloodline now.] The Scientist snorted with amusement before he rolled the dice with his Soul yet again. Through the binoculars, he could see nothing but the darkened outlines of the quadrupedal Beasts surrounding the pup''s own outline. Morgan made it a habit to always start ''Perception'' this way, as Ego confirmed that most of the Bloodline''s cost came from translating the energy. He willed only Biscuit''s Eternal Foundations into view, and just as hoped, the newborn''s Prana energies were as dim and feeble as the Humans. This was good, incredible even. Birth occurred over two minutes ago, and there was no hint of Aether infusion. Now, the Professor filtered out the Qi vines and Mana halo and allowed the ambient Aether within a meter of the Subject to be displayed at 50% opacity. Little pinpricks of ghostly light swirled around the glowing red shroud of the stumbling pup, and Morgan waited for all his hopes and dreams to come crashing down. ... And¡­ Nothing happened. The Scientist offered the dancing Spirit an open palm, and they high-fived. *Smack!* There was no reaction in the Aether''s chaotic movements, no unsynchronized movement between the physical body and Essence shroud. Such a result was precisely what they had hoped for. After 26 days of watching Beasts Cultivate, he noticed a distinctive characteristic that they all displayed. Without exception, their Essence shroud could be consciously moved without any help from the body. Somehow, by this willful action, the ambient Aether behaved differently than simply being repelled, as was the case for Morgan. Souls of Spiritual Beasts could interact with Aether as if the motes were physical objects. According to his research and observations, that ability was absolutely necessary for Cultivation. There was a fear that this ability was something akin to a beating heart or being able to flex a limb; that would mean game over. However, if control over the Soul was a skill, like flying for birds or walking for children, a fresh newborn like the pup wouldn''t be able to do it. Their elders would need to show them the ropes, and the Scientist would be happy to catch a few Cultivation pointers from an experienced veteran. New plans began to form in his mind as Cookie laid on her side to allow her child to drink her milk. He and the Spirit would have to watch Biscuit''s lessons from the shore. They''d likely miss much, but that was fine; these Cerberi lived in an environment that was too hostile anyway. It''ll take time, but another pregnant Spirital Beast was bound to crop up soon, hopefully on a less extreme island. While the road ahead was still long, the future looked brighter than a star. Morgan watched in satisfaction as the pup''s triple noses twitched and rose in the air after catching the scent of milk; they crawled with haste to the nearest nipple. As all three heads bent down to suckle, Essence Shroud''s heads did not follow. Instead, they began turning in different directions to start nibbling on Aether, each head consuming a different affinity. Then that beacon of hope went supernova as Morgan''s heart collapsed in on itself. [Son of a-] [Is something wrong?] Asked Ego mentally. [Remember, I can''t see what your Bloodline shows you, so from my perspective, you''re just silently seething at a new family.] [Wrong?] Sighed Morgan, deactivating the Bloodline and flipping onto his back to stare dejectedly at the sky. Most of the stars of this unfamiliar galaxy were already hidden as the easter sky crept dangerously close to a blue hue. [Nothing''s wrong. Just because I don''t like the facts doesn''t make them wrong.] [Ah.] They grimaced in sympathy before sitting next to him. [Little Biscuit is already a Cultivator?] [Started before their first mouthful of milk. Its official non-sapient creatures, like Biscuit the Cerberus, are born with Soul Sovereignty as a reflex action.] The undeniable truth put the final nail in the original plan''s coffin. He rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration because it was a better outlet than tossing the irreplaceable tool like he desperately wanted. [Sunrise is less than 15 minutes out, so we''ll stay put until the pack moves on.] Morgan offered the binoculars to Ego. The Spirit maintained eye contact, a beat too long to be casual, before taking the binoculars to see if the claim was valid. Thus, the Professor was left to dwell on the last 26 days. In a fit of total apathy, Morgan triggered the Bloodline with no filters. Like all newly discovered islands, the Crucible hardly held even a tenth of the ambient Aether as Lamplight. So, only a flurry obscured the sky instead of a blizzard of motes. He looked at his hands, at the Essence in particular, as a cloud of white Yang came within reach. He knew doing so would be pointless, but all the same, he tried to grasp the cosmic energy. As always, his Soul got in the way. The fiery shroud covering the fingers repelled the cloud almost as if the two forces were like magnets of the same polarity. With a sigh, Morgan disabled the Bloodline, finding the view too depressing to continue. Soul Sovereignty, the ability to either directly or indirectly control one''s own shroud of Essence to manipulate and absorb ambient Aether. But after 26 days of island hopping and Beast watching, Morgan could read the writing on the wall. These expeditions have taught him much and could likely teach him so much more, but obtaining Soul Sovereignty would never be one of those lessons. The fact that the Celestial Court Sect so easily offered what the Human so desperately wanted, poisoned fruit that it was, galled him to no end. Morgan''s hand instinctively reached for a dreadlock to fidget with, but he had to slap it away out of fear he might actually rip the cord out, so great were his frustrations. To be able to see, yet never touch. To know the method, but lack the means. To have the unwavering resolve to risk the untraveled path, only for the circumstance of birth to be the chains that bound him. Was this to be his Fate? Either give in and fly on borrowed wings or die at the foot of the mountain like a stubborn mule? NO! Body, Mind, Soul; Every aspect of the Human rebelled violently against such vile futures. It was unfair! It was wrong! It was maddening! Accepting such a Fate would be ridiculous. It was¡­ It was like¡­ [It''s like trying to write¡­] Ego suddenly muttered. Morgan turned, but the Spirit was no longer beside him. He craned his neck forward and found them sitting patiently, legs crossed and open palms resting on robed knees. So the Zen monk had chosen now to return? [I''ve been thinking and concluded that Cultivation is like writing a story.] The Monk said with a calm certainty they''ve rarely displayed before. [You are the Writer, reality the Paper, your actions are the Words, and Aether is the Ink all chapters are written in.] [If what you''re getting at is that Soul Sovereignty is the Pen that directs the Ink, then I''ve already come to that depressing reality, and I''m not ready to fork over the cash to rent one.] Morgan shrugged dejectedly before looking at the golden sun about to peek over the horizon. [Dawn''s almost here. We should go before-] [I disagree.] Said Ego evenly, though a corner of their mouth turned upwards. [Since we have determined that all that is needed for Cultivation is a Soul capable of manipulating Aether, then the Pen is the Soul.] The Professor sat up; his curiosity peaked. [...Alright, I''ll play along. If the Pen is the Soul, then sovereignty over it is the Writer''s ability to use it.] [Hmm. The more appropriate phrasing would be to ''write with it''.] They sniffed. [Far more symbolic.] [I majored in Biology, not English.] The Scientist deadpanned. [Either way, you''re telling me what I already know. I lack Soul Sovereignty, meaning I. Can''t. Write.] [I think you can.] [Not a chance, no.] [If I can do it, well, you can do it.] [Ego, we''re not doing this.] Morgan threw up his hands and looked westward as the very edge of the far too nurturing sun pierced the horizon. Damn it. Where on Earth was Ego going with this? They had 12, maybe 15 minutes, to descend the rocky tower before the sunlight hit the trees. If the smothering birches made the environment unbearable now, then the photosynthetic boost would make Death Valley seem like Moscow. Even the Cerberi thought so, for they spent all of the daylight hours on the desert beaches far away from the grove. In fact, the pack had already left, ready to start the day with a hunt. [Hee-hehe! Sorry, I couldn''t resist.] They said, bursting into a fit of giggles before regaining composure. [But in all seriousness, I want you to ignore the metaphoric comparison momentarily. Let''s say you''re really a writer with an empty piece of paper in front of you and a pen full of ink in hand. You wish to write a meaningful story. The story can be whatever you want, so long as it''s meaningful. What''s stopping you from writing?] [Hmm.] Hummed the Professor, now wholly engrossed in the mental exercise. [In that case, it wouldn''t be from an inability to put words on a page¡­ I guess I wouldn''t know what to write in the first place.] [Why is that?] [That prompt is too vague to go off; just wanting to write a story isn''t enough for an amateur. So, I would shore up my lacking experience by reading the work of other writers.] He gestured around the two of them. [But something tells me that won''t help in this scenario.] [Help?] They asked with false innocence. [Of course, that would help. By learning from others, you were able to understand story structure, character design, tone, grammar, the whole shabang. With this knowledge at your disposal, could you write a meaningful story then?] [...Before I answer that, why don''t you tell me what your definition of ''meaningful'' is in this context.] [That''s a fair question.] The Monk flashed a grin that might''ve spread ear to ear if the avatar weren''t so realistic. [Let''s say ''meaningful'' evokes a powerful response to your innermost self.] [With that context in mind, I could write a story, but whether or not it was meaningful to me depends on the purpose inspiring the piece. I''d have to write about something I really cared about, or it won''t evoke anything.] He looked out to the eastern horizon and paraphrased the words of the dead. [If the art could not move the artist, then how would it do so for others?] The Scientist only had a shallow understanding of the phrase''s meaning; again, he was never a devotee to the arts, but the person he quoted was one. If they swore by it, then he would as well. [So, what you''re saying is,] teased the Monk, their blue orbs sparkling with anticipation, [that the reason you can''t write is because the Pen lacks purpose?] [The Pen?] He frowned. [I am the Writer; I move the Pen once I know what to write. The Writer is the one that requires purpose.] His frown became a scowl as he realized the nonsense he just said. [Wait, if the Soul is the Pen and I''m the Writer, then doesn''t that mean I am both?] [The self and the Soul are one, yet they are separate. A Writer without a Pen is as useless as a Pen without a Writer. Meaningful writing is a collaboration between the two, just as Cultivation can only be achieved through a purpose shared by the self and the Soul.] [So I don''t have sovereignty over my Soul because we lack a shared purpose?] [Morgan, be honest with me.] They sighed with dramatic flair and looked at him skeptically. [Do you even have a purpose for Cultivating, outside of your goal of understanding Aether?] Uhhh¡­ Crap, he''d never really given it much thought. But he had a purpose; of course, he had a purpose for Cultivating. [Yes.] He sniffed, his poker face impeccable after over half a century of practice. [You do, do you?] They snorted. [Please share with the class.] [I really, really wanna.] Morgan sat up like he didn''t just give an answer that any toddler would, and started stretching out his legs to climb down. Yet, somehow the Monk found his ironclad response to be lacking, if their cocked brow and head tilt was any indicator. [Didn''t you say wanting something isn''t enough for an amateur to create something meaningful?] [Why does the purpose have to be meaningful?] He challenged and started to walk around the peak, careful not to trip over or knock down any of the rocky debris. [If the purpose is not meaningful, then how would it evoke a response in your innermost self? Aka your Soul?] They fired back, rotating their avatar in place to keep him in sight. [Your words not mine.] Morgan stopped the pacing to give Ego a look of his own. One that a generous soul might only call sour. [That answer was used as an analogy for creating art. It was never meant for the field.] The Scientist gestured to all around him in utter frustration. [Damn it Monk. This is real life, not a story where things just happen because it sounds like it should. Out here, there are rules that govern the course of everything and-] He stopped mid-sentence and mid-step as he remembered where he was. This was not Earth. Hell, this wasn''t even Cosmos. Who was he to lecture Ego, a literal Spirit, on what the Soul could or couldn''t do? Vajrayana had rules; it was a functional universe after all. He simply didn''t know all of them. After so long of knowing how the world worked, it was easy to forget that was no longer the case. The man collapsed, first on his ass, then flat on his back. A rock poked sharply at the back of his head, and he tossed it aside; the red mineral dust mixed with the sweat on his hand and stained it red. He didn''t care. The Mental and physical exhaustion Morgan had been repressing for weeks saw an opening in the armor and reminded the Human that he was just that. A human, looking up at a sky that seemed so much farther away than it did yesterday. Someone tapped his shoulder, and Morgan rolled his head to see what they wanted now. [Purpose is not so hard to find if you know where to look.] The Monk smiled kindly at the chained Mortal and offered a hand. [I know a great place to start if you''re willing to let me guide you.] The dawn''s golden light finally broke over this scorched corner of planet Olympia. God rays bathed the Spirit in an aura of brilliant hope, and something fundamental shifted deep within the Professor''s mind. When Morgan agreed to assist Ego in their journey, he believed their relationship to be one of simple convenience. The Scientist wanted a helpful native willing to break a few laws; the Spirit wanted a pair of legs to chase after their past. But now¡­ Now, he suspected there may be the potential for something... More. 20. The Preparations Naturally, Morgan agreed to the proposal. Of course, he did; what other choices were there to consider? In truth, there were two, and both were tragically different flavors of insanity. The Scientist could have ignored the proposal, written whatever mystical BS the Monk had in mind as such, and continued the search for the missing link one island at a time. Or the Professor could have shifted his observations to Class Cultivators and risked entering a high traffic population hub while powerless and actively seeking a way to break the law. The first option was repeating the same action in hopes of a different result, the definition of madness. The other was simply suicidal wishful thinking. The Spirit''s guidance began immediately as they had Morgan store much of the loose red rocks littering the peak around them, bits of the Red Wastes that were pulled and flung up here by the Tower. Escaping the island after spending so much time on the peak almost became impossible as by the time they had descended, the Cerberi pack''s hunt through the Coral Lands was well underway. A cold sweat that had nothing to do with the temperature ran down his back when the barks and snarls of the triple-threat monsters began closing in on their location. No doubt interested in the new scent lingering on their territory. Yet the Spirit insisted on him grabbing clumps of Cerberus fur snagged on the rough rocks. Thankfully, after three nights of trudging up and down the same path, Morgan knew precisely what rocky structures were sturdy enough to walk over. By the first Cerberus came into view, the pair were already past the shallows. "Hee-he." Giggled Ego as they placed the binoculars down so they could wave merrily at the pale figure pacing the distant shore. "It''s Cream! He came to see us off." "Or to investigate the unknown element and take it out should it prove a threat to his newly born child." Morgan absently yawned as he took out the compass. "But since we''re not going to drink from that proverbial cup of chance, I don''t mind calling it half full instead of half empty." "Is that optimism I hear in that monotone voice of yours?" They asked with a beaming smile. "I''m glad to see you getting out of that funk." "It helps that I don''t have to go back to that wanna-be volcano of an island any time soon." He said, picking up the paddles and rotating the inflatable raft in accordance with the compass. "Trinity''s Crucible is the farthest island from Lamplight Isla, but if we keep up a steady pace, it''ll only take a couple of hours-" "Sorry to interrupt." The Monk apologized, their hands making the ''time-out'' gesture. "But we need to head Southeast first." Southeast? But the only thing in that direction was- "You want us... to go back to Hell''s Garden?" He asked with an arched brow. "Ego, you hated that place. God damn it, even I don''t want to go back without a fly swatter and a goat at the ready. Why on Earth are we heading to that yellow nightmare?" "We need to pick up some groceries." They snickered and picked up their own paddles. "Relax; we just have to visit the shore we landed on and leave. No need to venture further in again." "Groceries?" The very idea of anything on that bloodthirsty island being edible made him feel like an ant approaching a pitcher plant. "Of a sort. You''ll see when we get there." The Monk hummed a jolly tune as they altered their course. "Trust in your guide; all things will make sense soon." The Professor tiredly looked at the soft, pillowy clouds drifting through the blue sky and wondered if their words were a prediction or a statement¡­ Well, there was only one way to find out, so the man began paddling without further complaint.
[I have a few complaints about the morning itinerary.] Grumbled Morgan crankily, six hours and two islands later. He spotted another metallic green feather lying on the bottom of the swampy water and swam up to snatch it. Before storing it in the ring, he shook off the murky water clinging to it, careful not to let the toxic droplets touch him as they floated up through the air to join the pool above. [This grocery trip is lasting a little longer than expected.] [I know you''re tired, and I''m sorry, but this will be the last island we visit before home, I promise.] Consoled the Monk, cassock swirling behind them as they dolphin kicked their way over. Each hand gently pinched yet more feathers, and the Spirit offered them all for storage. [That was around six feathers, so only 15 more to go.] [14.] Corrected Morgan wearily and began looking around for the recently reunited third member. With the emerald waters above casting everything in a rippling green hue, spotting anything lurking within the trees was difficult. [I just found one. Momo should have more; she knows the lay of the land like the back of her tail by now.] [More like the back end of a Stymphalian.] Ego sighed, their gaze upwards to spot any feathers. [I swear there are more fish than birds now than when we left her here. You''d think the opposite would be true in a swamp.] This spectacular island was the first they had come across during the expeditions. Just as with Lamplight''s fog-emitting trees and the Crucible''s living furnaces, the spindly tupelo-like trees sprouting from the barren soil were no mundane exception. The bark on these Biome-settlers had thousands of little protrusions, like thorns on a rose, only they curled upwards to create circular hoops. Whenever air passed through the hoop, its density drastically increased severalfold until air became dense enough for water and water-rich lifeforms to float. The effect had a limit range of three to five meters past the treeline and extended to the average tree''s canopy. Above the invisible pool was a thin layer of sickly green water, only a meter thick. Only the tops of the Phol¨®¨¥ trees and a single plant species rose above the swamp water to take in the sun. These plants had a massive bulbous brown body resembling an XXL ship buoy, with stringy roots that crept like vines down a Phol¨®¨¥ tree to bury into the soil. Over 15 plant stems bearing umbrella-shaped white flowers sprouted from the bulb''s tip. An artificial increase in air density was the best hypothesis Morgan could develop. For example, a denser gas should have made sound waves travel slower and, therefore, sound far deeper. That was also true here, as Morgan''s voice became so low he could rival the best death metal singers. Further, the Bloodline showed each of these hoops brimmed with Qi, and the altered air held some of the tree''s Prana energy as the area had a green miasmic haze to his enhanced sight. So, something was definitely going on here. [Eh, I disagree. If anything, such strangeness is par for the course.] Morgan shrugged before spotting movement from a hole dug by the base of a nearby tree. [We did name Bizarro Swamp after all.] They both watched a school of walking catfish-like Beasts cautiously swim from the safety of the den to inspect the plants bobbing above them. With mottled green tops, dirt-brown bellies, and thick prehensile whiskers twice their body length, these creatures were as adorable as they were bizarre. Especially when Morgan recalled their Bestairy entry. The largest Hopper of the school entangled their whiskers around it before suddenly plunging downward and dragging the plant along for the ride. [Is that fish trying to drown an aquatic plant?] Asked Ego. [I''m as eager to find out as you. We didn''t get much time to observe this ecosystem.] The Scientist passionately admitted before ducking behind the largest tree near him. [Let''s wait; I want to see if the three-part food chain model still works with an invasive species.] [Wow, what a miracle I have witnessed. And to think you were an exhausted mess just a second ago.] The Spirit deadpanned after manifesting by the Professor. [Ego, I''m tired. Not dead.] Morgan ignored Ego''s eye roll and paid close attention to the struggle between Hopper and... Damn it. Why hadn''t Eris given them a database relating to botany? Something to look out for in the future. Alone, the plant''s buoyancy proved too much for the struggling Spirit Beast, their tail and fin-like forearms straining to move the bulb. However, help arrived as half the school joined in, adding in their own whiskers before swimming in the same direction as the piscine alpha. Working together, the plant was dragged down to the dry, its dripping wet flesh wrapping violently from the pressure shift. The bulb imploded on itself before the first Hopper hit the dirt floor. *BOOM!* With the air so dense, the sound blast felt several times louder than it should have. Flower stems punched through the bottom of the bulb''s flesh like a sea urchin turned inside out. In an instant, the ugly buoy had become a nasty sea mine bouquet. The school swarmed the exotic plant, devouring everything but altogether avoiding the reddish brown liquid containing tiny black specs oozing out from the puncture wounds. Ascending like churning air bubbles, the moment the liquid was exposed to water, its color shifted to the same acidic green while the specks continued upward to the surface. [Oooh.] Awed the Professor while he massaged his poor ears that throbbed from the sonic abuse. [Those black specks are seeds. Realm Hoppers eat the mature plants, which, on death, release a liquid toxin that carries their offspring to safety in the poisoned waters. Waters that offer the perfect camouflage for the island''s population control.] Hot damn, Morgan was really starting to fall for this planet''s charm. Studying life here was like watching a documentary narrated by someone on an acid trip. As with every location visited so far, Bizarro Swamp was a large landmass capable of housing a small modern town, yet only continued four types of lifeforms that coexisted in harmony. The relationships were rarely peaceful, but each force contributed in one way or another to the ecosystem. There was a ''producer'' species, typically but not always a plant, that made up the bottom of the food chain. The ''prey'' Beast species fed off the ''producer'' and was, in turn, eaten by the ''predator'' Beasts who sat unchallenged in the chain. The Phol¨®¨¥ trees were never part of the food chain but had their own category of ''Biome-setter''. A term Morgan came up with as the semi-sentient trees always drastically altered their environment. [It seems your mini ecosystem theory is holding true.] Agreed Ego before a concerning thought made them stiffen behind him. [Hey, that blast was pretty loud. What are the chances the birds heard it?]A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. A shadow suddenly passed over the pair, and they swam for the nearest tree to avoid another run-in without their ace present. Naturally, they still watched the show unfold. Obscured in the waters above, a torpedo silhouette circled over the herbivorous feeding frenzy. The Hoppers were far too busy ripping into the last bits of plant bulb or using their whiskers to slap away more aggressive schoolmates to notice anything amiss. [Very.] He answered as a familiar predator made its appearance. *Plop* A blur of black and metallic green plunged from the water into the heart of the unsuspecting monster School. The Phol¨®¨¥ Stymphalian appeared to be a corvid''s take on the penguin body plan. Standing a knee height, the Beast''s streamlined body lacked the fatty bulk but was compensated with feathers that were harder than rock. Their legs appeared stubby, making them perfect rudders to steer expertly as powerful wings closer to ravens propelled them quickly to their prey. Their wings remained extended as a greenish aura, visible to the unenhanced eye, coated the feathers on the very edge. Like a fighter jet, the bird turned midair just before impaling one of the unsuspecting Beasts. Instead, it did something far worse. The toxic corvid''s wing nicked the tail of a Hopper near the school''s outskirt, sealing its fate before turning the dive into a belly slide on the dirt floor. The other Hoppers were long gone by the time the Phol¨®¨¥ Stymphalian twisted around for another fly-by. Not bothering to help their fallen schoolmate as they spasumed in a fishy seizure. The telltale sign of Stymphalian neurotoxin. The Stymphalian waited until all twitching life left the helpless prey before raising their head and unleashing trumpeting cries of victory. "CAW!" It screamed, slapping toxic wings against its crop in triumph. "CAW! CAW! C-" *Pop* But it was one cry, too many, for the Phol¨®¨¥ Stymphalian had caught the attention of Bizarro Swamp''s apex predator. Momo, the Spiritual Beast, now larger than a fully grown green iguana, teleported right on top of the native bird. Perhaps, ''right on top of'' was underselling what happened. The Princess skipped the arduous step of grappling or chasing her prey in favor of transporting herself in a way that the bird''s head was already between her now fanged jaws. *Snap!* The headless monster corpus began slowly drifting up, but Momo grabbed hold of a stubby leg with her powerful tail while she swallowed the head. When her unblinking gaze returned to the body, Morgan made to speak up. Well, he couldn''t actually speak because of altered air in his lungs. So he had the Spirit speak for him. Ego''s avatar didn''t talk with vocal cords unless using corporal form. Instead, they skipped that biological crutch in favor of speaking directly with their Essence. Morgan didn''t understand Soul to Soul communication, and neither did Ego. Hopefully, one day, they both would. "Young Monochrome." They called as Morgan swam towards her, Ego following silently in his wake. "We need the feathers, remember? Please don''t eat the bird." "Mmm." She growled deep enough to resemble continental plates scraping against each other. Still, Momo passed the bleeding bird to her parent with apparent reluctance. "Mmmmm." She drew out the growl and slapped her tail against the ground, sending up a dirt plum. [Still hungry?] The Professor looked over to the dead Gulper. [Ego, we don''t need the Hopper, do we?] [N-no.] The Monk answered mentally with a flinch as the Princess stared daggers at them. "Monochrome, we only need the green feathers so you can-" *Pop* Behind the Spirit, the sounds of flesh ripping and tearing made them shiver. [I liked her better when she ate fruits and bugs.] They projected with a sigh. [She''s just cranky that we woke her up so early. But I will admit it was easier to feed her back then. Are you sure we need to bring her to base? Momo might be able to go a few days without eating, but she''ll need to eventually.] *Pop* [Mmm.] Agreed the Princess after teleporting onto him, her head resting on his while her body clung to his back. He scratched the smooth skin between her eye crests, and she let out a low rumble of approval. [Yes.] The Monk said, regaining their composure. [For what comes next, we''ll all have to pitch in.]
Before Morgan finished this last task, he checked the time on his phone and cursed internally as he realized it was already 5pm. Meaning he''d been awake for 20 grueling hours without rest or food. While the old-man-made-young had pulled plenty of all-nighters before, the days of restless sleep on the raft increased the fatigue by an order of magnitude. But it was almost over. All he had to do was pour the contents from the mortar where he kept the rest¡­ Where did he place the- Ah, yes. The metal camping cup was still nestled in his lap. As the final bit of finely crushed charred fog-willow root was shaken to the tin camping cup, Morgan sucked in a breath of panic. The cup was only at half capacity, yet there was no more charcoal to be harvested. His sleep-deprived brain struggled to recall how much of the cup he was meant to fill. What had the Monk said after they had collected more ''groceries'' from Lamplight Isla''s surface? Damn it, he was only half listening at the time, but they either wanted the cup to be half full or half empty¡­ Hmmmm. Perhaps his mental faculties were more compromised than initially predicted. Whatever came next needed to happen sooner rather than later if the Monk wanted him to be even remotely lucid. The Professor sat up abruptly, knocking over the log he sat on, and accidentally dropped the blackened mortar and pestle to fall into the still-warm ashes of the firepit. "One cup of charcoal, half filled," Morgan grunted as he dropped the cup on the research table where Ego fiddled with their own project. "What''s next?" The Spirit put down the rectangular wooden frame made from sea-smoothed driftwood scavenged off Lamplight''s shore. They looked up at him and considered before asking, "Did you make sure this wood only came from the section of pillar root the Harpy cut down?" "Yes." He said laconically. "Did Momo return with the fog-willow sap?" The Spirit looked around in concern. "I''m pretty sure I didn''t hear her come in." "Merrrr." A muffled growl came from the entryway. They both turned in time to watch as the Princess sauntered over, Morgan''s machete between her teeth and a second tin cup held above her back by the tail. After crawling the entire distance, something they had rarely seen her do since the metamorphosis, Momo offered Morgan the dirty knife before slamming the sap-filled cup on the table. "Mmm?" Momo said as she found it impossible to release her grip from the sticky container. She tilted her head to one side before letting out an annoyed, "Meh." *Pop* The cup remained stuck fast to the table while Momo relocated a meter to the left, her pink tongue licking persistently at the sap still clinging to her. "That''s interesting." Yawned the Scientist as he poked at the superglue masquerading as tree sap. "Ego, can you note what happened in Momo''s info log?" "Yes, but it''ll have to wait till later." The Spirit promised while gingerly leaning their unfinished frame against the pile of driftwood near them. Once satisfied that no harm would befall it, Ego added, "We''re almost done; just place all the gathered supplies on the table." Without complaint, he pointed the ringed hand where directed, pictured in his mind exactly what needed to be removed from dimensional storage and where each item was to be placed so nothing fell or, Eris forbid, spilled. So long as Morgan was careful and kept a tight hold on his concentration, he should be able to place everything in one go. "Morgan, just place each item at a time, please." Caution the Spirit as they gently patted his shoulder. "You''re exhausted, and I don''t want to pick up ingredients parts from in between the floor gaps." "Fine." He grumbled in surrender before uttering, "Exitus." First out was one of his ruined shirts, folded in on itself to keep safe the 27 stamens taken from a deceased, likely murdered, Fig Hive Queen on the shores of Hell''s Garden. Most of their vivid yellow pollen had ended up clinging to the shirt, but Ego didn''t seem to mind, so Morgan kept going. *Thunk* His aim was a little off as the tent''s former carrying bag fell several centimeters to the table, the jolt allowing a portion of the mesmerizing marine blue sand to spill out. Composed of 27 handfuls of pure lapis lazuli harvested from the crescent sandbars of the as-of-yet-to-be-fully-explored Luna Lagoon. The Scientist deeply regretted being unable to dive further into the submerged forest teeming with relatively calm aquatic Beasts. Sadly, that expedition might never happen until he figured out how to add air to the scuba tanks or how to breathe underwater. Once the Spirit carefully guided the gemstone sand back into the bag, Morgan added the remaining items. 27 red Tower stones of Trinity''s Crucible stuffed in a backpack, a ziplock bag holding 27 green feathers of the Phol¨®¨¥ Stymphalian, 27 patches of white Lamplight moss tied into a bundle with twine, and a fist-sized ball of mixed Cerberus fur. The Princess sniffed the fur curiously and apparently found the scent¡­ pleasing since her jaws opened and closed hungrily. The two Sapient beings shared a look with each other and silently agreed on two things. The first was that naming the new Cerberi family after delectable sweets may have been a mistake. Second, they would never make the mistake of taking Momo to visit little baby Biscuit. "Not a bad haul after a hard day''s work. Now, take out all the cooking supplies." They said, pushing the supplies together to maximize free space. "I''m talking about the plates, bowls, pots, the utensils, all of it." Morgan stared hard at the grinning Spirit, then at the largely inedible material they called ingredients, then back at the Spirit. He took a deep breath to give his addled brain a moment to form his following sentence as coherently and diplomatically as possible. "...I feel that I should-" "-should trust in your guide." Ego finished sagely. "I agree, Professor. After this, your part in the preparations will be over. Go sleep in the tent; Momo and I can handle the rest." "What?" Demanded human and gecko at the same time. Technically, Morgan was the only one who said ''what'' while Momo''s outburst sounded more akin to ''ma-ht'', with extra emphasis on the first syllable. However, some exclamations can transcend the set boundaries between species. "Young Monochrome, please hear me out." Ego pleaded humbly with clasped hands outstretched to her. "I know we don''t get along, but I need assistance in guiding your father towards the inspiration he seeks to start his Cultivation. However, for what comes next, Morgan must be well rested, but this poor Spirit would be bound to his sleeping body. In truth, I require assistance in fetching certain materials, tending the fires, and ensuring their contents do not burn." A pained look overcame Momo as she considered the request. On one padded toe, spending time with the unnatural creature that had taken to possessing her parent was distasteful. On the other hand, even the monstrous reptile knew how deep her father''s craving for cosmic energy ran. With unblinking eyes, she saw the hunger hidden behind the expressionless facade. Ultimately, an apple never fell far from the tree, and there was only one reasonable choice to make. She approached the Spirit weary. "Mmm." Momo rumbled and, using her tail as a kickstand, stood on her hind legs to offer Ego a foreleg to shake. Wow. Apparently, the Professor''s lessons in body language had produced some impressive results. "Thank you, Monochrome." They sighed in relief, shaking the offered limb. "I promise you I will do my best." Morgan was being completely ignored. Honestly, he might have been more irritated if he had the energy or if the scene playing out right in front of him wasn''t so damned fascinating. It was like watching the peace talks of a sy-fy movie where the reptilian invaders made peace with the ghosts haunting the planet. "Ahem." He cleared his throat to catch their attention. "I suppose I''m being overruled here?" "Hee-he! Not to be mean, but your Fate had been sealed the moment you accepted my proposal." They snickered, and Momo nodded in agreement. "Now, off to bed. I will get you when it is time." "Could I eat first?" Morgan sighed. "Sorry, but no." The Monk smiled apologetically. "Fasting is a necessary step." "Could you tell me if I''m really going to have to eat," he gestured to the table, "all that?" "No." In frustration, Morgan massaged the bridge of his nose, only to yank the hand away when he caught the noxious smell of sweat, saltwater, and figs. That fruity scent sent a shudder down his spine. "Ego, throw me a bone here; at least let me take a bath first." "Again, no." The Spirit bowed their head, but he saw the mirth shining in their eyes. "That will come later." "Then what can I do?" He asked dryly. Ego and Momo looked at each other, then at the tent, then expectantly at him. Oh, for the love of- Morgan shuffled off to bed while the others got to work. 21. The Ceremony A stream of cold, crystal-clear water cascaded down Morgan''s exposed and crouched form as he took the first real shower since starting the expeditions. He enjoyed the relaxing serenity that came from shedding the accumulations of worldly filth. Naturally, the man maintained his hygiene throughout the weeks of traveling, but soapy saltwater swims followed by a towel soaked in freshwater just couldn''t compare. A pot above his head tipped forward, spilling another stream of water over him, whisking the dirt and grime away to wherever the underground stream ended. It was common knowledge that the act of bathing was sacred to humans; it was a time when individuals could allow their minds to wander while their bodies performed the necessary maintenance. Some people choose to reenact old conflicts, editing them so they come out on top. Others simply wished to prepare themselves for the trials the day will undoubtedly bring. Many, like the Professor, preferred to spend this sacred time pondering on whatever caught their interest. The pot provided another cleansing gift, and Morgan furiously worked at his scalp, making sure all the dust and sea salt had been evicted from between the locks. This bath was an exception, however. The Scientist was under strict orders not to think about anything, for he was to use this time to clear his mind of any earthly distractions. Any thoughts about the half a dozen burnt-out fire pits or dirty and ruined cooking pots he found strewn about the base when he woke up were off-limits. Attempting to puzzle out what the hell those scavenged ingredients were used for was a big no-no. And under no circumstances should the question of why he was blindfolded and guided to the river for a bath, ever cross his mind. "Meh!" Was all the warning given before the filled pot of water fell on his head with a painful- *Wack* "Ow," Morgan grunted before snatching the pot before it could be whisked away by the ankle-deep current. He handed it back to Momo, who nudged her nose against his knee as an apology. "It''s ok, girl," he whispered soothingly. It didn''t hurt that much." Throughout the entire cleansing of his body, the Monk had been fussing with something up on the bridge connecting the eastern and western sides of the cave. "You know, if your mind were truly free of all distractions, then you wouldn''t have felt the pain," lectured Ego cheerfully from above the Earthlings'' heads. "But I''m glad to hear you''re okay." "I''d be better if you didn''t force Momo to wade in icy cold waters to help me do what I''ve been able to since I was three years old." He said neutrality, though to an outside observer, the comment might have carried some accusation. Both the Spirit and the Beast found the first half of what he said amusing. Ego let out a burst of giggles while Momo snorted. "As if I could force Monochrome to do anything. Besides, didn''t you say she''s not cold-blooded anymore?" "I said she could maintain her body temperature now." He corrected, "Even if she can stand the cold, she isn''t a fan." The Professor reached for the pot so the child could dry up on shore before the ceremony. "Mmm." She rebuked and stubbornly refused to hand the pot over. Instead she "I already told Momo how important it is that she helps as much as possible. The relationship between parent and child is a powerful one, and invoking that bond might prove auspicious for the ceremony." The Spirit paused before poking their head right through the solid bridge. Their black brows knitted in concern as they asked, "Did your parents really have you bathing by yourself when you were only three?" "My mother wanted me to develop a sense of independence early on." Morgan dismissed with a shrug before pouncing on the opportunity Ego had unintentionally given him. "Since you asked a personal question, I feel I should do the same to maintain the balance." "Let me guess, you wanna know where I''m suddenly pulling all this knowledge from if I''m supposed to be a lost Soul, stricken with amnesia?" They asked with a hurt expression. When Morgan continued to stare, they laughed again before pulling themselves back on the bridge. "Hee-hehe! Don''t think I haven''t noticed all the sidelong glances you keep shooting my way when you thought I wasn''t looking." "I knew you were looking." He deadpanned as Momo poured yet more water. "Oh yeah? Either way, I''ll tell you everything after the ceremony." Ego''s spectral hand shot through the bridge and gave them a thumbs up. "I''m ready when you are." Morgan and Momo made for dry land without even needing to share a word or a nod.
Before bathing, Morgan was ordered to pick out whatever clothes he felt most in, minus the shoes. He decided that his lab coat, now scrubbed clean of his blood and dart stitched up, was the only item that fit that description. However, wearing only the coat might prove distracting for him if for nobody else. In the end, he included a set of white sweats that were his last pair of clean clothes. The Mortal dressed silently and waited by the river''s banks, steeling his resolve for whatever may come to test it. "Professor Morgan, the 27th dawn will soon grace us with its blessing; it is time." Ego spoke at long last, though their voice somehow seemed different from how it normally sounded. "Please join this humble Spirit so you may be shown the way forward." The scene that greeted Morgan once he climbed the slope almost made him stumble. Lining each side of the black stone structure, like the lights of an airport''s landing strip, were 13 lamp-plants with their luminous bulbs pointing towards the center of the bridge. There, concealed under the rain tarp from the camping gear, stood an object almost a head shorter than himself. Four blankets were folded up into perfect squares and arranged in matching pairs. The first pair lay on either end of the bridge, while the others remain on the eastern side and diagonal to the bridge''s corners. Momo sat alert on the left blank, a cooking pot turned upside down beside her, and a carved wooden stick gripped in her tail. The blanket mirroring hers also had a pot and stick placed beside it, though it remained unoccupied for the moment. Its intended occupant stood on the center of the bridge, bowed at the waist, and hands clasped over their heart. ["Guide greets traveler."] The Monk said and projected at the same time.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Hidden by the lab coat, the Scientist''s skin broke out in goosebumps, and before he even knew what had happened, Morgan found himself bowing at the waist, hands clasped, and answering in return. ["Traveler greets Guide."] He said and projected, a combination he''d never considered before now, let alone attempted. Now that was interesting¡­ The Scientist straightened, his eyes a blur of blue and brown as they flickered every which way to reexamine every detail of the Spirit''s avatar. Flesh, far darker than the vastness between galaxies concealed, and more importantly contained, the light of a Soul that burned with the quiet authority of a quasar. Two twilights masqueraded as clothing, but the altruistic deception was undone as ripples from the endless cycle failed to perfectly mimic mere winds. The 108 mala beads that orbited their left hand ticked forward one black bead at a time, strung together by a force all matter marched to. The changes in their presence felt so surreal that it almost made the man question whether he was still dreaming within the tent. Gone was the goofy specter that pouted for hours at the loss of their precious media or danced in unabashed celebration from the survival of a Beast they''d likely never see again. Seemingly replaced by a being considered ancient long before Earth was little more than gas and rubble. But such a conclusion would be superficial. What the Human had momentarily mistaken as new discoveries were only the temporary suspension of an unspoken agreement between them¡ªan agreement where one party didn''t tell and the other didn''t ask. Nothing had been revealed because nothing had been hidden in the first place. The Monk was Ego still, and the Professor had always known deep down he was never the elder in this partnership. If Ego had noticed his examination, they chose to ignore it and only gestured towards the blanket on the bridge closest to him. "Take your seat on the eastern mat," they said aloud in a voice that evoked images of still ponds mirroring the heavens above, "and take up the form I showed you for meditation." Aww crap, not this again. During Morgan''s recovery, Ego wanted him to get a taste for meditation while he was still weakened by the blood loss. Their idea at the time being that emptying one''s mind was easier without nervous energy distracting him. While sound on paper, in the field, the idea proved too effective. The Scientist, too exhausted to think and urged to become stationary, fell asleep and fell off the bridge. Morgan ignored the phantom pain prickling the back of his skull as he shuffled forward to embrace the suck. He sat cross-legged and draped his left arm over the right leg, palm up and open. The right arm is held above the right knee, reaching toward the ground with the palm inward while touching the cold stone. Hmm? Now that was strange; the stone wasn''t as cold as before. Morgan subtly spread out the digits touching the floor and confirmed that the area was warm. *Clap* The Monk brought their hands together, and the Scientist returned all attention to them, though a mental note was added to the list of questions. "This one promised to guide the Professor towards purpose, but does the Professor truly understand why purpose for the Soul is needed in the first place?" Morgan shook his head after a quarter second, not realizing the question wasn''t rhetorical. He knew why he wanted it, but that wasn''t what was asked. The Monk continued after a nod. "You already know that the Self and the Soul are one, yet separate. What you may not know is that the Self is simply a collection of imprints made on the Soul during a Mortal''s life. With every new experience gained and memory made, the Self grows in complexity while the medium remains static. That is why the Self is ephemeral while the Soul is eternal." Ego paused, and a corner of their mouth twitched as they considered a recent topic. "Unless altered or diminished through unusual means, the Soul will return to the wheel of Samsara. Once returned, the Karmic debt is finally tallied, Fate is decided, and the imprints are wiped clean so the next life can start anew. Over and over, the Soul will reincarnate until Enlightenment is obtained¡­ Has this information sparked any answers to my question, Professor?" "I believe so." Morgan began awkwardly. "It''s a matter of perspective and value, I think." They gave another nod. "An acceptable answer. Purpose is the reason behind actions. Perhaps it could be said the temporary nature of the Self craves purpose as a constant driving force for action, allowing it to make the most out of its limited time. Following that line of thought, a permanent construct like the Soul would not require a reason to do anything. Eternity greatly depreciates all temporary actions. Eventually, it will escape the cycle of rebirth, and everything else is only filler until then. How could any fleeting purpose of a single life ever matter to such a construct?" Oh? Now, that was a trick question if he''d ever heard one. But he was ready for it. "To reach Enlightenment, traverse the Dao. To traverse the Dao, Cultivate the Eternal Foundations. To Cultivate the Eternal Foundations, Accept the gift of Vajrayana." Morgan answered with the familiar chant. "An acceptable answer." The Guide said with a bow, and the traveler followed suit. "Enlightenment is the ultimate goal for the Soul, and in theory, any attempt by the Self to expedite the final escape should be considered valuable. That is why Spirit Beasts are such natural Cultivators; their Souls can sense the path to the origin. However there is an issue for Mortals, the price of Sapience is the severance of the Soul''s native connection to the Heavenly Dao. Until that connection is reformed, the Soul will never willingly be swayed into action. Without cooperation, it is impossible to accept Aether in any usable amount, let alone fully Cultivate one''s Foundations. That would mean forward progression is but a fantasy, would it not?" "Hmm." The Professor hummed as he mulled all the information over. At first glance, the problem seemed like the perfect catch-22. Without a connection, the Soul couldn''t be bothered to do anything besides exist until it didn''t. Yet clearly, the Celestial Court and the ancient Cultivators managed to reforge the Dao connection. So there is an answer; he just needs to figure out how to enact one''s will over the Soul... But Morgan already knew the answer, as Ego had essentially told him at the beginning of the ceremony. "The Self and the Soul are separate, but they are still one. Even if my current consciousness is a result of the new shape of the medium, I am still that medium. The trick is not to connect the Dao to the Soul but to the Self¡­" Morgan paused as it dawned on him that his mouth wrote a check he couldn''t cash. "I''m not entirely sure how to do that, but I am open to any ideas." "An acceptable, if unique, answer. I have come to the same conclusion and was faced with the same question. My answer is to forge a connection of understanding. One between the Self and a Concept, or a lesser truth of the greater truth that is the Dao. However, the Professor can not simply pick a Concept; it must be one that resonates with the Self on every level of existence. There is a truth that is the primal driving force for your every action, but only you can know what that is." The Monk placed a hand on the tarp but moved no more. "Close your eyes and hear my words." Well, he''s come this far. He might as well do it right all the way. The world went black, and still, the only sensations that connected him to the world were his heartbeat and the stone, still warm to the touch. [To discover the truth, you must accept what you are.] The Monk whispered into his mind. [As the Guide, this humble Spirit can only show you the way and offer the aid of this tool, a physical reminder. From this point on, the Professor must travel alone¡­] There was a long pause, and Morgan almost thought they had already cut communications. A moment before he decided to open his eyes, Ego spoke. [Purpose isn''t hard to find, so long as you know where to "Look."] The Professor''s eyes were opened for him. Ego had disappeared from the bridge, taking with them the tarp. Eh? What Morgan saw was... unexpected. For hidden underneath the tarp, placed on top a tripod stand constructed from the longest and straightest pieces of driftwood, was a painting¡ªone painted on a square canvas crafted from what appeared to be layers of notebook paper glued over the frame Ego was fiddling with earlier. All this lead up, all the pain-in-the-ass ceremonious steps, all of it was for a... painting? *Dun, Dun* Two sets of carved wooden sticks each strike a pot once at a beat apart, right first, then the left. For the Professor, the drumming almost sounded like the hammering of a nail. A nail into the coffin of hope. 21 Pt2. The Dao Hope was a mysterious concept to the Professor. In this case, ''concept'' was used with a lowercase ''c'' and is not to be confused with the Vajrayian ''Concept''. Although, he supposed the Concept of Hope could be seen as mysterious, as Hope was a bit of an oddball, no matter the capitalization¡ªat least to him. People confronted with hopeless situations often seek hope to motivate them forward, to continue even in the face of impossible odds. Yet to seek hope must mean the individual in question lacks it; therefore, these individuals must have a desperate hope to begin with. So, one could say the hopeless seek hope in hopeless situations because they''re hopeful that finding hope will give them... Hope. In the end, the only conclusion the Professor could draw from this tangled line of thought was that perhaps ''paradoxical'' was a better adjective for that particular Concept. ''Paradoxical'' or ''Human'', either one will fit.
*Dun, Dun* Banged the drums. Morgan paid no mind to the drumming as it was likely just a part of the ceremony, though a part of him wanted to film Momo doing her part. He shook off the parental regret and thoroughly studied the so-called tool. Steadfastly refusing, the Monk was screwing with a desperate man. The canvas had been painted entirely white to cover up any lingering lines of the notebook paper before black was added to create two shapes that make up the background. Formed from three solid black bands of stylized waves, each as wide as a thumbnail, made up the circle that touched the middle of each canvas edge. Nestled at the circle''s center was a square composed of two wave bands in the same style. At the top, bottom, left, and right are different-colored images made in a minimalist style and outlined in a black that was darker than the one used in the background. They occupied space above the square but still within the greater circle. Starting from the top in a clockwise direction, Ego had painted what looked like a blue wand, an upside-down yellow diamond, a red lotus, and last, a green double-sided pitchfork with a stubby handle. Well, interesting artistic choices were certainly made there. Within the square was yet another circular shape, though this one was definitely part of the foreground. Just like the other images, the outline for this eight-point ship wheel was darker, meaning the intended color was the same white as the background. *Dun, Dun* Banged the drums. Immediately, Morgan understood the connection between the gathered materials and the mess waiting for him to clean up at the base. The Monk required paint and had decided to create their own natural pigments. Likely, the raw materials were boiled to bleed off the rich color, then the colored water was isolated and thickeners were added. Morgan had seen a documentary on pre-industrial art that displayed the process decades ago. Which ment Ego had seen the same documentary not so long ago. The lighter shade of black was likely the burnt remains of the driftwood rather than the soot he''d painstakingly made from the pillar roots. Guessing the rest from there was child''s play, though a question began jumping up and down for his attention. Where did they get a paintbrush? Assuming the tree sap was used for glue for the paper, the only unused material was the Cerberus¡­ No. Did they really? Morgan''s brows shot up a whole millimeter in surprise as his best guess went unchallenged. The Monk needed a brush and so created one using the bristly Beast fur, sticky sap, and whatever slender piece of wood fit best in their hand. Judging by the consistency in the painting''s strokes, the DIY brush was of decent quality. That took commitment. Now, all the Scientist had to do was understand what it all meant. *Dun, Dun* Banged the drums. Clearly, the colors represented the different islands; white for Lamplight, green for Bazzaro, blue for the Lagoon, the yellow Garden, and red for the Crucible. That much was obvious. What wasn''t so easy to discern were these strange images and their relationship to the locations. Morgan might have felt comfortable calling them symbols if they even remotely represented their real-world counterparts. The wand for Luna Lagoon made some sense; the island had a magical quality to it, but how the hell could a lotus be related to the fiery home of the Cerberi? Hell''s Garden was the most mismatched, in his opinion. To ever compare that chlorophyll death trap to a cut jewel clearly meant they had never set foot on it. Oh, it was all dancing sunflowers and trumpeting petunias at first; he''ll grant them that, but the moment one starts smelling figs¡­ Bah. Finishing the thought wasn''t worth the second round of nightmares. Still, the Diamond was the only image upside down. Could there be a meaning there, or was that simple artistic choice? Morgan knew of tarot cards and how their meaning changed if revealed upside down from the deck. Did orientation matter when viewing the painting? Unlikely, but what did he really have to lose? The Scientist tilted his head to the right¡­ Nothing. What about the left? Bingo! The hunch paid off, and now he knew exactly what he was looking at. Morgan didn''t notice it at first due to the unorthodox placements of the symbols, for they were now definitely symbols, but the painting had the islands in their correct placements relative to Lamplight Isla. If the painting were rotated once to the right so that North pointed up, the proper Earthing way, it would''ve read: Center: White Wheel North: Green Double Pitch Fork East: Blue Scepter South: Yellow Jewel West: Red Lotus The revelation was clear; this was a map of the local island cluster. A rough map as the distances between the locations were way off. However, accuracy wasn''t always the point of a map. Sometimes, they are created to remind one of where they were and what they did. In a way, it was comforting to see how far the expiration had come in less than a month. In another, more relevant way, it was depressing as all hell that Morgan traveled so far with nothing to show for it. *Dun-dun* Banged the drums. *Th-thump* His heart beated in synchronized rhythm. No, that conclusion was misleading. Even if Soul Sovereignty continued to elude him, the Professor gained knowledge that could fill volumes on these expeditions. Morgan recalled that while swimming through the Swamp, he finally understood the role of Phol¨®¨¥''s trees in the ecosystem. Observing the aquatic Beasts of the Lagoon revealed the three-step food chain standard. Surviving the Garden taught him vigilance, but it more importantly confirmed the universal use of Essence in Cultivation. The Cerberi unfortunately proved to the human the unmistakable difference between him and them, yet there was more there. The Crucible also taught the Scientist how fundamental Aether is to Spiritual Beasts. Correction; how fundamental Aether is to all non-Sapiant life, as Momo was a vanilla animal before she displayed her talent for bending space. Hmm. Actually, when compared to Biscuit, Momo''s Soul was extremely slow on the uptake. The pup''s Essence was already snacking on motes while the physical heads dove for that first-ever meal. But Momo''s periodic check-ups with the Bloodline never showed any evidence of Aether infusement. Even during the last viewing before feeding her, there was nothing unordinary happening in her Foundations¡­ Huh. That was interesting. Between the Earthing animal and the Vajrayian Beast, both only display control over the Soul during and/or after their first meal in this Universe.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. *Dun-dun* Beat the drums. *Th-thump* Beat the heart. *Plip-plop* Like a giant blood vessel, the slow-moving river contracted towards its center before relaxing, all in time with the other beats. The Professor sat up a little straighter on the prayer mat as adrenaline made the flesh tense. He might not be meditating on the Dao or whatever, but this train of thought had proposed a conflict with his earlier assumption. What if, for non-Sapient creatures, Soul Sovereignty wasn''t a reflex akin to breathing? What if, instead, the ability''s trigger was tied to something more like an instinct? It''d have to be an instinct so innately ingrained in the DNA that all creatures possess it, such as appetite or hunger. Morgan thought the way Beasts use their Essence to literally consume Aether motes was just some thematic flavoring displayed by the Bloodline, but what if there was a real reason behind it? Maybe a Beast''s connection with the Dao was also one of understanding, an inherited understanding of the primal drive to eat. Could something as nebulous as appetite be a Concept? The Monk had said before that the Dao was everything, and everything was the Dao. If Concepts were lesser universal truths, then the answer would be yes: anything can be a Concept, even instincts. That would explain why Mortals lack that inherent connection to the Dao, as Sapiance diluted the potency of baser instincts. Morgan, indeed, like all Mortals, must find a new truth to follow¡ªone as soul-stirring and primal as the law of the jungle: to eat or be eaten. In this day and age, the Vajrayian people know only the truth imparted by the Diamond Tantra. However, that Concept, whatever it was, would undoubtedly be foreign to him. So, what drove him forward? The Concept had to be something fundamental, or it wouldn''t work. The answer had to be so obvious that its persistent influence went unnoticed; something right in front of his face¡­ The Professor''s blank stare across the bridge became one of intense focus on the tool given to him. Maps can show where one came from, but they can also show where one is going too. *Dun-dun* Beat the drums. *Th-thump* Beat the heart. *Plip-plop* Beat the river. "Purpose isn''t hard to find, so long as you know where to look." Whispered the traveler, echoing the words of his Guide. "Oh Ego, you clever Spirit of a Monk." Morgan triggered Perception of the Stone Sage and threw open the floodgates, removing every filter to see things as they truly were. The world¡­ was not obscured by an impenetrable fog of ambient Aether like it usually was in the cave. Instead, Morgan found himself in an energy-free zone. Behind him and ahead of him, Aether formed a massive wall as the energy refused to cross the river. To cross the natural watery border, the cosmic energy infused itself into the bridge, entering through the East and exiting through the West. To his enhanced sight, the stone resembled three concentrated streams of black, white, and gray electricity arcing between the shores. However, the bridge wasn''t the only object saturated with energy. Yang and Yin attuned Aether passed right by unimpeded while the Neutral Aether streamed up the tripod''s legs and flooded into the painting. However, the map wasn''t a solid slap of mote light like the tripod or bridge. Instead, the glowing grey motes gathered in the symbols on the art piece in various intensities. From dimmest to brightest, it went: Bizzaro Swamp, Luna Lagoon, Hell''s Garden, and Trinity''s Crucible. Yet, Lamplight Isla remained a darkened silhouette. The Scientist interpreted the increasing luminosity as a metaphor for his journey thus far. With each island visited, his knowledge and understanding of it grew. But as the starting point, Lamplight should be the dimmest but still lit. Ergo, the map should show, or at least hint at, what direction Morgan needed to go to find the knowledge he sought. So, why wasn''t Lamplight Isla lit up at all? *Th-thump* Beat the heart. *Dun-dun* Beat the drums. *Plip-plop* Beat the river. OH! Of Course! Obviously, Lamplight wasn''t the starting point! The island was the next destination, the location where the Professor could discover the answer he sought. For that reason, the Monk did what they did; Ego was trying to show him the way. The preparations, the ceremony, all of it was for this moment¡ªthe moment when Morgan finally understood what he was.
All around the human, things were becoming chaotic. Not only did the supernatural pulsing of the river increase, but so to did the speed at which the stream moved at. Over and over, in time with the rhythmic beatings, Momo and Ego were soaked to the physical and metaphorical bone as the river threatened to escape its banks. "Here comes another one!" Warned Ego in a scream that could barely be heard over the crashing waves and roaring river. "Brace yourself!" *Splash!* "Err!" Grunted Momo in frustration, her tongue furiously darting out to clear the water from her lidless eyes. Frigid cave water coated every soft scale on the monstrous body, chilling her to the core. Still, the Princess held her drumstick at the ready. "Stay strong, it''s almost over!" "Meh?" Momo said in disbelief, turning to the Spirit with a suspicious light in her monochrome eyes. "I know what I said before!" Ego grumbled, their head tilting up at the lightless ceiling. "Don''t ask how, but I can sense he''s caught the attention of¡­ of something big! Whatever it is, its presence is somehow clearing the obstructions clouding his Dao! It''s helping!" "Mmm!" The Beast turned back to the bridge, ready to do whatever it took to assist her father in seizing this opportunity. The Monk, however, flinched as the presence''s gaze swept over the island again. Alien and overpowering emotions battered their Essence, threatening to sweep the Spirit away like a leaf before the gales of an Autumn storm. The Guide forced their attention back to their charge, jaw set in determination to see this through to the end. An end that would hopefully come soon. For the unknown entity above might''ve cleared the Path, but only because it feverishly searched for the one attempting to walk it. Worst still, the entity''s gaze contained an ancient and blood-thirsty wrath that promised a painful death for whatever had caught its attention.
Whether fortune or misfortune, Morgan didn''t notice a damned thing in the deep meditative state. Where his hand met stone, the warm sensation grew in time with the old man''s excitement. But otherwise, nothing reached him. Not even the frothing waters placed so much as a single drop on him or the map. It was as if reality itself knew that time had finally come; a song 77 years in the making was about to reach its crescendo. "Am I the Scientist?" Asked the Professor. *Dun-dun, Dun-dun* Beat the drums. *Th-thump, Th-thump* Beat the heart. *Plip-plop, Plip-plop* Beat the river. Yes, but you are more. The answer came to him immediately like divine inspiration, and the understanding caused a corner of his mouth to twitch upwards. "Am I the Professor?" Asked the Scientist. *Th-thump, Th-thump, Th-thump* The heart beated faster. *Dun-dun, Dun-dun, Dun-dun* The drums beated faster. *Plip-plop, Plip-plop, Plip-plop* The river beated faster. Yes, but you are more. Of course. From questions came discovery, and from discovery came yet more questions. One discovery to the next, the Earthling''s drive will take him on an endless road of questions. Finally, for the first time in 50 years, things were starting to make sense again. His mouth twisted into what might be the faintest of grins. "What am I?" Asked Charles Morgan, before closing his eyes. *...* The heart stopped beating. *...* The drum stopped beating. *...* The river stopped beating. Everything simply stopped, as all of creation wished to witness the birth of something new. Someone, who wasn''t anyone, spoke to the Mortal with a voice that couldn''t be heard, yet all listened closely. What is your Drive? "The Path before me." He said. What is your Path? "That which drives me." He said. What is your Truth? "What I have always known and yet forgot all the same." He said. What is your Truth? "The light in my Sky. My Moon. My Sun." He said. What. Is. Your. Truth? He answered, with a smile. "Curiosity." *...* Morgan opened his eyes, but what he saw made little sense. The painting should have been the first thing in view, yet he watched in puzzlement as Ego and Momo ran across the bridge screaming for him. His location was another issue, as he seemed to be standing on the West shore now, without any memory of crossing the bridge. These strange inconsistencies were almost as distracting as his vision darkening or the floor coming up to-
Although none of the temporary inhabitants of Lamplight Isla could have known at the time, their act reverberated throughout all Realms under the Heavens. For the second time in the 108th Epoch, a pebble had been thrown in the pond of Fate. Only the Highest, the Consigliere, and the Patron could feel the nascent ripple. The first snorted, the second questioned, and the third celebrated. 22. The Ripple Memories of Lysander Time: Ji¨£z¨« 44th, 1st Year of the 108th Epoch In the Gu Sea, a chasm runs deeper than any other in the claimed Inner World. An order of magnitude greater, in fact, than any shallow hole that could be found on pitiful Earth. The former Beasts of the Sea, may their Souls succeed in the next life, knew to stay away from the lightless abyss. Even in their last few days, when the purple haze was at its darkest and the inhabitants driven mad with bloodlust, not a single Beast dared to invade. This was not out of fear, for in their berserk state, such a concept was inconceivable to them. No, this avoidance was out of instinct. Should any creature choose to freely venture into this silent unknown, it would mean their end. The what, how, and who did not matter. Every Spiritual Beast that once flourished before the culling games simply knew the cost of entry was too high, and none wished to pay. Like the Sea, this chasm was not the product of natural forces. Rather, it was dug by an individual with the intent and purpose to be this individual''s home. A place of sanctum that reminded the first champion of Gu Sea, the Hellenic Kraken Lysander, where his roots lay¡ªin chilling depths surrounded by death. Although for nearly four weeks all the chasm reminded him of was that he was being punished for¡­ enthusiastically questioning that mouthy Wanderer. His Mistress sent the Kraken to his quarters with the purpose of meditating on his actions. After all of a day, Lysander decided his only mistake was not protesting at sending that incompetent Spirit to Earth. All the bodiless fool had to do was find some landbound ape capable of stabbing a stick into the ground and bring them back to be Gatekeeper. Yet the Spirit returned with what might just be the most infuriating ant he''d ever have the displeasure of meeting. Having reflected on his actions, Lysander waited patiently at the lowest point of the Inner World for his divine Mistress to call him back to her side. He never once dared to imagine that the opposite would occur.
On the underwater chasm floor, illuminated by a rainbow of thousands of bioluminescent coral, there danced a young woman. Her Void black hair and pristine white dress swirled in salt water, still tinged by a lingering wisp of purple. Every movement she made sent conflict into the surrounding waters, primordial turbulence that cascaded endlessly until the surface above was pockmarked by impossible whirlpools. As she danced, one couldn''t help but notice that something was in the woman''s arms. She held that something like how a child holds a precious stuffed animal, tightly bound in an embrace that would smother any living creature. Yet what she carried was indeed a creature no bigger than the average teddy bear. It had an uncountable number of stubby arms, fleshy reddish-pink skin, and a single colossal eye that glowed a deep shade of violet. To this ugly plushy-like creature, the women sang. "He did it!" Celebrated Eris, Bodhisattva of Discord and Strife, her dancing shadow engulfing whole sections of the narrow chasm walls. "He did it! He truly accomplished the impossible!" "Mistress!?" Cried Lysander the Pet, who was currently blinded by her bosom. "This humble pet does not understand what is happening!" "Oh!" Gasped Eris and held her Pet at arm''s length before giving his rapidly blinking eye a stern look. "I had forgotten that you have been in solitary meditation this entire time. I was far too engrossed with my dear students and forgot to call for you." "Students?" He asked, not at all bothered at being forgotten. "Well, did you learn your lesson?" She demanded, ignoring the question. "Yes, Mistress." "Good," Eris smirked with twinkling eyes; their divine radiance felt like the comforting warmth of a burning civilization. "Then I shall inform you of what has transpired since we last spoke." So the two ancient beings chartered away in the crushing depths produced at 99,000 Li below the surface. Eris told her little Pet of the successful negotiations, of the creation of a 6th Faction and the accelerated training its members were undergoing, but what had taken the spotlight was the audacious goal of that Wanderer. By the end of the recounting, Lysander of Clan Nyx knew two things. First, he was incredibly thankful that no being would ever know of this embarrassing form the Bodhisattva insisted he take when they were alone. Second, the Kraken should have swallowed that Spirit the day he found them wandering the orchard. Then, none of this would have happened, and he wouldn''t have to do this distasteful task. "Mistress, forgive this pitiful pet for daring to question you, but I feel that I must ask how you know of¡­ his success." "My dear Pet," she pouted. "When did you become so suspicious? Is my word alone not enough?" "If a Bodhisattva declares that day is night and night is day, then none save a peer could argue." He quoted a favored saying used between servants of the highest Cultivators. "I apologize for my curiosity. If the Mistress declares it-"If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. "Ka! Kakaka!" Eris''s cackle silenced the not-so-giant squid. "Do not take the rebuke so seriously, I was only teasing you." By way of an apology, the near-immortal scratched her oldest and only confidant on the mantle behind the fin and giggled as his tentacles wriggled with pleasure. "Hmm. In truth, my little Pet, I may have left out one recent change in affairs since your punishment." Eris displayed her Core Screen, an unthinkable taboo for a Cultivator, let alone a divine one, but she knew her secrets were safe with Lysander. Her Pet had proved his loyalty time and time again. "THE 19TH CUT!?!" Gasped the squid in beak-dropping shock. "KA-KAKAKA!" Eris broke into a new fit of manic giggles as she began to dance once more, this time holding her Pet like a dance partner as she was swayed by music none but she could hear. During this mad waltz, Lysander was finding this new reality hard to cope with. Even still, he could not deny the fact that only something as insane and reckless as directly contributing to the birth of a Calamity Cultivator could award her such massive gains. For Eris not only had a knack for fraying the fabric of harmony, she also had a Class that rewarded stirring up trouble on an epic scale. What will be, will be, and so Fate gains the likeness of a still pond. While the pond inhabitants may stir up the silt and muddy the waters, the surface will remain undisturbed. But stillness had a nasty habit of rotting into stagnant Destiny. In Destiny, there is no potential or change; there is only an end set in unyielding stone. Such a static existence could never be tolerated by the Heavens, for the Dao must be eternal. So, occasionally, an agent of disorder is permitted to break the peace. Lysander''s Mistress was one such agent. Eris was known through the Realms as the Progenitor of the Original Snub. Many tremble at the title, fully versed in how she obtained it, but nearly nobody truly knew why she sought such a legacy. Admittedly, as is often the case, within the rumor mill and fog of legend, there was a kernel of truth to be found. His Mistress did wish to sow chaos and despair in the ranks of the conceited and pompous pantheon; what forgotten child hasn''t craved revenge against their parent. However, revenge was but a sweet dessert when power sat on the table. The Kraken knew the truth. Everything that occurred, from tossing a single apple to the fall of one of the most quintessential Capital cities under her absent parent''s rule, was done in the name of her Dao. Eris had thrown a pebble in the pond of Realm Gaia, known presently as Europa, and the ripple created spurred the Realm to a dynamic state once more. Billions of individual Fates, from the microbial everyman to the accended koi, were swept up and altered forever. The Trojan War engulfed a Realm for 20 millennia and awarded the newly ascended Bodhisattva five Cuts in a single stroke. However, progressing a Cut at the beginning of a Rank was as stepping over a puddle when compared to the vast oceans one must cross later in the same Rank. For Eris to go from the 17th Cut, a stage that had hardly progressed even a tenth of a percent in Lysander''s lifetime, directly to the 19th was insanity. Meaning the ripple created by that Wanderer had to be- "Oh, Lysander." Cooed Eris sweetly, her words shattering the Pet''s troubling speculations. Dear sweet merciful Dao, the Mistress had used his name¡­ Was it just his imagination, or deep the chasm suddenly dropped in temperature? "Y-yes?" Asked the trembling Kraken, so frightened he might ink right in front of her divine greatness. "How could this worthless Pet be of a-assistance?" "Do not be so frightened, my dear, brave Lysander." She giggled, her hair slowly encircling him like an enemy army. "I only need you to quietly visit a Celestial Pagoda and have them deliver a letter to a Cultivator on Olympia." She opened her palm, and between one massive bink to another, an envelope with her purple divine seal appeared where there was none. The black parchment making up the correspondence was entirely unbothered by the water it drowned in, and remained unsoiled. Color in the plushy squid''s flesh shifted to pale white as he feared Eris was planning to contact that wretched human. At the present moment, his Mistress could escape heavenly punishment as she wasn''t responsible for how the former Gatekeeper abused his gains from their deal. No case could be made, regardless of whether she benefited greatly from that man''s sin. However, should Eris make contact while aware of what happened, it would be impossible to escape judgment from the Court. But, it was not Lysander''s place to alter his Mistress''s will, only to follow it, even to a gruesome end. "Very well¡­" He managed to choke out. "To whom is this letter to be sent?" "Why, to the Hound." The near-immortal snorted, likely aware of the foolish fear of her Pet. "Now that my part in the Bifr?st is over, I have finally found the time to write to her." "Ah! Of course, my Mistress, right away." The Kraken''s color flooded back as he gratefully accepted the letter with two tentacles. On a relieved whim, Lysander turned the envelope over and saw the word ''Recommendation'' printed neatly in gold script. "A recommendation?" "The Hound and her team are visiting Olympia during an event meant for Cultivators of her Rank, and she requested any wisdom I could offer." "The fact that she came to you for advice is proof of her intelligence." He nodded. Which was a fascinating gesture to witness on a creature with no neck. "I am convinced the young Lady''s performance will be a sight to behold. She is her father''s daughter, after all." "I know! I only wish I could be there myself. Sadly, going anywhere near that quadrant now would likely drown me in a torrent of fell Karma." Eris pouted before immediately brightening with a monstrous smile Lysander hadn''t seen since announcing the start of another Gu. "After all, I am sure the Professor and Spirit will make an excellent addition to the team!"
The humans of the Tutorial were frightened beyond belief that far too early morning. First, the strange color-changing sea began to resemble Swiss cheese, given the sheer volume of whirlpools forming. Now, the air was suddenly filled with the deafening cacophony of something that almost sounded like a woman''s laugh. Not for the first time, many of the Earthlings muttered a curse against the one who forced them all into this mess. After all this strange world, this hellish training, all of was because of that damned Arbiter.
End of ''Act 1'' of: Mediterranean Foundations 23. The Way of the Frankenstein By the 27th dawn, the inhabitants of Lamplight Isla had achieved the impossible; by the 30th, the last of the base was being stored within the Dimensional Ring. The Monk needed to pursue their own goals, the Professor had gotten a firm grasp on his Cultivation, and Momo was hungry. So hungry, she got into the MREs the night before and reduced her parent''s rations from months to days. So, the time had come to set sail for Olympia Capital city. They only needed to accomplish a final errand or two.
The Professor''s hand gripped the wooden grate above their heads, one leg already on the makeshift step ladder. Yet, the man made no move to push aside the cut piece of Pillar root being used as the tunnel''s trap door. Instead, he insisted on hearing out his partner''s plea¡­ again. "Morgan, I''m telling you we should consider heading true South from Lamplight before anything else." Ego insisted for the 7th time since he''d woken up that morning. "I have a good feeling about that direction." He rubbed the scar on his nose in preparation for having this same exact discussion for the 7th time. "Your intuition aside, I''m telling you strategically, heading West is the best option. Trinity''s Crucible is the furthest island from here, and if we need to turn back for any reason, we''ll have to cover less distance. Plus," the Professor added quickly before they could argue, "if we go South and need to retreat for any reason, Hell''s Garden will be the first-" Morgan wouldn''t get to finish as their third member, sitting on top of his head, decided to give her opinion. "Mer!" Momo half growled, half barked, for her parent and that chatty Spirit to stop dragging their feet and hurry out of this claustrophobia-inducing tunnel. "Have patience, young Momo." Chided Ego, after patiently locking eyes with the hangry Beast resting on her mobile throne. "I know you''re anxious to revisit the Swamp, but finalizing our travel plans is just as important." Morgan knew the Spirit was tempting Fate by not only daring to use the personal nickname but to do so while lecturing the reptile took some spine. And indeed, he felt her tail wrapped around his arm tighten in irate protest. However that was as far as she went. Since the Ceremony, Morgan had noticed a change in the relationship between the two. Something had happened during his forced nap, and while things hadn''t become friendly per se, Momo was less willing to strike at the smallest of provocations. It wasn''t much of a change, but progress was progress. "Tell you what Princess, you break the tie." He said, letting go of the grate to bring a fist up to either side of her head. Wiggling the left fist first, he posed the question, "After we grab some Hoppers for you to snack on, do you think we should go West or South?" Not needing to deliberate like some bipedal people she knew, Momo licked the right fist. The Professor tisked at being outvoted, while the Monk bowed to Momo. "Thank you for trusting in my intuition again, little Princess." "Mmm¡­" She growled begrudgingly before pointing at the exit with her tail and flexing her toes with unspoken meaning. Taking the hint, Morgan pushed the grate aside and climbed out of the hole. Only to be surprised by what greeted them when their heads poked above ground. "Ego, it''s getting foggy again." He reported before climbing the rest of the way up. "Looks like the island is on the med from the flood." Around the Scientist, the land around the cave had changed considerably since their arrival. Where a dense fog once drowned the ground and obscured the sun was now only a hazy wisp of its former glory. Sunbeams, hardly hindered by the mist produced by the willows, descended from the canopy gaps to shine a dozen spotlights on the forest floor. A floor that looked untouched around the hole but starting half a meter in any direction had much of its pale mossy leaf litter, and smaller Lamp-plants washed away. Thanks to visibility currently near perfect, one could find much of the displaced dead wood and foliage deposited in loose rings around them as the flood waters gradually receded. Those rings suggest that this section of land had the highest elevation on the island, sparing the trio from drowning below the earth. Which would be a very¡­ lucky coincidence. Especially considering that, even now, Morgan couldn''t see how the ground he stood on was in any way higher than the rest. "Oh good!" Exclaimed the Spirit from below before manifesting on the stump with hands in sleeves and a too big glowing smile as they looked around. "I was worried the Storm caused some permanent damage." "Same here." "Mmm." Grumbled Momo. A light breeze, carrying the smell of the salty sea, blew through as they gave each other pointed looks. For they all knew the Storm was code for the alien presence that invaded the island in search of Morgan. At some time, either during or just after his connecting to the Dao, much of Lamplight Isla became partially submerged. A flood that shocked the fog-producing trees into a dormant state, apparently until that morning. A flood the trio agreed was likely caused by that malevolent entity. However, the Monk forbade them all from speaking directly about the presence, as Ego feared doing so might bring unwanted attention. Morgan agreed, for now, at least. "Momo." Said Morgan after the silence went on a beat too long for comfort. "Why don''t you meet us at the northern beach? Go explore a bit and stretch your legs before we have to spend a couple of days trapped on the raft." *Pop* The weight on his shoulders vanished shortly before another ''pop'' could be heard further into the forest. "I guess she thought it was a good idea." Murmured Ego while Morgan placed the trapdoor over the hole. "Or she wants some space after being stuck in the cave for three days." "All children crave independence and privacy at some point." He sighed, shoveling what little debris remained over the entrance. With any luck, the cave under Lamplight would remain hidden, and there wouldn''t be any surprise Harpies should they return. "Alright, let''s go get the solar generator." Morgan turned to walk towards the island''s South side, only to find the Monk grinning knowingly at him. There was a playful snicker in their tone when they asked, "Aren''t you forgetting something?" Morgan looked at the concealed entrance tunnel, a prickle of irritation rising as he answered in a dry tone, "Ego if you saw that I forgot something important in the cave and didn''t tell me, I swear I will find a way to exorcize you." "Hee-hee! Don''t be so serious. I was only going to remind you to use Breath like you asked me to." Frowning, he took out the depleted phone to use as a mirror as he triggered Perception of the Stone Sage to examine his Foundations. Ever since obtaining some understanding of the Concept of Curiosity, the reflection he saw staring back had changed dramatically. Besides, a white glow surrounding Morgan''s silhouette and outlining his eyes, the structures representing the Body, Mind, and Soul had experienced the most alterations. What he called green roots before had nearly doubled in girth and became more organized, the twisting Qi-filled strands almost resembling the nervous system if drawn from a doctor''s memory. His single band of Mana had become a halo of five individual rings, with the outermost ring now thicker than the rest. The Soul was now two separate layers, the inner red flames unwilling to mix with the yellow like before. While the still unexplained changes made the Scientist proud and confused, they weren''t what he was checking. "I told you to remind me to use Breath after I stop using other Techniques to keep my batteries full. Infusing Aether now would be a waste as all my Prana energies are infused to maximum capacity." Morgan reported before disabling the Bloodline and cocking an eyebrow at Ego. "Is your memory going faulty, Monk?" "The only one with the faulty memory is the old man." They sniff at his accusation. "Not only can I recall the request''s exact wording, but I also recall a certain someone saying how it was always wise to keep up good habits no matter what. Any idea who I''m referencing?" Damn it, they had him there. "Yeah, someone who should have kept his big mouth shut," Morgan grumbled. "Your words, not mine. Also, I believe the same old man said that the greatest strength of the Technique was the fact he could use it whenever he wanted, then proceeded to never use it until-" "Alright, I get it, I could use the practice." He cut them off before they could get deeper into the nagging. "I''ll use Breath on the way to South Beach; just don''t expect me to be a chatterbox on the way." "Not a problem, dear Professor." Grinned the Monk with a twinkle in their gaze, Morgan didn''t like. "We both know the Technique takes a discernible amount of concentration. Since you''ll need to improve multitasking anyway, why don''t we do this? I''ll speak, you''ll listen, and we can see how much of the conversation you can retain when we get to the beach. A sort of retention test."Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. HA! Now, this was definitely a trap. The Professor didn''t know how it could be, but he was sure of it, which only meant there was one way to find out. "Sure." Morgan shrugged, expecting them to take the chance to go over their plans when visiting the Capital city. Assuming they could find it before he starved to death. "Excellent!" Praised the Monk, clapping him on the shoulders. "You know, with all the crunch time spent fine-tuning your other Techniques, I was worried we might not have time to start the Cultivator etiquette lessons." All the blood in his body froze upon realizing how Ego had got him hook, line, and sinker. Naturally, the agreement wasn''t a binding Oath like the one they both had sworn to each other, and Morgan could back out without repercussions. But that damned Monk knew he wouldn''t. His mismatched glare settled on the sly Spirit, "You crafty little-" "I hear a whole lot of talking when I should be hearing the sound of a Soul obeying its Sovereign." Ego almost sang in glee as they started pushing Morgan southward. "Now let''s start with the proper greeting most Vajrayians use in¡­" As the insidious Monk began their first of many lessons, the unviewed Soul of the budding Cultivator was already springing into action. Being the Technique that infused Aether into his natural energies, Breath was the cornerstone of the Professor''s original Cultivation Method. A method that the trio still needed to brainstorm a name for. Morgan had suggested ''the Way of the Frankenstein'' since the method was crafted by a mad scientist, spit in the face of societal morals, and was a complex collection of stolen parts. However, the name felt too long. Regardless, after spending an entire day understanding the data taken from Beasts and the lessons learned from their mistakes, Morgan and Ego developed a five-stage process that worked.
While listening, walking, and trying to recall whatever Latin was needed to drive off the evil Spirit, lecturing him on proper speaking order, Morgan began the Formation stage. He willed the red layer of his Soul to condense into a single orb of Essence at the center of his torso, right below the rib cage. From there the orb split into two, one containing ? the total amount of Essence and the other made of the remaining third. Like a veteran sculptor on the pottery wheel, the Professor separated the larger orb into five equal pieces before molding them into highly accurate hollow models of the stomach, lungs, spine, brain, and heart. Based on many test runs, he found that realism didn''t make the Essence constructs more effective, but decided it never hurt to go the extra distance, which was why each hollow organ was placed overlapping their fleshy counterpart. Sadly, the resemblance to biology ended there, as the remaining red Prana energy was used to craft six artery-like tubes, each a finger-width thick. One tube was placed within the actual sinus cavity and intersected each Lung on the way down before finally connecting to the top middle of the Stomach. Three more tubes are connected to the bottom of the Stomach with the other ends connected to the Spine, Brain, and Heart. The last two tubes had one end at the mouth while the other end was fixed, at no surprise, to the top of the Stomach. Molding and manipulating his Soul like clay was relatively easy; constantly willing the Soul to maintain the desired shapes was less so. Imagine being expected to live out one''s daily routine while an album''s worth of different songs played constantly within the mind. Thankfully, stage two, Collection, alleviated some mental strain by allowing the Professor to synchronize using Breath with his actual breathing. Inhale through the nose, exhale through the mouth. Morgan emptied his real lungs of air and willed the Essence copy to mimic the constrictive movement before undoing the work when breathing in. While his Bloodline was deactivated, the Scientist knew all the ambient Aether within ten meters of him were suddenly jerked towards him. Like biological lungs with air, the Essence Lungs created a vacuum that Aether abhorred. After several breaths, the Professor literally hoovered the cosmic energy into the Lungs and down into the Stomach for stage three. Revolution. The process by which the ambient Aether, or Raw Aether as Morgan had started to refer to it as, was scrubbed clean of Impurities before moving to the next stage. Despite his best attempts, Morgan could not get his Soul to mimic the properties of stomach acid like Beasts. Nor could he burn Raw Aether to extract the pure energy as the Spirits do. Whether the problem lay in him specifically, in being Human, or just being a Mortal, he had no solid explanation. So, instead, the Scientist used the same method many labs use to separate a compound into its baser elements: a centrifuge. For those who had never set foot in a lab dealing with chemicals, the idea was similar to a washing machine. By having the inner Stomach lining rotate at dizzying speeds, Impurities were ripped off Aether motes like dirt stains on a white shirt. Now free of the deadly imperfections, the Yin, Yang, and Neutral attuned energy was ready for its last stage, Infusement. Strangely, for this fourth stage, the Professor had little to do with, despite being the whole goal of Breath. Once spun clean, the attuned energies begin moving independently, seemingly drawn to the Essence organ acting as an infusing station for each Eternal Foundation. Without so much as a flicker of will, Yin drifted to the Brain, Yang flowed into the Spine, and clusters of Neutral attuned Aether were pulled to the Heart. In seconds, his hungry Foundations created a vortex of Mana, Qi, and Essence to absorb all there was to gain. As far as the Foundations were concerned, this was the end of the line; their empowered energies were ready to be utilized. For the Cultivator, however, there was still the stage of Expulsion, as one needed to remove those pesky Impurities. Whatever they were. To start, Impurities were definitely not Aether or physical matter in any way, and as a result, the energy grim was invisible to him, Bloodline be damned. Neither Ego nor Momo knew them since their own methods automatically dealt with such issues. The Professor only discovered a hint of their existence by accident when he closely examined the Princess during their second-day off-world. In those early days, Morgan wrote down everything his enhanced sight displayed. In one footnote, he noticed a size difference between Aether motes collected by Momo and the same motes just before being absorbed. Raw Aether was roughly a ? the size of a marble, while every mote heading to a Foundation was sand grain sized. Initially, Morgan chalked the loss of visible volume up to some kind of entropy at play. The fool was utterly wrong, and when he attempted to forcibly shove a trickle of uncooperative Raw Yang attuned energy into the Body Foundation, it hurt. Hurt, as in Morgan seriously considered death as every physical nerve reported repeatedly that he was on fire for almost an hour. Thankfully, the Monk recalled the footnote, and a closer examination revealed the impure phantom phenomenon. Once separated from Aether, Impurities were incredibly light, or at least behaved as such. So, while the cosmic energy found its way out the bottom of the Stomach, the invisible grim floated up the final two tubes and out his mouth. Every inhale drew in energy, every exhale expelled waste. That was Breath.
"So tell me, when you meet a Cultivator of the same Rank, how do you greet them?" Quizzed the Monk as the sounds of the sea grew louder before them. "Fist in palm salute." He answered, a bead of sweat on his brow from both the journey and constant concentration. "Good, and when should you add a bow to the salute?" "Never." "Morgan." They said in gentle warning. "Hypothetically speaking, a bow would be included in apologizing or ass-kissing." He huffed. "Close enough." Ego sighed and moved aside a willow branch that obscured their destination. A beach of white sun-bleached sand still deformed with countless pieces of dried seaweed, dead moss, driftwood, and hand-deep trenches. Nearly every item on the thin strip of shoreline was deposited or carved by the receding flood waters. All save the artificial red and black hunk of metal at the sandy center, gleaming in the momentary strong sunlight. When Morgan finally spotted the solar generator, he almost broke into a run. Wisely, he resisted the urge. However, his mouth was not so disciplined. "Oh, thank god we''re here." The Professor sighed in relief before stiffening at his own words. Truthful they may be, that didn''t change the fact his comment was blatantly ungrateful. "Now we can reach the northern shore faster using the raft." He backpedaled harder than a cyclist before oncoming traffic. "Agreed." Nodded the Monk. "That should give us enough time to go over the basics of Xenia." Hmm, Ego was on top of their game this morning. Morgan needed a reasonable counter if he was to be spared a terrible Fate. "Or we can come up with a name for my Cultivation Method." He hinted as strongly as his dead voice could manage. "There''s no need; I like what you suggested last night... Give me a second to think of something a bit more-" *Snap* The Monk clicked their fingers together as lightning was caught in the proverbial bottle. "I got it." They turned to him, almost bouncing in place as they proposed, "The Franken Tantra." The Franken Tantra? Without using the full name, people might become confused by the reference. Then again, since only a handful of beings in Vajrayana were even aware of Earthling pop culture, confusion was always going to happen. Plus, if anyone discovered he wasn''t a Cultivator of the Diamond Tantra in the first place, he''d become a wanted man. So it wasn''t as if Morgan would be flashing the name around in the first place. "I like it." "Good! Now, there should be no problem in starting the next lesson." The Spirit snickered before manifesting at their maximum distance to the generator. "Let''s go. We don''t want to keep little Momo waiting." Morgan blew out a particularly large amount of Impurities that may or may not have had a few curse words hidden within. Curses Ego undoubtedly heard and might have chided him over if both of their attentions weren''t suddenly ensnared by something moving in the shallows. *pop, p-p-pop, pop pop* Moving might be too misleading a word to describe the stationary patch of churning salt water directly in front of the generator. The Professor squinted but was forced to move closer as he struggled to determine what was happening. The Spirit had no such issue. [Are those bubbles?] Ego projected wearily, taking a step back. He saw their sandal phase through a pile of driftwood, which meant they had likely swapped to their incorporeal avatar state. *p-p-pop, pop pop* It was true. Upon closing half the distance to the Monk, he saw a persistent stream of air bubbles racing for the surface. [Is it a Beast?] They whispered needlessly into his literal mind. Oh, it was more than likely a monstrous sea Beast, the Professor knew. Or rather, he suspected, seeing as he''d need to get much closer to use the Bloodline when viewing underwater. A fact that had annoyed him to no end when visiting Luna Lagoon. Darkness and distance held no power over Perception of the Stone Sage, yet a meter or two of water was enough to render it nearly useless. Not that he would remind the frightened Monk. [Could be a gas pocket trapped under the sand. Just stay out of sight and-] *Snap* Morgan, in his own haste, stepped on a branch of sea-worn driftwood. *Splash!* A solid column of saltwater thicker than his head erupted forth from the bubble patch, its trajectory aimed right at Morgan''s legs. "Shit!" He bellowed in surprise, jumping straight up and narrowly dodging the liquid projectile. [I''m fine.] He projected before clarifying, [I''m pissed off, but I''m fine.] Morgan stumbled the landing, but managed to stay upright in order to glare daggers at this latest attac- Oh? No. After one look, the Ecologist marveled at the majestic creature crawling on shore. He dimly noted that the necklace heated up before a new Bestiary entry was sent. Damn. It was during times like these that the Professor just loved this universe. 24. The Battle Shrimp [What a beautiful creature.] The Scientist marveled mentally, his annoyance at the sudden attack suddenly lost in the flood of endorphins. [A shame mantis shrimp on Earth don''t get this big.] Manifesting beside him, the incorporeal Spirit answered with a shutter. [That is probably because whatever divinity watching over Cosmos is a merciful one.] They may have a point. Mantis shrimp found in the Indian and Pacific oceans ranged between 10 to 40 cm. Or at least they did until some deranged Arbiter opened the Aether floodgates. It would be best for humanity if they never had to face something like the Elemental Battle Shrimp. Saltwater dripped off its black, white, and blue harlequin shell as three pairs of legs struggled to hoist over one and a half meters worth of Beast ashore. That was only the creature''s height, including the segmented abdomen that dragged on the sand; its total length was closer to three meters. Both of the Shrimp''s trinocular compound eyes could move independently on their stock, but both were trained on the Human, as evidenced by the six black dots Morgan could see. Every time he twitched so much as a finger, the Shrimp''s pair of pale blue calcified clubs did likewise. Other than a significant scale-up, this Beast was identical to the Earth animal, save for its two black antennas. Instead of being short and perched forward, these resembled a true shrimp in being long, flexible, and curved behind to rest on top of the abdomen. [What do you think Shrimpzilla wants with us?] Asked Morgan as the monster came to a halt after trudging a third up the beach. [Normally, I''d say it was protecting territory, but from the Bestiary entry, I''m guessing this is one of the invasive Beasts we were warned about.] [I''m not sure, but if it wishes to make Lamplight a home away from home, it can have the place. So long as it finds food below the waves, who are we to stomp on a shrimp''s dream?] [I couldn''t agree more.] Though it pained the Scientist to lose such an irreplaceable asset as the solar generator, the Monk was right; it wasn''t worth a fight. Without the laptop, the generator served little more than a fancy phone charger with unknown future applications. While he''d been itching to try some of the Techniques developed for combat, it felt wrong to test them on the poor beastie so far from its origins. [We don''t have the time for a pointless brawl, so I''ll pull the generator away from the water while you keep it distracted.] Ego decided on their own before appearing at the edge of their range, putting them a stride or two from the generator. That also placed them directly behind the Beast, from which they quickly shrank away from. [Wow, umm, this guy is a lot bigger up close¡­ Could I get a little help here?] Morgan snorted aloud at the impatient Monk, the movement enough to make a dreadlock draped over a shoulder fall to his chest. The left club dripped water as the limb rapidly twitched, altering its position fractions of a degree until becoming a blur of blue. *Pong* What was that sound? It sounded crisp and somewhat familiar, but he couldn''t place the- "Oof!" He grunted as an invisible force with the yielding nature of a balloon filled with syrup, and the velocity of a car slammed into Morgan''s right shoulder. The unseen blow spun the man, sending him tumbling onto all fours on the sand. [What the-] Sputtered Ego. [Morgan, what hit you?] [That is a good question.] He projected, and from that low position, he got a particularly menacing view between his swaying hair of the slowly advancing Beast, another folded club twitching. [Give me a second to find out.] The Scientist watched for a hidden projectile right up until the limb became a blur of high-speed motion. But saw nothing. *Pong* Morgan threw himself to the left, and the patch of sand where his head was exploded for seemingly no reason. He turned the tumble into a roll and kept on rolling as the sound of clicks and fine dust filled the air. [Roll this way!] They shouted, and a quick peek showed Ego was even further away from the machine. [The sooner I can drag the generator to you, the sooner we can get out of here! So roll this-] Morgan tuned them out as opportunity reared its beautiful head. In the area of the beach he''d roll on too soon was not just one, but two hefty sticks. Salvation incarnate. *Pong* As the latest patch of sand was blown to kingdom come, Morgan snatched both sticks and hurled one underhand at his aquatic attacker. Taking a risk, he spun into a crouched position and took aim at a quivering club but only threw at the signal. *Pong* *Crack!* To his satisfaction and surprise, the mid-air collision shattered his stick almost as if a hardened baseball had struck it. The piece of driftwood felt solid, but perhaps an unseen fracture was to blame; luckily, his first projectile performed as expected. Coming down from its high arc, the stick bounced off the Shrimp''s abdomen. The Beast flinched, its next shot going far to the right and surprising the hell out of an unsuspecting clump of seaweed. Seizing the momentum, the Professor charged forward, his vision darkening as the Bloodline allowed him a peek behind the metaphysical curtains. A good play for the Shrimp''s Qi was already flowing to the Body strands within the club; however, he was in for a special treat today. A couple of dozen strands fully exited the club and began saturating the space in front of it, creating a perfect sphere of smoky green energy. Upon reaching the size of a grapefruit, the limb began twitching once more as the Shrimp took careful aim. Now, the Scientist had definitely seen this trick before, though this was the first time he''d seen it weaponized. This Beast took a page out of the Phol¨®¨¥ trees of the Swamp and, instead of using Qi to alter the body, chose to manipulate the air. Based on the blow he had already received, perhaps the speed of the air molecules was slowed down so that the molecules could arrange themselves into fixed positions. It is also known as how water becomes ice or, in this case, how a bubble of air becomes a cannonball. Which would explain the sound. *Pong* The Beast struck the Qi sphere, creating a sound similar to a wooden paddle giving the business to a particularly hated ping-pong ball.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. Just as with the Harpy''s darts, being able to see the projectile in flight was more than enough warning to dodge to safety. In fact if Morgan didn''t have to close the distance for the Monk, he could have backed away to render the attack harmless. With every second in flight, the Prana energy rapidly dried up, going from smoke to haze by the time he sidestepped the attack. A nonlethal, very energy-efficient attack¡­ Almost as if the Beast was only trying to drive Morgan away from the beach. But what value could the shores of an island be to such a massive aquatic creature if not food? [Stop right there, that distance is perfect!] Called the Spirit as they took hold of the generator''s handle and tilted the heavy machine on its wheels. [I''ll let you know when we need to start retreating to the AHHH!] Ego''s directions became a pitched scream of terror in his head as the Battle Shrimp threw a wrench in the plan. Instead of dealing with the current target, who was still running right for it, the Beast whipped its massive body around to charge an entirely new target. "What did I do?!" The Spirit demanded as they dragged the generator in a panicked shuffle doomed to failure. What had the Monk done to piss off the big guy like that? Was it Ego''s sudden appearance that set it off, or had the reaction something to do with¡­ Uh-oh. The ecologist sucked in a breath as a thought occurred, and he reread the Bestiary window. What he found was troubling, to say the least. "I think Shrimpzilla thinks the generator is an elemental tree!" Morgan bellowed, grabbing the Shrimp by its smelly tail only to become an anchor dragged along for the ride. "Throw the battery at it!" "But without-" "I know how to make a battery from scratch, not fix a fucking solar generator smashed by a rampaging crustacean!" He barked while willing his Body Foundation to flood the right leg with Qi. "Oh, in that case, please enjoy!" Ego twisted and pulled the fist-size energy cell free before hucking the hot item high into the air. They manifested running alongside Morgan the moment after the battery took flight. "Now what? If Shrimpzilla wants the fruit, it''ll want the tree, too." "Then we''ll have to teach it about getting out when the getting is good." The fruit fiend was already slowing down upon seeing the airborne prize. Both club hands were stretched outwards, ready to accept a somewhat familiar gift in an unfamiliar world. Sadly, its jubilation was doomed to be short-lived as class was in session. Morgan triggered his second Technique. Within his leg, the free-floating Qi condensed into a tightly woven circular grid pattern that any construction worker worth their hard hat would recognize at a single glance. Rebar. Which was not only the Tech''s name, but was also a shamelessly improved version of the Harpy''s own Qi reinforcement method. Kicking hard off the sand, the Professor jumped onto its abdomen and kept running even as both stocked eyes shifted to regard this unauthorized passenger. Only for those delicate eyes to hastily pull apart from the other as a size-11 boot heel came barreling down like a headsman''s axe. *Thwack* Just as the battery was caught, his axe kick smashed into the Shrimp''s thick-plated head with a reckless strength that would have certainly shattered non-reinforced bone. Morgan hardly felt any discomfort besides remorse as he used that same leg to spring off the stunned Beast towards the generator''s silhouette. Soaring through the air with the ringed hand outstretched before him like Superman, Morgan finally got within range. "Intra-!" Out of nowhere, a thick cord wrapped around Morgan''s right ankle before whipping his body backward and flinging him away like trash. Flipping end over end in his forced flight, the Scientist tucked into a tight ball. The moment the beach and sky were in their proper orientation, he dug all his limbs into the sand. Ego manifested behind the man and caught his waist. By the time they both came to a stop, ten meters again separated them from the goal. "Huh. Apparently, the antennas are prehensile. Who knew?" The Scientist chuckled dryly as they both watched Shrimpzilla manipulate its wiggling appendages like an elephant does its trunk. This was likely a display meant to intimidate, but with the Bloodline active, it appeared the Beast was playing with red pool noodles filled with green LEDs. "I wish we did. Now we''re back to square one, huh?" The Spirit breathed out with a dramatic sigh. "Eh, not really." Morgan shrugged and stopped feeding Qi to reinforce his leg. "Now that the Shrimp knows we are a potential threat and want its precious tree, I doubt it''ll risk chasing us. So let''s just head over to Momo and get going." "W-what?" They sputtered, their Essence flaring up chaotically. "But we can''t go without the- I mean to say, we shouldn''t leave such a valuable tool from your homeland to rust away on some random beach." "Oh, why not? It''s not like we need it, and clearly, someone here wants it more than us." "Well, I uh¡­ He-he." Ego let out a burst of nervous giggles. "Actually, we kinda do need the generator to charge the phone¡­Alright, to be more accurate, you need the generator to charge the phone." At his questioning glare, no doubt twice as effective with his enhanced black and red eyes, the Monk crumbled. "You need the phone because I may have, possibly, used it to record your Cultivation research." "Since when?" He demanded, already fearing the answer "The day before we first left Lamplight Isla." The Spirit squeaked, backing away from the glowering man. The Scientist suddenly felt the crushing weight of the dead device in his pocket; the idea that all recordings of his most extraordinary breakthroughs and notes were currently unavailable was disturbing. He turned toward the confused arbor guardian with a scowl, its presence now far more intimidating. "It made a lot of sense at the time." Ego continued to babble their explanation, "There''s just so much information you want me to record because of how meticulously you note every little factor. Merciful Dao Morgan, I''ve written enough in the phone documents in just a month to fill two and a half notebooks alone. Really, digitizing the whole process was the only viable option; not including the one sacrificed for the map and used for visualizing Breath, you only brought 23 of the 100-page books." "Damn it Monk, do you know how hard it was to find actual paper books in 2074 when- Hold up." The Professor''s justification of his spending was scrapped as he realized this conversation had just skimmed over a problem. "If you''ve been using the phone since the get-go, what happened to the books I already gave you for recording?" "He-he, funny story about those, and like all good comedies, that tale is best told in the proper setting. So maybe we should deal with the crustacean in the room before anything else." The Monk''s attempt at logical reasoning would''ve been more convincing if not for guilt keeping them from maintaining eye contact for longer than a second. However, the Battle Shrimp was already growing restless at these two hostile figures still refusing to take a hike. Despite no activity in the Beast''s Prana energy, its twin clubs twitched in anticipation. Muttering to himself, Morgan dropped the phone, sunglasses, necklace, and anything else in his pants pockets onto the floor before storing everything within the Dimensional Ring. Said ring was then slipped into a coat pocket before he hung the coat on the branch of a fallen tree. Perhaps out of nervous tension, perhaps out of genuine curiosity, Ego couldn''t help but blurt out, "My knowledge of Earth professions is limited, but I''m pretty sure scientists only need a lab coat if they, you know, work in a lab. I''ve never really given it much thought before, but why do you even own a lab coat?" "Well, the reason for that is also a funny story, and like all good tragedies, it''s best told in the proper company." The Professor paused halfway through uniting his last boot. The knuckle on his recently reunited pinky grew white as he subconsciously dug it into his palm. "Ready?" "I''m right beside you." Ego promised like they actually had a choice in the matter. Barefooted and well-motivated, Morgan triggered Rebar to reinforce everything from the elbows down to his fist. The Shrimp, picking up on their intention to continue fighting, made its own preparations. Placing the battery between the eye stocks, Morgan watched as the Beast''s Mana snaked from the Mind Foundation to coat each club. Once thoroughly coated, the vaporous energy''s texture shifted into a solid state resembling Qi. Looking closer, he noticed a line of Mana ran from each club up to each eye stock. The Scientist became further confused at the sounds he heard when it started banging the clubs together. *Zip, Clang!* *Zip, Clang!* "Ohh." Exclaimed the Spirit. "That''s what the Bestiary meant by supplementing its fighting style." Understanding he was the one missing something, Morgan deactivated Perception and saw what everyone else did. The once-white calcified limbs were now encased in what looked and sounded like iron. Every time these metal gloves came together, electricity arced between them. *Zip, Clang!* "Ego, should we survive this, I need you to add to the Prana document that Mana has the ability to mimic physical matter as well as other mundane energy. Now let''s go ask Mike Shrimpson for my friggin charger back." 25. The First Round There was an element in those metallic blue compound eyes that the Professor found unsettling. He wasn''t sure what bothered his inner psyche, but it had enough power to strangle his urge to dash in immediately. While his mind chewed on an unknown issue, the duo paced back and forth in opposite directions, the idea being to unnerve Mike Shrimpson with their number advantage. Whether their tactic worked was hard to tell since the more subtle body language of an Elemental Battle Shrimp was lost on either of them. *Zip, Clang!* Clearly, Shrimpson''s bid at psychological warfare was having more success. Just having its gorgeous eyes locked solely on Morgan, both stocks making minute adjustments to constantly keep him in the center of its undoubtedly advanced vision, was enough to give him pause. However, he could only indulge in hesitation for so long. He was burning Qi on maintaining Rebar, and the Princess was waiting for them. Yet that intense focus on only one of two foes... But did the Shrimp understand that it was facing two opponents? Wishing to experiment, the Scientist snatched a piece of driftwood half his height and tossed it. "Think fast, Spirit." "What?!" Unprepared, Ego nearly slapped the stick away at first but managed to grab hold after a stumble or two. Which was perfect since fumbling with a clearly physical object should prove to Shrimpson that the Spirit was not some illusion. Morgan knew the thing could see them both with those massive and complex peepers, yet the big bastard continued to watch only him. *Zip, Clang!* Damn it. While it was incredibly tempting to believe the Shrimp only considered him a threat due to his attack, the idea quickly fell apart in the face of reason. Morgan only got close to the solar generator. But to the foe, Ego not only touched its tree but dared to pick fruit and all from right under its antenna. Ignoring them was like ignoring a thief who''d already broken into one''s home. Utterly senseless. Huh, perhaps the thing actually hated the Mortal. What was it about this island that made- "Morgan, I don''t know if you''ve not noticed this by now," Ego said, unknowingly interrupting the thought, "but I am not much of a direct fighter¡­ Or any kind of fighter, really." "Eh?" He grunted and turned to find the Monk staring helplessly at him, gripping the stick like a baseball bat. Understanding the miscommunication, Morgan turned back to the Shrimp and tried to dismiss their fear. "Don''t be ridiculous; of course I''m not shoving you into a melee with a stick. Fighting is my job; I need you to draw its aggro to create an opening." "Oh, thank the Heavens." They sighed, a touch of confidence building in their voice. "Let''s be specific so there''s no confusion. How will I know when to draw Shrimpzilla''s attention?" "I''ll just tell you." "Alright, and what about the stick? Should I toss it now or later?" "Now is good," Morgan answered absently, knowing they would be restricted while bogged in their corporeal form otherwise. The Spirit''s unpredictable state of being was their most remarkable, if only, combat asset. The Monk''s commitment to clear communication was commendable; however, the Professor was internally debating their next move. A slow advance forward might be preferable, as they could close as much of the distance to the generator as Shrimpson would allow before charging. Running now might provoke an early reaction; at best, the three will meet in the middle. *Zip, Clang!* Going slow and steady gave his side the best chance. Let the Battle Shrimp believe it could avoid combat until the last possible second. *Whoosh* There was the sound of something swinging through the air. "What was-" But the question died in the Professor''s throat after looking to the now stickless Spirit tracking something flying through the air ahead. He turned back in time to watch the stick fall through the air at an unsuspecting crustacean''s head. That lack of awareness was quickly cured when the driftwood smacked into a waving antenna, only to be smashed into a rain of splinters by an iron-coated jab that would have made the original Iron Mike proud. Without a moment''s pause, the Battle Shrimp charged. The only sound of its approach came from its legs and abdomen paddles grinding and sending up streams of sand behind it. "Oh good, I was worried the toss might have hit an eye." They turned to him, beaming while he frowned. "Shouldn''t we start running?" Hmm¡­ Could he blame this all on the Spirit? Sadly, the answer was no. The Professor should have chosen his words with more care. After all, Ego was still new to Human culture and, as today revealed, slang. So, knowing he was ultimately to blame, what else could Morgan do but sigh in agreement and lead the charge. Despite the duo''s delay, the Beast''s disadvantage on land, especially on shifting sand, meant both sides would clash four to five meters from the prize. However, just outside of three meters would be better for the plan. [Shrimpson may have given up the long-range Bubble-Shot, but those damned antennas give it excellent mid-range capabilities, so this will have to be a melee.] He swapped to mental communication since speaking would only ruin his breathing rhythm. [So, for you to get close, someone needs to keep those antennas occupied.] They projected without missing a beat, though they looked at him funny at the mention of Bubble-Shot. [Are you still doing that Beast Move naming thing?] The Scientist ignored the foolish question. [You know how to lock down those appendages?] [I believe I do.] Ego snickered before their avatar again appeared beside the generator. They put a robed shoulder on the side opposite of the handle and, with a desperate strength only known to those who knew the mess they were in was one of their own making, started pushing the machine closer to the clash zone. For dramatic effect, they may have added in a taunt or two. "Hey, Shrimpzilla, I got your fake Jambu tree!" Immediately, Shrimpson reversed course like a train on tracks while Morgan kept a steady gate forward. It was crucial to pace himself so he''d enter the monster''s mid-range a beat after the generator did. "Now!" Ego screamed as the tip of one corded antenna whipped back to wrap around the machine''s handle. With only one appendage to worry about and no longer handicapped by his boots, Morgan exploded forward, surprising Shrimpson with alarming speed. Its remaining antenna swept low, aiming to knock his feet from under him, but the Scientist had already gotten the measure of this Beast. He leaped, the momentum carrying him past mid-range and directly into brawling range. By far the most dangerous range to be in for either party. The Battle Shrimp hunkered down and struck with clubs that shot towards him in twin metallic black blurs. Just as with the Harpy, Shrimpson would soon come to learn that speed was nothing compared to observation. On that same note, Morgan became inspired to name this new Move. "Herrk," Morgan grunted, swaying back his upper torso and clearing Shrimpson''s double Blur-Jabs by millimeters. Electricity arched between the clubs, and the Scientist had never been more grateful that metal was more conductive than flesh. He was even more thankful for the cost of having a cannon''s power and speed. Morgan''s chest followed right behind the now far slower retreating clubs, left fist already slicing through air to deliver a Rebar-enforced hook to the side of its carapace, just below the eye. *Thud* The blow landed cleanly but was dulled more than expected by shell armor. "But wait," he growled deeply, the thrill of the melee making his martial artist blood boil in joy for the first time in over a decade, "there''s more." Using the already extended left hand, he seized Shrimpson''s clubbed appendage just below where the iron coating ended. Jerking the limb left threw off the next Blur-Jab enough so a head tilt in the opposite direction saved him from a skull fracture. As the same club reloaded and the other struggled to escape his vice-like grasp, Morgan unleashed consecutive body blows at the softer underbelly. *Thud!* *Thud!* *Thud!*Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. Shrimpson recoiled after the third hit, forcing it to step back outside both their swing ranges, but that was all the reaction he managed to beat out of it. In seconds, the Beast would close in. [Bah.] The Scientist grumbled mentally. [I can''t cause enough damage through its shell, the fucking thing feels like punching steel.] Damn it. The Harpy was airborne; this crustacean was armored. Every Beast they''ve fought has rendered barehand martial arts incredibly ineffective. In the near future, he should consider training with a weapon. But now was not the time for such thoughts. Behind the foe, the Spirit was in a game of tug-of-war with the antennas. True, the Shrimp could easily win a test of strength against Ego, even while bogged down in a separate fight, but it didn''t want to win. Pulling the generator closer would bring it closer to Morgan; however, it feared letting go with the Monk constantly pulling it. Shrimpson was also forced to abort attacks on him with the other antenna since keeping only one wrapped around the handle created an easy pivot point for Ego to yank the machine to one side or another. [Ah!] They yelped as an antenna whipped near them but failed to reach them. [Oh, thank the Dao, that was close. But please tell me you''re joking! How are we going to-] They paused to shove the generator when the same antenna tried striking Morgan. [-going to get Shrimpzilla to back off now?!] [We go back to your plan but with a modification. We snatch the generator, run like hell over to Momo, and we all hide in the cave till it moves on.] [Ignoring that we might have to wait days we don''t have on Lamplight if the Beast tries waiting us out,] the Spirit rebutted unhappily, [how are you going to get close to the generator?] Now, that was an excellent question. The only reason this melee was at all even was their efforts to force the Battle Shrimp to divide its attention between them. For the Professor to run around Shrimpson would mean turning away and likely getting pegged by a Blur-Jab. Reinforcing the target area with Rebar might, and the odds favored the attacker, allow him to tank a single hit. But what then? Morgan would be injured at best, at the mercy of two unrestrained antennas, and still have to get past an enraged shrimp to get to the island. Escaping on the raft was just wishful thinking, especially considering the current issues with the Dimensional Ring. His other Techniques could help with clever timing, but the only way he could see either being effective would cause permanent damage to the Battle Shrimp. But that was never going to happen. Unlike the sadistic Harpy, who cheered at his literal pain, Shrimpson was an innocent victim. Lost in a foreign land, desperate to cling to a false hope of familiarity¡­ No. The Professor couldn''t be so heartless; he''d rather lose all the research. But just because Morgan can''t win the easy way doesn''t mean he''ll just give up. Where was the fun in that? [The same way anyone completes an endless journey, my Guide.] The Cultivator chuckled before getting into a defensive stance. [One step at a time?] They answered instantly but seemed genuinely confused by his answer. [But it doesn''t look like you''re planning on running.] [Don''t be ridiculous; I can''t run while using a karate move since it''s not my preferred style.] Morgan turned his wrists and brought the arms back to his waist. One hand was palm down, tilted up, while the other was palm up, tilted down. [But based on what I have in mind, the Mawashi Uke is our best option. Now, when I give the signal, manifest a meter or two behind it and run at us as fast as you can, got that?] [Another distraction play huh? Yeah, I got it.] [Happy to hear.] Shrimpson, in silent rage, re-entered the fray, both clubs twitching for another double Blur-Jab. In that adrenaline-fueled fraction of a second, Morgan could almost see a half second to the future. Shrimpson''s left club became a blur, and his Qi-enforced left palm was already in motion and forcibly guided the blow past him. This time, he was too quick to react and made contact with the live iron. Electricity thundered through him as his body became the shortest path to the ground. Luckily, club two was already in flight. Enduring the muscle-seizing pain, Morgan''s other forearm made a tight circle to take over that club and had it collide with its twin, completing the electrical circuit. In the time it took to sneeze, the Cultivator had rendered the fatal attack useless. Generally, with a foe so over-extended, Morgan could have quickly slammed a counterattack. Sadly, doing so would only be a wasted effort. So he settled for the next best option and took a single curved step to his right. Shrimpson quickly recovered from the exchange with clubs twitching to try again, and the Professor was more than happy to dance to its tune. "Bring it." He taunted. The same exchange repeated dozens of times: a strike thrown, a block made, a step taken. Over and over again, iron spears failed to get past the cyclone shield. Before long, the positions between Mortal and Beast were reversed. Now Morgan had his back to the sea, but more importantly, to his solar generator. While everything went according to plan, the opportunity had to be taken as soon as possible, for Morgan was at the end of his rope. Exhaustion had slowed his actions considerably, and the Mortal might''ve bit the bullet already if the Beast hadn''t been facing the same issue. Swinging heavy clubs in such a mismatched environment had taken its toll. Now, the second antenna lay lifeless on the beach, the other making only token gestures of resistance to the Monk''s provocations. [Ready?] The Professor projected, his arms a cramping mess of hardly cooperative twitching muscles. [Fair warning, I''ve got maybe a third of my Qi left, so I highly recommend the answer be yes.] [Ready as I''ll ever be.] Ego reported, yet there was something of an edge to their tone. [Morgan, wait, I''m getting a bad feeling about this. You two started drifting closer to me, but the other antenna hasn''t tried to-] [Go!] He interrupted, believing the Spirit''s worries stemmed from forgetting that biological beings can get tired. He heard a mental snort of irritation. "Hey!" Screamed the Spirit, appearing mid-sprint behind it and waving a recently taken stick threateningly overhead. "I''m warning you, I don''t know how to use this- Oops!" *Snap* In their enthusiastic intimidation, Ego waved the stick hard enough to break it in two. One eye stock turned slightly to regard the figure running towards it, even daring to twist its carapace to guard against an attack that would never come. However, there was no way the Beast would know that, especially when its foe stomped hard against the sand and began backstepping away. From its perspective, nothing had really changed; its enemies were only trading places. For the Battle Shrimp, the status quo remained more or less the same. The poor sucker had taken the bait, and now his side was only a couple of steps from- Why was it turning back to Morgan? To his growing horror, the Beast was advancing yet again at him! How could it dismiss Ego so entirely every time? "Excuse me, you salty mantis!" The Monk taunted as best they could, whacking the Beast''s hard shell. "I''m talking to you! Stop ignoring me! Son of a bitch! Did it genuinely have it out for the Mortal? [ITS ESSENCE!] Ego suddenly blasted into his mind, pointing at something over his shoulder. [LOOK AT THE ESSENCE AROUND THE ANTENNA!!!] Morgan didn''t bother questioning them. If the Spirit heard something was brewing within the Beast''s Soul then there would be. Perception of the Stone Sage darkened the world as he craned his neck to find the speedy appendage less than an arm''s length away, targeting right where his heart lay. Yet, somehow, that was the least of the growing list of problems because there was indeed something happening to the Essence there. Where before the Soul simply curved around the antenna, there was now the crudest blazing form of a humanoid hand. Three of its too-long fingers curled into the palm while the middle and forefinger remained straight, each digit tipped with a wickedly pointed nail. *TH-THUMP!* Never before had he seen anything use their Soul in an attack. Every Spirit Beast used Moves that were either Mana or Qi based, so there was no way to know what was coming his way. And yet¡­ A sheer irrational panic overtook him regardless. Morgan instinctively knew what those terrible fiery nails would do when they reached him. *TH-THUMP! TH-THUMP!* They were going to pierce his flesh and rip out Morgan''s SOUL! HE WAS GOING TO DIE. HE WAS GOING TO DIE. HE WAS GOING TO DIE, DIE, DIE! *TH-THUMP! TH-THUMP! TH-THUMP!* [What are you doing?! Protect yourself, fool!] Their shouts distracted the Professor from the reaper''s scythe coming to claim its due. The moment he looked away, that alien panic fled entirely, his mind clear once more. Putting aside any questions on what the fuck just happened, he took the Monk''s excellent advice. Cutting off the flow of Prana energy to his arms, he directed the Body Foundation to pour all the Qi that could be spared into the upper torso. Triggering Rebar, his skin, muscle, bone, and even the internal organs sandwiched between became reinforced by a robust network of green rods. While such a costly defense had never been tested, the Scientist was confident his chest could survive the blunt impact of a cannonball. Granted, if the short-lived panic attack was at all a premonition, then the wiry antenna would need to hit bone to be stopped. An unlikely miracle, but there was nothing else the man could do. Well, he could prey, but now wasn''t the time for this old dog to learn a new trick. With Shrimpson and its iron Mana gloves still a meter away doing the sandy shuffle, Morgan knew he had two, perhaps three seconds of respite after taking the Soul attack before a Blur-Jab came. Gritting his teeth, he reached out mentally, knowing there wouldn''t be enough time for complex instructions. [Ego.] The Professor''s delivery came out far calmer than even he expected. [Ignore Shrimp. Drag generator to me. If I survive, I move without pause-] "HURK?!" Morgan whizzed aloud for no apparent reason he could come up with. Hmm? Strange¡­ Why could Morgan see his surprised blue-tinged reflection staring back from a pair of compound eyes? Mike Shrimpson still had to close a considerable distance, so the Spiritual Beast had no business being so close. Plus, the Bloodline was active, wasn''t it? Yet he could watch in what felt like slow motion as beads of blood splashed down on the black mass touching his chest. The Scientist made the mistake of looking down and saw what made him wheeze. However it got so close, regardless of what disabled Perception, one thing was clear: The Shrimp''s Blur-Jab had landed square on his sternum. Ending the first round. With darkness closing around him, Morgan noted dimly that his feet were coming off the ground, his spine forcibly bending forward as¡­ 26. The Second Round The Professor jolted awake to an unholy amount of pain in his chest, to the warm hum of machinery against his aching back, and with an ink-black hand covering his mouth that he couldn''t feel. He couldn''t feel the hand, not his mouth. He wished it was numb because the taste of bitter iron was strong on his tongue. There was also the fact that every breath felt like dozens of iron nails were stabbed into his sternum only to be ripped out on exhale. But Morgan was alive, so he had that going for him. [Don''t move, don''t scream, it''s-] [Ego, I promise with every fiber of my being I could never mistake you for anyone else.] He said with a mental snort as he looked around and found the southern beach shrimpless. There were several more wet impact craters than he recalled, but he knew just who to ask. [What the hell happened?] Removing their hand, the Monk walked into view and dropped onto their rear without disturbing the sand. They gave him a big grin that didn''t reach those ghostly eyes. They snickered, but their amusement sounded forced even to his groggy brain. [That''s what I wanted to ask you. From my perspective, you just¡­ I guess ''froze'' would be the best description. After the Soul attack hit you, it was like time stopped for only you for a few seconds. I couldn''t even talk to you and tried to keep the Beast away.] The Monk trailed off, embarrassed by how seemingly ineffective their efforts were. [Eh, don''t worry about it too much.] The Professor tried to console. [I''d probably be dead if you didn''t get me to yell some sense back into me.] He told them what had happened from his end: how just looking at the Essence move locked him into a cycle of irrational fear and how their contribution helped him establish an apparently effective defense. [Hee-hehehe! You know what?] Ego genuinely laughed. [I''m starting to think Fate has found you to be a particularly fun chew toy! But since we''re on the topic of good news, let''s keep it going. First, you''ve only been out cold for four to five minutes after taking a direct hit.] [Needed the power nap.] He said with a verbal shrug, as a physical one would be painful. [Honestly, I still do.] [In case you didn''t realize it, you''re sitting against the generator.] [The hum really soothes the mind, kinda like a white noise machine.] [And Shrimpzilla returned to the sea shortly after putting you to bed.] Ego placed their arms within their sleeves, and Morgan could hear the phantom clacking of Mala beads within. [Now, do you want to see the bad news?] [See?] On que, the Spirit disappeared only to manifest some ways away. They picked up a piece of driftwood and projected, [I''ve been experimenting, so I know what to expect. Please don''t move a muscle, regardless of what happens.] [Understood.] *Snap* They broke the wood over their knee and instantly returned to his side before the wood hit the sand. *Splash!* Actually, those pieces would never finish falling because a water pillar shattered them into splinters. [Interesting.] Morgan chuckled. [Did you teach the Beast any other tricks?] [Not really.] They sat back down and returned to fidgeting with the beads. [But if I break them too often, it''ll come back to find out what''s making all that noise.] Ego paused suddenly, their brows shooting up. [Oh, I almost forgot to mention some more good news. I know why Shrimpzilla only targets you. Well, I have two ideas, but the second is more suspicion than theory.] [Always tell someone the crack-pot theory first; it''ll make the other theory reasonable by comparison¡­ Aw man, my shirt.] Morgan stared down at a large, angry red mark blossoming on his skin. Which was particularly frustrating since he didn''t need to remove his shirt to see it thanks to the massive hole. The Battle Shrimp punched with so much force it literally burned a hole through the clothes and singed the skin. Once again, the Earthling lost more clothes that could never be replaced. [I''m sorry about the loss of your 5th black t-shirt.] Ego said with what did not sound like honesty. [We''ll have to find you some real- I mean to say, some appropriate robes when we enter the Capital. Returning to the topic of our crustacean problem. Well¡­ I think it hates Cultivators.] The Professor looked down at his destroyed shirt and then to the Spirit. [What makes you say that?] He deadpanned. [To start with,] Ego said, a twinkle in their eye. [Our Beast has two hand imprints on the shell covering its upper back. I saw them when it went around looking for you after the knockout blow. They''re fresh too; you can see cracks opening up when it turns its top half too quickly.] If the ecologist could''ve afford smacking himself right then, he would. Damn it, the man ran up the creature''s back, for god''s sake; how could he have missed that?! Armed with that information, they could have ended the fight long before things got so desperate. Now, whatever plan they cooked up would have to be possible while injured, unable to make a speedy retreat, and without Qi. What little of the green Prana energy Morgan had left kept him from passing out, and it would take too long to recover a usable amount with Breath. [Assuming it wasn''t trying to serve a personal vendetta.] The Scientist grumbled, showing no hint of self-loathing. [What was the other theory?] [Morgan, you shouldn''t blame yourself.] The Monk chided, seeing right past the monotone. [Who would have thought to look at solid armor plates for a weak point? That''s like looking for fruit in the Arctic.] [Meh.] He grunted, unconvinced. [My other theory is that it''s almost blind and deaf above water.] Ego sighed in surrender before frowning and correcting themselves with a wave. [Blind, as in it can''t see well above water. But, and I know this sounds crazy, I think the Beast is like a Predator.] He stared at them blankly. He understood the almost deaf part, as the Shrimp never reacted to any sound save for the sharp sound of breaking wood. This made some sense for a Beast species with a close relationship with trees. The other half¡­ [...Oh? Ohhh.] Morgan projected, finally understanding the reference. [You mean the movie. You think Mike Shrimpson can only see body heat because, as a Spirit, you lack any endothermic reactions. Hmm. That is a reasonable understanding of the data observed.] [Thank you, but it is mere speculation at the moment. However, it also explains why Shrimpzilla didn''t finish you off.] Ego pointed out with an aw-shucks tone. [You landed against the solar generator, and the warm heat it produces is acting like camouflage, hiding you from its aquatic protector.] [Uh-huh.] Morgan muttered noncommittally. [Tell you what, give me a minute to think it over.] [Alright, but we''ve almost been here for half an hour, and sooner or later, Momo will come looking for us.] The Spirit grimaced at the thought. [The second she sees you, she''ll throw a fit and pick a fight she can''t win.] Morgan nodded grimly but put aside the fear and more than a touch of fatherly pride to mull over the implications of the Spirit''s blind theory. Below the salty waves, the Beast''s compound eyes likely had no issue observing the environment and picking out aquatic intruders and prey alike. Leaving the sea, however, its vision likely became incredibly near-sighted as light behaved differently in air than water. Everything became a blurry mess whenever it needed to surface, so the species likely relied entirely on a different way of sensing the world when defending their tree. So he tested dozens of ideas against the data observed so far, the whole while fidgeting with his hair by slapping a dread against the- Like a storm over a mountain''s peak, the disorganized rainfall of observations began congregating into focused channels of shared characteristics. Morgan''s interactions with the Beast were fairly standard, where each party reacted directly to the actions of the opposing side. When he attacked or made a move towards the generator, Shrimpson responded. However, every interaction with Ego always contained a third element: their multiple uses of driftwood, moving the generator, and tossing the battery. Consistently, the Shrimp never took an interest solely in the Spirit. Going a step further, Morgan found that the only subjects who drew a sight-only response were the generator, the battery, and¡­ himself. The Scientist''s blue and brown eyes momentarily grew wide in sudden realization before he turned painfully to regard the machine. Could it really be something so simple? He, figuratively, ran the numbers several more cycles. However, the math was sound. [Holy shit, I think you''re right.] He half snorted, half laughed. [Mike Shrimpson really is blind.] [I know,] Ego chuckled with more than a touch of pride. [It''s hard to believe it can''t see us in the traditional sense, especially with such massive peepers on-] [You know the body heat part of your theory is entirely wrong, right?] The Scientist chuckled, cutting them off before the bit could go any further. [Oh?] They challenged, their arms folding defensively inside the sleeve. [To quote you: Care to share with the class?] [In the first place, if the Beast could see infrared light, aka body heat, well enough to fight effectively, it would notice my internal temp against the machine.] He nudged a shoulder against it. [It''s warm but nowhere near hot enough to hide me. It''d be like painting orange on a red background.]Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. [...I didn''t think of that.] The Spirit pouted. [True, but your theory did get me thinking about those gemstones Shrimpson has for eyes, and your idea got me thinking outside the box. Eventually, I got to ponder the different ways animals sense their environment. And I''m convinced I''ve uncovered how Elemental Battle Shrimps operates on land.] [Again. Care to share?] [Well,] A corner of his mouth twitched as a smile almost formed. [Do you remember any documentaries I''ve watched on Earth stingrays?] [Sadly, no.] The Spirit suddenly wouldn''t look him in the eye. [This may come as a shock to you, but I may have skipped over any of the educational content you considered media.] The Scientist scowled at the heathenous Monk, but now was the time for scolding. Not when there was a planning to be done.
In minutes, the beach had changed noticeably from the messy stretch of sand the duo had found not even an hour earlier. Now, the location resembled an abandoned construction yard for dame building beavers. Within a three-meter range around the solar generator, there were now large piles of driftwood that the Spirit had managed to reach and relocate. All save for four of the driest sticks, which he directed two to be placed as close to the shore as possible while the last two lay with Morgan''s own range of effect. However the Professor had not been idle while Ego prepared the battlefield. Unseen to all but him, Morgan had ordered his Mind Foundation into action in preparation for the third Technique. The Bloodline displayed four floating clumps of vaporous blue energy, each containing roughly a twentieth of his maximum Mana pool. Two floated over a wood pile on either side of him; the others orbited just above him. While he''d like to have more, passively maintaining even this many simultaneously was already a strain on his Mind. Each chunk of Mana was willed into the shape of an arrow, the kind one would see from an ancient rhythm game often found in gaming arcades. Now, could this design be a direct ripoff from the beloved franchise? Perhaps. Honestly, who but Morgan could say for sure? Besides, the nearest Earth lawyer was likely hundreds of thousands of light years away from Olympia... He hoped. [Show time.] The Spirit projected from behind the injured Mortal, their voice a cocktail of anticipation and fear. *Snap, Snap* After breaking the driftwood near the water, Ego''s blazing aura of Essence manifested between where the two lone sticks were. Now, it was only a matter of- *Splash!* Morgan flinched as an unseen water pillar¡ªhe suspected the Move to be Bubble-Shot but with salt water as the medium¡ªcrashed onto the beach. Without delay, Ego tossed him a third piece before running towards the tree line, final stick in hand. He broke his stick in half, keeping all hand movements as small as possible. *Snap* Like clockwork, the morning air filled with the sounds of water dripping and sand scraping as the Battle Shrimp came ashore to investigate. Just as the Monk reported and the data promised, the Spirit Beast scuttled right past his openly slumped form without any hint of notice. It faced the generator, its Prana-illuminated antennas whipping about in all directions, and it blindly felt around the area for whatever had made the noise. Holding a stick half between thumb and forefinger as one would a bar dart, he willed a Mana arrow to rotate so it pointed forward before ordering the energy construct to infuse into the wood. Immediately enveloping it in a swirling shroud of blue, the energy appeared to eternally surge forward without ever traveling any distance. An effect almost identical to a spinning barber''s pole. However, the Professor kept the hyperactive Prana on a tight leash, not allowing the Tech to trigger even after he deactivated the Bloodline. [Do it.] Morgan projected, taking aim. *Snap* In a knee-jerk reaction, Shrimpson turned to face where the Spirit stood, exposing that damaged upper half. Barely noticeable were two dinner plate-sized indents in the rough shape of humanoid hands; the points where the fingers ended were especially deep. It was there where the crushing grip of the unknown Cultivator managed to crack the hard shell and by twisting its carapace, forced those wounds to open. When jagged lines of pale white flesh started appearing, Morgan chose the widest crack and triggered the Technique Rush. His previously inert stick suddenly shot forward from his loose grip at speeds faster than the Harpy''s own feather darts. Cracking free-form telekinesis was still beyond him, but what Rush lacked in fine control, it made up for in raw power. The Scientist didn''t have the resources to measure how many newtons of force he could accelerate objects. However, in testing, an arrow containing 70% of his Mana could accelerate the SUV to almost 100 kilometers per hour, even while the car was parked. *Thwip* [Bullseye.] He reported as Shrimpson silently reeled in pain as the driftwood slipped between the shell gap, stabbing and burying over half its length into vulnerable Beast flesh. [Infusing the second arrow now.] Bringing back the Bloodline, he made a replacement Rush arrow while ordering the second arrow above him to point at the island before directing the Mana to infuse into the stick still protruding from the shell. Like a hummingbird in flight, his arrow zipped and weaved towards the target. Once shrouded in blue energy, the Shrimp''s Foundations were filtered out, leaving only an obvious glowing weak point for the Professor''s enhanced vision to display. Straining his concentration, all three of the remaining arrows started pointing at that massive thorn and began orbiting above the Beast''s silhouette. [Let''s start off slow.] He announced, and Ego''s Essence highlighted avatar manifested beside the pile of sticks to Morgan''s left. [Single shot.] *Snap* In one swift motion, they broke another stick, threw both halves so the pieces would land behind the already turning foe, and then relocated beside him. *Thwip* The nearest Rush arrow infused into one of the falling pieces, and this time, it accelerated immediately towards the weak point, slamming the embedded splinter deeper into Shrimpson. Again, the antennas shot out in retaliation, but it struck at the empty space Ego had just been¡ªor rather, where the last sound it heard originated from. Its poor hearing was all the monster could rely on now that the duo understood its dependency on electricity. Objects containing electricity, like the generator and battery, give off a powerful field that likely resembled what an elemental Jambu tree and its fruit produced. Biological creatures like Morgan also generate their own low-frequency electric fields, but with a high enough sensitivity to these fields, Shrimpson could fight without much issue. Until today. Now, the foe had to deal with a non-biological entity, a foe camouflaged by a powerful electric field and wooden projectiles that may as well be invisible ice picks. [That''s a hit.] Ego reported flatly as they found success just as bitter-sweet as he did. [Then,] Morgan sighed as another chunk of Mana extracted itself from his Mind. [Open fire.]
If the Elemental Battle Shrimp had been fully Sapient, it would be able to comprehend just how shitty its day had gotten. Not that recent life for the displaced Spirit Beast hadn''t already been a collection of ever-growing misfortunes already. Shrimpzilla, though it didn''t have the individuality to call itself that, was kidnapped by the two-legged creatures that plagued the shallow sea in which it was recently born. Like so many other hatchlings, it was torn from its electric Jambu tree. Forced to endure days confined in a small container that its senses could not pierce. When it was finally set free, the Jambudv¨©pa native found itself far from its waters, far from its tree. Then, a new Two Legs, taller than the rest, attacked Shrimpzilla. The Beast fought back with every tool in its arsenal, winning many times. Ultimately, it lost as the determined Two Legs refused to stay dead or run away. However, the creature did not eat Shrimpzilla or challenge it again. Instead, the Beast soon found itself free in a new sea, this one unfamiliar and too deep. Now, after finding a new tree and having just run off another troubling Two Legs, Shrimpzilla was under attack by something even its eyes could not see. It could hear the cracking of wood, so it knew something was stalking it. Yet when the Beast struck at a sound, there was nothing there, and pain flared where the tall Two Legs hurt it days before. Time and time again, the cycle repeated itself until Shrimpzilla could take no more. Its instincts screamed that without a foe, there wasn''t anything to attack; even using the Move passed down from the Ancestor would be a waste of energy. Accepting that, Shrimpzilla concluded that it was time to go search for a new home, a new tree.
With grim expressions and heavy hearts, the Mortal and Spirit watched the Beast flee from what must have felt like an assault from literal ghosts. Just as the Elemental Battle Shrimp retreated into the Olympia Sea and threatened to escape his Mind''s range, the Professor triggered the tenth use of Rush. His action was not out of cruelty but came from mercy. *Thwip* The stick previously embedded in the Spirit Beast tumbled through the air and landed in the sand behind them, one end slick with blood. "There," Morgan said aloud after dismissing Perception. "So long as the wound doesn''t get infected, Shrimpson should be fine after its next molting¡­ Or with time. Whatever comes first." "That''s good to hear." Ego admitted in equal parts relief and exhaustion before pointing at something half buried in the wave licked section of the beach. "But something tells me that''s not something we could say about our battery." Either during its initale retreat or the most recent one, the Beast had discarded its spent battery. Knowing the power cell was advertised as durable and watertight, the Scientist made to retrieve it right then and there. Completely relieved he did not have to go through the arduous process of creating one from scratch. But as the thought crossed him, the choice of what to do next was made for him. For them both, really. A flash of light white strong enough to stand out even under a sunny morning caused the duo''s heads to snap their heads to the far right. After 30 days of total isolation, neither of them could believe it. Traveling from South to North, and having almost passed Lamplight Isla unnoticed, were three distant shapes that almost looked like- "Ships! Morgan¡­ Are you seeing what I''m seeing?" Ego gasped and clutched at his Bubble-Shot bruised shoulder. "If there are ships, there are people! People who know where the Capital City is!" "Don''t start popping the confetti just yet." Morgan frowned as he pointed the hand wearing the jade ring at the other. "This could be a pod of Beasts like the last time. So before we lose our minds over a Nessie sighting, let''s take a closer look. Exitus." *Thunk* "Ow." He grunted after the pair of binoculars exited the Dimensional Ring a meter above his head and clonked him. "How do I forget this thing is busted every time?" Ever since the time of the ceremony, the Artifact Eris had gifted them had started malfunctioning. Its ability to store was just as dependable as ever; however, removing said items from storage was a different story. Whenever he tried, the item would appear randomly within a meter of him and never where it was aimed. In fact, the items had a suspicious habit of landing on him. "Who cares about a broken ring?!" The Monk asked, catching the binoculars before they hit the sand and shoving them onto his face. "Hurry up and look before they get too far!" Snatching the tool from the excited Spirit, the Professor focused the lens until the distant shapes came into focus. The details were difficult to make out, but instantly, he recognized that these were no Beasts. These were ships, or at least one was large enough to be called that, while the other two resembled something the size of a jet ski. The water crafts moved in a triangular formation, with the larger craft and one smaller craft trailing after the third. "I count four people." Murmured Ego as they tapped into his sight. "The two on the bigger boat and the one on the tiny boat beside them all have the same gray clothes. While the person steering the front boat has something like a purple cloak on. This group must be guards from the city out on patrol! Well, guards aren''t ideal, but maybe we could follow them-" "Ego, I don''t think those are guards on patrol." He cut them off as he realized the leading boat''s occupant''s vivid cloak kept turning back at the others far more than should be necessary. "Look closely at Purple Cloak. Every time the others close the distance, they look back but never slow down. Call me paranoid, but it almost looks like Purple Cloak is being-" Now it was the Professor''s turn to be interrupted, for another flash of blinding white forced him to blink away tears. By the time his sight recovered, smoke trailed after the leading boat. He pulled the binoculars away, and they stared at each other. "The grays are chasing the purple one?" The Monk asked, their tone telling Morgan exactly what they felt about that. "It looks like they''re all heading to Bizzaro Swamp. We need to get there before they rip each other apart." "Then we''ll have to get to North Beach fast. Good thing I bought the all-terrain model. Intrare." He stored the generator and binoculars before pointing his ringed hand above him and scowled up at the blue Heavens. "If this ring works like it should, I''m going to be pissed. Exitus." As hoped, the ring malfunctioned, and his car popped into existence directly between them and the water. *Crunch* Huh... The Scientist might be mistaken, but that almost sounded like something impossible to replace and annoyingly hard to build was crushed under under a fucking tire. But he was being silly; what were the odds? "Oh no. Uhh¡­ I think it landed on the¡­" Ego struggled to say, but Morgan had already begun to stiffly stalk over to his hanging lab coat, cursing about faulty alien technology, trickster spirits, and ruined clothes the whole way. Quietly, the Monk began chanting for the Bodhisattva of mercy to help in this hour of need. Whether the prayer was meant for the newcomers or themself, Ego wasn''t sure. 27. The Goat *Scrrrrat-ch* After a little over half an hour of sighting the three unknown watercraft, the rigid orange rubber raft scraped hard against the sand as they ran ashore. Morgan felt the noise more than he heard it, as there was currently a lot of competition for attention. "Mer! Mer!" Barked the Princess with as much concerned wrath a Beast could communicate. She clung to his chest, using her own body as a shield to protect the burned and bruised flesh visible through the newly made viewing window. "Meeerrr!" [All I am saying is that you should look presentable in front of your peers, and right now, you look like a random modern art piece titled, ''I simply live with the pain.''] [Perfect.] He absently joked as most of his focus was on calming Momo. [If I''m giving off that kind of intimidating aura, this meet and greet with the locals should go off without a hitch. No need to risk another piece of irreplaceable clothing.] When no snappy reply or dramatic sigh immediately followed his half-serious remark, the Professor knew something was wrong. He looked up from his upset Beast to find Ego staring at him with crossed arms, one brow raised. When they spoke, their tone contained an unamused patience that reminded uncomfortably of his childhood. [Uh-huh. Tell me, Professor, what is the most precious resource for a Cultivator other than Cultivation?] [Their reputation.] Morgan answered automatically before immediately realizing and correcting his mistake. [But that concept, lowercase ''c'', is called Face in Vajrayana.] [Wrong.] They sighed and manifested on the beach to continue the lecture. [Again, as I have told you several times, one''s Face and reputation are two related but ultimately different things. The latter is more self-reflective, while the former is almost entirely public perception and an order of magnitude more central to Vajrayana culture. Currently, neither of us has any Face to speak of, which is problematic since we need to visit a Tea House in the Capital. Wait, did I tell you about the Tea Houses already?] In truth, Ego had told Morgan all about their next destination at least 12 times today alone, but why bother the irate specter with that fact now? Realizing that explaining his comment was said off-hand would be useless when they got worked up like this, Morgan didn''t bother interrupting. Instead, he figured his time would be better spent another way, so he played along. [At least once.] He projected while gingerly shrugging off the lab coat. [They''re sort of like a cross between a library, a news station, and a rich country club, right?] [Close enough. Tea Houses are businesses that store, buy, and sell any information they can get their hands on to anyone with enough money or connections. Our Patron made it clear that such an establishment is our best shot for following up on my only lead. Since we don''t have a single penny to our name, we must start making connections. Like flies to honey, making connections is far easier if the public perceives us as honorable and powerful. This situation could allow us to prove ourselves if we play our cards right.] *Pop* From a distance, Morgan watched the troubled Spirit pace back and forth on the beach. He might have found their obliviousness amusing if they didn''t remind him of a caged animal wound tight with stress. [However, our potential gain here is secondary. We''re also diving into a scenario where we have no idea who is who. Purple Cloak could be a harassed innocent, a criminal on the run from the law, or what we saw was a clash between criminals, and maybe even this whole thing is a simple misunderstanding. We can''t say for sure until we find them and figure out the truth. A task which will go a lot smoother if any potential criminals involved don''t have visible proof that you''re injured and ripe for a robbery.] Ego''s patience threatened to crack as what had to be weeks of pent-up anxiety and anticipation surged under the surface. [So I am begging you, for me, please change your shirt¡­ Morgan?] Ego called out to him once they finally realized where the raft had been was now only a half-washed-away dent in the sand. Their bald head swiveled over to the shimmering double emerald waterfall that was their preferred entrance to the Swamp. There, the Professor waited alone, wearing a fresh black shirt and holding an open umbrella in each hand. Somehow, that sight wasn''t even the strangest they''ve seen today. [After using the ring, I sent Momo ahead to quietly scout the perimeter of Bizarro with orders to find us if she finds anyone or circles the island twice without getting a hit.] Morgan reported calmly when the blushing avatar joined him. [I told her we''d head straight to the island center and search there.] [That is a good plan.] Admitted the Monk, their Mala beads clicking softly from within their sleeves. [Sorry for flying off the handle like that. It''s just that¡­ I was only half kidding earlier when I called you Fate''s chew toy. But now I feel like we both must have racked up a ton of bad Karma in our last lives because it feels like the Universe is playing us like, and excuse my language, a gosh darned fiddle today! If other people''s lives weren''t in potential danger, I''d be tempted to hide and quietly follow our visitors back to town.] Morgan''s chest pained him greatly as he almost busted a gut laughing. Not at Ego''s clear distress, the Scientist only flirted with madness. Yet it had just occurred to the Earthling that ''gosh darned'' was the closest the Monk had ever come to cussing. Thankfully, the permanent frown didn''t so much crack from the internal struggle. [Relax, Monk, I get it. The pressure can¡­ make you do or say things you might regret. Apology accepted.] Darkness returned to the avatar''s flushed cheeks, and a mischievous grin shattered their downcast expiration. [Oh? You hesitated for a second there, Professor.] They teased, sounding more like themselves before manifesting on the opposite side of the toxic waterfalls. [Recalling a regret from your past? Remember that I am always willing to listen if you need to get something off your chest. Catholicism isn''t really my wheelhouse, but I am a monk. If you want to do a quick Confession during what might be a long search, I am happy to listen.] [Thanks, but I''ll pass on your generous offer.] He chuckled and mentally prepared for the stunt needed to enter the high-density air bubble. [As for the search, I have an idea that could help.]
Not five minutes later Ego was telling him, [I can''t believe we already found them.] [I know.] Morgan projected with a mental snort from below. [What I really can''t believe is that these people actually found a way to get their boats on the water.] Now, that was a concept he never thought would be so baffling for him. But as always, context was king. [You say that like it''s a bad thing. Aren''t you happy that your idea worked so well?] The Professor''s idea was to give Ego a bird''s eye view of Bizzaro Swamp by having them stand unseen on the water in their incorporeal avatar. Well, ''stand'' wasn''t exactly the correct term, as incorporeal should mean that the Spirit would automatically phase through any material. So technically, they were floating at affixed points relative to a horizontal surface, and it only looked like they made physical contact. Morgan figured the swamp''s surface might be enough to allow them access above. He was right, and Ego quickly found two of the three vessels. One of the smaller crafts and the larger both bobbed by a large patch of plant buoys not 25 meters away. [Oh, I''m happy the idea worked. I''m just surprised these people chose to chase and be chased over water instead of coming down here where there''s plenty of cover and choke points.] He shrugged. [Down there?] They asked skeptically. [Where there are Spiritual Beasts, and nobody can talk to anyone without sounding like the evil overlord in a bad Sci-fi flick.] [You say that like it''s a bad thing.] If anything, more chaos could help either party. [We can banter later.] The Monk said testily. [I need to concentrate¡­ It''s hard to make out what is happening, but I think I can see two grays on the larger boat. One keeps walking around the boat, but the other has their back to us and is¡­ maybe yelling? I''m not sure, but they keep waving and throwing their hands up in the air.] [Hmm. That missing craft bothers me, but it could''ve been the one that was damaged and was simply tossed away. If everyone is on the boats, then we can spy on them.] He mused. [Let me try to get closer.] Like an alligator creeping through the submerged undergrowth of the Everglades, Morgan silently navigated towards the crafts through tight spaces between the branches. So far, they had managed to close half the distance, and things were looking good¡ªuntil he grabbed what he thought was a branch. It was a branch, just a dead one that had been used in constructing a nest. Unable to take the force of his weight, he accidentally ripped out half of the structure and caused the occupant sleeping on the other end to wake. The home intruder and the groggy Stymphalian homeowner stared at each other for a whole heartbeat until instinct finally took over. The Beast turned 180¡ã and swam with all the speed its penguin-like body could muster. In half a second, it slipped up into the swamp water layer, and the Scientist knew it was planning on circling back. [Morgan, stop moving!] The Monk suddenly screamed. [The guy walking around pulled out a bow, turned this way, and fired something into the water! I think they spotted- Hold on. Now they''re talking to each other and¡­ oh, thank the Heavens. They''re saying it was a false alarm.] [If we''re close enough to hear them, then tell me what happened.] Morgan said, though he suspected that he already knew what had spooked the others into action. Naturally, he still had to ask. [Don''t worry; it has nothing to do with us. Apparently, one of the birds got too close, so the guy patrolling shot at it with a bow and arrow.] Ego tried to dismiss his concern and urged him to move in. [We''re almost close enough for me to get a good look at them. I think I see a bit of purple fabric lying on the deck, so we-] [Ego, if the guy with the bow was on the other side of the boat and the other gray had their back to you, How did he know a Stymphalian was approaching them?] The Professor insisted. [Bow-Guy said something about a Beast crossing his Scout Array''s inner threshold.] The Spirit answered with a growing unease. [Look, that doesn''t matter right now. I can hear Boss, that''s what Bow-Guy called the other one, yelling and kicking at someone on the boat to wake up. I hear chains rattling with every kick, so Purple Cloak must''ve been captured. We need to go right now!]The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. [Right now?] He asked calmly. [Yes!] Now, their irritation was directed at him. [What''s the problem?] [I am injured, have only 75% max Mana, and maybe a third that in Qi.] He reported, waiting for them to realize what he was getting at. [And yet, you still want me to get closer so we can help?] [Actually, I was hoping we could join Boss and get in on the- OF COURSE I WANT US TO HELP!] Their sarcasm became a shout of frustration that almost made him flinch. [Distract them with a Technique while I pull Purple Cloak off the boat, use a Rush arrow to flip the boat for a grab and go, or do whatever crazy plan pops into your head! We have options besides a straight-up brawl thanks to this little thing called the element of sur- Oh no¡­ I understand the issue now.] Almost too late, Ego realized what Morgan had instantly noticed. The enemy, for anyone that would beat a prisoner, was an enemy, had deployed some kind of security system. This Scout Array that the Stymphalian bravely and unknowingly saved the duo from walking blindly into. [Sweet Dao, I am an idiot today.] They moaned, defeated and disgusted with themselves. [Dang it, how could I miss something so obvious?] Honestly, Morgan was asking himself that same question. Usually missing the obvious was his shtick. Internally, he wondered if the Spirit was suffering from something more than nerves. That was the angriest he''d seen them since his first time using the Bloodline. But now was not the time for a psychological exam. [You''re not an idiot; an idiot would''ve kept screaming without realizing their mistake.] The Professor soothed while getting comfortable in the tree. [Listen, Ego, a successful rescue isn''t possible now, but if these people are waking up a prisoner, there is a reason for it. I need you to report everything you hear verbatim because it might tell us how we can help if we can.] [Okay. Umm¡­ It sounds like Purple Cloak is just now waking up, and Boss is asking her-
"Who else is on the island with us, huh bitch?" Boss snarls, her piercing voice ringing out like how a hammer strikes an anvil. "Is that why your ass is out here? Leave the City to meet up with some secret Kin you have stashed here? Which island were you heading for before you saw us?" "If you wish to question someone, you will find them more receptive before assaulting them." Lectured Purple Cloak coldly, almost as if she were a teacher explaining the obvious to a particularly dimwitted child. "But I''ll overlook your enthusiastic questioning this time. As for Kin, Why would any of my companions be out in the Wild Sector? My team is in the Capital, waiting for me to return from scouting out the potential race course." The sound of flesh striking flesh and metal chains rattling fills the air. "Don''t you dare lie to me." Warns Boss. "There are only four islands in this Heaven-forsaken cluster, and you passed right by the only one marked for the race with out a second glance. I watched you from the shallows with my own eye. You think I''m some kind of fool you can talk circles around with half-forged lies?" "I think if you want me to play along with whatever made-up story you have in mind, I''ll need to read my lines beforehand." The captive sighs. "An actress should know her lines." "You dare to keep playing games!?" Bleats Bow-Guy, the rasp in his gnarled voice could curdle milk left out in the open. "My Scout Array detects two more Sapient Souls than there should be. So we already know your Kin are between 30 and 10 Chi from us. We already sent out our boy to find them, so it''s only a matter of-" "Shut up." Threats Boss. "I mean it." "So you and your flunkies were waiting for me to land near the island." Muses Purple Cloak. "Now, that is very telling. A raiding party of nobody thugs shouldn''t have access to such expensive information or these restraints. Considering that you admitted to waiting in ambush, that implies you had prior warning of my leaving. While I can''t figure out how you beat me here, it''s tempting to believe I am being targeted by a force with access to coin, resources, and spies within the Capital Guard." Nothing is said as Purple Cloak pieces together the villainous entity that would dare to hire criminals to do their dirty work. Such evil must-
[Ego.] Interrupted the Professor while scanning the area. [You''re just telling me what you hear, remember?] [Whoops, sorry. I got carried away there with story craft. I''ll tone it down some.]
The next words of the captive are edged with a teasing joy a predator must feel when playing with their meal. "Tell me, how much did the Filo Conglomeration pay for your services? Guessing from your shabby robes, I suspect it didn''t take much. 15, maybe 30 Silver Drachma each?" "You don''t need to-" Snaps the leader, but their captive''s provocations prove too much for the flunky and he is seething in his response. "We''re getting paid enough per contestant so that it''s worth not cycling you right here and now, you miserable- Ow! S-Stop! Wait Boss please! Oof! Boundless Void, I''m sorry!" Whatever string of no doubt horrendous curses Bow-Guy wants to foul the air with is cut short by the sounds of more violence.
[Holy shit.] Morgan exclaimed, cringing at the display of sheer stupidity. [This idiot might as well rent a plane and sky-write his entire confession for the world to read. What an amateur.] [Hee-hehe! That''s exactly what Purple Cloak is laughing about.]
"Grauf-ufufu!" The captive nearly howls with laughter. "Per contestant, is it? So, I was mistaken. The Brothers aren''t plotting against me directly but against all Cultivators joining the race. Likely, every captured contestant is made an offer they can''t refuse, but I doubt such¡­ new hires like yourselves know anything more than needed. So why don''t I recommend a more lucrative deal for everyone involved." "W-what''s the p- the pay?" Grunts the flunky, clearly not understanding his lesson on talking. "Well, that depends entirely on how much you''re willing to ransom me back to my Clan. However, do not settle for a poultry sum; even as a Wayfinder, I am worth no less than 50 gold." ¡°Baa-haha-ack!¡­¡± He laughs weakly between pained coughs. "A ransom? N-no deal. As if¡­ anyone with more than a point in Intellect, w¡­ wouldn''t know what''ll happen when you try to¡­ ransom someone from Cl-ack! From Clan Caesar." "Ahh." The revealed Caesar sighs, verbally deflating a bit. "So you did recognize me. Well, it was worth a try, no?" "Both of you better keep your mouths shut unless spoken to, or I''ll cast a bolt right up your furry asses." Snaps Boss, no longer willing to tolerate any more diversions. "You are really testing my discipline now, girl. I want you to look me in the eye and tell me who you''re here to meet." "...Are you still going on about that?" Asks the bemused Caesar. "I already told you I-" "NO! No more lies. No more stalling! This damned job will be over today!" Thunders Boss over the sound of crackling energy that makes it very hard for a Spirit to hear the conversation. "I have been stuck on this piece of shit raft with these bleating idiots for two days, and if I have to wait a single second more, I will develop a Heart-Demon! Every night, I dream of finally seeing a vessel heading toward the Capital, and every morning, I wake back to the nightmare. Now I find some Noble bitch sniffing around for what can only be my target. I will not be tricked, blinded, and have my meal escape me!" N-Nobody spoke, I mean speaks as the informative outburst shocks everyone. Even the two eavesdroppers are having trouble comprehending what they just heard. "Hold on a minute, Boss." Says Bow-Man. "Are you saying we''re actually hunting someone? Is that why we''re out here instead of the usual-" "WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT TALKING!" Screeches Boss with the fury of the- You know what I can''t do this anymore. I''m coming back down.
[Morgan!] Gasped the Monk after manifesting on a nearby branch. [I know.] The Professor stated numbly, his hands unconsciously fidgeting with three dreadlocks a piece as his mind raced from question to question. [Boss isn''t out here for race contests or whatever is going on. She is here for us. She planned to ambush us!] [I heard.] Not that he understood it at all. As far as the trio knew, only three individuals knew of their unique situation. Of the three, two wouldn''t talk, and even if they did, they didn''t know what Realm he was in, let alone the friggin planet. As for Eris, Morgan doubted even a Bodhisattva of Conflict had so much free time as to send goons after them. [We''ve been stuck on a remote island this entire time! What did we do to anger these Filo people?] [I don''t know.] That was another question that bothered him because there shouldn''t be an answer. It would be one thing if this Capital Guard mentioned was after them as being a Cultivator not following the Diamond Tantra was a crime. However, these thugs seemed to work for either a criminal syndicate or a business with shady connections. Regardless, why would a conglomerate send criminals to uphold the law? [Alright, let''s not panic yet.] They continued to panic, but now at a measured pace. [We might have a friend held captive up there, or at least an enemy of our confirmed enemy.] [That is an assumption I intend to test.] He declared, his eyes fixed towards the unknown threat. [That captive might be our safest source of information or, at the very least, a potential ally that could help us detain the leader. Either way, we need to free her, and I have a few ideas in mind for that.] [What''s the plan?] Ego asked before a thought crossed their mind. [Wait. Whatever we decide, we should wait for Momo to find us first. With the third thug out there somewhere, it''s likely she''s on the way here or will be soon to warn us about him.] [Agreed. We''ll have her take us to him.] Morgan said as he looked around for the Princess. [Keep your eyes and ears peeled for her teleporting around. Look for anything that catches-] [Found her!] They shouted excitedly before disappearing from sight. [-your attention.] He finished with a sight. In those precious few seconds of privacy before a nerve-wracked Spirit, a bewildered Aether-charged reptile, and the latest calamity would need addressing. The Scientist had to admit that he felt slightly left out as the only crew member unable to teleport. Of course, he had tried to mimic the Princess''s signature Move; it was the very first thing he attempted after Breath. But unlike the lessons learned from the inhabitants of Lamplight Isla, Morgan was never able to get it to click with his Cultivation Method. Oh well. It was a big Multiverse, and apparently Cultivators had an uncomfortable long life span. Eventually, he''d figure it out.
From up in new a tree canopy, the trio watched the foe with his back turned to them, crouched before a tree located maybe 100+ meters from his fellows, and completely naked save for a leather belt holding twin sheathed short swords. Placed under his... hanging fruit was a green box, weighed down with a rock to keep from floating to the surface. The box peaked his interest, though not nearly so much as the man. Morgan could see corded muscle flexing in the arms and the spine shifting under his pale skin. From under a black current of unkempt hair sprouted two tightly curled ram horns that one could almost mistake for blond hair buns at a quick glance. What could not be mistaken was that from the waist down, the Mortal was coated by sleek short hair that matched the currents and drew attention to the inhuman legs¡ªnot that the Scientist found that displeasing. If anything, the strange hairy limbs were his most fascinating feature. The horns a close second. The thighs and knees were built like any man''s; however, his calves were shorter because the ankles and feet started farther up the limb than any Earthling''s. Well, for any human Earthling. There were others who had legs very similar to what the Scientist was observing, especially as both the Vajrayian thug and the animal in mind had hooves. [Well, I''ll admit this is a more interesting-looking alien than the squid was.] The Professor chuckled as he kept a firm hold over the growling Princess. [Now that ''bleating fools'' bit is starting to make more sense.] [We are being hunted¡­ by the goat from that Disney movie?] Was the Spirit''s disbelieving question. [I knew my Universe influenced yours heavily, but- Oh?] [Hmm?] Morgan turned, looked to Ego, and saw their brow furled in concentration. [Something wrong?] [No.] They blinked just before his necklace began to heat up. [If anything, it''s a pleasant surprise for once.] Ahh. That was right. The Professor had almost forgotten about the Class Core and its interesting capabilities. Thankfully, his Patron had supplied yet another tool for his grand undertaking. So, Gregory Stumpchild was labeled as Inferior by whatever metric the Core grades used. Now that was interesting¡ªso much so that Morgan was almost tempted to smile. He pulled the side-shielded sunglasses from the inner pocket of his coat. The emerald lighting tinged the round black-tinted lenses and silver metal frame green. It had been a long time since he needed the pair, but the Scientist kept them close, just in case. After all, one never knew when the perfect research opportunity would present itself. 28. The Stranger Memories of Gregory Stumpchild Time: Ji¨£z¨« 44th, 1st Year of the 108th Epoch Greg had done it. The Satyr had been born with nothing and lived for years with nothing, but that was all about to change. So long as he finished quickly and could keep his lucky break from being discovered by that lunatic a boss, Greg had a chance to be something more than another abandoned Stumpchild. A sudden cold gripped his shoulder. The Assassin flinched, causing his short sword to slip from the knee-jerk reaction. Its nicked and slightly rusted edge cut through more of the wood than he wanted and nearly cut free that section before Greg could get into position to catch the rare material. Although the rise would be less than half a Chi, the impact might''ve been enough to ruin 10% of his net profit. Which, considering he was pilfering a recently vacated Realm Hopper den, was a lot of Drach about to go to waste. In horror, he watched the cluster of eight translucent red eggs rapidly float upwards and swing left to right before coming to a stop. Greg paused, confused, until he saw what had happened and grinned. Fate must have smiled upon him, for the blade had failed to cut through the last strip of wood, and that was enough to keep the worst from happening. Maybe Greg could thank the Heavens, or maybe he could thank his habitual lack of blade maintenance. Either way, he was so happy that his soaked furry rear end swayed side to side in celebration. An act that caused his coin purse to slap one inner thigh and shake free a few emerald droplets, instantly reminding the Assassin of how vulnerable he was. The time to celebrate his heavenly fortune should be over a few drinks with kin back in the Capital, not dancing in a Wild Zone while naked and covered in foul smelling toxic water. On that though, he''d need to really scrub out the stench of rot and decay before returning else the Boss''s keen nose would pick up on it. Couldn''t have her asking to many questions. Cradling the Hopper eggs with a free hand, he relieved that brilliant wood strip of its burden with a quick cut. Careful not to send himself drifting away again, he turned away from the nearly depleted nest and half-expected to find someone standing behind him. However, the Satyr found no one waiting to donate his trove to themselves; only the Phol¨®¨¥ trees kept him company. He shrugged, chalking the sensation to only water running up his back. With the coast clear, the cluster was placed with the others stored inside his Herb Case. Greg knew he should shut the lid quickly as the Enchantment on the Artifact was poorly scribed, attempting to remove the air even when open. Mana stones weren''t cheap, and overuse would wear down the Runes even faster. But he couldn''t help but marvel at his new trove. He had collected at least 40 eggs, and with the Circus bringing in Cultivators from all over Europa, Alchemy shops would pay half a silver a piece to maintain their stocks. And to think there was another cluster of 20 still stuck to the underside of the hollow''s lip. Just thinking about those kinds of profits could make a Satyr smile from horn to horn, not that coin wouldn''t have the same effect on every Cultivator. The pursuit of Enlightenment meant spending absurd amounts of money on Cultivation resources, and poverty was a constant companion for those traveling the Dao alone. At first, Greg cursed the Boss for sending him on a fool''s errand to chase after what was likely just Pete''s cheap Scout Array sensing ghosts. But if paranoia was why he now had the potential to earn 30 times what shares he''d get from hanging over contestants, he''d be happy to search the whole island. With that much Drach combined with his savings, Greg could buy something he had wanted ever since becoming a Cultivator; an uncommon Class Manual. One that would guide him to a Class evolution he wanted and prove to Pete that investing in Intellect was a smart investment and not a stupid waste of AP. As if that rock-for-brains had any right to call anyone stupid with short sighted Stats like his. Shaking away the distracting thoughts, Greg closed the lid and replaced the rock weighing down the Artifact. Time was running out, and the Boss would come looking, believing Greg was either dead or doing precisely what he was doing now. If she saw his loot, that would be the end of any plans. Boss would take everything for herself, leave him nothing, and the weaker Cultivator wouldn''t even be allowed to protest. Doing so would only get him recycled¡ª his Soul returned to Samsara for another go-around. ''Enlightenment at all costs'', that was Heaven''s ultimate Mandate. Therefore, avoiding suspicion was paramount. Greg still needed to cleanse himself in the sea, dress, and hide the Herb Case somewhere on the chariot. He''d need to rush and risk cutting some corners to collect the last eggs. His weapons were just heavy enough to keep him grounded, but he still took in a lung full of super-dense air to keep his footing. Greg squared his waist within striking range of the hollow and placed a hand on a sword hilt hung on the opposite side. The air would slow any strike as if submerged in the sea, but the Skill should remain in effect as long as he didn''t halt mid-swing. "Dual Reaper''s Parting." Said the Assassin, his voice so unnaturally deep it bordered on unintelligible, but his Core would understand nevertheless. The continuous tingling sensation beginning behind his navel and ending at the tips of his fingers was proof of that. Both swords were pulled clear of their scabbards, each cutting edge tinged with a black haze that invoked feelings of separation and endings. The Skill touched on both Concepts to produce a Qi-enhanced cutting edge that no mundane metal could produce. That fact was proven true, for his short swords glided through wood with no more resistance than a spoon through cream. They cut a triangle wedge out of the wood, and after sheathing his weapons, Greg snatched the final cluster, finding none had been damaged. Reaper''s Parting, including his dual variant, was a Class favorite for sudden attacks as many fools forget that a holstered weapon is still a weapon and armor always had gaps to be exploited. True, the Skill required a bladed weapon to be sheathed first and only lasted a single continuous slash, which limited its utility. However, there were many sword styles that focused on drawing techniques, allowing Assassins to use the Skill mid-combat to deadly effect. Sadly, Greg never learned any martial art, armed or not. If he failed to kill or deal a critical blow on a target, then he got the fuck out of there in the confusion. Hells, he ran even after a successful ambush, as one could never be too careful. Greg had actually become somewhat known for this tactic and, before being picked by his current employers, was known in some circles as the Hit-and-Run Killer. Luckily, trees rarely fight back, so instead of running away, the Satyr went to add the last- Something red bobbed out of sight just at the upper edge of his vision, and he immediately closed the Herb Case before looking up. A hiss of alarm escaped between the Satyr''s teeth, and his heart sank at the thought of 50 coppers being lost. But Greg needn''t fear such a loss, for the Hopper egg remained fixed mid-air. Why the egg had suddenly stopped did make one black brow raise in question, but the brow dropped as he dismissed any further speculation on such a minor anomaly. So an object that should have continued to float, didn''t. So what? If being a Stumpchild had taught him one thing, it was to never ask too many questions because answers were usually a dagger to the Core. The Satyr reached for the egg, only for it to animate and evade capture at the last moment. Scrambling back in fear, a hoof caught on the Herb Case; he lost balance and¡­ didn''t fall because that was very hard to accomplish on this island. After ensuring the box was safely between his legs, Greg studied the Beast egg closely, only to realize it wasn''t one at all. The colour, size, and shape were right, but it produced a soft light like the glowstone lamps in the city. What''s more, the unidentified flying object, currently making figure eights in the air, hinted at something more important: It was alive. An old memory was suddenly knocked loose in his horned head, one from when he was a little fawn working as a dishboy in a tavern. Hadn''t Greg heard of something like this before? That night, an old off-world fisherman was deep in his cups and loudly told tall tales about his younger days. Much of the story was drowned out by the sounds of pot scrubbing and screaming kitchen staff, but Greg could recall a few scraps. There was a part about the living light leading the fleet to a cave, all but the old fisherman''s ship boat entering, and the story ended with the fisherman boasting about how rich the voyage made him. Until everything was stolen, thanks to his ex-husband. Greg suspected divorce was to blame for that last bit. ¡­Well, whatever it was, the red orb didn''t seem hostile, so leaving shouldn''t be an issue. Not taking his eyes off the orb, he began crouching down to retrieve- He immediately took a single step back as the light creature spontaneously began shifting through a rainbow of different hues. Going from red to orange, to yellow, and everything in between until finally settling on a very familiar shade of pink before zipping behind him. Expecting an attack, the Assassin whipped around, primed to unleash his only offensive Skill, but the orb did something else unexpected. The orb tripled in size and shifted into a pair of stylized crossed knives he saw every time he opened the Core screen, the emblem of the Assassin. Fear overtook him at the idea of this unknown Beast knowing his Class, and he took two steps back¡­ only to pause again when it became a purple bow and arrow. That was the emblem for the Archer Class! Now, it had become the dark blue skull that represented Warlocks. This repeated with every Class emblem; his hands gripping the blades fell to the sides as he stood transfixed. It felt as if the light Beast was trying to keep his attention, but for what purpose, the Satyr hadn''t the foggiest idea. That was until the fisherman''s tale bubbled forth again, reminding Greg that the fisherman had been led to riches by a similar entity. Could this light be another windfall sent by the Heavens, here to give its forgotten child a Fate-altering gift? Perhaps one that would allow the Assassin to change Classes? Such Artifacts were real but were normally reserved for Clan scions who regretted their chosen path. The fact that one could be on this island seemed too good to be true. But he thought the same when discovering the nest. So maybe¡­ On a desperate hope, when the light finally morphed into a string of prayer beads, he motioned for it to stop. It did so, and the green beads began pulsing from dull to bright¡­ almost like it asked him if he was sure! Greg nodded, pleased that everything was unfolding exactly the way he wanted. He felt a sort of metaphysical weight had been taken from him then, almost as if a literal burden had been lifted, and now he was lighter than he had been only moments before.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Still maintaining the form of Mala beads, the Heavenly light zipped over Greg again, dove into the tree hollow, and made a big show of disappearing in a flash of green light. Which was strange because he knew for a fact that the hollow was empty, all valuables were already in his possession¡­ Ah! Greg understood what was going on. Obviously, his Artifact could only be found after its luminous guardian judged him worthy. If he looked now, there would certainly be something to find. He swam in a state of near frenzy, hardly noticing that he now needed to swim when before he walked. But what did he care about such minor mysteries like that? His wildest dreams were about to come true, and unlike that moronic fisherman from the tavern, he wasn''t stupid enough to ruin them by getting married. Smiling maniacally, the Satyr rammed his head and shoulders back into the hollow, eager to accept his deserved and long overdue reward from the Universe.
Unbeknownst to the hired thug, the half-remembered tale told by a drunken and financially ruined fleet captain turned fisherman was precisely that; half-remembered. If little Gregory had heard the whole story from the former Captain, he would have known to always consider the cost of trusting strange lights. On a storm beaten ocean, whose waters had a particularly nasty habit of testing the Fates of sailors by conjuring elementals at random, there sailed a fleet of trollors. The Captain of the fleet wished to get ahead of the competition and started the fishing season early by chasing the tail end of a winter storm. His gamble initially failed as the schools were frightened away by the elements and the elementals. On the return trip, however, the Captain''s men had spotted what seemed like a second moon beckoning them from afar. The scout vessel reported the light led to a cave jutting from a risen oceanic mountain, and what was more, the cave was littered with riches. The Captain thanked Fate for this impossible opportunity and ordered all ships but his to follow the moon-like light, enter the cave, and take everything. When the last boat entered, the Captain watched with grim satisfaction when the light winked out of existence along with the mountain and crew. Gone, as if they were never there. Unfortunately for the fleet, the mountain wasn''t a mountain but a Colossal Phantom Angler who had no business being alive. The cave was really a mouth, the light a luminous lure, but the bait within was the genuine article; sadly, that was a small comfort for the sailors. Fortunately for the Captain, who had heard the myths, he had made off like a bandit in his lawsuit against the ruling Clan of the world. Phantom Anglers were promised to have already been driven to extinction by the Clan, so the Captain was owed financial compensation for what had been ''lost''. However, one of Gregory''s assumptions was spot on. Not long after, the Captain fell in love with the widow of one of the men he''d sacrificed for personal gain and lost every ill-gotten coin in the divorce. As it turned out, the Captian talked in his sleep. Karma remembers all debts and settles all scores.
Greg''s reward came in the form of an attack that all beings with a similar vulnerability fear. The Satyr''s vision flashed, muscles from knees to abdomen took on the properties of jelly, and his bewildered nervous system reported a sensation of what can only be described as white static. That static, Greg knew with tragic certainty, was a warning¡ª Sirens forecasting disaster. What came after would shake his will to live, and that dreaded knowledge tore free a silent scream of horror before becoming one of agony. "BAAAHHHHH!!!" Bleated the enraged Assassin, curling up into the fetal position with hands cupping his damaged assets. "AHHH! FUCKING HELLS!" Of course, he sounded like a giant speaking through a subway PA system, but anyone who heard would understand. Some bastard, a sick and twisted monster, had kicked him in the balls. Greg''s eyelids were forced closed from pain, yet he could tell his unanchored body had flipped upside down, and only his rapid breathing kept him from floating away. But being upside down meant he was now facing the cowardly attacker, and that fact alone gave him the strength to wrench open his bloodshot eyes. The sight that greeted him suckered punched anger, giving reason a brief time at the helm while the primal emotion stumbled back to its feet. His attacker''s dark nose almost touched Greg''s, and all he could make out was an irritated frown and a pair of black-tinted glasses that the Satyr could see his shocked reflection in. The Stranger''s head bobbed in what looked suspiciously like a nod of approval and took a large step back, allowing for a proper look. His blood froze in an instant, the inferno of violent instinct becoming a fast-fading ember. That form¡­ Greg had seen it once before, on the day he started walking the Dao. But what would a Celestial Attendant be doing out in the Wild Zone? He''d never even heard of one exiting their Pagoda before, yet one came out here to kick him in the stones?! Boundless Void, nothing about this made any- Wait, it didn''t make sense. Looking closer, the Assassin noticed inconsistencies with his rash assumptions, and each observation becoming kindling for the ember still burning within. Disregarding the foreign aesthetic of the inner clothes, no member of the Court would willingly wear that ratty white robe. Honestly that rag was was almost more stitch work than cloth. With the eyes obscured, it was impossible to tell if they were the correct colour, but the lack of white anywhere in that corded hair was enough to confirm the truth. This Stranger was only a Mortal species that resembled a- The Stranger raised an eyebrow and rolled an open hand at him, making the universal gesture of ''Can we hurry this up?'' Veins on his forehead, especially the larger ones that supplied blood to the horns, became visible and throbbed from the casual provocation. So, this must be one of the hoofless fuckers Pete''s array picked up, eh? Well, the Boss''s no kill order could suck his bruised member for all he cared. This fool was DEAD! If Bronte asked, he''d just say it was self-defense. "Dual," Greg growled under his breath. Qi was already surging from the Class Core as he was unwilling to waste time flipping the right side up while the Stranger was within striking range. To keep the element of surprise, he only went for the sword hilt on the third trigger word. "Reaper''s-" *PREREQUISITES FOR ASSASSIN SKILL, Dual Reaper''s Parting, ARE NOT MET.* The interruption was not spoken, for the message''s meaning was imparted directly to his Soul. It was his Core, warning him that the Skill would fail should he attempt using it and to avoid Aether Reflux, had safely dumped the unused Prana energy. While, not passing out from his Body Foundation being forced to hold far more Qi than it normally did was peak. That still didn''t mean the Satyr wasn''t asking himself WHAT THE HELLS JUST HAPPENED!? The only prerequisite besides the minimal amount of Qi was his¡­ Uh oh. Suddenly, Greg became very conscious of his increased buoyancy. Whispering a desperate prayer, both his hands crept up the sheathes he had grabbed by mistake, only to confirm what he already suspected. His swords were missing. "MERRRR." Came a laugh that sounded far too monstrous to originate from a Mortal, altered air or not. Still upside down, the Assassin stared blankly at the Stranger, who shook his head to deny the unspoken allegation before pointedly looking up. So Greg followed his gaze and saw a creature with monochromatic skin watching him hungrily from the treetops. His jaw dropped as the Spiritual Beast used her tail to wave his own swords mockingly at him, a pink tongue licking one unblinking eye. The Beast had only the weapons, but it didn''t take a genius to know the Herb Case was probably long gone by now. The Assassin swallowed hard, understanding he had been tricked the moment he saw that damned light. He glared at the unknown Cultivator, who still watched him with unsettling interest, almost as if Greg was the first Satyr he''d ever come across. There would be no winning this fight, but winning was a relative term, and he wasn''t called the Hit-And-Run Killer for nothing. Escape was still possible; so long as he could get one hoof on solid ground, the Assassin''s escape Skill would dash Greg to safety. Assuming the Stranger didn''t have a way to catch up. Manipulating that ball of light with such precision and control meant the Stranger had extremely high Cunning. That hinted at him being either a Sage or a Merchant. Sages rarely had escape or mobility Skills in the lower Cuts, and the fact that the Stranger stole instead of cheated Greg out of his loot pointed at the former. Dealing with a Sage would be best, for they were notoriously bad in close combat. Likely, that was why the Stranger ambushed him and brought a tamed Beast for backup. Thinking about it now, this situation may not be as costly as he originally feared. Along with his cloths, there were a pair of Class suppression cuffs back in the chariot. If he could bait out a chase with the lone Cultivator and managed to cuff him, Greg could torture the location of his stolen trove before bringing in the miserable bastard. In a non-threatening manner as possible, Greg gestured to the Stranger, motioning if he could flip himself right-side up. The Stranger raised an eyebrow and seem to consider the request, but it was impossible to read the expression any further. That lack of any visible feedback alone set off alarm bells for the Satyr, a life long time survivor of Olympia''s criminal underworld. In his experience, even the coldest and most ruthless Cultivators inhabiting the Capital''s slums displayed some cracks of emotion. Normally those cracks were a sneerful boasts or sadistic glee, but any hint of what was to come was better than nothing. Being the target of that unwavering and silent attention made the Satyr feel like a lamb shackled before a cook who had yet to decide the day''s meal. So Greg thanked every one of the Sacred 108 when he finally received a nod of approval and could set the plan in motion. He was close enough to the tree to use it to right himself while slowly lowering his body closer to the ground. Sensing his intention as always, the Class Core began sending a cocktail Qi and Mana towards his legs in preparation. It took far longer this time, almost a full second as the Mind Foundation was his least invested of the three. "Whatever you''re planning, I highly recommend reconsidering it." A voice neither male nor female spoke gently, their voice somehow unaffected by the environment. "Trust me, this can only end in one way." Freezing agonizingly close to the ground, Greg watched a Spirit sporting a blue robes from an unknown temple walk out from behind the same tree he held on to. The Spirit gave the Satyr something he had experienced in a very long time. A smile radiating real kindness, and the sight of it made the Assassin want to scuttle away like Stump Mites forced into the daylight. "I know introductions are a bit late, and your first interaction with our group must have been far from pleasant, but I am a firm believer in mending bridges." Continued the Spirit calmly as if the whole mess could be solved with talk. "I am the Spirit known as Ego; the Princess above you is our lovely Monochrome." They looked up with a slight frown and spoke to the Beast like a disapproving adult would a child, "Who I noticed was suspiciously adept at pickpocketing, which is not something to be proud of. And obviously, you have met-" But the Stumpchild was done with this shit show and with his legs tingling with Aether infused energy, he was out of here. Using the tree as an anchor, he forced himself down on the dirt with so much force his hooves were buried in the dirt. That was fine, better than fine even, because it gave the Assassin firm footing. He opened his mouth to speak, knowing a Spirit couldn''t stop him, and any Sage''s attack would trigger too late. So it came as a real surprise to Greg when the Stranger, without moving a muscle, suddenly accelerated forward like an arrow shot from a bow. Before the first syllable could leave his mouth, a fist slammed into the Satyr''s throat, killing the Skill as effectively as any Class suppressing cuffs. Greg erupted into a choking coughing fit, tears clouded his vision and he seriously worried that the crazed Cultivator had broken something. When he''d finally refined control, he found the brawler Sage pointing the ends of the Satyr''s own swords at his throat and hairy leg. The latter still wet with deadly poison. Also judging from the stink of rotting meat wafting from above, the Beast was far closer now. The message of absolute compliance was received loud and clear. "I told you to reconsider such foolish actions, my young Satyr. The Soul may be immortal, but this iteration of you is not." The Spirit chided with a rueful shake of their bald head. They stiffened slightly and turned quizzically at the Stranger. "Ah. My partner would like me to communicate two things to you on his behalf. First, you may call him the Professor, as you two will not be acquainted long enough to ever need his actual name. Next, he thanks you for the incredibly valuable information you have allowed him to collect, as it will greatly further his research. However, he warns that if you try to escape or call for help, he will do¡­ very bad things." The Professor snorted and the Spirit sighed, rolling their eyes. "To be accurate, he actually gave a very vivid explanation of what will happen to you in the name of research. But I am sure you wish to sleep at night, so there is no need for me to go into detail, yes?" Greg nodded in agreement as much as the blade at his throat would allow. However, he needed to understand what they planned to do with him. Pointing to himself, Greg asked, in the clearest voice that could be produce, "Hostage?" "What?" The Spirit snickered, the ghostly light in their eyes brightening. "Don''t be ridiculous; of course you aren''t a hostage. In fact, we''ve come to you in order to negotiate a peaceful surrender. Our surrender." 29. The Con A Spiritual Beast resembling a stork with a peacock''s plumage circled above the Lamplight island cluster; its gold, silver, and red feathers made it stand out against the blue skies of this early afternoon. From its position so high above the Sea, it would''ve noticed a dark blue watercraft speeding away from Bizarro suddenly cut acceleration before whipping around to face again. Assuming its eyesight was more predator than prey, it could see two occupants on the craft, one dressed in black, the other in some kind of white coat. The one in black stood in front and held something like a rope, while the other stood behind and absently fidgeted with the glittering chains restraining him. [...only 10% of a Core Cultivator''s Prana energy is kept within Foundations; the rest is stored in the Class Core¡­] Heavens forbid, but if the Beast had any knowledge of Mortal concepts such as incarceration or the law, then it would easily assume what was playing out below. Either a criminal had been caught, or a criminal had made a catch. Further, if the creature knew how the Enchantment on the manacles essentially rendered a Class Core into an inert paperweight, it could be sure of one thing. Regardless of who was what, even a bird with a law degree could tell the chained figure was fucked. The bird would''ve been dead wrong on nearly every imagined assumption, and Morgan could only hope his enemies would fall for the con as easily. [...speaking a Skill''s name is seemingly necessary to trigger¡­] Putting back on his sunglasses, the Scientist reeled in his wandering imagination and looked away from the mysterious Spiritual Beast tragically far outside the Bestiary''s identification range. Instead, he watched the so-called ''stallion'' build up the speed needed to pull the chariot and its four occupants up onto the emerald swamp. After all, it wasn''t like he had anything better to do in the meantime. [...after a Skill fails due to¡­ the allotted energy is forcibly dumped from the Foundation for some¡­] When the Satyr called the watercraft a chariot, an image of the front ? of a wagon pulled by a horse popped into mind. That turned out to be a fairly accurate description, as the aqua-colored Olympia vessel was literally a greco-roman-style chariot built out of extremely buoyant wood farmed from select islands. Now remove the wheels and replace the equine element with an Artifact known as a Stallion Drive. A Drive looked to be a half-meter wide gyroscope encased inside a hollow glass orb that itself was fixed to the front of the chariot with metal rods. The ends of chain-link reins passed through holes on opposite sides of the glass case and attached to each axle peg of the spinning gyroscope. It- [Are you even listening to me?] Ego demanded loudly, speaking directly into his mind as their avatar wasn''t manifested. [Unfortunately.] Morgan projected without looking away from the Drive, its rotor spinning up faster and faster with each passing moment. [I was trying to tune you out, but your persistence was strong enough to punch through a couple of times. Which is impressive, by the way. Hmm. To be clear, your persistence is what''s impressive. You lost points off the summary for forgetting about the mix of Mana and Qi the Assassin tried using for that last Skill.] [I didn''t forget. We don''t know if Gregory was going to use one or two Skills before you punched him in the throat. So that finding is inconclusive at best.] They sniffed irritably. [I have a question. Why ask me to repeat something you already know when we could be reviewing the plan?] [That is because there is no gain in reviewing a plan that is essentially ''do X if Y'' because it''s basically just winging it with a few set guidelines. On the other hand, there is a clear benefit to making sure we both memorize important data that might not be recorded for hours or days.] Morgan considered if he should expand more and decided it might be for the best if he did. [Also, you''ve been dangerously distracted and touchy ever since our uninvited visitors dropped by. So I figured you''d be less stressed memorizing lessons learned instead of brooding over whatever it is you''re not telling me.] Ego grew silent at the sudden accusation, and without an avatar to observe, there was no way to tell what they were thinking. Morgan expected more pushback from them, perhaps a snappy comeback about how strange it was for him, of all people, to warn about being distracted. Even still, if the two were entering the grizzly''s den, then now would be the time to address any potential issues. Now, as in right now, since the rotor''s acceleration was beginning to plateau. [Morgan, do you remember this morning when I said I had a good feeling about us traveling South?] They paused and waited for him to nod before continuing. [Well, at the time, what I said wasn''t wrong, but I''ve come to realize I misinterpreted some elements of what I was feeling. First is that the feeling wasn''t inherently good or bad exactly. Having had more time to brood on it, the feeling is closer to¡­ suspense in the broad sense of the word. Imagine looking outside your house window and seeing clouds gathering, lightning flashing, and the wind whipping around anything that isn''t bolted down. You know you''re in for a show, but whether it''ll be an adventure or a tragedy has yet to be decided.] The Professor couldn''t tell if the Spirit''s analogy was just that or a subtle reference to the Storm. That mysterious entity had already come for them all once, and the Monk was the only one who felt its presence. However, if he was only overthinking things, bringing up the possible connection might do more harm than good. Morgan decided to test the waters first.] [Hmm. I did notice that these Cultivators came from the South, but I didn''t think much of it. Do you think these people are connected with whatever disturbance is brewing in the South?] [Oh, I''m not worried about any particular cardinal direction at the moment because the disturbance isn''t in the South anymore; it''s on the island right in front of us. But we should shelve that conversation for now. Gregory is trying to get your attention. Remember, if he asks, I''m not here.] Damn. The amount of shelved topics and posted conversations was getting to the point where he needed to start keeping track. "You seem to have something to say to me." The Professor said aloud and turned his head a fraction of a degree, putting the Assassin in direct line of sight. "Is there a problem?" Looking at Satyr''s face was one hell of a trip to the uncanny valley. If the lower body was pure goat and the upper human, then the face was an almost unsettling fusion of both extremes. The protruding squarish chin, puffed-up upper lip, hollow cheeks, broad nose bridge, and flared nostrils all combined to create the illusion of a muzzle. Higher up, the bulging brow ridges and high cheekbones surrounded his green eyes, their pupils horizontal rectangles. Were Gregory''s looks common for his species, or did he lean more towards one direction or the other? If the phone wasn''t dead, Morgan might''ve snapped a picture for future comparisons. "Problem?" The Assassin blinked in surprise, his voice a tad melodic and no longer unnaturally deep now that they were all breathing unaltered air. "Forgive my rudeness, Lord Professor, but there isn''t an-" "Do me a favor and drop that Lord part completely." Morgan interrupted, wanting to kill that idea right off the bat. "Professor will do just fine; in fact, calling me prisoner will do if you think the others might become suspicious otherwise." "Whatever you say, Professor. My apologies for any -uh- perceived disrespect." Nervously slamming a fist into an open palm, the Satyr made to bow before thinking better of making such big movements. "As I was saying, there isn''t a problem, but this Drive is an older model, and operating at top speeds will make it buck real hard at the start¡­" He licked his lips and couldn''t resist a fearful look down. "Could you tell your- I mean to say, warn the Princess in advance. I would hate it if my services to your group were cut short because of a¡­ miscommunication." "Agreed. Turn around, and I will let you know when we can leave." Nodding his horned head, Gregory retook hold of the reins as Morgan crouched and began fiddling with the thug''s clothes. Under a thin black cape and cowl that was Assassin standard, Gregory''s outfit consisted of gray patchworked pants and a matching open-long-sleeve shirt. Fraying white cloth strips wrapped around the forearms, shins, and waist kept the loose clothing secured without restricting movement. Though the outfit lacked footwear, Morgan was confident that was due to having hooves in place of soft, vulnerable feet.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. Pulling back the cape, he immediately saw what he was looking for poking out from under the shirt, a familiar black and white snout. Lowering himself even further and ignoring the throbbing pain radiating from his chest, the Professor tugged the shirt high enough to see each other eye to eye. "How are you doing, girl?" "Meh", Momo barked unhappily. She shifted slightly to get a better hold on the Assassin''s back, which made Gregory shutter, which in turn caused Momo to tighten her tail in warning. "Ack! For-givness!" Gasped the thug, his hands reaching for his cowl covered throat. "Forgiveness, my Lady! I wasn''t expecting you to move is all. I swear!" "Mmm." She grunted but must''ve relaxed her tail as Gregory stopped struggling. "That''s actually what I wanted to talk to you about." Morgan chuckled and scratched the scales between her eyes as he whispered her revised orders. "My jailer says we''re in for a bumpy ride, and we can''t afford a miscommunication, so until I tell you otherwise, only choke him out when I or Ego say it''s ok." It broke his heart to see the disappointment in her reptilian expression at the thought of being unable to threaten the Satyr with every stumble. But Momo was a team player and gave Morgan a grunt in acceptance. [Not that I don''t trust your knowledge of physiology.] Ego piped up. [But are you sure cutting off air for that long will be enough to get the job done? He isn''t a human, after all.] [You make a fantastic point.] The Scientist agreed as he meticulously placed the clothing in a way that could hide the Beast. [Plus, considering the biological improvements gifted by Aether, we should err on the side of caution and double the count to a minute or more.] Ego went silent for several seconds, during which Morgan finished concealing one of their hidden aces. Just as he was about to give the Assassin the go ahead, they spoke up. [A minute, huh? Just so we''re clear, you understand what I mean by ''getting the job done,'' right?] The Monk said in a casual tone that scarcely concealed a razor-sharp edge. [After all, if Gregory were to mistakenly die due to carelessness, that would be a tragedy that must be atoned for. A tragedy that I would make sure we never forgot¡­ If you know what I mean.] Crap. [Another good point. Perhaps it would be best if you played it by ear once he goes limp.] He projected hastily before triggering Perception of the Stone Sage and saying aloud, "She understands the situation now. Time to go." "Yes Professor." He acknowledged with relief, sounding like a man whose execution was blessedly postponed. "Now, please, hold on tightly." Hidden behind the black lens of his shades, black and red eyes watched the follower of the Diamond Tantra closely. It still unnerved the Scientist at how empty the Satyr''s Eternal Foundations were compared to every other being he''d observed thus far, especially with Momo right there to compare. When Momo''s Qi surged through the Body, his only trickled. Gregory''s Mind band was a thin fog, whereas Momo''s was a cloud. Her shroud Essence was a blaze, while his sputtering Soul looked like the fading embers of a campfire. Even Morgan''s pre-infused Foundations looked in better shape, but that was only true until the Class Core was taken into consideration. Located just behind the navel sat a golf ball-sized sphere so packed with swirling Prana energy that the Bloodline could only display it as a solid ball of white light. Twin tornados of blue Mana no thicker than a pencil escaped from the Core and made a beeline for the Stallion Drive''s empty silhouette. With immense regret, Morgan forced Perception to close before Mana reached the Artifact. While the Aether infused in his Essence had massively improved the Bloddline''s efficiency, observing complex Enchantments like his ring or the Drive was still far too dangerous. Although looking at seemingly simple Enchantments, such as the one on Morgan''s new Herb Case, didn''t require burning so much Soul. Not being able to watch the mystical mechanics of the Artifact at work was disappointing, but at least the physical show was entertaining. Just as the invisible Mana would have entered the harnessed gyroscope, the entire chariot rocketed forward. From floating aimlessly to suddenly matching any speed boat from Earth, the kick of rapid acceleration would have thrown Morgan overboard if not for his iron grip on the handrails lining the chariot''s interior. Despite the front of the chariot only coming up to mid-chest and lacking any windshield, the air whipping around them didn''t so much as ruffle a hair on their heads. The Professor was reminded of when Lysander placed him in a protective bubble during their agonizingly boring journey to meet Eris. But unlike back then, no forcefield shielded him from the cutting wind. Instead, it was more like the chariot was in the slipstream of the Stallion Dive. While Morgan appreciated not having to worry about keeping his glasses from flying away, being in the Artifact''s wake did nothing to quiet the wind screaming all around them. Ahead, the Island was getting closer by tens of meters every passing second, their trajectory taking them to a large patch of vertical unobstructed emerald water. "Professor, start crouching as low as you can!" Warned the Assassin, whose knees were already bent enough so that his eyes barely peeked over the vessel''s front. "We''re jumping in 1, 2,-" *Whoom!* Before the count of three, Morgan felt his knees slamming onto the floor as the chariot hopped into the air as if they hit an invisible ramp. Their rising momentum took them over the thin beach lining the island, right through double waterfalls, temporarily having them pass through the dense air zone before punching through the swamp ceiling. The moment they were through, Gregory pulled hard the reins, and after skipping over the toxic water a few times, the chariot began slowing down. Morgan checked his clothes and Gregory''s back, finding both dry to the touch. [You know what?] Asked the Spirit, their tone a little shaky from the ride. [From up here, Bizarro actually looks like a natural swamp.] Indeed, all around them, the tops of trees resembled large shrubs growing out of the murky waters, and floating patches of buoy plants made a convincing replacement for reeds and lily pads. However, the illusion was quickly broken when one noticed the lack of a shore. Still, he gave the Spirit a grunt in agreement. However, the Professor didn''t pay the environment any further attention, for as soon as the chariot rose above the swamp, he had spotted the foe. Or at least, he could make out the larger vessel. From a distance, the larger vessel resembled a boat barrage with a cabin placed in the back center. If he squinted, Morgan could make out two gray figures aboard, both standing on the cabin''s roof. But it seemed neither was looking in their direction. [Morgan looked down at the water surrounding the boat. Something is going on there.] He did so, and only then did he notice unnatural churning ripples on what should have been a mirrored emerald surface. Dozens of metallic green objects circled the boat, bobbing in and out of the emerald swamp like shark fins surrounding a bloated whale carcass. No, he realized, not fins; those were wings. "Oh, perfect. The Stymphalian are harassing the boat," the Satyr grumbled like an employee trying to shift blame onto others. "It''s nothing to worry about. The Boss was probably waiting to handle them until I came back. They can''t do anything to the boat but could nick us if we''re not careful. Move your foot there, Professor, and take a step back. I am going to signal them that we''ve arrived." Looking down, Morgan saw his right boot half on top of a metallic ring embedded into the floor. Interested, he did as told and watched the wood within the ring pull back like the shutter of a camera to reveal a small pipe pointing upwards. Unseen, he heard a mechanical click from where his jailer stood. *Fwoom* Something whizzed out of the tube, straight into the air, and ascended over a hundred meters before exploding in a yellow burst of sparks. *Bang!* "A flare gun built in the boat." The Scientist recognized aloud, looking to Satyr for answers. "Now, is that feature standard or-" A flash of white bright enough to illuminate one side of the Assassin''s face for a fraction of a second. Then again and again. Morgan snapped his attention towards the origins of the flash, his left hand reflexively covering his right pinky, and was startled to find himself looking at the figures again. Only then did he see the thundercloud. This cloud was incredibly smaller than what mundane physics would allow, no bigger than a motorcycle, and hovered above the taller figure''s head. The miniature cloud cracked with half-obscured lighting, the frequency and intensity building up. No¡­ Were they about to- *CRACK!* Thunder''s crisp clap boomed outwards, rattling his eardrums. Numbly, the Professor watched as a lightning bolt slammed into the largest gathering of innocent Spirit Beasts, creatures working together to drive off the unknown threat invading their territory. A geyser of green steam exploded from where the bolt landed, followed by a dozen or more bodies rising to the surface. From the corner of his eye, Morgan thought he saw something below the water''s surface move away from the boat, but he couldn''t be sure. He refused to look away from the still-boiling section of pointless death. [...Why?] The Monk gasped, their voice sounding on the edge of tears. [They could have just moved the-] But they couldn''t finish the sentence. What few metallic feathers floated above the surface shone brilliantly in the sunlight. Morgan had never seen them in direct light before and found their splendor breathtaking. A fact that only fanned the flames of wrath building within, a heat so intense he could almost feel it burning at the back of his throat. As Gregory began moving the chariot towards the senseless slaughter, the Professor clenched his chained right hand into a fist. 30. The Hound Pt.1 The Assassin thug had taken care of docking the chariot, offloading his freshly captured prisoner, and was spewing the bullshit of a cover story like his life depended on it. Because unknown to Gregory''s conspirators, it really did. The Professor kept his right fist clenched the entire time and spoke not a word. Neither he nor the Monk had anything to say as each dealt with the callous action that took the lives of so many Beasts. Lives that were lost in a plot aimed at them. He had counted the floating electrified bodies during their approach and found 24 Souls were returned to the cycle of reincarnation. All because they had been at their rightful place at the wrong time. Collateral damage. A tale as old as time. So they remained silent and vigilant; one chained before the foes, the other free and waiting for an opportune moment. Four Cultivators, which was one less than he would have liked, stood in a loose ring in the middle of what was essentially a floating barge. Where the Vajrayian chariots looked like something an ancient Greek historian might imagine as the future of transportation, the barge was the sad reality of what was to be. Constructed mainly of dark brown wood and held together with nails and frames made of copper-like metal, the massive vessel was about as large as four houseboats placed side to side. The deck would have been entirely bare if not for a raised cabin built on stilts near the aft. As it was, there was enough open space up here for someone to park at least two cars. The barge must have some impressive equipment hidden under the surface that allowed it to double as a hovercraft because otherwise the Scientist had no idea how they got it up on the swamp. He could''ve pestered his jailers for answers, but with the Spirit searching the ship, it was better to let events unfold naturally. Besides, watching the egg-poaching flunky squirm under the Boss''s fury allowed for a close observation. Other than having arms rivaling his thighs in width and being a full head taller than Morgan, Bronte''s most notable feature was hidden behind a helmet. Although calling it that might be an exaggeration. The bronze piece of equipment looked like something a spartan would have worn, and it might have been able to take a hit on the battlefield once upon a time. However, it was heavily modified; the entire face guard was cut out and replaced with black tinted glass, so it looked more like a welder''s mask than armor. A massive complication to Morgan''s original strategy, but he had to admit the helmet made sense. Being a Cultivator that could conjure up miniature thunderclouds to huck bolts at distant foes made eye protection more valuable than skull protection. Lighting was bright after all, and given some of the juicy information Ego was able to cajole out of the Satyr, a Cyclops had more to fear from bright light then most Mortals. Helmet aside, her apparel was almost identical to what Gregory wore, except instead of a black cape and cowl, she had on a thick leather apron. The apron screamed blacksmith more than a lightning wizard, but if she pursued smithcraft, it might explain her other Concept. Plus, she already had the perfect protection against blinding light, so it was like killing two birds with one stone. A pass time the bitch clearly had experience in. "Let me see if I understand this fantastical tale you''ve spun for me," Bronte said in total disbelief, her loud, high-pitched voice clanging against his ears. "I sent you out on a simple island patrol for two unknown individuals on the island, with the understanding that you should return here if you so much as spotted them. Those were orders, yes?" "Yes, Boss." Gregory stood before her, head bowed and gaze glued to the floor. "You also told me not to kill them, even if I got the opportunity. I understood your commands and would never disobey my betters without good reason." Good reason, of course, being the threat of death and Morgan''s booted foot. "And you had a good reason, did you?" Bronte asked rhetorically, looming over the bowed Satyr like a rainstorm. "You stupidly jumped through the waterfalls because you mistook the movement of a pack of Beasts for people. Then, with your robes soaked with disgusting toxins, you returned to your beached chariot only to find¡­ him there alone, waiting for you." Oh? What an interesting time to pause. Was that hesitation he heard? A note of uncertainty about a man currently held prisoner, his Cultivation supposedly as chained as his body. But was it born from fear of the Filo group or simple caution? "This¡­ Mortal," She continued, saying the word as if she were trying to convince herself of that fact. "Then peacfuly surrender and told you not to worry about the other Soul the Scout Array picked up on because in the time he''s been out here, he''s never seen anyone else." Damn it, that is not what the Professor had said. Never trust a hired grunt to deliver anything more than threats and beatings. "For the record," Morgan spoke aloud for the first time since coming aboard. "What your flunky said to you is that I told him quote, ''Until today, I haven''t seen another Mortal in the flesh my entire stay on this island cluster.'' Which is the truth." A laugh echoed within the depths of his mind. [Just couldn''t help yourself, could you?] Snickered Ego, their avatar nowhere to be seen. [Well, if you''re going to become the center of attention, see if you can walk a meter or three closer to the cabin. It''s the only place I have yet to search, and it''s just outside my range.] [I''ll see what I can do.] He promised mentally as something sharp was pressed closer to his throat. "Was I speaking to you?" The masked Cyclops asked rhetorically, not looking away from her trembling underling. "No, you were talking to your Assassin. You haven''t said a word to me once so far." The Professor answered and voiced his musings before anyone could stop him. "Which I have to say surprises me. To be honest, I overheard your conversation with my fellow captive, and I thought you would be giving me as much attention as your other flunky here. Who, by the way, shouldn''t be so close, given his Class." In the general sense, Pete looked much like Gregory, only with short brown hair on the goat legs and horns that pointed backward and flared out at the ends. Thanks to a lack of clothing but a pair of pants, one could see the year''s worth of long, deep scars on the tanned and bruised flesh, especially on his stringy arms and bony chest. To the untrained eye, it appeared as if the Archer had gone through a gauntlet of blades and lived to see another day. Morgan might have been intimidated if he hadn''t noticed that nearly every scar was carved in the same diagonal direction centering around the right shoulder. Which could either be the work of a sword master with OCD. Or Pete never learned to maintain his bow, and the string snapped repeatedly, slashing him a new scar every time. Morgan might''ve asked him which was the truth, but even if the little shit didn''t lie to his face, the thug wouldn''t have been able to. It appeared Bronte had gotten tired of the Satyr''s bleating and had gagged him with a cloth rag. Apparently, that didn''t excuse him from performing his duty because he had been tasked with guarding the newest prisoner. "Hut up, hou!" Pete snapped nearly incoherently and pressed the arrowhead at the Professor''s neck even harder. "Knoh huor phace, prisonrr!" Morgan ignored him. Hidden under the rounded sunglasses, the Professor looked over the other thugs to see their reactions. The Assassin remained bowed, and the Sage kept looming over him; to all appearances, both were blind to Morgan''s plight. An illusion that might have been believable if they hadn''t gone deathly silent, the questionable report all but forgotten. Oh, that was perfect. Now, the Scientist just needed a little stirring to get things going. "Yeah, I barely caught any of that." He raised his arms and gave a dramatic shrug. The half-meter chain between his cuffs rattled noisily, making Bronte twitch in his direction. "But since you''re the only one here brave enough to talk to me, why don''t you tell me how you got those scars?" "Highting hoohless bastarrds ike hou!" He threatened, ineffectively, through the gag. "Ha!" Snorted the Assassin, unable to resist a dig at his fellow. "Didn''t know you called your bowstrings hoofless bastards. Maybe you should stop calling them names before you''re all scar." "Hut Up!" Pete screamed through his gag and in his reddening anger, drove the arrow a little deeper. Deep enough that Morgan felt a bead of blood roll down his neck. Excellent. [Ego, the moment you can access the cabin, tell me. This might get a little rough if it goes on for too long.] He Projected but didn''t bother waiting for a reply. With a speed that hurt him more than the armed jailer, Morgan slapped the arrowhead away with a cuffed wrist as his head cocked back. Pete''s rectangular pupils widened in alarm as the prisoner''s forehead came rushing back to smash right into his nose. *Wack!* "Void!" The Archer cursed, dropping the arrow to grab onto his injury. The Satyr continued to utter more curses that the prisoner had no time to listen to. "Wat arr- phut me hown!" In that fraction of a second, the barge deck exploded in chaotic shouting. The Professor held a bloody and flailing Pete in a full nelson and was backing away quickly from an advancing Bronte; Gregory desperately tried to hold her back with one arm while the other hovered fearfully over his throat. "Boss! Be reasonable; if you harm the Professor, there might be consequences! The Filo Conglomeration will ring out our throats!¡­ or worse. So please calm down!" "Shrew da Filo! Hill em, Hoss! Hill em!" "Let go of the idiot! NOW!" "Hey, I would love to if I could, believe me," Morgan admitted, as forcibly pressing a spasming idiot to his injured chest was like putting a burn victim inside a sauna. "Relax. I''m not trying to escape. If anything, I''m doing you all a favor. Look how this one damaged the merchandise." Morgan moved the meat shield over to show the others his bloody throat, but his captors seemed unimpressed. Like a row of ducklings, the thugs trailed after Morgan as he led them all closer to the cabin, step by step. However, the game wouldn''t last forever; Bronte''s larger gait had already covered half the distance to him. "Hear that!?" The Assassin grasped at the lifeline. "He didn''t want any accidents happening, that''s all. Think of the Drachma for Heaven''s sake." "Think of the disrespect!" The Archer screamed, his skin almost as red as the blood gushing from his nose. God damn it! He had to have crossed at least a meter by now. What was the Spirit waiting for? "I SAID STOP, PRISONER!" Thundered the Sage, and Morgan could swear he smelt something like chlorine bleach in the air. A thrill of panic went through him and, without meaning to, his pinky reflexively dug into Pete''s skull. "There''s no need for further violence; I just needed to get your attention. If you start hucking lightning bolts now, nobody is going to be happy so-" Ego''s avatar appeared behind Bronte and Gregory, waving frantically at him. [Morgan, stop moving.] They said, their tone and expression both bewildered. [You''re more than close enough, and I can see Purple Cloak through a window, but I can''t manifest within the cabin or phase through. It''s like the walls have some kind of force pushing against me.] Oh perfect. A Spirit repelling force field, exactly the complication he needed today. Well, at least they had devised a few contingency plans beforehand; now, he only needed to choose the most appropriate. "-I am willing to drop the angry one on one condition." Morgan stopped walking, and the others did as well; the Cyclops was within arms reach. The three stared at each other while the angry one continued his mad flailing. "I''m going to need a sworn Oath so that me and the Boss can talk alone, eyes to eye. A question for a question, all answers given must be true or not given at all. If either of us skips twice or harms the other, then our conversation is over." Unseen to all, the Monk came to his side for moral support. They gave Morgan a for his quick thinking. "That is an-" Gregory started to say, but a look from the helmeted superior shut him right up. Another glare at Pete got him to shut up, too. "You''re in no position to be striking any kind of deal, prisoner." Bronte replied with equal parts sneer and boredom. "What''s stopping me from ripping the goat from your grip, beating you to a bloody pulp, and tossing you in the hold for the rest of the voyage?" "The same thing stopping you from doing that right now, if I had to guess." The Professor said in a bored monotone. "You don''t know who or what I am, and you don''t know why your employers want me. I''m an unknown, and that makes me a potential danger. That''s why you''ve been avoiding me since I''ve stepped aboard. If you don''t want to cooperate, then by all means, flip that coin if you''re so certain." Nobody moved; even the Spirit''s robes halted in their endless rippling. The afternoon sun suddenly felt hotter on their perspiring skins, and every creak or crack from the barge sounded as loud as firecrackers. Everyone waited for a decision to be made, and the only¡­ Like a loaded spring, Bronte''s arm darted forward, snatched Pete by the horn, and tore him free from Morgan''s grip before tossing him up into the air behind her. As the abused flunky took his unexpected flying lesson, the Boss took a step closer and spat out her orders. *Thud!* The Archer came crashing down onto the deck behind the Spirit.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. "Fucking Void!" Cursed Pete no longer gagged as he clutched the left side of his head in agony. "Not my horn!" [Oof.] Ego grimaced, kneeling beside Pete. [Broken at the base, it must''ve snapped in the fall.] "Pete!" Screamed Bronte, quietly disposing of the horn scrap in her hand by tossing it into the Sea. "Start loading Mana stones into the Stealth Array." "Fine!" He snapped, shooting the other Satyr a dirty look before shuffling off, mumbling as he opened a nearby trap door. "There better be fresh bandages in the hold." "Greg! You smell like an Alchemy lab full of Beasts. Change out of those disgusting clothes, and while you''re there, see to our spare prisoner." With that, she tossed over her shoulder what looked to be a key similar to the cuff key tucked away in his pocket. The remaining Satyr caught it in the air. "Yes Boss!" Gregory squeaked at the sound of Beast and hurried off past Morgan, not daring to so much as look at him. [And just like that, I have a way in.] Ego nodded to him and trailed right behind the Assassin. [I''ll let you know when the Caesar is free. So try not to antagonize her too much in the meantime.] [Excellent advice.] The Professor projected and tilted his head curiously as Bronte stooped low, putting her masked face centimeters from his own. [Do me a favor and be quick. I''m getting the feeling she doesn''t like me.] She pulled up her helmet window. A band of copper red hair had escaped the bun hidden under the helmet and hung limply over a face that had known hard labor. She was likely young, but her skin was rough, the pores clogged with soot and ash. Her teeth were slightly yellowed but sat straight in a square jaw that jutted forward. The Cyclops, unlike her flunkies, could almost pass for a human. Almost. "I agree to speak with the prisoner and swear on my Dao to uphold the conditions set until we''ve each answered three questions." That single eye, big enough to be mistaken for a cue ball if not for the dirt-brown iris trying to bore a hole through him. The Scientist couldn''t stop staring up at the ocular marvel. So fascinated was he, that Morgan nearly missed the addition of a question cap. That was frustrating, but he''ll have to find a way around it later. "I agree to speak with the jailer," Morgan pulled off the sunglasses and pretended not to notice Bronte recoil at his gaze. Which felt strange coming from her, but whatever. "And swear on my Dao to uphold the conditions I''ve set until we''ve each answered three questions." Just as with his Oath made with Ego, Eris swearing on their behalf at the time, Morgan felt discomfort around his throat. Almost as if a collar had been fixed onto him, shackles bounding him to his given word. Eris had warned a broken Oath wouldn''t result in death, but she never did say what would happen to him. Not that he intended to find out today. At a later point, though¡­ "What are you?!" The Cyclops hissed with so much force spit flew, and he had to sidestep the spry. "Wow." He blinked, raising an eyebrow as she lowered her large copper brow. Her brow might have furrowed in irritation, but it was difficult to tell with just the one. "Didn''t think you''d ask that right off the bat. I expected at least a little lead up." "Answer the question or skip it, prisoner." "You know, being quick to anger can be a weakness as much as a strength. Predictability is a dangerous addiction to have." He sighed before finally answering. "I am a Human, born and raised on a planet called Earth. I doubt you''ve ever heard of it, though I don''t blame your ignorance. Believe it or not, the powers that be have likely conspired to keep my old home out of the public eye." With immense satisfaction, the Professor watched her massive eye dilate with fear. Apparently, with a Cyclops'' proportions, a dime-sized pupil could reach the width of a quarter. Seeing that up close almost made up for the agony of handing out such sensitive information. But it was all part of the plan. "My turn." The Scientist pointed a finger to his brown eye. "I''ve recently hypothesized that Cyclopes have very sensitive vision, which is why you wear that modified helmet. So, could you tell me how bright something would be in order to-" "I skip this question." Bronte rumbled with quiet contempt, her mind likely processing the info dump he dropped on her head. But she wasn''t so distracted as to not retaliate with sarcasm. "Do you think I''m stupid enough to hand out my people''s weaknesses so easily?" No. But her Assassin flunky was more than happy to. "No, " he answered slyly and then asked, "What do you plan on doing with my fellow captive?" "The Satyr is likely slitting her throat as we speak." She said in the same distracted tone someone on the phone might use on a talkative toddler. "Even for all the riches in the world, the Hound is too dangerous to be left alive. If word got out to her Clan, I''d be crucified by the end of the week, regardless of my backer''s protection." Thanks to the Oath, Morgan was instantly sure that what she said was the absolute truth. Which was almost as disturbing as what she had actually said. So giving her a breather was fine with Morgan as he was busy furiously reaching out to the Monk. Only to find he was beaten to the punch. [So we have a slight problem up here, but I think we''ll get it under control! So no need to panic or anything!] Ego tried to assure, failing miserably. [Gregory is trying to kill Purple Cloak but I''m freeing her as we speak so¡­ Oh Heavenly Dao!] They suddenly stopped speaking, and the hairs on Morgan''s neck rose in alarm as an infinite number of possibilities flashed in his mind''s eye. Few of the potential scenarios were anything even remotely acceptable. There was no time to waste waiting for a perfect opportunity to attack. He''ll just have to pray the Cyclops was distracted enough to not notice anything amiss and hope the backlash for breaking an Oath wasn''t so harsh. The Professor''s right hand had remained balled up since witnessing Bronte''s slaughter. While his Soul still seethed from the injustice, his fist had not remained clenched in anger but for deception. Now the fingers slowly began to unfurl, and with a surge of his will, Morgan ordered his Mana to- *Bang!* Above them, something crashed with tremendous force, causing both Cultivators to snap their attention to the cabin.
Only when Greg had slipped his key into the cabin''s metal door did the Spirit make themselves known by covering his mouth with a hand. "Hello again, Gregory." They whispered over the muffled shout of alarm. "I apologize for the rude greeting, but I feared your surprise might give us away. Now enter the cabin quietly and quickly." While incredibly unhappy with the turn of events, the unwilling double agent did as he was told. Ego followed, pausing to make sure nobody had spotted them. The coast was clear, but when the door closed, they suddenly felt their connection to their vessel vanished. Immediately, they opened the door, and the connection to Morgan was at full strength agian. What was with this room? It felt as ordinary as the rest of the boat... Well, there would be time for questions later. Cutting off the connection for a short period wouldn''t be lethal, but it would hamper what the Spirit could do and shut down mental connections. The latter was far too valuable to risk, so Ego left the door slightly open despite the danger of someone taking notice. Jaw set, they turned, ready for anything. They were wrong. "What are you doing?" The Monk calmly asked, when internally they wanted to scream. The cabin was small, providing the equivalent of half a bedroom¡ªdefinitely not the master bedroom. A simple wardrobe and thin twin bed took up one back corner; the other corner was curtained off, and the foul smell emanating from it meant it was a rudimentary bathroom. Much of the space by the window overlooking the deck was dedicated to a large ship wheel that appeared to be ripped straight out of a movie about sailing the high seas. Specifically, they must be on the set of a pirate movie because the criminal thugs had woven the Class suppression cuffs of Purple Cloak into the wheel. She sat on her knees, either arm outstretched and pinned. As a precaution, a sack had been over her head and, judging by the muffled protestings, had been gagged as well. That sight broke the Spirit''s heart but was already expected as they had seen her sorry state earlier from the window. What had Ego in an utter panic was that the Assassin had pulled a wickedly sharp wing-shaped dagger from somewhere and positioned himself behind Purple Cloak. "What am I doing here?" He demanded, pointing the knife carelessly at himself before pointing it at Ego. "What are you doing in here!? The last time I saw you, you were waving at us from the beach. What happened to the plan?" "Gregory We-" "Just call me Greg, please." Greg winced. "I''m named after my father, and I hate the bastard''s guts." "Very well. I apologize for the secrecy, but we felt that you would be uncomfortable if you knew I was walking among you unseen and decided to keep my presents a secret." The Monk explained as they got closer, careful not to appear overly cautious and frighten the knife-wielding Assassin. "The plan is still the same. Your freedom and your brother''s are guaranteed so long as you cooperate by staying out of the way. There is no need to use that knife." "The knif-" His sentence died as he looked confusedly down at the weapon. Then he rolled his goat eyes in annoyance. "Do I look like that fool of a Satyr downstairs? I know a knife without Wards can''t hurt a Spirit, and even if I had one, the second I went after you, the Lady Monochrome would wring me like a chicken. Also, Pete is not my brother, more like a convenient partner with a long history." Huh, they had chickens in Vajrayana. Ego would have to let Morgan know that interesting fact. Assuming a lighting bolt hadn''t pierced his heart by the end of this calamity of a day. Ego halted their advance and forced themself to visibly relax. While Wards were a mystery to them, everything else Gregory had said was reason enough to put a little trust in him. So, instead of asking, the Monk gestured to the weapon with a raised eyebrow. "Oh, this?" He flipped the knife carelessly over Purple Cloak, and the Monk nearly broke character to protest. "It belonged to the Hound before we managed to chain her. Its twin is in the wardrobe, and since the Professor broke my blades, I''ll happily keep these afterward. A shame about the rest of her gear, but it''s all high-grade custom work." The criminal casualty bent down and pinched a corner of the rich purple cloak, rolling the luxury material between his fingers with a wistful expression. "Won''t perform at its best on someone else, and we can''t risk leaving a paper trail by selling them. They''ll be going with her." Both Spirit and Caesar went deathly still at his implications. Suddenly, the Boss''s orders to ''see to our spare prisoner'' sounded far more sinister than they ever could have thought. Bronte had ordered the death of another being with no more thought than crossing out an item from a shopping list. "Uh, assuming you''ll let me keep them¡­ the knives, I mean." The Assassin stammered after the Spirit had gone entirely silent, believing they were upset about lot distribution. "Of course, the spoils will be determined by the powerful. I''ll just be content with my life and my freedom." "Greg, tell me where the key to her Class cuffs is." The Monk requested firmly, careful not to let their true emotions show on the avatar. It was a hard task. Part of them was disgusted, but they were mostly disturbed by the utter lack of value to life these Cultivators displayed. "We''re going to free her, not kill her." When the eyes of the Satyr went wide in panic, Ego knew they had royally screwed up. They had said that to comfort the prisoner but had forgotten about the jailer. "We need her to help us enter the city." They explained hastily. "I can get you in Olympia, no problem." Greg countered and began eyeing the door like a cornered rat. "This barge has a Stealth Array that''s tried and proven to get past the border patrols if you know the way." "The three of us need to visit information houses, and gaining Face here will be more expedient than coin." A light bulb went off. "However, for your generous assistance, I am sure your Herb Case can be returned and the weapons left in your care." "I know a few Scroll Brokers who can get you reliable information for a handful of Drach." Greg licked his lips, his hand slowly creeping up to his neck. "The case and everything on the ship will be yours, even the ship itself. Sell everything, and you can buy a peak amount of information." They both stared at each other, the source of their unspoken argument reminded unmoving, trying her best not to draw attention. "Greg¡­" The Monk sighed. "Let''s stop with the games. I can offer you much, but not her life. I promise, I will get her to agree to let you go without reprisal." "...The Caesar Clan will have Pete and me hunted down like Beasts in the streets if so much as a whisper of this dishonor reaches their ears. That is who they are, their nature." The Satyr whispered, looking down at Purple Cloak like she were some kind of monster. "Worst of all, they''ll send her after us; she isn''t called the Hound for being a docile lap dog. They might come after you three as well, you know. We only captured her because we thought she-" Before even finishing the sentence, the Assassin reached for Momo''s tail around his neck while simultaneously bringing the knife down on Purple Cloak. "Choke!" Order the Spirit only after materializing beside Greg and knocking the knife away, the blade skittering across the cabin floor. "Momo, choke him now!" "Mer!" Cried Monochrome in acknowledgment, tightening her hold only to find a resistance against her. "Mmm?!" By prioritizing life, Ego had given the Assassin a chance to slip a hand between the Beast''s tail and his windpipe. Realizing what was happening, Caesar began screaming something through her gag and hood. "Ash kill!" She repeated again and again. "Ash kill!" "N-NO!" Greg choked out in pain, stumbling away from the Spirit, his sight set on the ajar door. "I¡­ won''t become¡­ someone''s stepping stone!" As if the situation couldn''t get more chaotic, Ego felt Morgan chose that exact time to reach out. A quick glance out the window showed he and Bronte were still talking, so the Monk quickly answered while trying to understand what the Caesar was trying to say. [So we have a slight problem up here, but I think we''ll get it under control! So no need to panic or anything!] Ego placed their corporeal head as close to her mouth as possible. "ASH KILL! HE GOT A ASH KILL!" Alright, but what was an Ash Kill? [Gregory is trying to kill Purple Cloak but I''m freeing her as we speak so¡­] They paused, realizing Purple Cloak was definitely saying ''a'' and not ''an'' like one would for a word starting with a vowel. So, the first word could be missing a letter. Was it Bash Kill? Cash Kill? Dash Ki- Dash kill?... DASH SKILL!?! The Monk turned to see Greg using both hands to keep Momo at bay, but his legs were crouched, and his head bent forward, almost as if ready to sprint or¡­ [¡­ Oh Heavenly Dao!] Ego unintentionally screamed at Morgan from sheer horror. "Death March," Chanted the Satyr, his eyes hard as stone. "of Pheidippides." To the Spirit, everything played out like still frames on a movie reel, with each passing second bringing the scene forward one frame. The Princess had Greg in a stalemate form under his robes. The second hand ticked. Momo was suddenly hovering alone in mid-air, looking like the rug had been pulled from under her. Greg was a full stride closer to the door, having covered meters in that time. Another tick of the hand. Greg''s head was only a hair''s breadth from the door. Gravity had started to pull Momo down, and Purple Cloak continued to yell. Time moved forward, another tick. The cabin''s interior was instantly replaced by a view of the metal cabin door after the Spirit manifested their avatar outside. Ego''s sandaled foot made contact with the door. The second hand ticked. *Bang!* The door violently shuttered and, for a moment, looked like it would rip off its hinges. But it remained standing. The Monk clamped both hands over their mouth in shock at what they did. The shock lasted but an instant, and they opened the door, afraid they had killed the Satyr. At the foot of the door was the collapsed snoring form of Greg, and beside him, in a small pool of blood, was his broken right horn. Ego let out a quiet sigh of relief, tempted to collapse from exhaustion. "Greg!" Screamed Bronte, waking Ego right up. [Ego what the hell is-] [Fine! We''re fine.] The Spirit tried to sound more energetic than upset. [I just had to knock Greg out myself before he blew the whistle. But we''re still searching for the cuff key, so no matter what you have to do, don''t let anyone up here!] [...Understood.] He projected, and to Ego, Morgan had almost sounded¡­ excited? However, further speculation would have to wait as opportunity could be heard speaking within the cabin. "Thank you. That gag tasted like it hadn''t been washed in weeks." A cool, relaxed, and somehow untroubled voice came from over by the steering wheel. "I believe you are Lady Monochrome, correct?" "Mer." Admitted Lady Momo proudly. "And I believe there is another I have to thank." Ego couldn''t have asked for a perfect prompt. The Monk manifested before the potential alley, arms in sleeves, 108 beads clacking away in a helical orbit around them, their avatar''s smile the very essence of kind wisdom. "Greeting traveler. I am the Spirit known as Ego¡­" The Monk stumbled, realizing their entrance was wasted for Purple Cloak was still hooded. "Hello Spirit Ego." Said the Caesar pleasantly. "I would normally start by introducing myself, but it sounds like I am the least informed person aboard. So if someone able to speak Common would tell me what the fucking Hells is going on. That would be appreciated." 31. The Hound Pt.2 "Greg!" Yelled the Boss, immediately spinning on her heel to check what fresh mess her underling had cooked up. Honestly, she wasn''t the only one thinking along those lines. [Ego what the hell is-] [Fine! We''re fine. I just had to knock Greg out myself before he blew the whistle. But we''re still searching for the cuff key, so no matter what you have to do, don''t let anyone up here!] [...Understood.] He projected, his thoughts a jumbled mess from the idea of the Monk hurting anyone. How the fuck was Morgan going to keep a paranoid criminal from investigating a suspious sound originating from where her underling should be disposing of a potential danger? Simple. Give the foe something more dangerous to worry about. In fact, the sudden challenge excited him. "Are you sure going up to check up on your minion is wise?" Morgan called out to her retreating back. "You''d be leaving me here unintended. Who knows what I''ll get up to?" She paused, and for a second, Morgan thought he had her. "PETE!" Bronte roared with enough force to alert every pete in a 10km radius before turning around to give her prisoner a nasty grin of triumph. "To your latest question, the answer is nothing; my minion will keep you company. As for whether my action is wise, I will have to answer yes. Now be a good chained mutt while I make sure my other goat hasn''t been gutted by a hound." Huh, well, that failed miserably. Now, the Professor was going to have to do something idiotic. A stalling tactic that might not even work, and even if it did, there might be hell to pay down the line. However, Ego had said ''no matter what''. Hopefully, that wasn''t hyperbole on their part. If it was, then the Spirit had only themself to blame. Besides, the Scientist had wanted to do precisely what he had in mind since seeing his first Satyr. "And just like that, I''ve run out of questions, and by your count, you still have two. Impressive. I wasn''t expecting such quick thinking from you." He praised the Sage as she placed a foot on the staircase. "But with an Intellect Stat of 103, I guess I shouldn''t be surprised." *Crack!* The wooden step of the staircase snapped in half under the force of a startled Cyclops. "...What was that?" Bronte asked in a deadly whisper that was more frightening than her screaming. "No need to act coy with me; be proud of your achievements. I''m not sure how you rank among others at your stage of Cultivation. Yet, I can confidently say that a Stat over a hundred is the highest I''ve ever seen. Honestly, I find your Overall Rating of Middling as strange." Morgan gave her a short-lived smile, unable to help himself. "Is that answer enough for you?" Upon answering her third question and satisfying the terms of their Oath, the Professor felt relaxed. Or rather, he felt as if the figurative noose around his neck had been removed, and the return to normalcy was almost a blessing. It was hard to tell if the other party felt similarly or had even noticed. Since the Cyclops had slammed the mask visor down and closed the distance with a speed that did not match her massive frame. Bronte''s dinner plate hands grabbed the front of Morgan''s lab coat and lifted him off the ground, raising him above her own head. "Eh?" Morgan frowned down at the masked Cyclops, angrily sputtering in his shadow. "Did I touch a nerve, Bronte Legionborn?" Her mighty arms trembled, and he doubted it was from muscle strain. "Shut up, mutt! I''m the one with a valid question to ask; I don''t have to answer a damn thing! For my last question, I want to know if-" "Correct me if I''m wrong, but I''m pretty sure our Oath stated that we needed to speak with each other eyes to eye." Morgan interrupted, opening his fist behind his back, and willed the surprise hidden inside to zip down on the deck. "AH!" Bronte slammed the visor back up. With her eye opened so wide and the air drenched in the scent of ozone, he half-expected lighting to shoot from it. Was he smelling the gathering energies before the Skill triggered? He shouldn''t be from what research and experience taught him. Prana energy would be as reactionless as ambient Aether until triggered, but triggering a Skill should be impossible with his own Foundations so close. If only the Scientist could satisfy his curiosity with a quick peek with Perception. But the foe was cagey enough without adding Bloodlines to the mix. "Good." He said, watching the surprise hover just behind her head, ready to move at a moment''s notice. "Now I can properly enlighten you." Morgan jerked his head to the side, allowing the afternoon sun to shine right into Cyclops''s sensitive eye. The pupil shrank to a pinprick, desperate to limit the light flooding in. She blinked hard, and Morgan willed his surprise to hide in a location where it could be of more use when the time came. "That was a cheap shot, you bastard!" She shrieked and turned so the sun was to her back. "No more games! Tell me, are you an Inquisitor?!" "Good question. Personally, I would have asked that instead of questioning your stupidity, but to each their own." He raised a brow as her jaw dropped wide open. "Don''t look at me like that. I warned you about being predictable. " "T-that wasn''t a question!" She protested vehemently, shaking him with every sentence as if answers would come tumbling out of the man. "That was sarcasm! It can''t count!"The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Well, clearly it did; otherwise, they''d still be under the Oath''s effect. But seeing Cyclops so distraught was a good sign; it showed how valuable his information was. Now, the Professor had the leverage to coerce Bronte into another Oath, this one favoring him. If she refused to make a deal, then he could just set off his¡­ surprise? Was someone speaking behind him? "...get sent down here to do the drudge work, then not five minutes later, it''s all banging and shouting for me to come back up. Can''t stop in the middle of fueling up the Array, yet these damned hoofless¡­" Muffled, raspy complaints rose over the silence just before the trapdoor to the hold popped open, revealing the top half of Pete the Unicorn''s head. "Here I am, no need to-" Both Cultivators turned to Pete, who had become a deer in the headlights at the odd scene he had entered. Oh shit, Morgan had forgotten about him. "My apologies." Bleated Pete nervously. "Clearly, I''m not needed here, so I''ll-" The Satyr paused when he glanced at Bronte before pointing a finger at his forehead. "Boss. Why do you have a Realm Hopper egg under your helmet?" Well, there goes the surprise. [Ego. I hope you''ve found that key because we''re out of time.] Morgan projected and didn''t bother waiting for a response before slamming down the helmet visor. Without looking, he pointed a finger at the Satyr, "Wrong, you bipedal unicorn, it''s a Wisp." At the same time, the Professor uttered the name of the fourth and final Technique and ignited the red glowing surprise trapped within the helmet. Wisp was inspired by the Lamp-plants of Lamplight Isla, and out of his three combate capable Techniques, Wisp was the weakest. It basically made Mana mimic pure light, making it as harmless as a hologram. But what it lacked in power, it gained in vast utility. The design was as simple as a candle, consisting of only fuel and a wick, both parts constructed from Mana. Morgan surrounds the wick, Mana willed into the shape of a light prism, with a set amount of Mana that will fuel it once he triggers the Tech. By manipulating the angle and rotation of the wick, he can change the color. By adding more wicks, Morgan can create floating neon signs that move as if alive. By altering how quickly the wick burns through the fuel, he can control the brightness. As a rule, Wisp had to be triggered with a minimum burn rate equal to a candle''s brightness, or it fell apart, which was why the Professor had to keep it hidden in a palm. However, now that it was placed on the same side of the visor as Bronte, Morgan could have the wick flash burn all the fuel instantly. He had tested doing just that in the cave with a Wisp consisting of 3% of his max Mana pool, and that flash lit up the ceiling as if he brought in a miniature sun. The one inside the helmet had been stuffed with 15%, a little extra on behalf of Bizarro Swamp''s dearly departed. The last thing the cyclopean Cultivator ever saw was the Professor''s shaded face partially covered by a red sun. That infinite wall of color would haunt her dreams for the rest of her life, and only darkness would greet her waking hours. For the Mortals on the other side of the glass, they experienced something far less dramatic. First, there was a red flash comparable to what cameras could produce, then came the screams. "AAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!" Bronte howled bloody murder, immediately dropping the Professor before ripping off the now useless helmet and understandably rolling on the floor in pain. ¡°BASTARD OF A MONGREL CERBERUS! I''LL CYCLE YOU FOR THIS! I SWEAR ON THE HEAVENS, THE HOTTEST HELL, AND MY DAO THAT I WILL¡­" Morgan began ignoring the screams, as he had better things to do than listen to 50 different descriptions of his plotted murder. Instead, he got up to his feet and started fishing in his pocket for the cuff key¡ªa key that should have been in his inner pocket instead of the empty space his hand felt. Did it fall when the Sage shook him around like a rag doll? "Looking for this, you hoofless prick!?" ¡­This had to be some kind of sick cosmic joke at his expense. With the quiet, perhaps even mildly insane, wrath of a person who just wanted to take a nap, the Professor turned to find Pete holding his key. A roll of white gauze had been wrapped around the top of his head, save for the single horn that poked out from the right side. Each nostril had been stuffed with more gauze to halt the bleeding. Otherwise, he looked exactly the same: pants, no shirt, and clearly spoiling for a fight. "You want this key?" He taunted before dropping it into a pouch within the pants and striking a pose an amateur might consider a fighting stance. "You''re gonna have to fight me and take it off my broken bleeding corpse. Don''t bother using that Mod Skill; by the way, I''ll just close my eyes before the flash. You may have tricked the Boss, but the Bipedal Unicorn Itsawisp is useless against me." ¡­Holy shit, Morgan did not have the energy for this nonsense. "A couple of things you should know before you do something incredibly stupid." Lectured Morgan as he started circling around the possibly brain-damaged Satyr, throwing phantom jabs to intimidate him. "First, you are outnumbered as your brother in the cabin is unconscious while the other captive is being freed as we speak. Your leader is rolling around the deck half mad from pain, but soon she will realize this is a very flammable boat filled with people she doesn''t like, so I would like to suppress her Class with these cuffs before that happens. Third, you are an Archer without a bow and arrow. Fourth, closing your eyes will not save you. And last, the name is Wisp." "Greg isn''t my brother." "I really don''t care." "And I don''t care if I got your stupid Skill''s name wrong." Pete snapped, jumping and moving his hoofs in an insulting intimidation of footwork. "What kind of a Skill name is Wisp anyway?" "Wisp?" An unfamiliar voice asked with cold consideration. "I can''t say I''ve ever heard of a Skill like that one, modified or not. In fact, I didn''t even know there could be a Skill with less than three syllables in its name." The deck grew quiet as a blind Cyclops, a chained Human, and a one-horned Satyr turned in unison to face the new speaker. Standing behind them, obscured in the shadow cast by the cabin that had once imprisoned her, was a figure in a purple cloak. Gripped in each gloved hand was a dagger with a honed blade forged to resemble the wing of a bird of prey. From under the hood, eyes of gray steel pierced through the unnaturally thick darkness obscuring the rest of her face. Those eyes radiated pure, unfiltered hate and spiteful glee at seeing the sorry state of her former captors. If looks could kill, Bronte would be a bloody pool of mincemeat, while Pete would be nothing but mutton on a plate. Even Morgan felt some of the hostility leaking onto him just from being so close, and a desire to put his back against a wall seized him. When her attention rested solely on the Earthling, her gaze didn''t soften at all; however, the hate and spite melted away. Which wasn''t a total surprise, as Ego had likely filled her in on the situation beforehand. Even still, Morgan had been worried the Caesar might''ve blamed him for unintentionally getting her attacked and kidnapped because of a perceived connection. Thankfully, at least for the moment, it looked like she was willing to believe the enemy of her enemy was a friend. Perhaps if they all survive this mess, she could be convinced to bring them into the Capital or at least point the way. "Professor Charles Morgan, I presume?" said the Hound, and when the shocked Scientist nodded in the affirmative, she let out a satisfied sigh. "Thank the Heavens, Professor, that we have finally met. I have been looking for you all morning." 32. The Interviews Pt.1 "Of course you are. If today has taught me anything, it''s that people come from all walks of life just to meet me." The Professor deadpanned while subtly shuffling closer to the frozen Satyr and away from the rising Cyclops. "I don''t want to sound ungrateful for the company, but will there be any more surprise visitors?" "Unlikely Professor, but underestimating your popularity has already cost me once." The Hound chuckled before taking note of the ticking time bomb and addressed her like a peer. "Is there something I did to offend you, Sage? After our last talk, I thought you''d taken an interest in me; now you won''t even give a greeting." Bronte''s thick, callused hand covered her face; the other was clenched so hard in a fist it could''ve made a diamond from coal. She held onto one shaky knee, the screaming replaced by a rapid muttering almost as soon as the Caesar made her appearance. "...forcedtotakethisdamnedjobnowimabeasttamer¡­" Morgan was only a meter and change from Bronte, and he could hardly make out the breathy stream of sentences. Yet the Hound, standing in the cabin''s shadow nearly thrice that distance, seemed to have no trouble commenting. "Someone forced you to come here? How tragic." She sighed with all the sympathy of a wolf pack chasing big game. "And here I was, believing you were a perpetrator when you are just as much a victim as any of us, perhaps even more so. I see now that your beatings must have hurt you far more than it did me. My deepest apologies." "¡­Surroundedbyfool goats and privileged mutts that¡­" The Cyclops''s mutterings were advancing to low rumblings as both men took a quick involuntary step back, forgetting how squeaky the floorboards were. Surprisingly, she hardly seemed to notice any of them while lost in her little world of blind rage. "...When I get my hands on that pompous bitch again¡­" "Grauf-ufuf!" Purple Cloak howled with laughter, disposing of false politeness in favor of open mocking sarcasm. "Insults and threats? Such petty behavior should be beneath a Cultivator of your caliber. You''re better than that," The Hound paused, and Morgan could hear a hidden smile sharpening the end of the question to a razor''s edge, "Can''t you see?" A corner of the Professor''s mouth twitched up, but that was the acknowledgment he was willing to risk the verbal backhand. If Pete had any comments, he kept those to himself and only shuffled further away from the blast zone. Towards Morgan, in fact. All three watched Bronte''s hand fall away, revealing the damage he''d done. White sclera had become a skin-crawling shade of pink, a milky film had already begun glazing over the once vibrant brown iris. The destroyed organ glistened with tears, desperately attempting to flush away an irritant that had long since dissolved. "If you''re going to talk like your Fated, then you better be ready to put your Dao on the line, you smartass pup." Bronte sneered, blind eye staring right through the Caesar as she got both legs under her. "Once I catch you again, I''ll break a bone for every word in whatever blind joke you make. So please keep talking, I dare you." Dare her to what? Fall for the most obvious bait imaginable and get a taste of lighting? Morgan might''ve snorted if that wasn''t precisely what the Cyclops wanted. Instead of immediately responding with more mockery as he feared, Purple Cloak locked eyes with him before flicking her gaze to look past him. Looking past him at the empty deck free of bystanders who could get caught in the electrifying crossfire. He answered her with a nod. As the final bit of fuze burned away, all four Mortals chose one of two actions to prepare. The Archer and Professor crouched while the others took in a mouth full of air. Then¡­ "Sky Lord''s Wrath!" Thundered the Sage, and above her head, a nimbus of black clouds swirled into existence, arches of dark blue electricity crackling within. *Crack* "Empty Bridge!" Snarled the Hound and fell right through the floor before a bolt of lightning shot past where her chest would have been. Without hesitation, Bronte turned and took a heavy-weight swing at the space behind her. However, all her hook managed to do was sail harmlessly through the air and curse when her own momentum nearly sent her sprawling. "Void!" "I''m insulted, Sage. Did you really think my first move would be to stab you in the back?!" Called the Hound from far behind him. "Do I look like a common Rogue to- Oh, sorry. I forgot who I was talking to for a moment!" "Aaaaahhh!" Screamed the Cyclops and ran past the forgotten underling and original target of her mission. They hadn''t forgotten about each other though, and with Bronte focused on louder prey, their fight would start at the slightest provocation. For the sake of maintaining the ruse of being a follower of the Diamond Tantra, the Professor couldn''t risk using any more Techniques until the situation had become life and death. Not that he had much usable Prana in his Foundations anyway, as fighting Shrimpson, ambushing Gregory, and blinding Bronte had drained him. Now, he was little more than an injured Human going against an idiotic Archer without a weapon. He''d need to play this carefully and act ruthlessly. *Crack* Another bolt tore from the cloud. Like runners after the starting pistol, both men exploded into motion. The Satyr turned to run away as fast as his hoofs could take him, either to retrieve his bow and quiver or regroup with the Assassin. However, Pete wasn''t going anywhere with his friggin cuff key. When Pete ran, Morgan lunged forward, intending to grab the Satyr, but the sudden movement sent off Shrimpson''s memento. Pain from the injury made lights dance in the corner of his vision. The Professor faltered, missed the grab, and fell loudly on the deck. Pete glanced over the shoulder, saw his opponent''s sorry state and a greedy light entered those goat-like eyes. As Morgan got on all fours, Pete pivoted on one leg to send a clumsy kick whipping at his head. "Eat my hoof you-Ahh!" At the last second, the Professor caught the limb and yanked on it with all his remaining strength, forcing the scrawny Satyr to hop forward on one leg. Letting go once within a comfortable range, Morgan gritted his teeth and twisted onto his back to send a kick to sweep the remaining leg out from under Pete. He fell back first on Morgan, the lone horn painfully jabbing his stomach as the pair wrestled for dominance. Well, Morgan wrestled, the Archer sent elbow blows and headbutts that were more annoying than threatening. While ground grappling was never his preferred style in his youth, the bucking Pete had neither the experience nor the skill to offer more than a token resistance. In less than 20 seconds, Morgan had trapped the one-horned wonder in an arm lock that would have won him the round in an official match. Sadly, there were no referees in a real fight. Only the fighters could decide how and when a brawl would end. But when the Professor looked down, a fire of defiance was burning hotly behind Pete''s hard stare. "If you swear an Oath to surrender-" He started to negotiate, only to be cut off. "Let me save you the trouble!" Pete grunted, red-faced, his right arm straining to keep Morgan''s leg from fully clamping around the neck. "I won''t swear shit for nothing and nobody. So if you want that key, you''ll have no choice but to cycle me, fool! The fact you''d even offer me something so cowardly as surrender only proves your weakness. Hells, I bet that you can''t keep a hold on me for- ACK!" Losing interest in the delusions of a defeated foe, Morgan hooked the other leg over his own ankle to secure the lock and make the idiot focus more on defense than talking. "Assuming that cycle is slang for ''kill'', then you''re mistaken about how much of a threat you are." Corrected the Professor calmly and shifted his attention from the harmless Satyr over to the actual fight. "I can just wait for your arm to give out and take the key from your unconscious body. Honestly, I only made the offer because I wanted to watch their fight without having to check back on you. Now either struggle, give up, or take a nap like your brother." "He''s not my-Herk!" Pete choked, but that was all Morgan allowed as entertaining the little shit''s prideful struggle was grating on his last good nerve. On the other side of the barge, the battle between experienced Cultivators promised to be a gold mine of data he could collect. The only thing keeping the opportunity from being perfect was his inability to use the Bloodline. Hopefully, a certain jackass''s pointless struggle would end, and he''d be able to observe without fear of discovery.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. With mundane vision, he watched Purple Cloak dance around the hulking thug Boss, nimbly dancing between hammering fists that looked like they could fall a tree. The whole while, his ally spoke to the foe with icy politeness that sounded as if they were rivals having lunch. "Honored Sage, you should not be so rigid in your thinking." Counseled the Hound and was forced to roll to the side as rejection came in the form of a fresh bolt of false lighting. "Don''t think of my offer as an interrogation that would mean a betrayal to an organization you have likely spent years clawing up the hierarchy. Instead, consider it an interview where answering my questions can award you something the Filo could never provide. A future away from crime and poverty with a real possibility to Rank up. After all, the Bath House is always looking for competent Cultivators to protect it. Clearly, you can do that with your eye closed." Bronte must''ve found the proposition less than ideal as two more bolts fired at either side of the cloaked foe, even as the Sage charged forward. Purple Cloak was being corralled, the cyclops forcing her to backstep towards the waist-high wall, acting as the barge''s guard rail. Backing a quicker opponent against the wall was an excellent strategy, at least in theory. Purple Cloak was like an uncatchable feather fluttering in the turbulence created by the bulk Bronte. When they finally reached close enough to the rail that the Hound stepped on its afternoon shadow, she again fell right through the deck like it wasn''t even there. At first, the Scientist suspected she had some kind of intangibility Skill, but what happened next shattered that hypothesis entirely. For the Scientist finally caught the other half of the Skill. As the Caesar''s bottom half sunk in front of Bronte, the shadow cast by the Cyclops silently rippled like gelatin before a pair of legs simultaneously rose out of it. Empty Bridge lived up to its name as it didn''t affect a Cultivator''s tangibility at all. It created an Einstein-Rosen bridge, a portal between two faraway points in space. In this case, the Skill likely connected two shadows big enough for the user to slip in and out of. The Professor was impressed and desperately wanted to use Perception to capture every detail, but a tiny voice inside his mind grumbled at the display of yet another teleport-like ability. If Vajrayana just handed out the pinnacle form of transportation like candy at Halloween, then why had Morgan found his bucket empty? Did the Heavens despise him or something? Well, at least the Skill had some limitations, as not only did Purple Cloak need to fall down a hole before doing anything, but she also came up facing the same direction she went in. So, it took a second for the user to turn around and attack, which could''ve provoked an attack if the opponent wasn''t blind. Indeed, unaware of the Hound''s escape, Bronte interlaced her fingers and swung both massive arms in as wide an arch as possible to ensure a hit that had already become impossible to land. Immposable, until it wasn''t. "Exitus." Said Bronte, and following that all too familiar word, a two-handed warhammer of orange bronze suddenly appeared already in her grip. What should have been a failed swing transitioned flawlessly into the deadly spin of a shot put athlete mid wind up. By the time the Hound realized the counterattack was coming, she could see her shadowed reflection in the polished face of the hammerhead. *Clang!* The air rang as the hammer''s shaft was caught by the knives crossed together. Attempting to block the attack would''ve been like a vanilla Human stopping a charging bull by grabbing the horns. Improbable in the first place, and even if accomplished, that act would be incredibly stupid as now the Human would need to wrestle for control with an enraged bull. Blessedly, the Hound was smarter than that and decided to once again become the fluttering feather. She leaped backward in the air, offering as little resistance as possible so the hammer pushed rather than crushed. The Professor''s eyes opened a fraction more as excitement for the battle made his breath quicken. Perhaps one little peek with the Bloodline wouldn''t hurt¡­ Right? "I can see the fear in your eyes. I bet- I bet you feel like a fool now, prisoner. Blinding her was pointless." Pete managed to say as the Professor had unconsciously lessened the pressure on the hold. He would correct that after the Satyr. "The Boss might be a berserked monster ripped straight out of the Hells when she pissed, but she doesn''t need to see to kill Noble bastards." "You got one out of three statements right." Said Morgan, watching as the Caesar flew meters through the air before touching down. When she did, more crackling lighting forced her on the run again. "Your Boss might''ve lost the ability to perfectly aim her attacks, but her keen sense of hearing lets her keep track of the opponent''s movement. A task made easier thanks to this creaky ass boat squeaking at the slightest application of weight. Her intellect is nothing to dismiss either, as she realized when the Hound''s footsteps can''t be heard, there''s danger. That''s why she struck at her shadow just now and at the start of the fight. A clever trick as anyone can tell where their own shadow is by feeling what side of the body is facing the sun. So long as your Boss can stay away from other large shadows, the Hound is limited in using Empty Bridge. The Sage must''ve trained hard to fight while blindfolded, but she can only react to sound and predict enemy behavior without her sight." Their fight had become a game of cat and mouse once more, only now the enraged cat was forcing the fleeing mouse towards the port bow. On the left side of the barge, any shadow big enough to jump through would be cast over the poisoned swamp. A fact Bronte likely planned for. Consequences be damned, Morgan might need to intervene unless Purple Cloak had another trick up her sleeve. "How do you know all that about the Boss?" Pete hissed in shocked alarm. "She constantly wore a helmet that almost blocked out all light and needed it to use a major Skill. If she hadn''t trained the way she fought, then this fight would have been over by now." He chuckled dryly, even as he wondered where said helmet had rolled off to. "So you have a Dimensional Ring as well." The Hound mused aloud, calm and collected even while pressured. "One big enough to store your weapon. I have to ask, did you steal it, or was it a reward for being a good employee?" "I bought it with my own hard-earned Drachma. Not that your kind would know about earning anything." Sneered Bronte, periodically swinging her weapon to maintain distance. "Did the Clan award you a ring for being born from the right cunt." "Grauf-ufufu! They gave me several rings, actually." She admitted with a laugh, despite being less than a meter away from the shadowless guard rails. "One for treasures, one for casual use, and one for surprise traps. I am blessed by the Heavens to have such a caring family." "Three powerful Artifacts given to a spoiled child." Scoffed the thug in disgust. "What a waste! I don''t know how I missed them the first time, but when I take them off your corpus, I''ll be sure to thank-" Realizing what the Hound had divulged, the Cyclops''s useless eye blinked in surprise before her skin visibly paled. For a brief fraction of a second, Bronte''s assault was slowed by the possibility of falling for a trap. Which, in itself, was the trap. "Exitus!" The Hound yelled with more gusto than ever before and threw her knives. Morgan tried searching for whatever Purple Cloak had summoned, yet he saw nothing pop into existence. Because it was a trick, he realized, seeing through the deception instantly. A luxury he had taken away from Bronte. He followed the weapons first as one knife flew directly for her milky eye, only for the thug boss to deflect the predictable attack. *Clang* The first blade bounced off the hammer and tumbled towards the Human and Satyr, only to embed itself two meters from them. The other went right between the Bronte''s thighs to slam into the deck, exactly where her shadow was. Instantly, she twisted around and brought the war hammer straight down, intending to bludgeon the foe like a stubborn nail. Of course, all the instrument of destruction did was smash right through the deck and send a tremor throughout the barge. Understanding her mistake, Bronte tried pulling the hammer free, but the Hound wasn''t finished yet. Instead of retrieving her weapons, Purple Cloak found it much more expedient to simply vault over her dismayed opponent and punch the evil bitch right in the eye. "RAAAHHHHHH!" Thundered the Sage, stumbling back, but covered her retreat by willing the Sky Lord''s Wrath cloud to send wild webs of lighting in every direction in a meter bubble behind her. When Bronte felt the guardrail behind her, she ripped it off the boat and hid behind the makeshift shield while screaming, "Again with the eye!?! No more! I''d rather burn this whole barge down and risk the swamp than let a single one of you live! Did you really think I would-" *Clap!* With more strength than Morgan believed her frame capable of, the Hound brought her hands together. The Professor glanced at her, curious to know if this call for attention was a trick, a Skill, or the start of a mocking applause. As it would turn out, none of these were correct. It was a signal to the Hound''s allies to strike, allies Morgan was ashamed to admit he had forgotten entirely about. In the man''s defense, it had been a long day. A little more than a month ago, he was a senior citizen going to sleep at 9pm and had to worry about a fall ending his life. *Pop* The sound that came from the cabin behind him was almost too faint to hear over the lighting, burning everything in range. But heard it, he did. So when Morgan saw a black and white Beast suddenly appear within that bubble, her toothy maw already closing around Bronte''s left thigh, he wasn''t surprised in the least. He was proud. *Slap* Momo''s jaw snapped closed over the limb, her teeth piercing the robes and leather like they were made of paper. "WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!?" Groned the Sage, but she should''ve waited for the Beast to give her something to really cry about. *Snap! Pop* With a mighty twist of her head, Momo shattered the femur, only to disappear just as the Skill did. The Cloud over Bronte faded as the pain kept her from concentrating on the Skill, or the fight had simply gone out of the Boss. However, this was a fight in the real world, a struggle where death was a real possibility. Only two people decided when this fight ended, and the Hound wasn''t satisfied yet. Before Bronte could even collapse onto the deck, Purple Cloak ran at her former jailer and kicked her square in the chest. The Hound grabbed hold of the section of guardrail still attached to the deck and caught one flailing arm of the Cyclops before she fell overboard. Bronte managed to keep her feet on the deck, but with most of her body suspended over the water, only the Caesar kept her from falling further. As evident by the scarlet red blossoming on the gray pants, a swim now would be as deadly as any lightning bolt or war hammer. "It would appear that our negotiations have come to a close." The Hound said, her voice straining under the new burden. "So Sage, will you accept an interview, or will you die for the sake of the Filo conglomerate?" When Bronte didn''t answer immediately, Caesar''s hand ''slipped'', and her head got so close to the water''s surface that her hair bun became submerged. "I''ll talk!" The Sage promised frantically. "I''ll tell you everything!" "Excellent." Grunted the Hound. "Now I''ll need you to swear some Oaths before we get started. You should swear them quickly, because I''m not letting you up before you''re done." 33. The Interviews Pt.2 When Bronte was spared, the Professor let out a breath he didn''t even realize he was holding. At the same time, the idiot he had been continuously holding must''ve seen an opening because Pete had begun struggling violently again. A tightening of the arm lock managed to quiet the fool, but he still stubbornly persisted. But it was at a manageable level. When the defeated Cyclops, their best connection to this infamous Filo conglomerate, had been sent reeling over the edge, He''d almost had a friggin heart attack. His fear was silly in hindsight. The Hound had been nothing but cool and calculating during every encounter, to the point where he was convinced she had training in intelligence gathering as well as combat. So it wasn''t like she''d purposely fumble the ball. Besides, when Momo made her scheduled appearance, it was apparent Purple Cloak had his team''s blessings. Still it Now, with the present danger essentially under lock and key, the Scientist could finally spare a few seconds to ponder on something that was bothering him. [You realize that Pete is turning purple, right?] A voice spoke into his mind, though Morgan suspected the origin was standing behind him. [Hey Ego.] He projected distractedly, his gaze fixed on Momo, the Hound, and the Cyclops still suspended between life and toxic death. [Sorry for forgetting you existed; I got distracted while watching the fight. Real quick, let me ask you something.] [Right now?] They asked exasperated. [He looks like he''s trying to tell you something.] [He probably just wants to insult my lack of hoofs; don''t worry, he''ll tire himself out soon. Anyways, during the fight, did you notice how those two only used the Skill''s name once and never again? After watching Gregory in action, I hypothesized the Class Core worked like our Dimensional Ring and required a verbal trigger per use. Now I''m not so-] He stopped talking when the Spirit manifested their incorporeal avatar before him, glaring down at the Scientist disapprovingly. [No, I didn''t really notice that, no doubt, important observation, but I know, and I promise to write it down later. So why don''t we speculate later when Pete isn''t about to pass out?] [Honestly, this one might be more cooperative while asleep.] Morgan snorted, frowning down at the purple faced Satyr looking up with a frantic expression. [Besides, I tried asking for his surrender nicely, but he wouldn''t hear it. Plus, I couldn''t use the Bloodline during that entire fight because of him, so I wouldn''t mind a little payback.] [If he passes out, it''ll be you who chains him and drags his furry hide around.] The Monk warned with a wagging finger. Morgan''s chest throbbed just from the thought and with a grunt of begrudging acknowledgment, he loosened the hold just enough for the Satyr to speak. "My Scout Array is going off!" Pete exclaimed, his voice even raspier than usual. "I need to see what''s coming and from what direction! I swear on my Dao I won''t attack your hoofless ass for at least an hour, so let me check! That last hammer blow from the Boss might''ve attracted the rest of the Beast flock!" "I¡­agree to your terms." The Professor said with slight hesitation, surprised by the incredibly one-sided Oath. "And swear on my Dao to uphold the terms?" Again, Morgan felt the prickling sensation of a collar placed around his neck, so it must''ve counted, and he released the hold before getting back on his feet. The Archer didn''t even bother getting up, instead choosing to jam a hand right down his pants without any regard for onlookers. He fished around momentarily before grabbing hold of something and ripped it free of the leather string it hung on. In the Satyr''s grip was a small brown leather drawstring bag, sides distended and lumpy from whatever contents had been stuffed inside. The bag must have had sound-damping properties because when Pete tugged the mouth open, the air filled with a steady metallic ringing of a bell. *Ding. Ding. Ding.* Two sharp intakes of breath made Morgan look towards the port bow and found all three women staring at him. He gestured for them to wait as Pete turned the bag over and dumped its contents on the deck. There were only two items within: the cuff key and a sleek black object with a convex top and pointed bottom¡ªthe Scout Array. As Morgan bent down to retrieve his key, Pete quickly snatched the ringing Artifact and slapped it on his palm while shooting him a withering look, almost as if warning the man against any foolish notions. When he raised a brow in question, the Satyr doubled down by securing the shield-shaped treasure with both hands so that only the center was exposed to prying eyes. Only when the Professor grabbed his key and took a step back did Pete begin studying the Array. Naturally, that didn''t stop the Scientist or the Monk from leaning in for a closer exception. Tiny beads and rods made of what looked like white quartz were embedded within the black surface. They were arranged so that a single quartz bead at the center was surrounded by eight evenly spaced rods pointing out to eight more beads. As they all watched, the outer bead on the top left glowed green and blinked in time with the ringing. *Ding. Ding. Di-* Suddenly, all sound cut off just as the green bead remained lit. Then, the rod pointing at it lit up solid green along with the center bead. The quartz rod pointing towards the bottom now blinked with green light, though the alarm remained silent. "We''re safe!" Announced the Archer loudly, looking directly at Bronte. "Only one Beast entered the inner threshold off the port bow, but it''s likely heading towards starboard quarter, away from you, Boss! But I''ll keep an eye in case it changes directions." Both women visibly relaxed at the news, which, considering their current circumstances, meant more of Sage''s head became submerged. After some repositioning and frantic pleas that were denied, the Hound returned to binding her new employee in so many Oaths that Bronte would need to request permission to blink. [What kind of directions are those?] Asked the landlubber Monk, crouching unseen beside Pete, who watched the blinking rod with an impressive amount of diligence that Morgan hadn''t thought the Satyr possible of. Although, to be fair, anything higher than zero was technically impressive. [Port bow is the front left of a ship and Starboard Quarter is back right.] He projected while fishing around the lab coat for his shades. Aloud, the Scientist asked the unicorn, "Can I see that Artifact for a moment? I promise to give it back afterward." "No." Snapped the Satyr, holding the Array even tighter as though Morgan was the criminal here. "The thing only works for Archers and related Classes. You an Archer? No? Then stop eyeing my stuff." "Fine." Morgan shrugged, resolving to take a peek later. "You want me to put the cuffs on you, or did you want the pleasure?" "Can''t use an Artifact with a suppressed Class Core, can I, Professor?" He scoffed derisively, adding under his foul breath. "Some teacher you are." From behind his rounded sunglasses, the Professor''s eyes narrowed at the unicorn and considered that nothing was stopping him from breaking off the other horn. Ego likely realized the same and tried distracting him from the growing irritation. [You know, for an Archer-only Artifact, I''m surprised you aren''t meant to hold it like a real arrowhead while reading it. You know, with the point facing away from the Archer. I''m sure it''s just a style choice, but it seems like a missed opportunity if you asked me-] In quick succession, the Spirit tensed, relaxed, then checked the unchanged Scout Array, only to tense again before casting Morgan a puzzled look. [That''s strange; the Beast just entered my range, but the Array isn''t showing a change¡­ So shouldn''t I have heard it entering from the front left instead of the back right?] *Th-Thump* For the first time in days, Morgan''s heart thrummed with unnatural force. His thoughts raced at a million kilometers a second as data points began connecting to one another. Both the Scout Array''s outer and inner threshold ranges are far larger than Ego''s range of 10.8 meters. Regardless of how much the size difference was, it should have been impossible for the Beast to enter that smaller range from that angle. Doing so would require changing directions or for a different Spirit Beast to be the culprit, but neither Pete nor the Artifact reported any new variables. Faulty tools?... No. The Spirit''s Essence detection was tried and proven, and the same could be said about the Array''s performance thus far. After all, it had successfully detected them both earlier. So, the anomaly had to originate from something else. Faulty users?... Unlikely. The Professor wasn''t sure Ego could be mistaken in detecting Essence, and even Pete wasn''t stupid enough to misread friggin dots and lines on a¡­ shield. But they hadn''t called it a shield at all. They had immediately thought of the Artifact''s shape as an arrowhead, and that made 100x more thematic sense than it being a shield. Morgan had only continued to think of it as that because of the way it was held, with the point facing the user. So in a way, he had trusted Pete to know what he was doing. Oh dear god¡­ Only a second had elapsed since Ego had spoken, but it was to the Satyr that the Professor casually addressed. "Quick question. How do you know which way is the correct way to hold the Scout Array?" The Monk''s puzzled expression shattered, exposing the same wide-eyed terror Morgan felt gnawing at himself. "I''m not sure what kind of Heaven-forsaken stump you crawled out of." The scarred Archer said with disgust dripping from each word like sewage from a leaky pipe. "But where I come from, even children know to keep the pointy end of an arrow away from themselves. So if the Array looks like an- Hey! Where are you going?! And why is there a monk suddenly on board?!" The idiot''s clueless taunt became clueless questions as Morgan took off running, racing as Pete had all but confirmed the truth Ego was already shouting. "Pull her in! Pull her in!" Shouted the Monk, their avatar fully corporeal and waving desperately at the startled women. "Pete read the array upside down! The Beast is heading straight for-!" Too late. *Splash* With all the grace of a breaching dolphin and the lethality of a hunting great white, the Phol¨®¨¥ Stymphalian launched itself from Bizzaro''s swampy waters. Even from his position, Morgan saw the avian monster had patches of feathers missing, the pale flesh underneath was burned raw. This was number 25, he realized, the lone survivor of the flock that Bronte had slaughtered out of convenience. Now, #25 had returned, soaring through the air with both wings engulfed in a toxic miasma. "What are you doing, Hound!? Pull me in! Please, I swear on my Dao what I know is worth my life!" Came the tragic demands and pleads in equal measure. Tragic because the Cyclops didn''t even realize how much of an effort was being expended on her behalf. Even with Purple Cloak tugging on one arm and the other being held by Ego, being pulled by Momo, lifting the heavy set Cyclops was proving a challenge without help. ¡ªHelp that was either too stupid or too far away to be of any use. The Professor had yet to assign a name to the Move of the island-bound Stymphalians. But, he knew from previous encounters that the green haze they all saw was actually steam produced from Mana flash-heating the soaked feathers. In the air bubble below, the Move served as a guarantee of bringing down prey. Up here, it took on the function of ensuring revenge would be served one way or another. "Greg!? Pete!? Damn you fools to the hottest of Hells, I need help!" She thundered in blind fury, one massive milky eye searching in vain for the danger. "I can''t die here! PULL ME UP!" But Bronte the Sage was already dead. She was just the only one who couldn''t see that. They all watched as #25''s wing cut right through both of the Cyclops''s arms as if they were wet paper. With the struggling counterweight suddenly gone, everyone else was sent tumbling back on their ass. So only Morgan got the terrible honor of watching Bronte in her last coherent moments as she fell backward into death, her blind eye staring in incomprehension at the bleeding stumps. Despite being an alien from a different universe, he knew what last thought was echoing within that mind. The Professor had seen that same expression on his students many times before.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. "I don''t understand." He could almost hear the Cyclops whisper. She hit the water, and before fear and pain could coax out a scream, neurotoxin sent her body into a grotesque slashing spasm. Emerald swamp water all around her darkened from the blood, turning a sickly shade of mold green. The sight dredged up memories, and Morgan''s gut twisted. Tempted as the old man was to look away, responsibility demanded that he watched it all play out. After all, if life was so cheap that one could ignore death so easily, then what value was there in being alive? There would be none, he knew. So, with an all-too-familiar numbness, Morgan again observed an ending he had played a major part in causing. He took solace in the knowledge that death would claim its harvest quickly, a mercy for everyone involved. In seconds, the flailing slowed to random twitching, only noticeable by the pitiful ripples they sent out. Soon, even that disappeared. Bronte was gone, and her corpse bobbed on the surface face down, forever searching the forest of Bizarro Swamp. Only when Morgan accepted that did he become aware that he wasn''t the only observer. The Princess had seated herself comfortably on him, and to his right, the Monk offered prayers for the not-so-dearly departed. Right behind them, Purple Cloak gave Pete an honest review of his recent display of competency. "Incredible work, I have to say." Commended the Hound sarcastically, her tone so deadly cold it could''ve buried the idiot in an avalanche of snow. "Truly, I have never met someone who was as much a threat to the enemy as they were to their own side. And when I realized you accomplished so much by doing so little, I am left awestruck!" "Hey! Careful where you point that thing you bitch of a- Apologies! A slip of the tongue, I swear!" The Archer''s contempt instantly dissolved into total obedience, and Morgan suspected a winged-shaped knife was involved. "What I meant to say was that a descendent of a noble Clan should be careful, is all. Calling you a bitch was an honest mistake after seeing you without the hood! Besides, it''s not like being called a bitch can be insulting to someone like-" *Thud* Something clattered to the deck like a sack of potatoes. Hearing that, the trio turned around to find the shirtless Satyr dead asleep, a new splotch of blood blooming on his head bandages. None of them really cared about that part; what really captured all their attention was the one holding said knife. Finally his necklace heated up, attaching a name to the purple cloak. [Out of the four Class Cores we''ve inspected, why did hers need to be the only one with redacted information?] Ego sighed disappointedly into his mind, though their avatar gave the Caesar a courteous bow. The Professor couldn''t help but agree, as he really didn''t want to use the term that immediately came to mind. Where Greg and Pete had distinctly human-like faces that greatly resembled a goat''s, Septima almost literally had the head of a wolf with some comparatively minor changes. Those being the larger amount of white sclera surrounding the iris and what had to be additional facial muscles that allowed her to flash a toothy grin at the trio. The short fur that covered her face was a mix of three different shades of light gray. Her hair and eyebrows were pure black, with the former cut short into something approximate to a pixie cut. Stiff triangular ears with rounded tips stood upright high on the skull, and a twitching wet nose sat at the end of her muzzle. [From only her head to go by,] the ecologist judged. [I''d say she closely resembles a subspecies of gray wolf, specifically the Apennine wolf.] [Which, given both her middle and last name, is about as surprising as Earth''s sun setting in the West.] The Spirit snickered half-heartedly, their thoughts lingering on the dead. [Would you believe me if I told you that fact surprised an alarmingly large number of people in my younger days?] [...No?] But before Morgan could damage the Spirit''s image of humanity, Septima unknowingly spared them that cursed knowledge. "While I am flattered by the undivided attention, we should learn from the Sage''s fatal mistake and halt further discussion until we are on safer waters. Preferably one that smells of something other than lightning and poison." Her nose wrinkled in displeasure before she stiffened and rapidly sniffed the air like her namesake. Then she zeroed in on Morgan with brows furled. "Is that blood I smell coming from you, Professor?" In answer, he pulled on the black t-shirt''s collar, displaying the top half of the injury that had started turning an ugly shade of bruise purple, a gruesome complement to the red, burnt skin. Ego and Septima winced sympathetically from the sight, but only one needed an explanation. "What, this? It''s just a little memento from our first visitor of the day, a Spirit Beast that had attacked us after a mistake in identity." He chuckled dryly. "Once we set the record straight, it departed, and almost immediately afterward, we saw you four heading here. It''s been a busy day; no time for proper first aid when so many people want to meet us." "Not that we blame you in the slightest." Ego backpedaled for him. "We were happy to lend out our help. My traveling partner is just crank- I mean, a little ill-tempered from his Prana being drained. The Beast we fought had a Threat Level of Asura, after all." When the Hound''s gray steel eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets, Morgan had to give the Monk props for building up their image. But perhaps Ego did too well of a job because now she was watching them with a hungry expression. "If your group really fought and drove off such a powerful foe before going after these fools, then maybe the trip out here really was worth the effort. Auntie said you had a pension for trouble. Tell me, what is your Overall Ra-" For the first time, Septima''s voice had lost some of the collected grace, and for a moment, he heard a burning excitement under that calm glacier. However, the slip was quickly corrected. "Apologies, I was caught off guard." "No offense taken." Said the Professor, as the mention of this Auntie who apparently already knew him sent mental alarms blaring an emergency. "But if you''d be so kind, I wouldn''t mind receiving a proper greeting, maybe even a name if you''re feeling generous. I''ll even go first since you already know my name." He stuck out a hand only to take it back with an annoyed grunt when the etiquette teacher cleared their throat unnecessarily. Instead, the Human Cultivator placed his right palm over his closed fist in greeting, earning a double thumbs up from a beaming Spirit. Above, Momo let out a snort of disapproval. If the Vajrayian found the scene odd, she didn''t let it show in her greeting. If anything, it only fanned her interest further. "Hello, my name is Septima Augusti Caesar, seventh Hound of Clan Caesar." She repeated the gesture, officially giving them her name. Then, giving them a wolfish smile, she added, "I am delighted that your ignorance of Vajrayana culture has been cured in such a short time. So, in acknowledgment, why don''t I add my species and preferred pronouns to the mix? I am a Lupus, and use she and her." Morgan and Ego froze while Monochrome released a low rumbling growl, a reaction at sensing his sudden discomfort. Of course, the Princess didn''t have a clue as to why the Hound''s words shook them; Momo wasn''t there that day in the grove of black trees. Neither was Septima, but clearly, one of the other two beings who were present had decided to share that little anecdote. And he had an idea of who had talked. "What can I say? I had a good teacher." The Professor shrugged evenly, unsure how to proceed without knowing how much Eris had told her¡­niece? "Lady Septima, why did your¡­ Auntie, send you our way?" The Spirit prodded, deciding subtlety wouldn''t get them anywhere quickly. "The Professor and I were told not to expect further assistance after we parted." The Hound of Clan Caesar opened her muzzle but was cut off when they were all reminded that the Universe was indifferent to their petty drama. *Splash* Everyone spun on their heels as #25 shot from the water to land on top of its fallen enemy. Which, given the size disparity, made the Scientist think of penguins walking on smaller ice floats. It was almost cute in a morbid way, though he decided now wasn''t the time to share that stray thought. Although Momo might''ve described the creature as tasty rather than cute. While maintaining line of sight with the trespassers on the barge, the Stymphalian pecked at the back of the body''s skull, checking to see if the Sage was really a necromancer. When death was confirmed, the Beast pointed its black beak straight up at the sky, unleashing a cry of victory. Without the Phol¨®¨¥ tree''s dense air artificially deepening sound, #25''s screams sounded like metal scraping against metal. "Caw!" The triumphant hero of the swamp beat a wing against its crop with every screech. "Caw!" Then, as if Fate was telling them it was time to go, dozens of submerged shadows began darting around the barge, the previously calm surface now churning with danger. "You know what?" Asked the Professor, picking up Pete by the shoulders. "I agree with the Hound. The Sage taught us a valuable lesson, so let''s honor her sacrifice by talking later and get the hell out of here." "Don''t have to ask me twice." Said Ego, grabbing hold of the Satyr''s hooves. "Mrr!" Barked Lady Momo in agreement, not keen to be on the wrong end of a meal. "If you two could lock that one," She gave Pete a swift kick, "down in the hold and bring down the other one as well, I can focus on moving the barge back to the Olympia Sea." "Works for me." He said and looked at the trapdoor, an element of hunger entering his eyes. From what the Scientist had pieced together, the hold was confirmed to hold a Stealth Array and likely held whatever Aether-powered engine the craft ran on. With Septima busy and the Satyrs asleep, he could take a quick, uninterrupted peek with the Bloodline. Assuming, of course, the drain on his Essence wasn''t absurdly high. Feeling giddy at the possible gains for his research, he motioned the Spirit to hurry. Just as Morgan was about to shuffle past her, Septima grabbed hold of his arm, earning another growl from Momo. He raised an eyebrow, but she released him, only wanting to catch the trio''s attention. "Once the Satyrs are locked away, both of you should come join me in the cabin. The sooner we start your interviews, the sooner we can leave for the Capital." Before they could so much as open their mouths for a response, the Lupa Mal stepped in his shadow and fell right through.
Minutes later, the other bipedal unicorn was lifted onto Morgan''s back, Momo having vacated the space to watch the Archer already chained up with the hold. The Monk gingerly placed Greg''s broken horn into the lab coat''s pocket and shot the unconscious Satyr a guilty look before opening the cabin door. Ego knew their vessel was eager to return to the hold after finding the cabin only housed the ship''s wheel and little else. The Professor shifted from side to side, ensuring the cargo was secure before letting out a satisfied grunt, but he didn''t leave yet. He looked past them, over to Septima, who had taken command of the helm with both hands yet hadn''t so much as twitched a muscle since they both entered. With her eyes closed and her head bowed so low that her nose almost touched the wheel, Morgan hypothesized she was interacting with some mental interface. Either that or the Hound was screwing with them. Finally, the Earthling''s attention shifted back to the Spirit for only a moment as the pair traded more mental messages, and then he walked out the door. Ego''s avatar didn''t disappear, or follow after on foot, or even bothered to close the door. Instead, with arms in sleeves, they walked deeper into the wolf''s den and found the Hound looking right at them, an amused chuckle escaping her toothy grin. "Now, this is a surprise, Ego; I would have thought you two would have rather we talk together. Perhaps after consulting each other for a while down in the hold where any whispers couldn''t be overheard." She looked out the viewing window, her gaze following Morgan descending downstairs. "Not that I mind doing several interviews if that is your preference." "Actually, you''ll only have to give the one today." Ego said merrily, taking a spot to her left. "We agreed long beforehand that I should be the one to handle any negotiations regarding our group. Morgan will accept whatever arrangement we agree to and join us after satisfying his curiosity." Hearing that, Septima gave them a dubious look before returning her sight to the waters around them, the swamp still filled with submerged Beasts. With as much effort as someone trying to move a boulder by hand, she turned the wheel 150¡ã clockwise, and the barge sluggish did the same. "Is he going to question those useless goats?" Sepitma asked. "Truly, he might as well not bother, as they almost certainly know less about their employers than I do. Even their leader, the Sage, likely had only a shade more knowledge than I do. The Filo conglomerate are undoubtedly arrogant upstarts, but they''re wise enough to compartmentalize information. Still, we were fortunate to have her Dimensional Ring. If he''d like, I can give him-" The Monk gently raised a hand to stop her from going further, their avatar displaying a sheepish expression. Even now, through their bond, they knew exactly what the Professor was doing. "Sorry, but while we," they put extra emphasis on the last word, "are very interested in the organization after us. I should tell you that Greg and Pete aren''t the source of his interest in the hold." "Oh?" Septima murmured, fully attentive but needing to concentrate as the vessel finished turning and began drifting under power toward the closest edge of the swamp. "Then what is?" "Would you believe me if I told you that he really, really wanted to watch the arrays in action?" The Hound choked, and the entire barge jolted back like someone had hit the brakes. Thankfully, the barge quickly returned to its slow march towards the edge. However, Septima hardly paid it any mind now as she stared at the Spirit blankly. Ego gave her a ''what-are-you-going-to-do?'' shrug, and she burst into howls of laughter. "Yes! Grauf-ufufu! Yes, I would believe that from a Mortal who would antagonize a Kraken just to see how he''d respond! Uf-ufufu!" Then the laughter died, and crisp cool coated her words again. "Auntie warned me about that curiosity of his, but I never expected something as trivial as an array could capture his attention. It was my mistake; I had forgotten how new he was to our Universe. Apologies for my outburst." "Hee-hehe! No need for an apology; if anything, I can sympathize." They snickered, feeling a little more relaxed after seeing a hint of a person under that mask of ice. That didn''t mean the Monk let down their guard. "Perhaps we should start our talks with how much our Patron has shared with you." "Hmm." The Hound hummed as she considered something. "A fair suggestion, but why don''t I give you the letter she wrote me? That should allow you to understand what secrets have been shared and what was kept hidden while I pilot us safely down to sea level. We can speak afterwards." Naturally, the Spirit was happy to agree and offered a bow in gratitude. Taking a hand off the wheel, a golden ring glittering on her finger, the Hound looked like she was about to pull the letter from storage, but something stopped her. Septima''s brows came together, almost as if she was trying to recall the ring''s activation word before the Hound''s face suddenly became crestfallen. "Oh dear." She whispered, her tone tinged with regret. "Is there an issue, Lady Septima?" Ego asked kindly while seriously considering contacting Morgan for backup. "There is." She admitted. "This is rather embarrassing to admit this, but I seemed to have forgotten the letter back in the Capital." "...You did, did you? Well, that is unfortunate." The Monk said, trying to figure out what new game Septima was playing here. Morgan had warned about the possibility that Septima might be trained in intelligence gathering, so Ego needed to be on guard against any manipulation tactics she might deploy. That didn''t make Septima an enemy, he promised, just someone who should be closely watched. Obviously, this bait-and-switch was her goal from the start, but they weren''t willing to call for help just yet. So long as Ego understood the potential dangers and didn''t dance to whatever tune the Hound played, nothing could go wrong. "It is unfortunate. I shouldn''t have left Olympia in such a rush to get to you all, it was foolish of me. The letter must still be in my family''s Tea House that I-" The Spirit suddenly manifested in front of the wheel, blocking her view. Their avatar looked at her with eager eyes bluer than the sky, their excitement palpable as the Spirit looked ready to carry the barge on their back all the way to the Capital. "Did I hear that right?" Ego asked, outright bouncing on their heels. "Your family owns a Tea House?" 34. The Stump Studying the Engine Array and Stealth Array, as well as the many other Enchanted items Morgan managed to bring down into the hold, revealed less than he hoped but more than he feared. However, nearly 20 minutes after departing the island swamp, it soon became apparent that any further progress on Enchantment education within the mildew-reeking hold would be impossible without a necessary tool. In this case a Rune to Common translator. But at the moment, Morgan wasn''t concerned by anything down there besides the closed door of the tiny storage area. The little room it led to must have been an addition Bronte and her crew installed because it was made of what appeared to be scraps of a different vessel. Its walls, likely segments of scavenged decks, were poorly fitted together, allowing even the smallest of whispers spoken within to escape. "...Naw, he can''t hear us." Said a raspy voice, his whispered statement unknowingly proven false. "Shhh! You don''t know that for sure!" Hissed the other, anxiety making his voice an octave higher than natural. "Besides, I promise you he isn''t the one we have to worry about. Now shut up about Inquisitors before the Lady makes you shut up, and I get caught up in the crossfire." The Satyrs had woken up when the barge fell to the sea, and both criminals agreed that faking sleep was the safest road to survival. Something the Professor agreed with and did his part by ignoring them the entire time. So, not for the first time, the conspiring of two bleating fools managed to pierce his concentration. Most of the persistent whispers were just trading personal accounts of the day''s events, nothing worth Morgan''s attention. This was until Greg had uttered something the late Bronte had mentioned. Which was something a hell of a lot more interesting than wallowing in regret. So, accepting that today wouldn''t be the start of his Enchantment education, Morgan shelved the matter to take up the role of the proverbial fly on the wall. "If the thing-" "Lady Momo!" Whispered Greg insistently. "-hasn''t attacked us by now, then it-she doesn''t care about us talking." Continued Pete reasonably, a combination of words that threatened the very natural order of things. "If the Professor guy hears us talking about him and he really is an Inquisitor, then we might as well just toss ourselves in the Void now because we know too much. But if we notch this arrow just right, we might-" "Why Hells are you saying ''we'' for? It''s you who''s poking a horn where it doesn''t belong." Snapped the Assassin. "Stop trying to drag me to Diyu with you because you never learned to deal with boredom." "Hey Greg, in case you didn''t notice, we''re already in chains. You don''t need my help to land you furry ass in a cell." Sneered the Archer before swapping to a more amicable tone. "And it ain''t boredom that''s bothering me. So you can sit there and become another nameless stepping stone, or¡­" Greg let out a long sigh, taking the bait his partner in crime offered. "Or what, Pete?" "Or you can walk away a free Satyr by helping me figure out whether or not the bastard is an-" Pete''s pitch was almost drowned out by Greg''s quiet mocking laugh. "No, I mean it, damn it! I got a plan to get us out." "Bahaha! A plan, from you? I''d sooner believe that two of the rocks in your skull smacked together, and you''ve confused the spark for an idea." Suddenly, his tone became as dark as his chosen Class. "What''s your plan? Even if you''re right and he is an agent of the Court, you think blackmailing an agent will get you anything but recycled?" "That''s why I''m not gonna tell him, I''m gonna tell the patrol guards." He insisted. "Think about it: if Clan Caesar is sneaking Inquisitors hiding the Wild Zone into the Capital, then wouldn''t that mean the leaders of said Capital don''t know what''s going on?" "That¡­ makes some sense." Greg sounded as startled as Morgan felt. "The palace has its own private Gate to use if they want to quietly bring in an offworlder. So maybe the palace is being kept in the dark about this." "That''s what I''m saying. Lucky for our city''s ruling Clan, Fate has sent us to light their way. Exposing a scheme between the Faction leaders and Court in exchange for not tossing our behinds in Diyu, and I''d say it''s a fair exchange." "Hmm. Normally, the guards wouldn''t believe a word we say to them, but when they see the Hound entering Olympia with such an odd Cultivator, then it might be possible to get their attention. First time I saw the Professor, I nearly shit myself thinking he was an Attendant." Morgan noticed the Assassin had started using ''we'' now. "I''ll admit that pointing out the potential danger might postpone our arrest, but if we''re wrong-" "We won''t be any worse off." Finished Pete smugly before growing serious. "Which is why you need to tell me about that Inquisitor who got caught accepting bribes a couple of years back. Her name was something Takenaka, I think. You wouldn''t shut the Void up about them slapping the cuffs on the hoofless bastard, but did they really?" "What? Arrest her?" Snorted Greg. "Of course they did. No way the Celestial Court would''ve let someone cutting deals with the Dragons go free, especially when the whole Realm was watching. Can you imagine what''ll happen if those nosey pricks start thinking they''re above Court law like they are with Faction law?" Hearing that, the Professor became fully invested in their hushed conversation. "No, that''s not what I-" "Inquisitors would be openly doing exactly what they''ve been doing for years in secret! Stealing resources, selling information, and claiming whatever they do is allowed because it''s part of an investigation that no one is allowed to know about." Greg continued, answering his own question in what was quickly becoming a one-man debate. "Sure, the threat of inquiry keeps the higher Ranks from gutting us like fish, but that''s only because the whole department is kept on a tighter leash than the Heavens. It''s like I''ve been saying for years, if-" Whatever the Assassin had been bitching about for years was lost as Morgan silently made his way over to them, careful to place each step near the wall where floor planks were less likely to squeak when stepped on. In a dozen steps, the Professor lay at the door, his right eye peering hungrily through the gap between door and hull. There was an actual peephole drilled at eye level, but the former jailers would naturally check there for spies. He looked up at the seated prisoners, watching Greg drone on about and on about alien politics while Pete silently banged his head against a knee. From what he overheard, an Inquisitor was something akin to a government investigator, and hearing his unique situation made it possible to be mistaken for one felt like rain nurturing an endless field of wildflowers. Each colorful bloom was a potential scheme made possible by the perfect alibi. So, of course, Morgan refused to believe it wasn''t a trap until he saw the words literally leave their mouth. Getting so close was a risk; all the Satyrs had to do to discover him was look down at the bottom right corner of the door, and they''d spot the pale blue eye surveying them. But that was fine. The Professor would have to confront them eventually, as they planned to set the Capital guards on his scent. "You done rambling like a bitter old goat on their 12th cup of the night?" Pete asked, barely containing his frustration as his fellow nodded. "Well, that''s good because I was asking about the cuffs, Greg, like the shackles on our Heaven damned wrists. When the bitch was arrested, did they use Class suppression cuffs to hold her? I''m betting they didn''t." "Why would¡­?" Greg gave him a bewildered look before shaking his head in disbelief. "Of course, her Class was suppressed. Don''t you remember that picture of Takenaka being marched away in chains? Weeks after the arrest, you still couldn''t walk five steps in the lower districts without seeing a poster nailed to a wall. There''s even a few posters still in the cargo bay. Seriously man, at least try to pretend your memory isn''t complete shit. It''s embarrassing." The Archer''s face reddened, and for a moment, Morgan expected punches to start flying. However, retaliation came only as a hissing snarl. "No. Embarrassing is thinking that being known as the Hit-and-Run Killer is something impressive." But as soon as the reflexive insult was out, Pete physically deflated and started muttering to himself. "Damn, and I really thought I had something there. Ah well, we''ll just lie to the guards and cry Inquisitor anyway. With any luck, the cowardly pricks upstairs really do have something to hide¡­ With a face like that, the Professor probably has a dirty secret or two hidden under that ratty set of robes... Hey, why are you gawking at me like that?" Personally, Morgan would have described the look on the Assassin''s face as an irritated glare. However, his view on the matter might''ve been influenced, at least in part, by the fact that he, too, was giving the Archer a similar glare from behind the door. They both waited for the idiotic Satyr to realize he had left the conversation with the lead still half-buried in the muck. "Pete." He sighed, realizing, just as Morgan had, that waiting would only result in wasted time. "I hope that when you reincarnate, you come back as something a little smarter. Maybe becoming a three-headed Beast will give you just enough brains to understand how annoying you-" Greg took a deep breath, swallowing the insult to ask. "Why would an Inquisitor''s Cultivation being suppressed help our situation?" "Well, it doesn''t, does it?" He snapped, now giving Greg a glare. "Why did it ever matter!?" "It mattered because I thought that being a damned Inquisitor gave a Cultivator immunity from having their Cores locked up tighter than a tax collector''s purse by these," Pete pointed at his own manacles, "damned cuffs! It was the only reason I could think of for how the freak out there managed to use a Skill while these," this time Pete rattled the chains in his partner''s face, forgetting they were supposed to be quiet lest they catch the Lady Momo''s attention, "were locked on his fucking wrists! Excuse me for trying to- Huh." When all the anger and frustration instantly disappeared in the face of that considering ''huh'', a chilling breeze of doubt blew through Morgan''s heart, coating his metaphorical field of wildflowers with frost. Blessedly, doubt quickly melted as he and Ego had already hammered out a believable explanation before they even stepped foot on a chariot. "Save your brain the effort of thinking; that miserable little creature isn''t used to being put to work so often." Greg snickered knowingly at his friend. "The Professor didn''t use a Skill to blind Boss because I know for a fact his Class Core was suppressed because I cuffed myself. Instead, he used the same Artifact he distracted me with. I hate to admit it, but that trick got me good; I thought someone with that level of Mana control was a Sage and tried to run right past him." "Wha?" Pete started out of his stupor and looked at Greg with alarm. "That''s not possible." "Of course it is." The Satyr said, speaking with a tone generally reserved for small children. "I wasn''t there, but if it looked like he used a Skill, then it was just an act, a lie to confuse you and Boss. Think about it, Pete. Obviously, it was a fake Skill; I mean, have you ever heard of a one-word Skill name in your life? That''s right, never. Do you understand, or must I explain what strategy is?" If the Assassin was going to teach, it would be to an audience of one, as Morgan had already picked himself off the floor. Chances were that he had already collected any of the potentially valuable information there was about Inquisitors. Naturally, he''d need to collect far more data from more trusted sources before cooking up any schemes. Still, just gaining the idea made indulging his idle curiosity worth the dust stains his coat suffered. Originally, he planned to confront the two immediately, but instinct told him the Hound might have a better idea at silencing the Satyrs than he did. That was why, by the time Pete''s response came, Morgan already had one boot on the ladder. "...Greg." He whispered with quiet conviction that disturbed the Scientist. "Nobody can use an Artifact like that while suppressed." Hmm? For a second, the Professor hesitated to climb another step, recalling that the Archer had said something similar back on the deck. At the time, Morgan had dismissed the claim as an untested assumption since a more trusted source had informed him otherwise. "Of course you can." Dismissed the more trusted source with contempt coating every word. "So long as the Artifact or Array has its own power source, anything can trigger the effect. How else do you think Wanderers can use Glowstones or send out Clouds for their masters?" "That''s only true for the real basic Enchantments, where the script runs itself." The scarred Satyr Challenged, sounding uncharacteristically sober. "But without a Core, there''s no way to directly control the Mana in the Enchantment." "Oh really? So I take it you don''t remember the Goblin contestant with the Enchanted metal arm? The little shit almost caused a whole shipment to escape from the base after using his arm to pick open the holding cell lock." "The Goblin said he didn''t use his Core to control the arm. You missed it while chasing after the other escapees, but I was there when the Boss interrogated him. Kept saying that the arm was almost alive and could move by itself like a little Golem or something like that. Golem or not, it must have been something as valuable because the Boss sold it to buy that new warhammer and smiting set." "So that was where she got the coin," Greg murmured distractedly. "I knew it had to come from more than what she stole from our pay¡­ Alright, what about the pair of Rogues that the Boss had to blast to the Hells before we came here? We managed to pin one down and shackle them, but that still didn''t stop them from using something to teleport- Wait¡­ Recalling it now, I can see how it might have been the other Rogue who triggered the escape Artifact. The one we caught looked as surprised as us when they appeared beside their scaly friend¡­ Huh." "Yeah." Nodded Pete absently, returning to his troubled thoughts once more. "Huh." Suddenly, the Assassin''s confidence disappeared as he struggled to recall any other experiences of Enchanted items being used under similar circumstances. Of which there were none. Greg already knew that much for certain because¡­ Because the Professor and that Spirit had questioned him thoroughly about such matters after capturing him. "You know," Greg started to say as he eyed his own manacles pensively. "I never had the chance to think about it until now, but they were asking a lot of questions about the Enchantment on these. Hells, I never even thought about looking for a loophole until then. But they kept insisting on finding something, and I thought they would kill me if I didn''t come up with something¡­ So I blurted out the stories about the Goblin and Rogues, not even realizing I was wrong." Out of nowhere, Pete grabbed a fist full of Greg''s shirt, and there was a wild look in the shirtless Satyr''s horizontal eyes. Greg tried to push his friend away, but the scrawny Cultivator helm firm.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. "That''s what I''m saying. What you said would happen is impossible, but the hoofless freak did it anyway." All the speculation and heavy thinking might''ve begun to unravel Pete''s psyche because he started nodding like something was whispering the answers to him. "Yeah, yeah. I''m starting to think that the light thing isn''t even an Artifact; it''s a Skill! But¡­¡± The crazed Satyr let go of the shirt to instead stare at the silver cuffs binding him and his Cultivation. The whole time, muttering to the enchanted Artifact as if badgering would force the answers from it. "...But I''m wearing the same cuff he was, and I can''t get my Class Core to so much as pull up my Stat Window¡­ If the Enchantment shuts down Cores¡­ So how could a Cultivator use Prana without¡­" Revelation continued to elude the Archer; on the other hand, understanding seemed to have jumped almost willingly into the unsuspecting Assassin''s lap. Greg went very still, freezing the same way a prey animal does when it realizes something dangerous is creeping about. He looked above the door, where the known threat was, yet Momo didn''t so much as twitch her tail in response. Despite her apparent disinterest, Greg''s distress only increased tenfold as he began hissing for his partner''s attention. "Pete, stop talking." "What if the bastard doesn''t need a Class Core¡­" "Pete, shut up. I''m being serious right now." Greg was going pale now as he watched the watcher in utter terror. "You can''t figure this out here!" "Course I can." Pete dismissed automatically. "I''ve definitely heard about something like this before." "No, you didn''t!" He hissed frantically. "You should stop spewing Void and listen to-" "That''s it!" Pete interrupted, his face lighting up with a feeling the Professor knew all too well. "Remember that old mare from the Beggar Sect when we were kids? The one who used to be a teacher and told stories if we gave her food? We used to listen to her talk all night until we fell asleep." "No!" Now it was Greg''s turn to forcibly hold the other''s attention, and he grabbed Pete''s face with both hands, making sure the idiot could see the fear in his eyes. "And even if I did remember, that woman was a cheat and a liar. Right, Pete?" The Archer considered the other''s statement carefully, and for a moment, it seemed as if he had understood the Assassin''s not-so-subtle message. Greg started to relax until Pete answered honestly. "Naw. I''m pretty sure the story lady was on the up and up. Poor thing was some Noble brat''s history teacher before she got kicked for¡­ something. Don''t remember what for, probably breathing wrong or something stupid. Anyways, I remember her telling us a story about an evil Dragon who figured out how to Cultivate without a Core. I thought it was a load of Wood Roach crap-" "It is!" Insisted Greg, near tears as he begged the wardens to believe him. "It''s all crap, I swear it is. I swear." "I thought so, too." Nodded the oblivious Satyr, wholly lost in his own little world. "Then I asked Thick-Tooth about it the next day when we were working a job together, and he said it was true. Told me all about how the Court and Factions hunt down everyone caught practicing a different method because they''re dangerous; that''s why they''re rare, but people like that did exist. He called them Calamities, but you know how Warlocks love to be dramatic about everything. Still, I think the city guards would pay a lot of Drach to know there''s one on this- Oh Hells man, stop crying!" "We''re sorry." The Assassin squeaked between quiet sobs. "We won''t tell anyone. Please." Pete slapped the blithering goat-man behind the back, forcing Greg into a coughing fit. During which, Pete tried to calm him in his own misguided fashion. "It''s just a tamed Beast, you fool; there''s no way the thing is going to report what we say. How could it? It doesn''t speak Common do it?" The Archer playfully mocked before grinning at Momo, looking at her for the first time. "See, it doesn''t react unless we try to escape. So we''ll keep our mouth shut until we-" The words died along with the grin as blood drained from Pete''s face, turning him as white as the bandages on his head. Finally, he understood why Greg had desperately tried to shut them up. It wasn''t because a Spirit Beast was watching them; it was because of a single pale blue eye peering through the peephole. "Huh," Morgan grunted from behind the door. "You know what? This is all my fault." With slightly resorted Prana reserves, he infused an arrow of 3% Mana in the door, its direction pointing out towards the hold. "Rush." *Cr-ack!* The poorly constructed door tore off its hinges and flew backward, only coming to a stop after hitting the opposite side wall. Momo, bless her heart for tolerating the theatrics, didn''t so much as twitch at the sudden destruction. On the contrary, the Satyrs scrambled into separate corners as much as their shackles would allow. "I got too¡­ careless when I questioned you, Gregory." Admitted the Professor as he stood in what was previously a doorway, his back stooped forward to keep from bumping the ceiling. "You see my knowledge of how Class Cores function is rather pathetic at the moment. Clearly, I placed far too much weight on what you told me under duress." "I''m sor-" "Don''t be ridiculous," Morgan ordered, silencing the Assassin with a frown. "Of course, you aren''t to blame. Didn''t you hear me? This entire mess is my fault." "Y-yeah, it is, you ca-calamitous bastard." Pete''s bravado was failing him, with his whole body trembling with fear, revealing how hollow his sneer was. "That''s wh-what you get for un-un underestimating us." "Perhaps in part." The Professor considered the accusation seriously while scratching Lady Momo between the eyes. "But in hindsight, my thinking is that sloppiness is what really bit us in the ass this time. Now, all of us are going to pay the price for my failure." His captives flinched as if they were physically struck by the announcement, but neither dared to speak or contradict Morgan. These hardened criminals, who minutes ago were recollecting some of their most heinous and recent crimes like they were wacky shenanigans in the workplace, cowards before their former prisoner. Seeing their quivering rectangular pupils looking up at him evoked a pang of sympathy from the ecologist, who had dealt with frightened baby goats in the past. The comparison, Morgan knew, was only superficial, but he''d be lying to himself if he didn''t acknowledge the feeling. However, emotions wouldn''t be enough to change what needed to happen now. The Satyrs knew too much, and his group''s journey had only just begun. Something had to be done. When Pete finally spotted his hidden audience, Morgan reached out mentally for the Monk to join him in the hold. He had to phrase the request a little vaguely so as to not panic them, but as a result, Ego gave an absentminded answer of, [I''ll be there in a few.] So, with nothing to do but wait, he walked further into the room and joined Pete and Greg on the floor. Looking down on them felt in bad taste, and stooping strained his lower back something fierce. Besides, he could tell someone wanted a better view of the action. *Pop* "I feel as if I owe the two of you an explanation of how events led us to this moment." Said the Professor, ignoring the shudders from the others as the Princess took her throne. "We''ll call it a reward for discovering my secret, as well as a gift for the information I''ve gained from meeting you both." "You don''t have to tell us anything!" Squeaked Greg. "He''s right." Pete desperately agreed. "You don''t owe us a damned thing." "Nonsense. We''ll never get a chance to speak like this again. So, keep quiet, or I''ll ask Momo to encourage your silence." "Mmm." Growled the Beast, making it clear to all that she favored getting involved. Her threat was enough to silence the Satyrs, doubly so in the Archer''s case as he clamped a hand over his own mouth. Proving definitively that given enough time and repeated head trauma, any lesson can get through even the thickest of skulls. "Hmmmmmm." Morgan hummed with a frown, his heterochromatic eyes narrowing dangerously as he gave the cowering Satyrs what they could only perceive as utter loathing. An easy mistake for them to make. "In my home world, there is a certain way of doing things, a procedure that is quintessential to any pursuit of understanding reality," Morgan said, finally satisfied with how his thoughts were correctly arranged. "Think of it as a method consisting of varying self-refining stages that, if followed with discipline and without hubris, will eventually lead anyone to the answers they seek. In fact, it''s by a similar process that you two stumbled upon my little secret. Congratulations, by the way." Naturally, these Vajrayians in particular, wouldn''t have the necessary context to understand what he was referring to, but what did that matter now? Morgan was merely venting some frustration before the deed had to be done. "In my own preferred method for understanding problems, there are seven steps: Observe ¡ú Question ¡ú Theorize ¡ú Experiment ¡ú Analyze ¡ú Share ¡ú Consensus. That''s it, yet my arrogant old ass still thought an untested theory was good enough, and now look at us. None of this would have been necessary if I had just tested the Artifact loophole theory on someone with an actual Class Core, like Greg here. Yet, I couldn''t be bothered to do my job right. Can either of you guess why?" The Professor waited for an answer, though wasn''t at all surprised when the only reaction his words prompted was more terror. Of course, any answer they could have provided had to be based on mere speculation, but again, this was Morgan''s pity party, and he''d mess with the goat-men if he wanted to. Besides, it''s not like they''ll ever have to deal with the fallout of their discovery like he would. "Nobody? That is understandable. However, I''m sure you both can sympathize, as while your group has been stuck out here for days, we have been here for much, much longer. Too long, in fact. So when I saw three boats in the distance, I desperately needed to understand the mystery surrounding the four visitors who came looking for us. Sure, in the end, we got many of the answers we needed, and what is missing can be found in time. Overall, no harm done. Regardless of my result, that doesn''t change the fact that I cut corners and underestimated the two of you." "Honestly," Morgan chuckled dryly. "I feel almost grateful for the reminder that nobody is above making mistakes. And to think I would have gone away with it-" [You would have gotten away with it if it weren''t for those meddling kids?] Interrupted the only being on the planet that could have made that reference. Although, the Scientist had to wonder if the Spirit knew they had also made a pun as well. Manifesting right beside the seated Human, the Spirit joined the increasingly cramped storage room, momentarily silencing the quiet sobs from dumb and dumber. Sadly, the calm would be replaced with something far more annoying. "Thank the merciful Heavens; the Monk has come to save us!" Greg cried as he pulled at the registrants keeping him from throwing himself at the helm of Ego''s robes. "Kind Spirit, protect this one and- Pete you beg too! -from this Calamity!" "Wha? I mean-er. Yeah." Stumbled the Archer, before he too started groveling, in his own way. "Please, merciful Monk, protect this one, me, from the Calamity, and I''ll promise we''ll give alms next time we go to Temple!" "Yes! And we''ll swear on our Dao and Souls to change our ways!" Greg took the ball and went even further beyond. "I would have never taken this Class if I didn''t need the coin, so believe me when I say we''ll never associate with the Filo again. We can start volunteering at the Temple." "WHAT!-" Pete gasped before shifting gears so hard the whiplash would''ve been enough to snap the other horn. "-about I start putting arrows in any hoofless bastard that speaks ill of the great 108? Can''t have ignorant fools spouting Void out of their asses now, can we? The honor of the Faceless Guide must be protected after all!" The Monk''s ancient mask of tempered serenity and reassurances may have fooled the furry fools. Still, Morgan and Momo had to forcibly suppress their laughter at how utterly flabbergasted Ego had to be. [Morgan,] Ego reached out after half a minute of endless weeping and bargaining. [Did I miss something important?] [That depends.] He projected, pointedly looking away from the hilarity scene. [At what point did you start listening in?] [A half second before I made the joke.] Their tone carried with it a note of suspicion but withheld any hint of accusation for the moment. [Ah.] The Professor winced. [Then, yeah, you may have missed a couple of important events.] [...Like what?]
A brief but rather intense five minutes later, the Spirit manifested on the barge deck, already pacing circles around the open trapdoor. The sight of the restless apparition might have gripped the heart of a pre-Tutorial Human if the setting wasn''t under a mid-day tropical sky. [I can not believe we had to do that!] Fumed Ego once Morgan and his reptilian passenger set foot on deck. [I am having serious moral quandaries even though I can''t think of a better alternative, and I do not like it!] "Welcome to true adulthood." Scoffed an unbidden memory, its speaker having long left this Mortal plane behind. "Leave fantasies like guilt and morals for the children to enjoy." The Professor''s scar suddenly flared in discomfort, and he had to fight the urge to scratch it. In his experience, acknowledging the dead like that only made their grip on the living tighter. [Well, hopefully, you won''t have to get used to the feeling going forward because we''ve all learned a valuable lesson.] He projected, scanning the endless Olympia Sea all around them. [What lesson they those two learn after wha-] "Didn''t you say we''d be entering local waters soon?" Morgan forcibly ended the pointless argument as the two of them silently glaring at each other would set off alarm bells. "I didn''t say that." Ego huffed, giving him a look that promised the conversation would be revisited before nodding toward the cabin. "She did." He followed the motion to find the purple-cloaked figure of Septima Caesar watching them, her body leaning against the staircase rails. Her body language suggested she was relaxed, but the constant micro twitches of her ears and nose at every crashing wave or passing breeze told the Scientist she was anything but relaxed. "Indeed I did." She said with undisguised amusement as she stood up straight. "Once you''re all done enjoying the view, quickly enter the cabin. Once we have crossed the Spell''s threshold, a patrol boat will come to intercept us." The Hound began to turn, only to stop and flash him a wolfish smile. "Someone might get hurt if any misunderstandings cause the guards to put any of you in chains." The Hound entered the cabin without another word, leaving the trio to scratch their heads and search the horizon for whatever this promised view could be. To be accurate, Ego and Momo were searching. Morgan continued to stare at the cabin window as unease churned his insides. She knew. Exactly how much remained unclear as he had yet to question Ego about their talk, but at the very least, the Hound knew about his immunity to Core suppression. That in of itself wasn''t surprising since if the Satyrs could follow the bread trail, she could do the same. What troubled Morgan was the almost blatant admittance. But before the Professor''s paranoia could jump into action, day became night. Where the sun had been shining now held a moon that didn''t at all resemble the one the Scientist had gotten used to over the last 30 days. This new celestial satellite was slightly smaller, twice as bright, and the light it reflected was closer to gold rather than the silver of moonlight. Yet the sight of a new moon orbiting Olympia was like a molehill before a mountain compared to the night sky. The stars shining brightly in the night sky weren''t only in the wrong position, looking to his untrained eyes like a jumbled mess, but there were more of them. An order of magnitude more¡­ The Professor had seen an impossible starry sky like this one before. The scale back then was smaller, but he recognized the caster''s chaotic style all the same. "Hey," said Ego, tugging on the lab coat with one hand and directing his attention by pointing with the other. "When Lady Septima mentioned the view, I don''t think she was talking about the sky. Am I seeing things, or am I really looking at a mountain that suddenly appeared out of nowhere?" If the day hadn''t been a long series of shocking events and impossible discoveries, he might have just told the Monk that the two of them were seeing things. On any other day, finding a titanic object, large enough to swallow the entire horizon off the vessel''s forward end and whose curved sides rose hundreds of meters out of the sea, might have been too much to believe. Thankfully, today wasn''t any other day. Allowing, Morgan to easily accept the truth of what they were all gawking at. This was no mountain. No geological structure could have sides so cracked and rugged it resembled bark more than rock. Moss and lichen clung to that bark, creating farmable hectares of vibrant green that shone in the golden moonlight. What really tipped the scales, though, were the dozen or so roots descending down into the dark waters, each one thicker than skyscrapers. "You aren''t seeing things, " the Professor promised shakily. But you need to understand that we are looking at a stump of a very large tree." "Ah¡­ I thought as much." 36. The Law Princess Monochrome Morgan, though recently the cultivating reptilian had favored being called Lady Momo, was dangerously close to reaching the end of her patience. Were ''patience'' something that could be quantified in any meaningful way, then her gauge would read out at zero because she''d already reached the secret reserves. The metal plating of the ship hull she clung to, combined with the occasional spray of salt water, chilled her and kept her cold¨C A sensation she still despised with a passion despite no longer being cold-blooded. If not for the love of the father that raised her, Momo might''ve already ditched the plan in favor of killing those gibbering morons. Seriously, why the Hells couldn''t those two shut up already? They knew the plan as well as she did. Lady Momo had already pulled off the more challenging parts of the job successfully: Sneaking on the 2nd ship, quietly pickpocketing the mark, and was ready to deliver the goods over 15 minutes ago. Yet there she waited, cold and wet, unable to finish the job because idiots always gotta have a mouth on them. Just hearing the unprofessional and pointless screaming match spilling through the open hold''s porthole was enough to make Momo wish her transformation gave her the ability to roll her eyes in disgust. So unprofessional. "Yeah, I said it bitch!" Gloated Pete "Rock-for-Brains" Stumpchild with a raspy leer. "What, is your hearing as screwed up as the rest of you?!" *Slam!* The hull rattled as someone on the other side stomped hard "Hoofless?!" Scoffed a feminine voice, Momo assumed it was the one with the blonde ponytail. "What do you mean hoofless? I got two perfectly good hoofs right here, you blind goat bastards!" "Baaaa-hahaaaa! Yeah, but you only got one at the end of each leg, you freak of nature!" Came the mocking laughs of Greg "Crybaby" Stumpchild. "The only freaks down here are two Satyrs with only a single set of horns between them!" Blondy gave as good as she got. "I don''t have time for this crap, I''m needed on deck. Now shut your fool criminal mouths and behaviour or I swear I''ll-" "You''ll what, Hoplite!?" Pete demanded. "You gonna arrest us twice? Huh?!" "No, you dumb shit, I''ll just kick you in the head so hard you''ll be wearing my hoofprint for a week." "If you kick Pete, please do it twice so it looks like they came from a real woman." Sneered Greg. "We wouldn''t want to give the other prisoners thinking my friend here has bad taste." "Hells yeah! Do it, kick me in the head twice!" Pete exploded into a fit of moronic laughter. "I''d lose Face if the others found out you touched me." "Well¡­" Blondy drew out the word, and Momo could hear the smirk even if she couldn''t see it. "I''d just hate to be the reason for your loss of Face¡­ For either of you boys." Suddenly, the Satyrs no longer found things so funny. "H-hey! Put that unnatural thing down. We''re Capital prisoners, remember!" "Don''t wet your fur, Greg. Can''t you tell she''s just bluffing? Bitch doesn''t have the guts to-" "Meeeeh." Momo let out a long growl of contentment as the comforting sounds of an ass whooping were finally delivered. Once Blondy was done giving the goats matching face brands, she would be sure to leave the room right after. Hopefully, one of the idiots would still be lucid enough for Momo to pass off the Suppression Cuff keys, fulfilling the terms of the Oath her parent made. Escaping the boat was the goats'' problem, not hers. They''d have to keep their mouths shut about any calamitous discoveries, whether they were caught again or not. Lady Momo was already dreaming of the warm comfort of her favorite napping spot on top of Morgan''s head and was debating whether to eat now or later when- *Splash!* A colossal wave slammed into the hull below the Princess, and the resulting spray drenched what little scales remained dry. With any luck, this whole vessel¡ªcrew and cargo¡ªwould be tragically lost on the return voyage.
It wasn''t even close to sunset at the moment, yet Morgan could study the night sky hanging above him all the same. Of course, the seemingly paradoxical nature of the situation was only surface level as the starry heavens that seemed to stretch out endlessly in every direction did not, in fact, really do that. It only looked bigger from the inside, and he knew its true edge was only around 20-30 meters directly behind him. Although it was possible that the barge he stood on had drifted closer or farther away after the patrol guard vessel had docked with them. Sadly, gauging the distance with the naked eye was impossible, and even Perception was of no help. The Bloodline either couldn''t sense or display the concealment Spell''s Aether, or there were some elements of different metaphysical mechanics at play there. But if all the Scientist wanted was to find where the Spell''s edge was, he didn''t need the mystical ability of his Bloodline. He just needed something he could chuck in the right direction, and when the item suddenly disappeared, he''d have his answer. But for the best result, he''d need to throw something eye-catching even in the dim lighting and aerodynamic enough to go the distance. Something like a¡­ Spear, perhaps. The Professor''s gaze lowered from the false heavens to a section of nearby deck he knew held the potential scientific instrument. Unfortunately, the one holding it took notice of his attention and where that attention lay, tightened his hold on the simple wooden haft¡ªthe long leaf blade tipping the end shimmering in the dark. From underneath the plumed helmet''s open-face visor, the Hoplite warrior grimaced openly. He moved so the great round shield adorning the other arm could more easily be brought up in defense, the face of some screaming humanoid monster etched on the shield. Morgan might''ve missed the subtle shift in stance if the metal greaves, arm bracers, and breastplate weren''t all polished till they resembled a mirror. With all the stars reflecting off the amour, the guards'' movements made them look like disco balls that evolved bipedalism. Hmm¡­ That effect could be an intentional design choice, now that he thought about it. The sight was very distracting and helped break up the body''s silhouette. Regardless, Morgan didn''t mind the man''s blatant hostility. In fact, he welcomed the interaction as another chance to openly study the biology of this latest Mortal species. Unlike their mythical counterparts on Earth, real Centaurs were built like Satyrs in terms of humanoid to animal proportions. Crispus, like the other Centaurs in his unit, had hairless top halves that could''ve passed for Humans if they wore a hat to cover up the erect horse-like ears. Unlike the Satyrs, whose two hoofed legs conveyed nimble speed, the backward-jointed brown-haired limbs on Crispus looked like they could kick trees down with a single hoofed kick. They were tall, too, and the biggest almost matched the late Bronte in height. "Morgan, we agreed you''d stop antagonizing the guards for personal entertainment." Chided Ego beside him, fully aware the Hoplite was within earshot. "I''m bored of waiting for our ride, " he grunted, crossing both arms in self-indulgent childish annoyance. "I''m just looking at the guy, and if he feels threatened by me, then he can just say so." "You know he won''t because doing so would be considered rude, and besides, I''m sure he finds you just as alien as you find him. Please go find something to keep you occupied that won''t get us into trouble." The Monk lectured for Crispus''s sake before projecting in a softer tone. [Don''t worry, I''m sure Momo will be back at any moment. If anything had happened, we''d hear the commotion.] Morgan gave a noncommittal grunt before finally looking away from the glowering Hoplite to regard the spectral Monk. "Well, I did come up with something entertaining, but I''d need his spear to-" "I knew it!" a cracking voice still settling after the turbulence of puberty announced. "I did catch you gawking at my doru with hungry eyes." With equal looks of uncertainty, Ego and Morgan turned slowly to the only person sharing the deck. There, they found Crispus taking a battle-ready stance, his spear not entirely leveled at them but now gripped with both hands. "Well?" The Hoplite demanded when neither spoke, his voice breaking ever more as he grew flustered. "Should I take your silence as an admittance of guilt?" "No friggin way I just heard that." The Professor said, primarily to himself, before igniting a quickly formed Mana lantern, casting the deck in warm yellow-white light. "Wisp." The Wisp light was nowhere near the level he used on Bronte, but its steady glow was more than able to banish the dark and give them a better look at the¡­ Holy shit. "What is that? Glowstone?" The guard said with a beardless frown, brown eyes blinking back tears of discomfort. "Glowstone is a heavily regulated mineral in Olympia; I''ll need to see some documentation if you don''t wanna join the scum in the cell." "Damn, kid." Morgan cursed, allowing the Technique to fizzle out as irritation caused his scar to itch. "What are you 15, 16?" "I''m 17!" Crispus hissed the correction with a speed only angsty adolescence could produce. "Holy child soldier, Batman." Ego gasped in alarm. "Lowly Spirit, are you insulting a member of the Capitol Guard, the elite proctors of Olympia''s people and embodiment of the Councle''s will?" The youth demanded before pausing, adding, "Wait, what is a ''Batman''? I''ll need a description of any insult to include in my nightly report." "It wasn''t an insult." The Professor came to Ego''s defense. "We''re just surprised that the city council, or whatever it''s called here, lets brats run around with such dangerous toys." The Monk flashed Morgan a disapproving frown. "Actually, I''m more concerned for the boy''s well-being. But I wouldn''t mind giving this council a piece of my-" *Stomp!* "I am a fully grown Centaur!" Crispus seethed, slamming a petulant hoof down as all adults are known to do occasionally. "I am a Warrior of the 13th Cut! Trained and assigned as a full member of this patrol crew. I will not be treated like a child by-" "Hey recruit! Stop flirting with the civilian and make yourself useful for once!" Called a different guard that Morgan recognized as the one he''d passed Pete and Greg''s cuff keys to. Man and Spirit watched as another armored Centaur strutted confidently to the guard rails of the docked patrol vessel, a watercraft resembling a two-story modern fishing boat wrapped in dozens of bronze protective plates. This Hoplite''s exposed skin glistened with a thin sheen of perspiration, but she seemed in very high spirits as her blond horsetail swayed merrily behind her. "Damn you, Cressida, I asked you not to be so casual in front of potential criminals." The Recruit groaned as he turned around, his animalistic thighs twitching sporadically as if batting away invisible biting flies. "And I was not flirting." "Really?" Cressida teased as she smirked down playfully at her junior. "But he''s your type." "No, he isn''t." Crispus, Ego, and Morgan corrected all in unison, but for very different reasons. "Wow, that was impressive teamwork!" She giggled before focusing on her fellow unit member and tugging at one of the many lines of rope tying the barge to the patrol vessel. "Anyway, The Captain says you''re staying with her to help bring in the barge while the rest of us escort the prisoners straight to the Fort. So hurry up and untie the lines." "Wait! That''s not fair!" The full-grown Warrior Cultivator whined. "I''ve had to work impound duty on the last three arrests! It has to be somebody elses-" "Hmm, I must be hearing things after such a long shift." Cressida suddenly interrupted the accusation with a wide sisterly grin. "For a moment there, I thought I heard some insubordination nonsense from my cute junior brother. But for such a blasphemous thing to occur would be ridiculous, right?" Crispus''s tan skin whited a couple of shades as a shudder of fear ran through him. Morgan felt a pang of sympathy for the bronze-covered brat at seeing that sibling relations worked the same no matter the Universe. "Oh good." The blond mare giggled after receiving a very panicked nod of agreement from him. "Now get to work before I have to discipline you like a goat." With that confusing threat made, the Centaurs went off to complete their assigned tasks, leaving the Human and Spirit alone under the looming cabin. Although not for long, it would seem. *Pop* Suddenly, 12 kg of wet Sacred Beast materialized on top of the Professor''s head. Cold salt water dripped off her and soaked the lab coat''s back. Momo wasn''t shivering, but from the way she gripped him, the poor creature had to be freezing. Immediately, Morgan used his coat sleeve to wipe away some of the moisture while Ego immediately launched into a string of questions. "Momo!" They whispered. "Are you okay?" "Meh." She nodded irritably. "Did you fall into the water?" "Mer." She shook her head. They raised an eyebrow at each other. "Alright." The Monk let that line of questioning go and got down to business after seeing every guard was out of earshot. "Did you manage to make the delivery?" "Meh." "Did our¡­ associates escape yet?" "Mer." "Were you seen?" "Mer." "Are you sure nobody aboard saw you?" "...Meh." Momo paused, likely to give the Spirit a dirty look before answering. "Then you''ve successfully fulfilled our end of the bargain. Thank you, young Monochrome." Ego sighed in relief, their shoulders slumping as the biggest threat facing their little group had been dealt with. "We''re safe, and it should all be smooth sailing from here on out." "What the Void is that thing?!" Came an outraged cry of a cranky tot from the other side of the barge. "Is that a- Both of you better wait right there, or I swear on my Dao I''ll have you all put in chains and arrested!" "After the rope!" Cressida added helpfully from somewhere unseen. "All arrests will be conducted after the ropes." Crispus amended hurriedly. [Dang.] They projected, coming as close to a curse as they could. [You know, I really should''ve seen that coming at this point.] [Yeah, you were kinda tempting fate with that one.] The Professor mused as he gently soothed the gecko to sleep and hopefully miss the approaching shitstorm. [Let me take the lead on this one. I''ve worked with kids his age before and speak young-adult fluently.] The Monk gave him the side eye at which Morgan''s perpetual frown started deepening, only for the expression to be rendered moot. Their avatar vanished, leaving the man scowling at the distant horizon.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. [Sure. Why don''t you talk with him and try to hurry things upstairs.] Came the sly Spirits mental projection. [In the meantime, I''ll pop into the cabin and see if I can get Captain Varvara and Septima to hurry things along.] His only response was a snort of indifference before settling his sights on the reddening boy soldier furiously undoing complex knots of rope at the cheers of his senior. The other Hoplites, another Centaur, and a male Cyclops had joined in on the fun with Cressida. Although at hearing the distant chanting, Morgan was starting to question how his universal translator worked precisely. On the brighter side, he now understood that nobody in the guard unit was related by blood. "Go little brother, go little brother, Go!" Sang the others, fists and spears pumping in the air with every repetition. "Go little brother, go little brother, Go!" "I''m only two years younger than Sebastian." Little brother Crispus sniffed, pointing a finger at the grinning Cyclops. "If you''re going to embarrass me, could you at least just call me brother?" "Go Little Brother, Go Little Brother, GO!" Was the unit''s answer. Watching the hazing ritual unfold as Momo''s soft snores began rumbling the top of his hair had a calming effect on the Professor. Which was something he desperately didn''t want to happen at the moment. Being alone without racing thoughts and life-or-death situations to distract him from the burnt chest wound would be¡­ agony? The Scientist tentatively flexed a pectoral¡­ then the other¡­ then both at the same time¡­ Nothing. Aware he was on ice but unable to stop himself from slamming a boot down to test the thickness anyway, he took in a deep breath. The fleshy machinery was a little stiff but did not offer the bruised and damaged resistance he expected¡ªwhat basic biology told him should be the case. A man of his Dao, Morgan peeked down his t-shirt''s neck hole. Exactly as he recalled, the softball size gift from Shrimpson was still there, just as red and blotchy as ever. Sticking a hand up through the shirt''s bottom, he poked the raw flesh experimentally. He let out a tiny grunt as the area was just as tender as before but far less than it should be. This new level of pain was equivalent to if someone had quickly pressed a hot iron to his chest, as opposed to the far worse reality he suffered. The injury was still an ugly looking thing, but far better than the carnage the area would have been in if not for Rebar''s Qi-powered protection. Hmm¡­ A whim overtook him, and the Professor willed his Prana Repository open. Oh? His Qi banks had finally started building up again in the last hour and a half or so. Now, that was an interesting development, especially with the injury''s internal-only recovery. The timing was enough to make one question a potential connection there. A hint at a deeper relationship between the Body Foundation and his physical anatomy. *Thud. Thud* Any more speculations were put on hold as two expertly tied bundles of rope landed at Morgan''s feet, one after the other. "You threatened me with chains yet tossed me rope." The Professor noted dryly, looking up to find the hard-faced youth back. "I''m guessing either someone slashed the patrol budget or your unit left with all the Class Suppression Cuffs?" The patrol vessel was silently chugging away at a decent speed and had already begun shrinking away in the distance. Wherever this Fort was, it must have been on a different section of stump than the one before them because the vessel''s heading was now veering to the right. "It would seem that those of my station are not allowed to make non-emergency solo arrests before reaching three months in grade." The Hoplite said through gritted teeth, his spear pointed at the Human''s head. "That is what the law states. Just as it states that untamed Sacred Beasts within the local territory of a recognized settlement must be collared, caged, or bound appropriately. Bringing a Sacred Beast to a settlement and failing to take even the basic of safety measures is a crime. Now, surrender peacefully." The unspoken part of his message was clear; Tie you and the Beast or I will. "Hmm." Mused Morgan, never one to pass up a perfect fishing opportunity. "And how do you know my little Momo is untamed? How can you confidently say that such a well-behaved, perfect little creature like her is dangerous?" Now, those questions got the Centaur''s frown to flip upside down. "Captain Varvara told us that no one of her Cultivation Rank was present. Since no Wayfarer can subjugate a Beast without a collar, you are in violation of the law." Suddenly, Crispus''s face went dark as he flashed an angry look at the cabin above them before returning to a shit-eating grin. "No doubt the Spirit ran to our betters above, and your Noble Patron will have added the Beast to whatever backroom deal is being made." "The Hound is more like a wealthy backer in this case." Morgan corrected, though a part of his mind noted the Captain''s higher advancement. It could be why a Class Core window showed up for every Cultivator but the unit leader. "Regardless, I''ll likely be ordered to release you both when the others join us." "But in the meantime, you want to flex your authority over a civilian by using this unsupervised moment to push me around legally." The Professor predicted with a sigh. "Either I''ll comply, and you''ll prove to ''everyone'' that nobody is above the law, or I''ll resist, giving you cause to declare an emergency and arrest me by force. That sounds about right to you?" Morgan had to resist adding that the brat was likely only pulling this crap because an arrest would make him look good to the rest of his unit. Of course, saying that aloud would only needlessly enrage Crispus further, as no one liked having their deeper psychological motivations thrown in their face. Especially idiotic teenagers way in over their heads while trying to save Face. "So you admit that refusing my generous offer of a peaceful surrender is tantamount to an emergency." The Hoplite all but snarled as he came closer, unknowingly compromising his footing. "I don''t know about all that," Morgan chuckled, absently stroking the sleepy creature''s head. But I do know two things. First, I''m not waking Momo; she needs her rest. Second, if you take a single step towards me, you''re going to regret it." "You smug bastard!" If not for the physical upgrade ascending to a Cultivator granted Morgan, he and possibly the Princess might''ve died. Fully done with the Professor''s flagrant indifference to a Centaur of the law, Crispus broke into action to apprehend the criminal. Letting out a war cry, that may or may not have sounded like something between a screech and a stallion''s neigh, before charging forth gallantly with shield and doru spear raised. If the fool had noticed his left hoof had gotten snagged on one of the first mooring lines he himself untied, then that glorious charge would have lasted more than a single step. "Oof!" Surprise knocked the air out of his lungs as the boy''s leg pulled the rope taut with all his weight, his top half wiping forward with enough force that the spear forcibly slipped from his grasp. Whatever manufacturer created the weapon must have known their craft well, for despite the half-ass throw, the spear quickly stabilized in flight. In an instant, 2.5 meters of wood and bronze became a rotating death drill no wider than Morgan''s right hand. The Professor was confident of that measurement, for he used the back of that same hand to slap certain death away from Momo and him. As with the Battle Shrimp''s punches, knowing where and when an attack was coming made deflecting it a breeze. Now the spear would sail harmlessly into the Olympia Sea behind him¡­ where the concealment Spell''s edge should be! Best of all, the weapon''s haft was still sliding past his hand, so adding a little downward force near the end should increase the trajectory and give the scientific tool better distance. Elated that everything worked out for him anyway, the Scientist made to turn around and hopefully catch sight of the moment it disappeared, but there was a problem. Mid-turn, he made the mistake of noticing the stupid kid''s face looking up at him from the deck floor. Tears were already pooling in the corners as horror and regret began twisting his features. Yet, Morgan suspected those emotions weren''t for the innocent (well, maybe not totally innocent) Human he almost slaughtered. It was for the weapon. Depending on circumstances, Earth soldiers could be held financially liable for damaged or lost equipment, and the cost was normally taken out of their pay. That was just the financial aspect; it didn''t even account for the potential punishment for such a loss, which could be discharge papers. Judging from the kid''s total despair, he probably couldn''t afford the cost of either outcome. ¡­God damn it. Tisking in annoyance, the Professor shifted plans at the last second, just as 2/3rds of the spear passed over his shoulder. With all the force he could bring to bear, his fingers closed down like an iron vice. Finger joints popped audibly, and friction superheated the flesh as momentum refused to stop cold on such short notice. Realizing he wouldn''t stop it in time, Morgan opted for a last-minute hail mary and bent the entire wrist forward. The doru slipped through his fingers, but instead of escaping to sea, it soared meters into the air, flipping end over end until finally succumbing to gravity. *Shunk!* The wickedly sharp spear embedded itself in the deck, its quivering blade so close to Crispus''s head that the boy went cross-eyed just looking at it. Oops. That was a close one. "You dropped that." Morgan deadpanned, none of the sheepishness he felt visible on his face as he walked over to the boy. "No need to thank me." "Th-Thank you?!" The Centaur sputtered up at him in questioning disbelief. "You''re welcome." Morgan offered him a hand. *Slap!* "What?" He growled, angrily knocking away the assistance before kicking away the rope, still binding his leg and rolling over to stand. "I wasn''t thanking you!" "Perhaps you should consider the idea." Suggested a low, commanding, feminine voice. "After all, I would say you were but a moment away from being sentenced to the disciplinary barracks for losing Capital property." The little Hoplite who couldn''t catch a break, spun on the spot to face the Centaur leading the group descending the stairs. He slammed a fist into an open palm before bowing so quickly at the waist he nearly pitched forward. Septima, followed closely by Ego, walked in the wake of a rather severe-looking Centaur. Older than any of the other horse folk he''s seen by at least a decade and a half, this specimen could still give all the whippersnappers a run for their money. No-nonsense muscles hide inconspicuously under dark skin and even darker hair on the head and thighs alike. Yet, there wasn''t a wrinkle or crow''s feet in sight. If not for the occasional thread of silver standing out, the half dozen thin white lines of scar tissue would have been his 2nd best tip-off of her veteran status. The impressive weaponry the battle-tested Cultivator was packing was the 1st. Though she wore nearly identical armor, round shield, and sheathed shortsword as the other Hoplites, her spear was clearly a cut above the rest. The symbol of her station: the spearhead was broader and held a darker bronze sheen, while the haft was intricately carved with what looked like scenes from different battles. "Captain Varvara!" Crispus shouted with alarm once everyone had stepped on deck. "This Hoplite greets you and wishes to give context to what the Captain may or may not have seen just now." "Which part do you think requires context?" Septima loudly asked Ego with false curiosity. "The part where he tripped on a bit of rope the Professor warned him about? Or is this about the nearly disastrous manslaughter charge he so nearly avoided?" The theatrical Monk put on a thoughtful expression, their gaze fixed to the Heavens as if the false sky hid answers. "Neither, my Lady, as that much is obvious to everyone here." They said before coming to an apparent ''epiphany'' and excitedly proposing to the Hound. "Surely, young Crispus must wish to come clean about his misuse of authority for personal gain, which was what started this whole mess." "How could you possibly-" The guilty party foolishly started to say, only to have the question die outright under the glowering glare of his superior. "We know," Captain Varvara answered in clipped tones. "Because the Spirit is connected to Lord Morgan. With that connection, they were able to supply a rather detailed accounting of everything their vessel experienced. I found your boldness while not under your elder siblings'' supervision very surprising." With little effort, the higher Ranked Cultivator ripped the spear out of the floor and shoved it into Crispus''s arms with enough force to send the head-and-a-half taller Centaur flat on his ass. "I''ll have to give Cressida and the others the whole tale when I see them tonight at Fort Epimetheus." The Captain promised without an ounce of heat over the shaking youth. "In the meantime, why don''t you steer this scrap heap to impound while I see the civilians off." "Yes, Captain!" A pale Crispus squeaked before turning a brown flickering tail and running up the stairs without so much as a backward glance. They all watched him go. Some were impressed by the speed he took the steps, and others were curious to see if he''d slip and fall on his own spear in the escape. Who could say which idle thought belonged to whom? "Interesting kid. I''m sure he''ll go far if he''s not killed by pirates, falls on his spear, or whatever heroic death enlisted brats find cool these days." Morgan broke the silence once the cabin door slammed and added to Varvara. "So, I''m going to assume the fact that I''m not in chains means my party and I are free to enter the Capital city?" Morgan watched with no small amusement as the female Centaur''s nostrils flared like a horse but was surprised when instead of answering directly, she leaned her opulent spear on the guard rail. Raising a brow, the Professor made to rephrase his question more politely when something materialized in the Captain''s hands that she pointed in his direction. There was a flash of yellow light. *Click.* Eris''s Swiss army knife of a necklace momentarily shot up in temperature before rapidly cooling. Blinking away the tiny lights dancing in his vision, he caught a glimpse of what the women held before it disappeared again into interdimensional storage. It appeared to his Earthling mind as a cubic polaroid camera on a stick, only where a lens should be a single puck-sized Rune glowed a radiant yellow. Then, it was gone like it never existed in the first place. Restricting an urge to start asking questions or even acknowledge anything strange had occurred at all, Morgan played his off ignorance by giving the Hound a vague annoyed look. "The Captain only wished to confirm your Cultivator Core''s status as a Wayfarer before allowing us all entry," Septima explained with an exasperated look at the unabashed woman. "Under normal circumstances, such an intrusion on a fellow Cultivator''s advancement would be taboo, but as we''re-" "Lord Morgan, what sectors of the Europa Realm did you find yourself visiting or otherwise occupying during the first week of Ji¨£z¨«?" Varvara bluntly interrupted, ignoring Septima''s indigent protests to hold Morgan''s gaze in an iron vice of will. "Please answer honestly, lie and I shall know." [The first week of Ji¨£z¨« is around early June on Earth.] Ego hissed hurriedly into his mind. [Whatever you do, don''t lie, but don''t give any more info than you have to.] [When have I ever done otherwise?] Morgan mentally snorted before answering aloud. "I wasn''t in any sector of Europa at the time." "Have you ever visited the Achaea Sector during the same time period?" "Nope." He said, absently fidgeting with his hair. "...I see." She said evenly after a long pause. "Have you visited Helike city before or after the start of the 108th Epoch?" ¡°Helike? ¡­Helike¡­¡± The Professor said in a murmur, repeating it as if to check if the name tasted familiar. "Helick¡­ Are you referring to the capital city of planet Helick located in Europa''s Achaea sector?" "The very same," Varvara confirmed eagerly, the first time she''d shown any visible emotion thus far. "Helike was a major trading hub for the sector and the Realm as a whole. In the past, it was not unusual for up-and-coming cultivators like yourself to visit in search of resources and opportunities." "Yeah, I''ve never heard of the place until now." Morgan shrugged, earning barely stifled chuckles from the Hound and Monk, and a glare from the Hoplite Captain. "What happened to it?" "If this is the first you''ve heard of Helike, then-" "Simple, I made an educated guess. Vajrayana has five Realms, and you seem interested in only one sector in particular. You asked about a city yet didn''t bother mentioning the planet, so I figured they share a name like the one we''re floating on, likely meaning Helike was a capital city." The Professor cut through the accusations with the same bluntness Varvara seemed so fond of. "And when anyone uses past tense to describe an important location, it''s usually safe to say something bad happened." "The reports my clan received said the city was essentially wiped out of existence by some natural disaster. Likely a rogue tidal wave from the coast." The Hound reported, all humor gone as grey eyes flashed dangerously. "Varvara, what are you suggesting by this line of¡­ unusual questioning?" "I suggest nothing. I only loyally follow my standing orders from the Olympia council to ask these questions to anyone entering the city under unusual circumstances." The Captain stated with indifferent professionalism. "Also, the famed Caesar Clan''s reports seem outdated. The most recent reports say Helike was brought to ruin by a storm of apocalyptic proportions, a Fate none of the city''s Faction-assigned oracles saw approaching." "The loss of Helike is a tragedy beyond measure, even more so under such strange circumstances. I, for one, can understand the council''s concern for Olympia''s residents. However, I can and will swear on my Soul that Morgan has nothing to do with those sad events." Ego jumped in before the Hound could rise to the verbal bait and gave the Centaur a respectful bow. "Captain Varvara, we have all had a trying day, and I fear our moods will only worsen without food and rest. If there are no more questions, please allow Lady Septima to take us so you may return to your proper duties. We do not wish to take any more of your time than necessary." Wow. In only a few sentences, the Monk put the kibosh on any potential bickering between the two sides without insulting anyone. An impressive feat, if a little dull in Morgan''s opinion, but he''d take it. "I see the wisdom of your words Spirit and-" Varara paused mid-sentence, her gaze went vacant for a moment before focusing back on Morgan. "-and they come at the perfect time. Lord Morgan''s Core report has just been completed, and I have only one question left to ask." "Please do." He said, ready to get off this damn boat. "The heads of the tourist department wish to collect information on the kinds of travelers visiting our city." The Captain said with a robotic stiffness not present before, like the explanation was a sales pitch she wasn''t allowed to skip. "Specifically, they wish to know what age group you are in to better align local businesses and notable attractions with what is trending." "You- I mean, these department heads want to know how old I am?" The Professor blinked, not mentally prepared for the sudden survey. After performing some quick calculations and date conversions, he gave up on the math and reached out to the Spirit. [What''s the current Earth date?] [July 18th.] "I am 77 years old." "Pardon me?" Septima gasped. Clearly, her aunt''s letter failed to warn her of that novel bit of trivia. "How can you be my senior by almost a decade and still look so," the veteran Hoplite struggled to find appropriate words. "Fresh?" "Friends in high places." Morgan said cryptically before pointedly changing the topic to something far less personal and prone to questioning. "So, do I get to keep the Class Core report, or does that get added to my file?" "You may keep the report if you want it¡­" The Captain said slowly, still looking at him with obvious jealousy as a square sheet of paper appeared in her hand. "The Array is merely a tool used for seeing the Rating of potential threats, so there is nothing of interest to be¡­" Upon casually glancing at the sheet, Varvara''s eyes did a noticeable double take on the continents. At first, her expression remained neutral, a little confused to be sure, but nothing alarming. That all changed when she reached some kind of understanding the rest weren''t privy to, and suddenly, neutrality twisted into total disgust¡ªdisgust aimed at him. "What does it say?" Morgan asked and extended a hand, though by the sudden rage roaring in the woman''s eyes, one would think he''d just issue her a command at gunpoint. Sneering at the Professor like he''d just kicked a sack of puppies into a river after setting fire to an orphanage, the bitch dropped the report on the floor. With venom dripping from every word, she answered the question. "Nothing that isn''t true, I suspect." The report fluttered down, flipping too fast to catch sight of what was printed on one side until finally, it landed face up. There, a picture of a single Rune glowed with the same dark blue light and font he''d seen used on Class Core windows. The symbol resembled a tilde (the little squiggle over the letter ''N'' in Spanish), a fishing hook, and a backward-facing 7 layer over each other. While meaningless to the Human and likely the uncivilized Beats still snoozing away, the others sharp hisses of horror told him the meaning was nothing good. [It''s the symbol for Wanderer.] The Monk came to his rescue without him needing to ask. [Officially, it translates to English as ''Those who travel without direction.''] [Hmm. Didn''t that land squid Lysander call me a Wanderer once?] He asked, a knot growing in his stomach as Septima''s muzzle opened and closed soundlessly, incomprehension rendering her mute. [Based on context, I just assumed it meant non-Cultivator.] [Well, you''re not exactly wrong in concept.] The Monk visibly winced and chose their following words very carefully. [Some Cultivators might use Wanderer to describe regular Mortals, but not in a positive way. I''m not sure where your Rating ranks in the hierarchy, but I do know that the term is often slang for-] "Trash?!" The Hound howled in anguish. "Your Overall Rating is Trash?!?