Iteration requested.  110. Cradle

  Lindon stood up from the ground, his cheeks blushing in embarrassment from what he had just done. Whitehall's eyes, or at least the ones not covered by a mask, bored into him.

  "Forgiveness, Elder Whitehall," he bowed. "We should share it, of course."

  Before Elder Whitehall could reply, the wall behind them vanished.

  Dross, a cloud of purple drifted out of his gem. "Oooh, that's a toasted dragon. Do you think she'll taste good? I've never eaten a dragon before."

  Dross' large eye shifted to the newcomers. "You must be the ones that saved Lindon."

  Whitehall and Sadi stared at the floating purple cloud.

  "Is there something on my face?" Dross asked.

  Lindon coughed. "Elder Whitehall and...," he paused when he realised he did not know the name of Whitehall's companion.

  "Sadi," the woman answered.

  "Sadi," Lindon continued. "Meet Dross."

  A sharp warning screamed through his bond with Orthos. "Hold on, Orthos," Lindon turned to face the turtle stepping towards them, black dragon's breath forming in his mouth. "They are friendly."

  "Then tell them to sheath their weapons," the turtle grumbled, black eyes boring into the two unknown sacred artists.

  Only then did Lindon notice Sadi had not sheathed her knives. Her knuckles were white as she held them. Whitehall placed a hand on her shoulder, and only then did she sheathed her knives behind her waist.

  "Is this how you thank those who have saved you," she spat. "Shouldn't have expected any more from an Unsouled."

  Lindon's eyes instinctively turned black. He has not been called an Unsouled for a long time now. But the word still irritated him. Little Blue climbed onto his shoulder and slapped his cheek, speaking in bells and whistles. She was weak, and barely any madra was injected into her slap. He could not translate what she said, but he thought he understood.

  "Enough," Whitehall was the first to speak up. "Let's just split the spoils, and we can go our separate ways," he pointed at the ground at the dead body and the pieces of jewellery.

  "Lindon's dragon's breath killed her. He should get the first pick," Orthos growled.

  "No," Sadi replied.

  The turtle cycled his madra, powering up his Truegold spirit. He was in no shape to fight, but Whitehall and Sadi did not know it. And Lindon wanted the first pick.

  "Fine," Sadi replied, clenching her hands into fists.

  Other than gemstones and precious metals, there were three other things on the floor. A torn necklace with a key, a tiny jade rectangle, and the handle of her whip. Lindon wanted the whip.

  Orthos moved forward and grabbed the key in his mouth. "You may scavenge the rest."

  Lindon wanted to protest but sensed confidence and assurance through his bond with Orthos. Whatever the key was, Orthos was sure it was the most precious.

  Two new spirits emerged into the air bubble, and Lindon's perception screamed a warning. Orthos withdrew his spirit inwards.

  "That was a bit unfair, don't you think?" A familiar, disinterested voice spoke as a sacred artist with green horns entered. "That void key will have plenty more inside."

  "Yeah, I agree. That's cheating!" a black bird squawked from the man's shoulder.

  Lindon bowed to the Truegold. "Forgiveness, this one has no idea what the key was."

  The man did not bother to look at Lindon as he answered. "The turtle did."

  "We can split the contents of the void key," Orthos replied, his tone less threatening than previously.

  The black bird flew down and waddled before Orthos. "You are one weird-looking dragon," the bird commented.

  Meatball yelped as he grabbed the bird off the ground. "Meatball," he scolded. "Let's not go antagonising Truegolds."

  "And you are a weird-looking bird," the turtle replied.

  Meatball straightened her back as she perched on Whitehall's shoulder. "That I am."

  Whitehall cut into the conversation, gesturing at the bird and green-horned man. "Everyone, meet Meatball and Ziel." He then pointed at the others. "Meatball and Ziel, meet Wei Shi Lindon, Orthos, Dross..." he paused when his finger landed on a blue spirit girl.

  "Little Blue," Lindon answered. The spirit chimed bells and whistles from his shoulder in acknowledgement.

  "Now that introductions are over," Sadi spoke up. "What is a void key?"

  "It's a private space that can only be accessed by the key holder," Ziel answered, walking towards the group.

  The void key suddenly became Lindon's number one priority. He still wanted the contents, but now that another Truegold was here, he would settle for the key.

  "I would like to keep the key," Lindon said before anyone can claim it. "I'll be willing to split the contents evenly."

  Ziel did not reply; he shrugged at Whitehall and Sadi instead. "You were the one that fought the dragon."

  Lindon saw Whitehall hesitate, and he unconsciously rubbed the blue marble in his pocket.

  "Agreed," Whitehall said and looked to Sadi. She nodded her agreement.

  Ten minutes later, after the void key's contents were shared, Lindon could not help but be glad of his choice. There was not much in the void key that would help his advancement. There was gold and more gold, but he did not care about those. At least he convinced himself so.

  Whitehall had taken the whip, claiming that he needed a weapon. While Sadi settled for the jade stone, she filled her bag with gold. It rubbed Lindon raw the first time Sadi laid claim to the golds. He did not complain, though. The void key was the real treasure, according to Orthos.

  "Whitehall. Sadi," Ziel's voice echoed through the chamber behind where the wall was. "You two might want to drink some," he pointed at the Dream Well.

  Sadi was there first, drinking a handful of precious water. "Wow," she said as she swallowed the water.

  "Like a full night's sleep in a bottle," Dross chimed in.

  Whitehall drank the water, his eyes widening as he swallowed it. He drank it greedily. Lindon was furiously clearing his void key. He wanted to fill his key with as much water as possible before the others finished it.

  "I told you about the Spirit Well, haven't I? Dross added, speaking to everyone. "I'll repeat it just in case. Its water promotes growth in madra density and recovery. A glass or two can take a Highgold to the brink of advancement."

  "Come on, you two," Ziel sighed, grabbing the Wasteland Lowgolds, who were busy drinking the Dream Well like they had not drank water for a century. "That's where we're heading." He pointed at the cracks in space. "We're running out of time if you two want to advance."

  Whitehall and Sadi expressed muted complaints but complied anyway, returning to the edges of the water bubble.

  "Are you coming?" Ziel asked, looking over his shoulder.

  Lindon was filling as much of the water from the Dream Well as possible into various empty containers inside his void key. "One moment, please," he bowed, holding a treasure chest filled with water from the Dream Well. "This one will be glad to join you." He had a few more empty vials that he wanted to fill.

  "No," Ziel's voice was disinterested but firm.

  Lindon looked up at the rejection. He saw the crack in space and the three sacred artists waiting for him. These were treasures he had never had access to before. And most importantly, he wanted to share them with Yerin.

  "Don't worry," Dross attempted to cheer Lindon up. "Don't mind me losing essence and essentially dying. But focus on the real treasure. The Spirit Well."

  Lindon sighed. "Lead the way."

  Inside the icy water, three lights illuminated Lindon's path forward. Dross's purple, Orthos's deep red, and Ziel's green. For some odd reason, Sadi was at the lead. He reckoned it was due to her light path. He checked his pockets, making sure Little Blue was secure. He pulled out Suriel's marble, adding a faint blue light to the others.

  He strained to keep up, but Orthos had remained close, and Lindon suspected the turtle was waiting for him. They reached the edge of the cliff, and he looked down. The warm orange light of a new habitat shone from below.

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  "Wow, how did they know the Spirit Well's location?" Dross asked, and Lindon suspected it was towards him.

  He was unable to reply underwater, so he shrugged instead. As he got closer to the habitat, his eyes widened. Around it were the remains of a Sea serpent. He knew it was dead because its head was mush, and smaller fishes were eating its body.

  "The Diamondscale Sea Drake," Dross commented. "Good thing you did not fight the horned man. Ziel of the Wasteland."

  If Ziel had done this, Lindon could only thank the heavens for agreeing to share Ekeri's treasure peacefully. They emerged into the habitat, and Lindon saw the Wasteland group going deeper into the table library.

  "Who is he?" Lindon asked, in awe of the power required to take down such a large creature.

  "There's not much about him in our records. But I can tell you that he is under the protection of the Beast King," Dross answered. "You know what that means."

  Lindon shook his head, "I don't."

  "Really?" Dross asked as though it was something obvious.

  Lindon shook his head again.

  Dross seemed to glow slightly brighter at Lindon's lack of knowledge. He opened his mouth and began explaining.

  Ziel led Whitehall, Sadi, and Meatball into the dimly lit tablet library, its air thick with dust. Shelves stretched endlessly, lined with countless dream tablets that glowed faintly. Meatball sniffed the air and flew ahead, landing softly near a glowing blue well. The bond between Whitehall and the beast flared with recognition.

  The Spirit Well.

  Whitehall's curiosity sparked, but Ziel strode past it without a second glance, heading straight for the shelves. He began rummaging through stacks of dream tablets.

  "We'll have time to advance both of you later," Ziel said, his voice calm but firm. It was as if he had plucked the question straight from Whitehall and Sadi's minds. "These," he continued, pulling out two tablets, "are the real treasures for your paths."

  He handed a tablet to each of them.

  "What are these?" Sadi asked, brushing her fingers over the dusty surface. The tablet felt old yet vibrant.

  "Archlord dream tablets on the Path of Light and Life," Ziel explained. "They'll give you insights to develop techniques suited to your paths."

  Whitehall's grip tightened around his tablet, reverence shining in his eyes. "Thank you. Master never taught us any techniques for our path."

  Ziel shrugged, settling down against a wall in a meditative position. "He believes powerful techniques are forged in battle. That's how he was taught and how he reached Herald." Ziel closed his eyes, beginning to cycle. "I disagree."

  Whitehall exchanged a glance with Sadi, who gave a slight shrug before activating the scripts. Her body crumbled, and Whitehall caught her before she hit the floor. He laid her down gently, his jaw tightening.

  Then he lay beside her, clutching his own dream tablet. Closing his eyes, he activated the scripts, and his mind flooded with an Archlord's memories.

  His gaze sharpened at the dying man on his table. The man's blood was infected with the poison of a Sage. He was pale and blue, the only signs of life being his chest, which expanded and deflated every five seconds. The poison was complex, not a simple toxin. It contained spirits, life forms that grew stronger every moment it feasted on the man's flesh and spirit.

  "A path of life can also be a path of poison. Poison can also be medicine," the man stated, looking up into the mirror. Tentacles grew like a beard over the Archlord's face, and his eyes bore into the reflection.

  His tentacles glowed purple as his enforcer technique took over. Multiple toxins moved through his channels, strengthening the muscles in his tentacles.

  "We can fight life with life."

  The tentacles plunged into the dying man, injecting a different kind of poison. A poison meant to eat the toxin in the dying man.

  Whitehall's eyes snapped open, his mind racing. He knew the main gist of the Archlord's message. Medicine is just another type of poison. And he could fight life with life. But the enforcer technique caught his attention. The octopus sacred beast's enforcer technique used multiple poisons to strengthen his tentacles. And he countered the adverse effects with other poisons.

  Whitehall sat up and began cycling. His core was a dark orb with the venom of the sacred beasts of the Wastelands. He had considered them to be one madra, but they were not. They were made of multiple. With agonising slowness, he began to identify the different toxins, understanding their adverse and positive effects.

  His eyes snapped open as he felt Sadi convulse next to him. She moved erratically, her hand still tightly clenched around her dream tablet and her mouth foaming. The dream tablet began to crack with golden light. Ziel was there in an instant. For the first time, Whitehall saw fear in his eyes.

  "What is happening?" Whitehall asked, putting his lap underneath Sadi's head.

  "Sunda's remnant inside her had cracked open," Ziel deduced. "She's advancing, but the dream tablet must have interfered with her spirit."

  "What should we do?" Whitehall questioned.

  Ziel placed a hand above her stomach, and a green script appeared under it. "I'm stabilising her, but her spirit is still in turmoil."

  "Spirit Well!" Whitehall deduced with a yell.

  Sweat dripped down Ziel's head as he focused on his technique. He was in a battle of wills against a Herald's remnant inside Sadi. And he did not know how long he could last.

  "Take her," Ziel said through clenched teeth.

  "Meatball!" Whitehall yelled, but the bird must have heard them and was already on her way to his side. She gripped Sadi's shoulders and began flapping her wings as Whitehall gripped Sadi's feet.

  Lindon appeared shortly after.

  "Spirit Well. Now!" Whitehall yelled.

  Lindon did not say a word but helped lift Sadi by her shoulders where Meatball was struggling.

  Together, they lifted her towards the Spirit Well as gently as possible—her convulsing made it difficult at times to lift her. Ziel trailed behind, his hand stretched out, and his eyes closed in focus.

  "Into the well," Ziel muttered as he struggled with his technique.

  They gently placed her inside the Spirit Well. Whitehall removed his shirt and dipped it into the water, putting the wet cloth over Sadi's mouth so she would not choke and let her reflexes swallow instead. It was agonisingly slow, but it worked. Her body began to convulse less, and her skin glowed golden. Ziel deactivated his technique and crumpled to the floor. Lindon and Whitehall helped Ziel to the Spirit Well, and the man began drinking it. He lay next to the pool as he cycled.

  Hours had passed, and Whitehall continued to sit by Sadi's side, replacing the cloth every few minutes.

  Lindon's question broke the silence. "What happened, Elder Whitehall?" he asked.

  Whitehall's eyes did not move from Sadi's form, and at the Dream tablet, she had continued to hold. The cracks had grown larger. "She began advancing while viewing the Dream Tablet. We think it interfered with her spirit."

  Lindon nodded, and Whitehall saw the boy jotting down notes on a book from the corner of his eyes.

  "Why do you still call me that?" Whitehall asked.

  Lindon looked up in confusion.

  "Elder," Whitehall explained. "We are both on the same level of advancement now."

  Lindon scratched the back of his head sheepishly. He almost sounded embarrassed when he answered. "Because you're the only one I know in Sacred Valley who had never called me Unsouled."

  Whitehall felt sorry for the boy. He must have been insulted his whole life, and a lack of insult was enough to gain the boy's respect. However, Lindon's answer begged a question.

  "My foundation provides those considered disabled a stipend of fruits and elixir. Last time I checked, the Wei Clan was one of the recipients. What did you do with your share?" Whitehall asked.

  Lindon was filling water from the Spirit Well into jugs and jars he had found when Whitehall's words caused him to stumble. He recovered quickly, not letting a drop spill onto the floor.

  "I did not receive any," Lindon answered, and Whitehall watched his human knuckle turned white. His gaze darkened as he continued. "The Clan did not see an Unsouled fit for any resources."

  Whitehall frowned at the boy's answer. How dare the Wei Clan use his charity to serve their own greed.

  "I meant what I said back then," Whitehall muttered. I accepted you not due to your condition but because of your drive to succeed."

  Lindon bowed his head, and Whitehall thought the boy was about to cry based on his voice. "This one thanks the Elder."

  "Stop bowing, would you," Whitehall complained. "Let's just have a conversation."

  Lindon sat straight and nodded. "Was there any news about my family while I was gone?" he asked.

  Whitehall nodded. "The school Elders arrested your family and brought them for interrogation."

  Lindon's face grimaced. "The clan did not protect them?"

  "No," Whitehall answered. "I pulled strings to provide them a chance to escape. They now reside with a group of stragglers in the Valley." Whitehall waved his hand. "Don't fret. I have Elder Rahm to protect them while I am away."

  Lindon did not look assured by the name of the Elder.

  "He doesn't like it either," Whitehall shrugged and glanced at Lindon. "But I gave back his arm."

  "Why?" Lindon asked. "Why go to such lengths for me?"

  "Not for you. But for what is right," Whitehall answered. He brought his head close to Lindon's ear. "Because I've licked the boots of those more powerful. And I swore to myself I will not be like them once I am there," he whispered.

  Lindon's eyes grew wide as he nodded.

  "Now," Elder Whitehall sat back, returning his gaze to Sadi's unconscious form. "What happened to your arm?"

  Sadi stared through the eyes of the Sacred Artist within the dream tablet, the vision pulling her into a storm of chaos. In front of her, a lone woman stood atop a jagged boulder, her silhouette stark against the endless, heaving ocean. The waves roared and crashed with relentless fury, the black water illuminated by flashes of lightning that tore through the storm-clouded sky.

  From the depths, a massive figure rose, its grotesque form shrouded in shadow and mist. Tentacles writhed across its colossal body, each one twisting and undulating as though alive. From its sides emerged four human arms, unnaturally large, their movements deliberate and commanding. With each sweep of its limbs, the waves obeyed, crashing and surging toward the shore. The ground trembled beneath the weight of its approach, yet the woman on the boulder stood unmoving.

  Her hand rose, and the golden ring on her finger ignited with a brilliant golden light, cutting through the chaos. She slashed her hand downward, and four towering obsidian pillars appeared in the sky, their surfaces smooth and metallic. In an instant, they plummeted, slamming into the creature's form. Its deafening scream tore through the air, an anguished sound reverberating through Sadi's mind. She clutched her ears, yet the woman remained still, her focus unbroken.

  The woman's hand rose again, summoning ten more pillars from the heavens. With another commanding swipe, they struck like judgment itself, piercing the monstrous figure. The creature howled, its twisted form writhing as the ocean swallowed it whole, dragging it back into the abyss.

  "To the new Emperor!" Someone yelled

  Around Sadi, voices erupted in unison, a chorus of triumph that shook the ground.

  “Emperor!”

  Her chest heaved as the vision filled her, and her voice joined the thunderous cry, unbidden but unstoppable.

  "Emperor!"

  The chant swelled, a single word carrying the weight of unshakable faith and victory.

  "Emperor!"

  Sadi's eyes snapped open, and she coughed. She removed a wet rag covering her mouth and found herself inside the Spirit Well. She felt a familiar hand on her shoulder.

  "Sadi, how do you feel?" Whitehall's worried voice echoed through the chamber.

  She clenched and unclenched her fists and cycled her madra. It was easier now, smoother, and her core was more dense than ever. "I feel great," she answered. "Did I advance?"

  "You did," Whitehall nodded. "Ziel thinks Sunda's remnant cracked open when you were under the dream tablet. It interfered with your advancement."

  She looked into the blue water of the Spirit Well. That explained why she was here. Her gaze swept around the room. She found Ziel and Lindon cycling in a corner. A black shadow floated in the Well—Meatball. The bird was floating on its back through the water with her eyes closed, and Little Blue had fallen asleep on her belly. Her gaze shifted to Whitehall, and she paused.

  "Why are you shirtless?" she asked, her gaze drifting over his muscular body. The serpent meat really did him some good, she thought.

  "I couldn't just feed you the water, or you would've choked," Whitehall explained, grabbing the wet rag on the floor. He unfurled it, revealing that it was his shirt.

  "Oh," she muttered, feeling a little embarrassed. "That was a bit gross. But sweet," she smiled. She used her perception on the bird floating before her. Meatball was a highgold. How long was she out? She frowned when her perception landed on Whitehall. "Why are you still lowgold? I must have been out for a while now."

  "You've only been out for a few hours?" Whitehall rolled his eyes. "Someone needed to keep an eye on you."

  Sadi felt touched by the gesture. "I really appreciate it, and I mean it. But you need to start drinking." Without warning, she grabbed Whitehall's arm and dragged him into the Spirit Well.

  Whitehall rose from the water, his grin wide. "Oh, you're asking for it now," he laughed, splashing water onto her face. Sadi laughed as she splashed back.

  "If you two are done playing inside a pool of a monarch's elixir," Ziel's impassive voice cut through the air. "You might want to start cycling." He pointed at the corner of the room where dark cracks were forming. "We don't have forever."

  Whitehall and Sadi looked away in embarrassment.

  Little Blue chimed softly, slapping her hands playfully onto Meatball's belly.

  "Shh," Meatball quietly shushed the Sylvian Riverseed. "I am not aware of anything that is happening," she continued in a serene voice.

  Little Blue tilted her head in confusion.

  Elder Empire

  Iteration requested.  Asylum

  Date?  Request Rejected

  Report Complete

  "Malin, you need to see this!" Tora's voice was frantic as he banged on the door of the captain's cabin. When no response came, he threw the door open, only to find Malin on his knees, his head bowed, and his hands clenched into fists. The room was dimly lit, the air heavy with an unspoken grief.

  "Malin, we need you up there!" Tora shouted, his voice barely audible over the roar of thunder and the violent shaking of the ship.

  Malin looked up, his eyes swollen and red, his face pale. For a moment, he seemed disoriented, as if pulled from a deep trance. Then, the sound of the storm registered—the thunder, the howling wind, the relentless pounding of the waves against the hull. He stood abruptly, his expression hardening. "I'm coming," he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his eyes.

  Tora stepped aside, his own face etched with worry, but there was no time to ask questions. Malin brushed past him and strode onto the deck, the rain instantly soaking him to the bone. The storm was unlike anything he had ever seen. The sky was a churning mass of black clouds, lightning streaking across the heavens, and the waves rose like mountains, crashing against the ship with terrifying force.

  Malin's mind was suddenly flooded with warnings, his instincts screaming at him to act. "Turn back!" he bellowed, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Turn back to the island!"

  Tora saluted, his face grim, and began barking orders to the crew. Communication was nearly impossible over the deafening thunder, but the urgency in Malin's voice was enough to spur them into action.

  Malin's eyes swept the deck, taking in the chaos. One of the crew members was swept overboard by a monstrous wave, his scream swallowed by the storm. Before Malin could react, he felt a hand grip his arm with surprising strength. He turned to find Tseria beside him, her face pale and her body trembling beneath a large, sodden cloak.

  "Malin," she started, her voice barely audible over the storm, but a sudden lurch of the ship sent them both crashing to the deck.

  "Tseria, you need to go insi—" Malin began, but his words were drowned out by a guttural roar that shook the very air. It was a sound unlike anything he had ever heard—deep, primal, and filled with an otherworldly rage.

  All heads turned toward the source of the sound. Malin's heart sank as a massive shape began to rise from the depths. The creature emerged slowly, its form grotesque and terrifying. Its head was a mass of writhing tentacles, its body hulking and humanoid but covered in thick, scaly skin. Its arms ended in clawed hands, and its legs—thick and powerful—propelled it through the water with ease.

  "Elder," Tora whispered, his voice filled with dread.

  Malin stared at the creature, his instincts screaming at him to flee. He had always trusted his intuition, but this time, it had come too late. The Elder roared again, its voice shaking the air and sending a gust of wind so powerful it capsized several of the smaller ships in the fleet.

  "Tora!" Malin shouted, his voice raw with desperation. "Back to the island! NOW!"

  Tora didn't respond—he didn't need to. He was already in motion, shouting orders to the crew as they fought to regain control of the ship.

  Malin felt Tseria's hand tighten in his, her grip trembling. He hadn't even realized he was holding it until now. "Malin, I'm scared," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the storm.

  "We'll be fine," he replied, his voice firm despite the fear gnawing at his chest. He squeezed her hand, trying to reassure her, but his own heart was racing.

  With his free hand, Malin reached out toward the water, the silver ring on his finger glowing with a faint golden light. He focused all his will, commanding the sea to carry them away from the creature. The water responded, swirling around the ship and propelling it forward.

  But the Elder was not so easily outmatched. It roared again, and the wind surged with renewed fury, tearing at the sails and ripping the ship apart piece by piece. Malin's control over the water was no match for the sheer power of the storm.

  The ship was tossed like a toy, the deck tilting violently as waves crashed over the sides. Malin clung to the railing with one hand, his other still gripping Tseria's. He could feel the ship breaking apart beneath them, the wood groaning and splintering under the strain.

  Then, with a final, deafening crash, the ship was lifted high into the air by a monstrous wave. For a moment, they were weightless, suspended in the chaos of the storm. And then they fell, the ship slamming into the water upside down.