Tunde found himself alone at the door leading to the abode of Varis and Rhaelar, his mind racing faster than ever. Since awakening from his forced recovery-induced slumber, a fire burned within him, an intensity he was sure the glowing presence of his Ark screen at his side could explain. But Tunde hadn’t opened it. Once a tool meant to aid his cultivation, it now felt like a relic, a useless reminder of his failure to protect his people. The sentient screen only reminded him of his weakness, of his inability to glean its secrets.
As he approached the door, the two lord-stage warriors guarding it parted without a word. Their postures were more relaxed than usual, perhaps due to Varis informing them to allow Tunde a free pass. He nodded respectfully before stepping into the room, thick with an aura so potent he could almost see it in the air. Despite the room's enormous size, Tunde felt it shrinking around him with every step, the weight of his inadequacies pressing down on him. He avoided Rhaelar's gaze, the oppressive atmosphere seeming to amplify her presence.
The room had grown more opulent with each visit, an increasingly ridiculous display of wealth within the stark black rock fortress. Bowing at the waist, he spoke softly, “I greet the venerable Highlord and master.” Varis sat in a lotus position, eyes closed, seemingly unaware of Tunde’s presence. Rhaelar, writing on a parchment, paused and glanced at her brother, who then opened his storm-grey eyes, fixing them on Tunde. The oppressive aura intensified, originating from Varis himself.
“You’re a very lucky lord, Tunde,” Rhaelar said as Tunde sat on the cool wooden floor, feeling the Highlord’s gaze piercing him. “Lost within the Battle of Black Rock, fought and survived a clash between two masters. I’m not sure if the heavens favor you or if you’re just that tenacious.” She continued; her voice wrapped in a subtle aura that threatened to snap shut any moment. “Of course, my brother here seems to think you’re worth the trouble. Something I found incredibly ridiculous at first, but now...”
Her words trailed off as Tunde felt her gaze on him, the aura tightening. Varis flicked his hand, and a familiar weapon manifested. Tunde’s eyes widened—it was the jade blade of the Jade Tyrant, yet different. Its once dull green blade was now a dark grey, the same color as his concept.
“You will tell us everything that happened out there,” Varis said, his voice commanding. “From the moment you were betrayed at the gates of Black Rock, to your time in the wastelands, and your connection to this weapon.”
Tunde gathered his thoughts, arranging them calmly as he bowed once again, speaking softly. "As the master wills it," he began, "however, if it pleases the master and Highlord, I beg of them to inform me of what has happened to my friend, Miria," he said, forcing the words out of his mouth.
He expected a retort, maybe even a venomous rebuke from Varis. The Highlord was anything but indulgent when it came to his wishes. Instead, he heard Rhaelar speak, "Your friend has been taken by a sect of the empire to answer for your actions," she started as Tunde’s gaze snapped to her for the first time. "The first thing you should learn here and now before venturing into the wider world is that actions have consequences," she continued. "You gave her a shadow affinity crystal whose origins you had no idea of, other than the fact that you obtained it from an assassin sent to kill you," she said.
"That assassin was a member of a powerful sect within the empire, one who reports directly to the imperial clan," Varis added as Tunde stared at them in confusion. Why was the Talahan clan after him? What could he have done to draw the attention of the empire all the way out here in the wastelands? "Do not think so highly of yourself as to imagine you were his true target," Varis said, cutting off that line of thought.
"You were simply a victim of circumstances, a distraction from the cultivator’s true goal. It was a pity he died at your hands. Although I must applaud you, it’s no easy feat to kill a member of the Phantoms," she said with a chuckle. The Phantoms. For once, Tunde was tempted to ask the sentience what that meant. Instead, he focused on his questions. "Will I ever see her again?" he asked. "That depends on you," Rhaelar concluded, her tone brooking no argument.
Tunde nodded, shutting his eyes as he gathered his memories of his time out there in the wastelands. One by one, he began to recount his tale: of his time in the cave, of the grand Ethralite, of Heito, of Yumar, and of the king. By the time he was done, Tunde found he had stiffened his body, the words coming from his mouth enraging him more and more as he uttered them.
He glanced at Varis, whose gaze held questions he couldn’t decipher. Was the Highlord impressed, angry, or did they think he was lying? He wouldn’t blame them if they thought so; no Lord Realm cultivator should have survived all that he had, and yet, here he was, alive and breathing. Rhaelar reclined in her chair, her gaze far away as Varis glanced from the now black blade and back at Tunde.
"A grand Ethralite," Rhaelar murmured softly to herself, totally ignoring Tunde who said nothing. "Well, that explains the sudden rise of Clan Verdan, and to think we hardly bothered to even confirm their origins," she continued. "You survived a battle between a grand Ethralite and another master. Again, I ask, are you just lucky, or is there something more to you?" she said, finally turning her gaze to him.
Varis sighed, rubbing his eyes as he spoke, "Somehow, you always survive," he said, not at Tunde in particular, as if the Highlord simply found him tiring to even talk to directly. "When I found you, that blade was wedged tightly in your hand, as if unwilling to let go," he continued. "You claim the tyrant, as you called this grand Ethralite, wanted you to somehow harm Yumar, who was being possessed by Haruka?" Varis asked for confirmation.
Tunde nodded in reply as Varis chuckled softly. "Is the Wasteland King really dead?" Tunde asked. He found it almost impossibly odd that the master realm cultivator had died so easily. There were almost no signs of the titanic battle that had taken place just outside the walls of Black Rock itself. "Along with that jade tyrant as well," Varis replied.
Tunde swallowed, bowing his head to the two of them. "The master truly is powerful," he said. "In truth, Haruka was not your problem to deal with," Rhaelar said as Tunde watched Varis turn his head sharply toward her, "Sister," he said in warning.
She waved away his warning dismissively. "Haruka is dead; there is not much harm that could come from telling his tale,” She said as Varis reluctantly remained silent. She turned her gaze to Tunde again, speaking with an air of laziness, "What do you know of Haruka?" she asked. Tunde glanced at Varis, who nodded just a fraction, giving him permission to speak.
"That he was a threat the empire kept watch on in the wastelands," Tunde started as she stared at him. "His rise to master rank presented a risk the empire couldn’t afford," he continued. "It is why the venerable Highlord was sent to handle the matter, along with ensuring nothing of the revenants remained within the territory of the empire as well," he said.
Rhaelar nodded. "The only reason I will tell you what I’m about to is simply because you are the face of the Black Rock Sect," she started, causing Tunde to seem startled. "Before you say something foolish, or sing empty praises, do remember that you and I know that no Lord Realm cultivator within your fledgling sect can match up to your abilities," Varis said, cutting Tunde off.
He snapped his mouth shut.
"There are certain things you will become privy to, not because of your cultivation stage, which even I think is too weak for you to command such, but your position now," Rhaelar said. "My position?" Tunde asked softly. "That will be addressed later," she said dismissively, Tunde wise enough not to push it.
"Haruka, to put it plainly, is a bastard of Clan Talahan," she said as Tunde blinked after a few seconds, unsure if he had heard right. He glanced at Varis, who folded his arms, saying nothing. "What do you know of Clan Thoren?" she asked, Tunde sifting through his memories as he spoke.
"Clan Thoren is known for their beast-taming abilities and is supposedly one of the great clans of the empire near the borderlands as well," he replied.
"Supposedly, good," Varis said with a snort. Tunde had come to the profound realization that most of what he had been taught since his inception into the world of cultivation had been rubbish. Therefore, he found himself doubting everything he knew, maybe some of the things Joran had taught him too as well.
"They are a small but somewhat powerful sect within the heartlands of the empire, not powerful enough to draw the attention of the imperial clan. Maybe the lesser sects, but not the great sects and clans themselves," she stated. "Haruka was a forbidden offspring of one of our more… eccentric members," she said as Varis rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Something that was not a crime, but simply meant that in the grand scheme of things, he would be a bone of contention within the clan itself," she continued.
"Then he killed off his branch of the Thoren clan," Varis said. "Even as a child, he had the strength of the Talahan bloodline flowing within him. Thankfully, it didn’t manifest as any of our Ethra affinities, simply an unholy strength and uncanny sense of fighting skills," he continued.
Tunde frowned. It made no sense. How had a child been able to wipe out an entire branch of a clan without notice? Rhaelar nodded, "Good, you doubt the tale, as anyone else would," she said. "Except for the fact that Clan Thoren had been too ambitious in their aim to gain more power for themselves," she said.
“Haruka's early years were spent in the shadows of Clan Thoren, raised by a caretaker who was sworn to secrecy,” Rhaelar continued. “Despite his clandestine existence, Haruka exhibited extraordinary talents from a young age. He possessed an innate connection with beasts, surpassing even the most skilled tamers of Clan Thoren. His abilities were not limited to beast taming; he also showed a prodigious aptitude for cultivation, which was unusual for a child of his age.” She paused as Tunde digested the information.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
“As Haruka grew, his talents became harder to conceal. Rumors of a prodigious child began to spread, and it wasn't long before the other elders of Clan Thoren took notice. They saw in Haruka both a threat and an opportunity,” Varis stated. “The clan’s jealousy and fear of his potential led to growing animosity. Haruka was treated with disdain and subjected to increasingly harsh conditions, even by members of his own clan,” Varis continued, seemingly taking over for his sister.
“You must understand that while his presence as a forbidden child was not inherently frowned upon, it would become a taint on the imperial clan if it was not handled properly,” Rhaelar said.
“The final straw came when a particularly cruel elder tried to subjugate him, hoping to harness his abilities for the clan's gain,” Varis continued.
“One fateful night, the tension reached its boiling point. Haruka, cornered and desperate, tapped into his latent beast affinity in a way he never had before. His connection with the beasts of Clan Thoren had reached an unprecedented level, and in a fit of rage and fear, he unleashed a horde of tamed creatures upon the branch clan.”
“The beasts, loyal only to Haruka, slaughtered the clan members who had tormented him. Amidst the chaos, Haruka infiltrated the clan's sacred vault and stole their most prized cultivation manual. The manual contained ancient secrets that were believed to be the key to the clan’s power.”
That explained how he had done it, a mere child bringing a branch of a clan down with their own beasts. Tunde could only imagine how powerful he had been back then.
“With the branch clan decimated, Haruka fled into the wilderness, the stolen manual within his possession. He was now a fugitive, hunted by both Clan Thoren for his crimes and Clan Talahan simply for what the knowledge of such a child tied to us could cause,” Rhaelar said.
“In the years that followed, while aware of his presence and position within the wastelands, we watched Haruka continue to hone his abilities, using the cultivation manual to unlock techniques that even the most skilled practitioners of his bloodline could only dream of,” Varis finished.
Tunde paused before asking his question. “Why didn’t you stop him then?” he said. “Forgive me if I’m na?ve, but why did the empire wait till he was this much of a threat?” he asked.
“Because if we moved for a simple nobody within the wastelands, we would draw unwanted eyes on us,” Varis replied. “We were content to watch him from afar, blaming Clan Thoren for their crimes against the empire and watching them crumble from within. We found him, Haruka I mean, through a certain member of our clan whose ties to us ensured it would simply seem like a normal situation,” the Highlord continued.
“Haruka swore a soul oath not to advance past the stage of Highlord till we willed it.”
“And yet, he somehow did,” Tunde replied, confused. It was impossible; soul oaths were rarely breakable, and not one as straightforward as that.
“It is unclear how he broke it or survived the consequences, but after watching him raise an empire of hooligans and monsters out here, it was evident we needed to put him down at one point or another,” Varis completed.
“And the invasion of the revenants served as the proper cover to do that,” Tunde said, the fact dawning on him.
“It was either that, or we wiped Clan Verdan off the face of Adamath for conniving with the artificers of the Technocracy. Yes, we knew of it; we simply weren’t ready to act until the revenants showed up,” Varis stated.
In hindsight, Tunde wondered just what Clan Verdan had hoped to accomplish with what its patriarch had been attempting to do. With Haruka dead now, Tunde pondered what was left for the imperial clan members within Black Rock and the borderlands in general. “The grand Ethralite assumed I had been sent by Clan Verdan to somehow either release it or kill it,” Tunde said.
Rhaelar chuckled. “Amazing, the level of hypocrisy Rowan had. It almost makes me want to kill him all over again. To make a contract with an Ethralite, but it begs the question of how he had sealed it,” she said.
“Are there more of its kind?” Tunde asked. The thought of more slumbering creatures of such power within the wastelands sat uncomfortably with him. Black Rock had been lucky with the presence of Rhaelar around. With her gone, they were more exposed than he wanted.
Then again, such was life on Adamath: the powerful took what they wanted, leaving death and destruction in their wake.
“No, they are relics of a bygone era. Not even the old masters within Bloodfire could claim to have met one during the peak of their existence,” she replied, calming Tunde’s fear.
“Which begs the question of who and what sealed one down there for so long and how Rowan came in contact with it,” Varis replied.
Rhaelar sighed. “It doesn’t matter. We can’t ask the dead, and I, for one, am tired of this region,” she said, drawing his attention. “The beast surge is waning and the convergence is growing in power. You’ve had quite the interesting surge, haven’t you?” she said to Tunde, who bowed his head at her wordlessly. The master chuckled to herself. “Of course, that begs the question of what to do with the heirs of the great clans,” she said, Tunde staring at her.
“The deal was a series of duels to defend your right to stand as a clan,” Varis said. “In recent view of things, my sister and I have deemed it fit to grant you that request without the duel, but I believe you must want revenge for what they attempted to do,” he continued.
Tunde mulled over it, staring at the wooden floor in silence. Their position as an empire-backed sect was won by circumstance. While he would have preferred the presence of Ryka for this discussion, seeing as she would inevitably be the head of the sect the moment he left, and Tunde intended to do so. Rather, he found something within him light up at the mention of the duel, a burning ember that had grown in size.
It was rage, tempered and burning, but rage all the same.
Tunde spoke with profound confidence, the words leaving his mouth gently as he spoke. “If it pleases the master and Highlord, I would like the duel to continue as scheduled,” he said.
Varis raised an eyebrow as Rhaelar chuckled.
*******************************
Emi sat within the confined compound of the quarters they had been given. Eyes shut, she cultivated her concept of the Blossom Blade Art. There was a sense of somber contentment, as if she knew deep down that there was nothing more to be done, not after their plans had come to light. Her clan patriarch had been informed the moment the Highlord had ordered they be kept within the boundaries of the building.
And he had summarily disposed of her. It didn’t come as a surprise to her; Taisho Cheng would hardly allow the actions of one of his descendants to affect the long game he played with the empire. Besides, the Cheng clan couldn’t risk its position of power, not with all it stood to lose, especially its public face.
She was unaware of just what had happened to the other heirs, but from the looks of frustration, she guessed their situation wasn’t too different from hers. The verdict of the clan head had been straightforward: find a way to absolve herself of the stain she had seemingly placed on the clan or risk being disowned entirely. Emi knew better than to think of it as an empty threat. Too many ‘heirs’ to the Cheng clan stood waiting, hoping to the high heavens that the patriarch's words would come true.
They would squabble over it like feral beasts; a chance at making connections with the imperial clan was not something one was to simply pass up. Still, she wasn’t bothered, not much anyway. Few could match up to her blade skills, and she had overheard one of her blade masters subtly informing her parents that as she advanced in realms or ranks, she would inevitably touch on the Song of Blade.
Perhaps he was simply looking to garner favor from the clan, but a Highlord Sword Realm cultivator had nothing but his honor on the line when uttering such a statement. It had elevated her in the eyes of the clan patriarch, pushing her up all the way to his named heir. And now, one measly cultivator from the middle of nowhere was about to bring it all crashing down. She reflexively clenched her fist at the stray thought as the aura around her trembled.
The Ethra petals floating in the air around her were sliced to pieces as she tamped down the blooming frustration. No, she wouldn’t let the thought of one filthy upstart get to her. She was a petal, a looming flower of battle and beauty. She was Emi Cheng, most precious of the patriarch and soon-to-be restored heir of the Cheng clan.
Her aura field trembled as a presence stepped through it, disturbing her meditation. With an irritated sigh, she snapped out of it, opening her eyes and staring into the calm look of Wol Huang. The heir of the Huang clan seemed more at peace than her, if that was even possible. She glanced around, searching for the erstwhile last of their trio who had raged around the compound, snarling and cursing.
Emi had to admit that she had indeed enjoyed it, watching Chun rage impotently at the ground and ornately designed vases.
Now, though, it seemed like his rage and childish tantrum had abated, and he was faced with whatever stark realization was left to him. She eyed the heir in front of her as she spoke, “Without your hound, I see,” she said. Wol was above such needling, and to be fair, so was she; it only worked on muscle heads such as Chun.
Still, she found it the only proper way to voice her growing displeasure. “Chun is sequestered in his room. From what I’ve been able to gather, I believe the situation isn’t looking good for him,” Wol replied.
“Is it for any of us?” Emi asked. “We risk bringing shame to our respective clans, and you know what that means,” she said.
Wol nodded, for once Emi seeing the naked emotion of concern and anger in the Huang heir’s face. It was gone just as quickly, Wol sighing. “Indeed, it is why I am of the opinion we humble ourselves before the Highlord and Master,” he replied.
Emi frowned. “You’re asking me to give him leverage over my clan, and yours too, if I might add,” she said.
The Cheng clan would not stand for it. She could already picture the patriarch cutting her off and her family if she wasn’t careful. Even her own blood father would readily do so if it meant being in the good graces of Taisho Cheng. Wol shook his head. “No,” he started, “not as representatives of the clan, but as individual cultivators who acted without the knowledge of their clans,” he said.
“Even worse, you’re condemning us to a life of servitude. We could be shipped all the way to the border with the Technocracy and simply become another dead body in a ditch somewhere,” she replied.
While the empire was on a somewhat cordial level with the Technocracy, skirmishes had been breaking out within the city-wide borders it shared with the men of metal and Ethra, as they were called. The ‘peace’ both empires professed was one where their more advanced cultivators simply didn’t come to blows. Lords, though, were fair game, and for more than a year now, the battle continually painted its soil red and tainted its rivers.
Lords were simply blades to be pointed at each other's enemies, and with the surge as well as convergence, it was sure that more and more lords would be produced on both sides to be pushed around by those who used the war to their advantage. Peace, war—Emi realized how quickly it had been for her to move from the former to the latter.
There was no such thing as peace for the weak on Adamath; you either got strong enough to become the exception, or your body is just another one lying dead somewhere. “Not even the clans would watch as their offspring are so readily thrown into the grinder of war,” Wol objected.
Emi shook her head with a tired sigh. “Then I’m afraid you do not know your clan as much as you think you do,” she replied.
Wol frowned, about to speak again, when a flash of lightning later, Chun showed up, a scroll in his hand. Emi would have loved nothing more than to goad him again; she could use the light spar, beat her frustrations into the Zhang heir. His expression made her hold that thought as Chun visibly trembled with rage. “From the Highlord,” he said softly, barely controlled rage in his tone.
Wol collected the scroll, unfurling it as he read through. Emi watched his eyes widen in surprise before clouding with rage as he handed it over to her. Wordlessly, Emi read through it, one incredulous word after another as she finished the letter. “He’s alive,” she said in a whisper, as if not believing the words coming out of her mouth.
“Even in the very jaws of war and madness, he survived,” she continued as she saw a speechless Wol stare at her. “Do you now understand my point?” he asked softly. Emi’s eyes strayed back to the letter, reading the last paragraph all over again before speaking.
“And he wants a duel,” she said, eyes flicking to Chun, whose yellow lightning ran rampant through his body.
“A duel with you,” she completed.
