Tunde felt the biting punch of a migraine hammer into his skull as he roused from unconsciousness. His stomach roiling and his body screaming in raw pain, he groaned, unsure of where he was. The realization that his eyes were shut tight was another confusing factor he managed to consider along with the constant pounding in his skull.
He tried opening them, feeling his body too weak to even understand the situation he was in, his throat parched and his insides boiling from within. When he managed to force his eyelids open from the stickiness that accompanied them, he could only shut them back as bright light sent daggers through them.
He heard movements, a glass cup being brought to his mouth, and cold water going down his throat. Tunde groaned with agonizing pleasure, swallowing mouthfuls before a soft feminine voice spoke.
“Easy, you can’t rush it,” she said.
Tunde was sure that he had heard the voice from somewhere, but he found himself unable to put it together. He fell back on the soft surface he lay on with a sigh. A wet cloth wiped his face a few moments later. Tunde finally blinked his sight clear, finding himself in a large room. The ceilings were bare, nothing but the brown rocks that held it in place, the surface he was laying on similar to his bed back in his quarters.
The familiar face of Ani stared down at him, concern etched all over her features. He tried talking, his throat biting back with fury as he coughed, letting loose another round of agony within his head.
“Don’t, you barely made it back alive,” she said, Tunde’s cough subsiding.
The doors opened, and Lady Ryka along with Draven made their way into the room with concerned gazes. Fatigue spread through him again as he tried summoning his space within his void ring, when he found his fingers devoid of them. Panic settled in immediately as the memories of what had transpired before he had passed out came back to him in a deluge.
“Your void ring is safe,” Ryka said, staring at him.
“They were confiscated by the Highlord. He said your body was simply swimming with the impurities of the dozens of elixirs you had used—that they were simply poison within your system.”
“You were dying a slow death, my friend,” Draven said calmly.
Tunde glanced from his fingers to them, swallowing painfully with a wince. Ryka moved close to him, placing a hand on his head.
“You’re burning, something I didn’t think possible for a lord to be honest,” she said calmly.
Getting back up as she gave him space, she continued, “Miria is alive, and so is that woman you brought along.”
Miria had survived. Relief spread through him at that moment, relief he hadn’t realized he had been missing. It was like a breath of fresh air had blown on his body. Tunde felt himself getting weaker and weaker, eyes struggling to stay open.
“Don’t fight it,” Ani said soothingly. “Let it take you, rest. You’re safe,” she finished.
Tunde found himself drifting off into the darkness, the shape of Highlord Kugan burning itself into his mind as he passed out.
He awoke again to the gentle evening breeze soothing his body, eyes opening gently. This time, there was no panic, no sense of urgency, and although his body still hurt, he simply found himself staring at the ceiling in silence. The memories of what had occurred while he had been in the wastelands came back to him bit by bit.
He swallowed gently, still feeling the tight knot of pain at the back of his throat. Tunde admitted to himself that he hadn’t expected to survive. The calm realization that, had it not been for his quick thinking and no small amount of luck, he’d be nothing but another carcass gracing the sands of the wastelands, brought a sense of perception he hadn’t expected.
[Body is suffering from Ethra poisoning!] his screen wrote, unbidden as his eyes glazed over.
[Strength = 120, agility = 115, constitution = 115]
[Ethra heart has been poisoned by foreign Ethra, purge it or risk damaging your cultivation]
Tunde frowned at the message, searching within himself as he realized just how drained he was.
[Can’t the Fang absorb the poison?] he asked.
No response was forthcoming from Ifa, as if the sentience had suddenly gone blind to his message. Still pondering on it, he tried sitting up, groaning lightly before managing it, watching as the door to the room he was in opened. Isolde appeared at the door, and behind her stood two women dressed in white robes and carrying dishes. She eyed him as the two women moved from behind her to drop the dishes next to him, his stomach grumbling loudly.
Bowing slightly to him, they hurried out, leaving him with Isolde in the room. She moved closer, sitting right in front of him before opening the dishes, the enticing smell filling the room as his stomach panged with hunger.
“Eat,” she simply said.
Tunde needed no other encouragement. The meat soaked in some sauce that gave off vitality and life Ethra, and the other vegetable-covered dish, surely infused with some sort of endurance elixir, tempted him. He paused, speaking softly.
“Elixir... poisoning,” he said.
“No need to worry, the Highlord said it was fine, just as long as you weren’t ingesting the raw form,” Isolde replied.
Dressed in new robes, her hair packed back, and her eyepatch styled with some sort of artistic carving, she looked different from the Isolde that had come to this part of the wastelands months ago. Biting and swallowing with every move, Tunde could feel the hunger in his stomach subside a little, along with the migraine, as he drank from the jug of water.
Uncaring as some poured down the side of his throat, Tunde inhaled what was left of the meal before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Taking a deep breath, he watched as Isolde clapped twice and the maids that had apparently been outside the door made their way back in.
They bowed at him again, cleared the plates, and then left the room. Tunde turned his full attention to Isolde, who had kept her eyes on him the whole time.
“How bad was it?” he asked.
“Me or her?” she replied.
Tunde swallowed softly, the aftertaste of the meal still in his mouth. “Her. Miria, how is she?”
Isolde sighed. “She’ll live. Sustained damages that will take a while to heal, although we are confused about how she became a lord.”
He saw the meaningful look she shot him, Tunde nodding subtly as she nodded back.
“Ani says we need to let her body heal on its own. Now that she has a concept, it should hasten itself,” she completed.
“You, on the other hand, were arguably in a worse position than her,” Isolde said.
Tunde rubbed the inner part of his cheek with his tongue, nodding along. “We were ambushed by a Highlord named Kugan—”
“We know all about it. That wastelander you brought along filled us in. She was quite loyal to you, though,” Isolde commented.
“Is she safe?” Tunde found himself asking.
“Yes, Lady Ryka found her a place within Jade Peak after she insisted on staying by your side,” Isolde replied. “She refused to hand over your damaged blade to Draven, although with the aura that weapon gave off, I’m not sure Draven would want anything to do with it,” she noted.
Tunde frowned. “Weapons don’t give off an aura, do they?” he asked, unsure.
Isolde shrugged helplessly. “This one did. Felt like so much death. How many enemies did you kill with it?” she asked, concerned.
Tunde found his sight glazing a bit. The screams—his screams—came back to him as he remembered flashes of the bloodbath. “A lot,” he whispered.
She nodded as if in understanding, the two of them silent for a while before she spoke up again. “We saw the site,” she started. “I can’t say what you went through out there, what you must have seen, must have been forced to do, but you have us now,” she finished.
Tunde nodded distractedly, the memories coming back to him unbidden now, as if in a flood. He had lost himself within that fight, resigned to die, he had fought to take down as many as he could. He touched his bandaged body, feeling the itching scabs underneath them.
“How bad did I look?” he asked.
Isolde seemed unwilling to speak. Tunde nodded in understanding as he reclined on the wall, releasing a heavy breath. Isolde stared at him pityingly before he spoke.
“Can I see her now? Is she close by?” he asked.
Isolde shook her head. “Unlike you, she still comes in and out of consciousness. The Highlord said her exposure to superior aura damaged her in ways she might not completely recover from,” she said.
Tunde controlled his breathing, calming himself before he nodded his head, fighting back the tears in his eyes. Isolde brought out a small box, handing it over to him.
“From the Highlord. Don’t open it just yet,” she said as he paused. “He called it the Hundred Years Purifying Pill, and according to a shocked Elder Wren, it will totally scrub your insides of all manner of Ethra poisoning,” she started, raising one finger. “The bad side is it won’t discriminate; your Ethra as well will be purged, leaving you weaker than an initiate for a while,” she warned.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
Tunde nodded, opening the small box, staring at the glowing white round pill that emanated a soft but harsh power within it. Without thinking twice, he swallowed it, deciding that if Varis wanted him dead, then he would be. It was like a storm of lightning was unleashed within him. Tunde spasmed as the pill diffused, shutting his eyes and forcing his body to absorb as much of it as possible.
[Warning: Unknown pill is removing all traces of Ethra within your body!]
He ignored the notification, forcing the power into his heart as it felt on fire, gritting his teeth even as he pushed, letting it scour his body clean.
****************************************
Kugan ruffled his feathers gently, wincing as he stared into the horizon. His right hand was covered in some sticky red liquid supposedly rich with healing properties, hiding the bone-deep damage that struggled to heal. Whatever those flames and lightning were, their damage had been inconceivable, even for him, a Highlord.
Beside him knelt his two children, Jana and Heito, silent as they observed him, aware of the simmering anger within him. Behind them, what remained of their forces stood in organized lines. Those that hadn’t been butchered by the mad human or turned to ashes by the overwhelming power of the rival Highlord simply by being near Heito.
Kugan silently awaited the projection he knew would inevitably come. The clash between himself and the Highlord that reverberated for miles would have undoubtedly drawn the attention of the king himself. He found himself feeling a bit of dread at the thought, clenching his fists where he stood, holding in his rage.
He had done what was right. He couldn’t afford a slight against him and his forces, and a dead lord was simply the beginning of what he had in mind. When he felt the rush of power, it was one he realized and yet dreaded as he fell to his knees, bowing his head to the bare sandy ground. The entire army knew what that meant as well, and they were on their knees, heads bowed the moment he did.
He could only shudder in pure awe as raw aura gathered in the air right in front of him, a dark yellowish hue controlling the aura for miles around them. He could feel, no, sense the raw power exuded by the projection of pure aura and willpower.
“My king,” he murmured.
He felt the projection of Haruka wave his hand as a bubble of privacy made from the same aura covered them, Kugan shivering a bit.
“You disobeyed me,” Haruka said softly.
It occurred to Kugan that if Haruka could reach this far, then it meant the damage done to him was close to being healed completely.
“My king, I—”
“And now, they know just what sort of army we have. No doubt their master will prepare in advance,” Haruka continued, uncaring for the interruption.
Kugan frowned. “My king, I sensed no master,” he protested slightly.
He felt the full gaze of Haruka settle on him as he grunted a bit, sweat beading down his face, aware that his offspring would be faring worse, and yet, they maintained absolute silence. Pride as well as dread for them filled him before the king removed it.
“I might talk down on the empire, but it by no means makes them stupid or weak. There is a master at Black Rock, and they considered us weak enough to send out a single Highlord,” Haruka replied.
Kugan said nothing else, bowing his head lower.
“I sensed it all, the battle. I watched as they chased you back like prey running from the closing jaws of a predator.”
Kugan bit down on his shame, rage, and anger filling his eyes and heart. It was one thing to be disgraced; it was another thing for it to be done in the sight of his king or, worse, berated for it in front of his children.
“Gaze upon me, Kugan of the Blazewing,” Haruka instructed softly.
He obeyed, staring into the black hole where eyes should be and seeing nothing but absolute power. The bright dark yellow form of Haruka seared into his mind forever.
“Listen to me, second claw. An insult against you is an insult against me,” he started. “Your actions have brought nothing but shame and disgrace to me, but you are my sworn brother, and I will answer in fire and blood. Heed my words, gather your forces, complete what I bid you to do, and when we control this entire region, wait for my signal,” he instructed. “For you will lead the vanguard of our forces, the spear tip, and it will be your blade that brings down that Highlord and offer me his head. Do not fail me a second time, Kugan,” Haruka completed as the bubble shattered and the aura projection dispersed.
Kugan got to his feet, Jana and Heito as well, and with his wings spread out wide, he raised his blade, a loud roar coming from his forces below.
*********************
Varis stood in the little room turned into a sort of healing center by the timid little adept of a child who had lived with Miria. He stared at the form of Tunde, lost in the cultivation process that had turned his entire surroundings into a soiled, putrid mess. The other girl who had suddenly become a lord was kept in another building, still coming in and out of consciousness.
It spoke to the bizarre yet overwhelming healing of Tunde, the boy’s body more resilient than Varis had given him credit for. He had been surprised when Isolde had informed him that Tunde had swallowed the pill without a second thought. Not sure if he should attribute it to a sense of profound trust in him or pure stupidity on Tunde’s part, he most likely assumed it was the latter.
The lords of the great clans had handled the rift as quickly and as efficiently as he had expected of them. Their experience, skill, and knowledge were evident in how they fought, and yet, he could see the frustration building in the eyes of the Cheng heir. A smile found its way to his face as he remembered the look on their faces the moment Tunde had lashed out at her, high on the battle frenzy around him. He had watched as their assessment of him had gone from irrelevant to full threat, and he wasn’t even up to their pedigree yet.
His cultivation was sorely lacking, ‘bred’ only for battle and not advancement. Varis could easily see him becoming stuck at the lord stage, the mental strength needed to break through to Highlord hard for him to attain. It was why he was investing this amount of resources into him. The hundred-year purifying pill cost quite a significant amount of lumens and was only created by alchemists of Highlord rank and above.
He would make his money’s worth back from him, but he would have to build him into a formidable cultivator for that, assuming whatever plans his sister had didn’t extend to him, of course. He felt when the shy girl had entered the room, standing at a good distance as if he couldn’t grab her with his aura if he wanted to.
“How long has he been shedding waste?” he asked.
“More than an hour. We kept cleaning, but it still keeps coming,” she said, a bit of worry in her voice.
He glanced at her, the rough hair and childish visage she had, giving her an opposite look compared to her skill as a Rejuvant. He found it somewhat amusing that they thought they could hide it from him, the aura of a healer that subtly permeated the air wherever she went. It was astonishing what little knowledge those on the borders had, even their so-called elders Wren and Ming.
Crossing his arms, he considered what other role the girl could play now that she was also a lord. Two pieces, in the long run, could be favorable, but with the Brotherhood still after Tunde for crimes Varis wasn’t sure of yet, he couldn’t throw all his eggs in one basket. The heirs of the great clans were debatable, each of them a finely molded bowl waiting for him to pour his knowledge and experience into.
And yet, the thought of raw clay, the likes of Tunde, had him considering his options. The child had no allegiance to the great clans. In fact, if anything, they would consider him an obstacle now for their own prodigies. Varis encouraged competition, even deadly ones at that. Nothing honed a cultivator more than the crucible of battle, and there would be time for that later
Tunde was a naked blade simply looking to survive and would lash out at anything or anyone, but in a controlled environment and duel where there were rules, he would be brought down like a beast. If he was to be of any use to Varis, he needed to teach him how to wield that edge of his, to hone his overwhelming fury into his fighting style.
Varis sighed at the thought of the no small amount of work he would have to do in a short amount of time as well. So much for his relaxing until the war started.
“Once he’s awake, instruct him not to cycle Ethra at all. He is to eat and report directly to my quarters,” he instructed.
“As you will it, venerable Highlord,” she squeaked.
He handed her a vial, the girl staring at it with wide eyes, no doubt feeling the power within it.
“For your friend, Miria. Should help her progress along fine. The rest would be up to her,” he said.
She collected it with outstretched hands, falling to her knees as she bowed, head to the ground. “Your mercy is only matched by your grace, esteemed Highlord,” she said softly, emotions clouding her voice.
Varis felt a feeling he clamped down on with vicious precision. They were pieces as far as he was concerned. This was not some sort of charity from the goodness of his heart. The eyes of the clan were on both him and his actions, and he would deliver. Nodding at her, he left the quarters, heading back up to his own abode, aware that he was walking a bit more comfortably.
******************************
Emi sat in her room, resting on her knees and her back straight. Garbed in one of her finest pink robes, her servant absent from the room but within a moment’s notice. The communication construct sat in her front, Emi putting but a whisper of Ethra into it as it powered up. She waited for the figure at the other end to pick up, allowing the smooth communication.
The large figure that answered on the other end looked as old as he felt, with mottled grey hair sitting atop his head like a rug, grey eyebrows as well as a dyed black goatee and a calm, almost cold expression that broke a bit at the sight of Emi. She bowed; her head to the soft wooden floor of the room.
“I pay my respect to the patriarch of the clan,” she said.
“Emi, raise your head, my child, it is good to see you in great health,” the patriarch of the Cheng clan said.
He seemed to be in his study, endless scrolls behind him, a wide map on the table directly in front of him, Emi could almost smell the books. She had frequented that room as a child, curious yet cautious of the knowledge that they contained, now though, she detested the long lessons on culture and traditions.
“Report, how goes the border?” he asked.
Emi steeled her nerves, speaking in a calm unflinching manner as befitting a child of the Cheng line.
“Disarray as you predicted, they could hardly be called cultivators and the entire region is in dire need of enlightenment, both structurally and financially,” she said.
The patriarch nodded in agreement, dropping the ink feather in his hand.
“It is no news that few eyes ever stray to those neglected parts of the empire, it is an opportunity we cannot afford to lose my dear child” he replied, his implied meaning clear.
“No traces of the revenants, although incursions from the wastelands are now an almost everyday affair, even the cultivators of the borders could push them back”
“Except the forces of the so-called king,” he said.
So, he had heard. Emi’s mind raced across her options; she was well aware that he would have his own spies within black rock. Whether her servant was a part remained a mystery, but apparently, he could see her poring over the thought as he chuckled.
“Your servant has served you well my child, I have my own means,” he said.
“Now, tell me of this…..lord that has drawn the attention of the Talahan siblings,” he asked.
She took only a brief second to speak, affording herself those few moments to gather her thoughts.
“na?ve, weak, ignorant” she summarized, clamping down on the memory that came unbidden to her.
“And yet more than enough to mould by Varis and stave off the pressures of the great clans on him,” the patriarch said thoughtfully.
Emi watched silently as he pondered on it, wondering just what he was thinking before he spoke.
“You are my grandchild, and there are certain things you must be privy to if you are to one day assume control of the clan” he started.
Emi felt pride swell within her as she forced herself to somehow maintain a straighter posture, face blank.
“a gathering of masters has been sent across the length and breadth of the empire, a call from the son of the emperor himself”
Emi twitched just a little, understanding dawning on her, the sheer thought mind-boggling as even her patriarch had just a hint of worry on his face.
“No concrete news yet, but rumours are saying it is to host some sort of competition, a means for the empire to know the brightest stars within its territory and to gather them to the banner of the imperial clan itself” he continued.
“It is no small news that each master of the imperial clan would present one candidate, along with every master within the empire as well. That child; could most likely be groomed to be Rhaelar’s candidate”
The dots began to connect in her head, it made perfect sense, and it would explain why the Highlord had such interests in Tunde. Her grandfather folded his hands behind him, a frown on his face.
“Listen to me well, we cannot allow that. That position will and must be yours, it is your ticket to surpass the limit placed on me by the powers above me” he stated.
“I hear you, grandfather” she replied.
“He mustn’t make it past the war, do you understand me, Emi Cheng of the Cheng clan?” he asked.
“I hear and obey, great patriarch” she responded, the construct fizzling out.
