Eres stood with Banda in the courtyard of the north manor under the warm light of the morning. Among them was a crowd of a few hundred. Fellow thralls, Eres assumed, bonded in servitude under the threat of a Soul Seed.
She glanced ahead, noting a few dozen people separate from them who faced off against the rest. They were better equipped on average, with a bolder presence and prouder expressions.
Likely servants themselves, though something more akin to an elite guard, Eres guessed. Perhaps they received additional privileges and less dangerous work to be the swords Otto wielded to keep his embittered underlings in line.
Eres glanced around the crowd again, and her estimation of Otto rose. It was a great risk to gather so many who certainly wanted him dead all at once like this, but conversely, it was also a show of power.
The people enthralled to him would regularly see the might he wielded and the others just like them he easily kept under his thumb. And their hesitation would rise.
If they were all unified in some way, as a clan or sect, an organization of some kind they could put above themselves, perhaps they could band together and bring down Otto with some sacrifices. But such as thing was not possible for this individualistic rabble.
No one in this cutthroat crowd would throw their life away for the others. No one would make a move against Otto, because the first ones to do so would surely be the first to die. And their hesitation would only rise further. Truly, he seemed as bold as he was cunning.
Otto lazily emerged from the manor, with the veil woman following close behind, and quickly the elite guards at the front started to direct the crowd to step up and hand Otto their tribute. The woman and her unique physical features caught Eres’ eye, though she was not too surprised.
“Hey, beautiful.” An unfamiliar voice pulled Eres’ attention to the side. A handsome warrior in relatively impressive leather armor walked towards her with a cocky expression. “How about you lose the savage and join my party?”
“Rut yourself elsewhere, you dog.” Eres’ sharp tongue stabbed him without hesitation, her demeanor one of utter contempt.
Jeers and mocking laughter from the crowd nearby followed at the man’s expense. His arrogance was quickly displaced by resentment towards being rejected so disrespectfully. But before he could act, Eres walked calmly off towards the the front of the crowd, having felt no need to waste time on such a pointless conflict.
They pushed their way to the front, and the guards let them go next, showing no sign of caring what order the crowd took. The duo walked towards the smiling Otto until a pair of guards held out their weapons to halt their path ten yards away from the leader.
Another held out an empty hand and Eres pulled two blue Mana Crystals from a leather pouch on her waist and gave it to him. The guard inspected the stones for a moment before walking over to hand them to Otto.
“I knew you had it in you.” Otto commented as he pocketed it. And unceremoniously shooed them off with a nudge of his head.
Eres left without delay. It seemed Otto didn’t have the luxury of spending too much focus on them, fortunately. With their obligation settled for the next ten days, Eres led Banda from the courtyard to continue their other objectives.
---
“Hey.” Eres lightly slapped the listless beggar a few times to bring his senses more alert, though she was close to losing her patience. “Tell me what you know about the rank 2 slumlords here or you get nothing.”
She had been trying to gain information from these street beggars for a quarter of an hour now with little to show for it. As far as she was concerned, they were less likely to be working for Otto than any storekeeper or random hunter, which meant it was safer to ask things of them.
However they were far more useless and unresponsive than she expected. Eres would never claim to be an altruistic person, but she did consider herself a fairly neutral person.
And yet she couldn’t help but feel disdain boiling up towards this flock of weak-willed trash that would give up so completely rather than keep fighting despite the odds.
The ragged man mumbled out quiet incomprehensible words and Eres took her leave to find the next one. If there was any consolation, the inept state of them boded well for her second aim.
She wanted to test how deep Otto’s influence ran. Whether he went as far as to plant eyes and ears in corners of the slum town as deep as this. It was after all, what she would do in a similar position.
An old man talking to himself caught her eye and she veered towards him. Crazy was hardly a reliable source of information, but at least this one seemed lively enough to talk. Such was the pitiful state of her options.
“What can you tell me about the slumlords?” Eres asked bluntly.
“Terrible folk. Terrible.” The beggar spoke before he looked to see who he was speaking to. “Best stay away from trouble.”
“Are there any other rank 2 monks besides them?”
“No. No, no, no, no, no.” The beggar mumbled. “Too strong, too strong, everyone strong leaves or dies, leaves or dies.”
“What are their names and abilities? The slumlords.” Eres tried to guide his mad ramblings.
“Names, names change. Always changing, never matters. Too strong, never fight, too strong.” Eres started to leave but the beggar’s demeanor turned a bit more focused and urgent. “It’s dangerous. You need help, a warrior. I am a warrior, a strong warrior. I fight for you. Give me wine, I fight.”
Eres slowed only for a moment before continuing on. This small side adventure had been largely pointless. She hadn’t expected to gain much, but she did hope to have left with slightly more than nothing.
They didn’t know anything more than they had this morning. Aside from Otto, there were five rank 2 monks, all of which slumlords of this small town, and carved up territory within it as they could.
Otto kept territory of his own, but he was considered above the slumlords. They kept hold of their power only through fear and reward, a paltry substitute for the threat of soul destruction. He was the strongest, and his underlings would fight to the death at his command.
“What is a Warrior?” Banda spoke for the first time in a while. “You said humans who use martial arts are Monks.”
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“Ah…” Eres realized she had never explained such basic knowledge. “There are three paths a monk can take. Empower the body, mind, or soul. Those who choose body are Warriors. Those who choose mind are Mystics. And those who choose Soul are Shamans.”
“It not only affects the strength of those attributes, but mastery over the arts of that path. My Palm Blast is a mystic art, so if I become a Mystic, I could control it better and bring out more of its power.”
Eres continued. “Demigods and Priests increase the power of the body, mind, and soul by sevenfold for each of the four mortal ranks. But the power increase for monks is far more sporadic. We have to choose one path. A Warrior will be much physically stronger than the others, but their minds and souls will be weaker.”
A simple enough explanation, and one that satisfied Banda. He needn’t hear much more about, as he committed in his thoughts to the path of a Warrior. Though something else also floated through his thoughts.
“Who was that with Otto?”
“The veiled woman, you mean?” Eres asked.
“She did not smell like a human. She smelled more like a beast.”
“I’m sure.” Eres showed no surprise. “She’s a beastman. One of the offshoot races of the seven enlightened races. They have stronger bodies and better senses than humans.”
“All of the other races of mankind are superior in some form to humans, for that matter. Though, that’s not really relevant here. Only humans and beastmen can enter the tower. And only humans can remain in Akkad. All others reside in Eden and the great realms. The wide world we call Sumer.”
Banda narrowed his eyes, and asked his most pressing question. “How do you know they are stronger if you never fought them?”
Eres smiled in response. “I’m fond of stories. Before mankind, the gods took the race of nephilim as servants and worshipers. However, the nephilim rebelled against the gods and were wiped out. Desperate for a new source of faith, Enlil tasked Enki with creating a new race to serve them. After years of toil-”
“I don’t ca-”
“Don’t interrupt.” Banda’s complaint was brushed off immediately. “After years of toil, Enki succeeded with the creation of Adapa, the first man made in the image of the gods. And from his foundation he created six other beings for six purposes.”
“Dwarves as the most skilled craftsmen. Giants as the sturdiest and most powerful laborers. Gnomes as the most intelligent advisors. Ariels as the loveliest singers and fastest messengers. Oni as the mightiest soldiers. And Elves as the most beautiful and long-lived companions.”
“Humans are special in nothing and were only meant as a prototype of sorts to enable the creation of better servants. However, Enki grew fond of Adapa’s company and his conversations, and thus placed him alongside the other progenitors of the enlightened races, and named them the Seven Sages.”
“Enki then enlisted the help of Ninmah, a Goddess of Fertility, to bare ten thousand children by each of them. The first true mortals of this world. And over time, other beings created races of their own. Most by altering descendants of the sage races. Karn, the Titan of Beasts, created the beastmen. A group of true dragons created draconians-”
“And they are stronger?” Banda interrupted. He had little but passing interest in her stories, aside from that which threatens him.
“In different ways, yes.” Eres settled down from her partial enthusiasm.
“You said the Oni are mightiest. Stronger than beastmen?” Banda asked with narrowed eyes.
“Supposedly. Beastmen are quite varied. They could be anywhere from two to five times superior in strength, speed, or toughness, depending on what type they are. Oni are said to be fivefold in all aspects of not just the body, but the spirit as a whole. Giants are physically superior to them, possessing the highest strength of all the mortal races, although they are slower and less agile, and have unremarkable minds and souls.”
"Speaking of beastmen... They are unique in that they are the only ones able to bear the bloodlines of the Four Heavenly Beasts. Gugal included, naturally. But obviously not nearly as powerful as what you are capable of." Eres had added that last part as a teasing compliment, but it fell on deaf ears.
Banda did not like what he was hearing. He had already considered humans dangerous, and now he learned there were others far stronger.
His Feral power had always made him superior to others, but he has learned the harsh truth that the base of his physical body was no better than humans. He was still stronger, still superior. But now he wondered if that would hold true in this strange place beyond the Tower.
As they neared the end of the alley slums, Banda noticed a young boy sitting as listlessly as the other beggars in the street. There weren’t many human cubs in this town, not as far as Banda could see. He supposed it was quite a difficult place for them to survive.
Eres gave him a questioning look as he walked over to the boy. The child wore little more than tattered rags, covered in dust and dirt, and gave no reaction to the savage crouched before him.
“Get up.” Banda told him, but the boy did not respond.
Banda sat in silent thought at the problem before him. Suddenly he burst off down the alley and killed a human with a single strike. Before their body even hit the ground, Banda took from their leather sack the slab of meat he had smelled, and bounded back in a moment.
Banda held it in the path of the boy’s sight. A few moments passed, and finally a glimmer of desire showed in the child’s eyes, but he did not reach for it. Banda placed the food on the ground before him, just out of reach, and continued on his way.
“Why didn’t you just hand it to him?” Eres asked.
“He must get it himself. Or he won’t survive.” Banda didn’t elaborate, and the two entered the growing noise and bustle of the bazaar.
The petty marketplace was as busy as it had been before, though they wasted no time looking around as they did their last visit. The two walked straight to the martial arts book peddler, who was sat in the same spot by the fountain.
“Any arts that make a shield of aura” Eres asked.
“Mid Grade.”
“Right…” Deep down, Eres expected as much. “I need a ranged mystic art. The most destructive you have.”
“Body art. Make me harder to harm.” Banda added.
The two gave their requests to the peddler, ones they had already decided on in the six days it had been since they bought their first.
“Can only keep two in your mind.” The peddler advised.
“We’re aware.” Eres answered.
“Mystic Dart. Fires a dart made of aura. ‘Bout as strong as a low grade bow. Flying Palm. Shoots a hand made of aura. Hits harder, blunt impact. Ironskin. Turns your skin to armor, tough as iron. Doesn’t help your bones and organs. Iron Fist. Turns your hand to iron. All the way through.” The book peddler gave two options to each of them, based on their requirements.
“Flying Palm.”
“Iron Fist.”
“250 shards.” The peddler responded with his price immediately.
“That much more?” Eres asked.
“People like Iron Fist, don’t like Beast Claw much.” The peddler gave the answer plainly.
“Hmm.” Eres understood the reasoning. “How are martial books made?”
“Need a Scribe and someone that knows the art.” The peddler answered. “Scribe makes the book, someone puts in the circle.”
“I see.” Eres took note of the information.
She paid the amount without further question, and the two received their new martial arts. Once again, Banda felt the mystical endowment of knowledge as the circle of the martial art carved into the unsteady waves of the Inner Sea in his mind.
As soon as it was completed, the waves of the dark sea grew rougher and more erratic. The glowing white patterns of both martial arts became a little more unstable. Banda could feel the circles start to fray and strain under the waves, and knew it would take more frequent efforts to keep them whole.
He turned his focus to testing his new Iron Fist art. Banda channeled aura into the circle, and patches of dark gray stained his left hand, slowly spreading until it was gray entirely. Banda twisted his hand back and forth as he inspected it. The whole hand was metal, down to the wrist. It was more durable, he could tell by the weight, but his hand was stuck solid in the position.
It was a human trick meant to be used for a punch, Banda guessed. The inability to move his hand at all meant it made for poor defense, and that it turned his wrist solid too was likely to avoid damage when he struck. Though Banda had a different use for it in mind.
The art felt the same as Beast Claw. It took a constant amount of aura for the time it was used, which meant he could undo it and change the pose of his hand as needed. Though he would need to master it first. And the best way to master a power, was to use it.
