369 - Dangerous Methods [Sturmblitz]

“What is the risk?” Victor asked, determination audible in his voice, echoing inside Daywolf’s mask.

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Kanberich grinned. The madness in his gaze flared, then abated. “I am not a madman, of course there are precautions. But they only go so far. Be not mistaken, your life will be at risk.”

“When is it not?” Zelsys questioned. “He goes back in seclusion, it’s right back into the downward spiral. We can look for alternatives, but I don’t expect to find one better than this.”

“You trust my method so much? Without having even read the scroll? For all you know, it might only be suitable for me,” Kanberich countered, but there was no conviction behind his words. He was just trying to get her to argue against that point, even if he didn’t truly believe it.

“C’mon. You conceived the method and wrote the scroll. I somehow doubt you’ve grown senile and unable to take someone’s measure to determine if they are suitable for your method,” Zel replied.

Kanberich grew serious, nodding in silence for a moment.

“Alright. Come,” he said, rising to his feet. “There are preparations to be done.”

______________________________________________

Several hours later.

A chamber elsewhere in the Guardian Spire.

Another loungeroom, this one glaringly isolated amidst a tangle of utilitarian halls — admittedly, utilitarian by ancient cultivator standards, meaning that the flat walls were of patterned stone with head-height murals running down their entire length, and the doorways bore similarly complex decorations.

Zelsys sat and waited. She grew bored, and simply made her way back to the top of the spire, thanks to Kanberich having predicted that she would likely grow bored with sitting and waiting.

There, atop the spire, she summoned Carnifex Fulguris and began running the full gamut of full-extension “Scolopendra” strikes.

Uncoiling. Beheading. Thrashing. Dancing.

Basic. Simple, even. Fundamental. Yet the variance possible with just these fundamental concepts surpassed fixed-shape weaponry by orders of magnitude.

Even a simple descending swing could contain within it multitudes. The number of segments, the space between them, the stiffness of the connecting arclines, whether the segments would retract or grow even further apart as the swing progressed. Mid-swing, segments could split off to form Fang Rippers. She could simply turn a swing into a thrust by forcing Carnifex to extend to the utmost, shifting the Crown Fang’s shape to accommodate a thrusting purpose. Were she so inclined, she could form Carnifex into a shape akin to a claw or perhaps a maw of countless teeth. The incorporation of Predator Aura only added yet another layer of possible variation.

As Zelsys sunk into her martial trance and allowed her aura to come loose, the ghostly form of an enormous serpent came into being. It closely resembled the self-same serpent that took form during her epiphany, with a muscular body clad in armored scales, With each movement, so too did the specter move, and its form changed — from a serpent, to a centipede, to a gigantic lamprey, a bipedal lizard with a gigantic blade for a tail, and countless other beasts, many of which were either not real or had been extinct for so long they may as well be fictitious. The clouds above the spire stirred, and forceful bolts of lightning descended all around, but never actually struck the spire, deflected by its formation arrays of concealment and protection.

Eventually, she was roused from her meditation by way of the lift chamber rising in the center.

“You didn’t throw my disciple into some ancient trial and just leave him there, did you?” Zel asked jokingly.

“He is safe. I have asked him the questions I needed to ask, and now I intend to do the same with you. To get a full picture of his cultivation.”

“Of course,” Zel nodded, dismissing Carnifex.

And so, Kanberich gestured for the elevator to recede back into the spire, and with another gesture summoned a pagoda in its place.

They went over everything she knew of Victor’s cultivation and his natural affinities, including even the matter of Koschei, the Antediluvian Gem, and the enantiomorph by which Victor subsumed his ancestor’s soul. Once they reached that revelation, to no surprise on Zel’s part, Kanberich fell silent, processing it.

“I… Cannot say that I am surprised Koschei had such a contingency. But I am surprised that the inheritor prevailed in the enantiomorph, assuming the rite was the one I know of.”

“I suspect he allowed himself to be subsumed, knowing he was too far gone. But, under the assumption that there was indeed a mental struggle, we should perhaps cover the reason Victor may have prevailed.”

Zelsys brought out the Ivory Scroll — the physical scripture for the Walking Way of the Despot of Self. Kanberich somewhat hesitantly reached out. The scroll lacked a pronounced aura, after all. Even with her current faculties, Zelsys only got a sense of indomitable decisiveness from it, one content to remain fully contained within its vessel.

Two hours later. Almost reverently, Kanberich rolled the scroll back up and slid it over to Zel’s side of the table.

“Putting aside the… Its provenance, as an inheritance of Sagruhel Ironhand, it is… A severe mental cultivation method. Extremely risky. And you say the boy has mastered it?”

“I wouldn’t say as much, but he has taken it far enough to communicate with his Primordial Self, and presumably exert dominion over his thoughts and body. If he had mastered it, he wouldn’t be having this heart demon.”

“Zelsys, I… You were at Eberheim, and I was not, but I’ve read the reports. You expect too much of him. He hasn’t been calloused to atrocity yet. Even if he had been merely present, even if his involvement in the incident wasn’t as pivotal as it was, he would absolutely come away shaken — and I am deathly certain he is not the only one.”

“You are aware of how old I am, yes?” she asked.

“Don’t get into this. You cannot hold the rest of mankind to your own standards, to our standards,” Kanberich rebuked her.